Discovering Giselle

We walked home – slowly, as Giselle could take only small steps, and ws acutely uncomfortable in her tight corset and the incredible heels. I enjoyed the envious looks I got from men we passed on the way.

'That was quite an evening, Andrew,' she said – she had got out of the habit of calling me 'master' during the evening, and I found that I didn't mind at all, our roles now clearly defined. I told her so.

'If you've still got anything left,' she said, slyly, 'I'd love you to fuck me when we get home.' And when we arrived, she didn't even make it to the bedroom, unzipping and stepping out of her skirt and bending over the dining table, presenting me an expanse of white bottom and thighs, framed prettily by the lower frill of her cruel corset and the tops of her black stockings. Her face against the table-top, she reached both hands behind her, spreading her buttocks as if to invite me. I needed no further encouragement, and plunged my hot, throbbing knob hard into her arsehole, thrusting home much more deeply than I had before, and wringing a whimper from her lips. I pounded her long and fiercely, and she was screaming with each stroke as I finally came, shooting a load that came from I knew not where, deep within her lovely body.

'I love you, Andrew,' she said simply.

I needed time next day to recover, and stayed in bed late, when Giselle had gone off to work. When I eventually got up, I put finishing touches to my arrangement with the video camera, then pottered around the flat until it was time for Giselle to come home. When she finally walked in, she was a little work-weary, and we sat with a glass of wine for a while, until she said suddenly, 'I've been thinking about what you are going to do to me, for hours, my darling Andrew. Shall I go and get ready?'

Ten minutes later, she stood before me, naked but for a little silk slip, and I led her to the spare room, and showed her my set-up. I soon had her, still wearing the slip, face-down on the bed, her ankles loosely tied to the sides of the bed, two cushions under her belly. Then I started the video, and a little 'snow' preceded an image of her arse on the screen in front of her. I adjusted the camera, so that her naked pussy was in focus, her legs being just sufficiently apart so that it was nicely visible. As an afterthought, I gave her a pillow so that she could look directly at the screen in front of her. I then fetched a thin cane from the terrace, and said quietly, in what was fast becoming our ritual, 'You know I am going to hurt you, don't you?'

'Oh yes,' she said, almost pleadingly, 'please hurt me.'

I measured up the fall of the cane against her lovely buttocks, then drew back my arm, knowing that anything less than a cruel stroke would be useless. I thrashed her soft flesh with real force, drawing no more than a gasp from her at first, but by the fifth vicious stroke, she was moaning, and by the tenth, her moans had turned to screams, as vivid red welts now showed across her white skin. I paused and said, 'Have you had enough?'

'Oh please, carry on, carry on.' She squirmed and bucked as the next few lashes fell, and I knew instinctively that she had cum. I gave her only a few more – I think it made twenty in all, but she stayed staring at the screen, with rapt attention, and, her ankles still attached to the bed, moved a hand down between her legs, and writhed again, threshing around on the mattress, as she masturbated to another moaning climax.

When I had untied her, she said, 'Andrew, that was wonderful – tell me we'll do that again.'

'Yes, my love, we will. You love it when I hurt you, don't you?'

'Oh yes, and it's wonderful to watch my arse being marked.'

I looked at the way her lovely buttocks were now scored with deep red lines, and thought how pretty they were. But I knew I couldn't cane her again for a while.

A couple of days after her caning, I decided to take her out for dinner, to the best restaurant I could afford, where some very smart people dined. I really wanted to show her off, and picked out a dress for her to wear. It was a bottle-green dress in gossamer-light silky material, all tiny pleats, with 'seventies' wide sleeves, and no belt, so that it would fall straight from her breasts to the mid-thigh level hem. Under it, she would, of course, be naked, but for a fine gold chain I gave her to wear around her slender waist. Her collar, naturally, was around her neck, and her feet would be in platform-soled, needle-heeled silver shoes.

When she had attended to her make-up, brushed her hair until it shone, and stood for my inspection, I saw that a stray stripe from her caning was visible on the back of her thigh, but it somehow added to the erotic image she presented, her haunting beauty enhanced by my knowledge that she was naked beneath the dress. Wordlessly, I handed her a blue, flanged butt-plug, which she immediately slid into her rectum, her mouth forming a pretty 'o' as she did so.

Conversation ceased as we threaded our way through tables to our corner place, both men and women fascinated as their eyes followed her. As we sat, I looked around, and was delighted to see a very attractive couple, in their thirties, perhaps, at a table directly opposite us. He was darkly handsome, with a goatee beard, she a slim Eurasian beauty, with long, glossy black hair. I noted she was wearing a long evening gown in shiny gold material, and couldn't help wondering what she looked like naked. My thoughts soon returned to Giselle, however, and we talked throughout the delicious meal. As we finished, the couple opposite were still in place, he smoking a cigar, as they toyed with coffees and cognacs.

'Turn a little in your seat, slide your dress up, and show them your cunt,' I said, and she looked about to protest, then, her eyes on my face, she quietly twisted around, moving her stiletto-clad feet out towards the aisle. I saw the couple opposite trying not to be too obvious as they looked curiously in Giselle's direction. Giselle's eyes slowly left mine, and focussed on the couple, ever so briefly, then she cast them down, as she lowly slid up the hem of her dress, just enough so that her hairless slit was visible, and the flange of the blue butt-plug must have been evident, as well as one or two of her now-fading welts. I looked at the couple, out of the corner of my eye – he was peering with unbridled lust, she had her lovely lips slightly apart, and our eyes met when hers left Giselle.

I called the waiter, scribbled my address on a napkin, then wrote, 'in an hour?' underneath.

When we got home, Giselle asked me: 'Should I change?'

'No,' I replied, 'they probably won't come anyway.'

But I had scarcely had the time to put on some tranquil music and get out a tray of drinks when the doorbell rang. I buzzed them in, and they came tentatively into my apartment.

'I'm Pierre, and this is Lily,' said the guy, who now looked younger than he had under the lights of the restaurant. I introduced us, then told Giselle to serve them drinks, and invited them to sit down. Giselle put Pierre's Scotch in front of him, on the coffee table, then bent over to put down Lily's vodka and tonic. As she did so, I lifted her skirt, and, right under Pierre's nose, stroked her lovely, pale, randomly-striped buttocks, looking at Pierre.

'Pretty, isn't she?' I asked him.

'Very,' he confirmed.

'She's a slut,' I said, 'and she'd love you to fuck her, wouldn't you, Giselle?'

'Yes,' she admitted, in a small voice, 'if you wouldn't mind.'

'Well, that will depend upon Lily, I think,' I said, looking at her. She nodded silently, which I took as her consent.

'Go and kneel in front of the other sofa,' I told Giselle, and when she did so, I again flipped up the hem of her skirt, and slipped the plug out of her arse. It made an audible 'plop.' I stroked her behind again, and encouraged her to part her knees further, so that an enticing view of her gaping black arsehole and her pretty pink vagina was ours.

'There,' I told Pierre, 'she's ready!' and I sat down in his place, beside Lily on the sofa. When I sneaked a look at her lovely face, I saw she was breathing rapidly, her lips slightly apart. I risked plaacing a hand on her shapely knee, clothed in silky material, and at that she turned to look at me, edging closer along the sofa's seat.

Pierre was taking his time, first massaging Giselle's offered slit, then dropping to his knees, and probing her now-vacant arsehole with a long, questing tongue.

'This excites you?' I asked Lily, but she looked a question at me. 'Je suis vietnamoise,' she whispered, and I realised she spoke little French. But it was apparent that she was, indeed, turned on by what was occurring, and when I slid her dress gently up her leg, she made no protest, but her hand strayed to the stiff bulge in my chinos, and a ssmall murmur which sounded like pleasure escaped her lips before I leant over and kissed them, meeting with an immediate response.

By now she had released my burgeoning, insistent dick from my fly, and had it neatly in her hand – it wasn't the first time she had held an erect male organ. But afteer my hand-job from the gorgeous Nadine, I wanted more, especially as Pierre was now teasing Giselle with the crown of his thick tool, pushing it a short way into her anyus, and withdrawing it as she writhed, and wanted him deep within her.

Lily, for all her lack of communication, sensed my need, and hitched her dress up, climbing, with considerable agility, over to straddle me, and lowering herself abruptly onto my eager member, impaling herself up to the hilt. Her long-fingered hands covered mine as I cupped her small, firm tits. I couldn't see beyond her, but she took all my attention, as she rode me, her tight cunt seeming to suck me in ever deeper, but Giselle's cry told my subconscious that she too was getting well fucked.

I came, flooding Lily with my hot cum, and then holding her lithe body in place for a long time, while Pierre finished his business with Giselle. Her loud scream announced his final triumphant stroke.

When they had gone, we went to bed together, wordlessly enjoying again the events of the evening as we lay entwined, naked.

'I think I just might whip you in the morning,' I murmured.

'Mmmm,' purred her only reply.

When I awoke, she was playing with my half-erect cock, chuckling to herself as she demonstrated her power to arouse me, even in sleep. I soon found my erection hard and stiff, and, flipping her over, started to stroke her damp slit, as she obligingly raised a leg to make herself available. I penetrated her offered vagina, feeling the lovely smooth warmth inside her, and fucked her gently, tenderly, easing myself deep within her, and drawing from her the little moans that always added to my desire. I came right into the neck of her womb, and she twisted her head around. 'I love you, Andrew,' she said, 'I'll make you hard again, then you can hurt me, if you like.'

I was too exhausted to reply, but when, a few minutes later, her long, queesting forefinger reached around me and found my arsehole, I knew she would do as she said.

She drove the finger straight up my sensitive rectum, and I gasped at the sensation. 'You're the only woman who's ever done that to me,' I told her.

'And do you like it?'

'What do you think?' – her other hand was testing out my growing hardness, as I, for my part, teased her nipples to their own erection.

Suddenly she sat up. 'Come on, I'm impatient for your whip, master!' The last word had a slightly false ring to it, now that I had agreed she should use my first name, but I guess she meant it to mark a change in our roles.

Picking up on that, I said, sharply, 'Put on a nightdress.'

She looked at me questioningly. 'Do it!' I said.

She walked over to the closet and got out a long silk nightgown, and a thigh-length white, transparent one, with long, wide sleeves. 'That one,' I told her, and she slid it over her head. Still naked, I propelled her into the bathroom, and told her to go into the walk-in shower. I fetched a pair of handcuffs, and the riding crop from the lounge, and fitted the cuffs to her wrists, the lifted them over the shower-head.

'But I'm in my nightdress,' she protested.

'That's right,' I agreed, then reached around her and turned on the shoer control, drenching her thoroughly in ice-cold water, so that the thin nightdress stuck to her like a second skin. I reached around and turned off the water, then I lashed her back as hard as I could with the thin leather crop. She cried out as each stroke etched a red line, easily visible through the flimsy nylon, and, after some half a dozen vicious blows, I turned her about. Her face was serene as I rained more strokes across her flat stomach and upper thighs, and when she closed her eyes after only three or four, and shuddered visibly, I knew that she had cum. The sight of this was just too much for me, and I groaned as I spurted spontaneously, making my knees feel like jelly. I let her down, and left her drying herself, having peeled off the soaked garment.

'Oh Andrew,' she said at length, 'that was the most wonderful sensation.'

I traced the welts on her back and stomach, and said what was on my mind. 'I didn't think I'd ever find someone like you, Giselle, I love you.'

I continued caressing her, and thought about more things I could do to her. Life with Giselle was certainly looking very interesting.