Jemima's Tale Pt. 06

Part 1 - Jemima Waits for her Punishment.

The bedroom is big, with stripped, polished floors covered with large, expensive, rugs in geometric yellows and greys. The large bay windows are slightly open and a gentle morning breeze flicks across the massive, richly-embroidered, curtains. Up against one cream-coloured wall, the bed is also on a grand scale - enormous in fact - with steel-grey bedhead and frame of smooth wrought-iron. With its many soft pillows and cushions it looks exactly like a bed in which you could stretch out and luxuriate, a bed well suited for a girl to spend long, inventive, hours lying there, cradled in the arms of her boyfriend, eagerly exploring more and more ways to make love to him...

At this particular moment, however, the bed is empty. Standing where I have been left, in the middle of the room, my eyes are drawn to the full-length, free-standing mirror next to one of the twin armchairs. My reflection in the glass sends a thrill of excitement through my groin once more, reminding me of similar sensations earlier this morning. It had been then, kneeling on the floor of this lovely bedroom, that I had been so naughty - so deliberately disrespectful to my master - that I had ended up standing here alone like this, able to do nothing except look at my plight in the mirror and contemplate the punishment to come.

I try to ease the discomfort in my shoulders, but succeed only in making myself even more aware of my hands and arms, tied helplessly behind my arching back.

The mirror allows me to enjoy the sight: the smooth, nylon-sheathed outline of my body under my new patterned body-tight, sheer black mesh covering me completely from titties to toes save for the wickedly-placed cut-out panel, under my crotch and up over my rear. This audacious cut-away leaves nothing to the imagination - curving up from the open crotch to reveal my bottom, temptingly exposing the entire shadowy cleft between my bumcheeks. The delicate leaf pattern of the bodystocking rises up to a line above my breasts, held in place by a single thin strap over each of my naked shoulders. At the other extreme of my body, my stockinged feet fit snugly into my faithful shiny black stilettoes - the five-inch heels extending and lengthening the smooth line of my poised, black-sheathed limbs.

My excited breathing makes me continuously aware of the studded leather belt constricting my waist. Twin thick straps are attached at the front, passing either side of my groin, they descend under my body, having been pulled right up into my bumcrack, as tightly as they can go, and fastened again to the belt at my back. These leather straps are serving most effectively to keep the wide, stretching thickness of Glenn's largest buttplug fastened up snug inside my anus, forcing me to retain the massive latex dildo in my aching hole whether I like it or not. There is sweat on my forehead as my muscles continually relax, unsuccessfully trying to expel the intruding phallus, but actually serving only to increase the sensation of its divine presence wedged inside my throbbing hole. If I could move my hips even a fraction without unbalancing, my spunk would be joyously spurting onto the pale, gleaming, wood of the floor...

Securely tied, my hands stretch out behind my back, the velvet cord pulling me back relentlessly to where it is anchored around the handle of the bedroom door. Conversely, at the front of my body, the silver chain attached to the cockleash firmly wrapped round my rampant, straining erection, pulls me forward towards its own starting point, at the foot of the iron bedstead. Both cord and chain had pulled tight when my boyfriend had shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving me standing here, back arched and bottom thrust out, facing the bed on taut, trembling, legs. It is almost too much for me; immobile, unable to turn, and desperate not to fall over, I stand here waiting for my lover and master to return.

Of course, it is also so extremely exciting that I can barely believe I'm not dreaming; my knees grow even weaker when I look again at Jemima in the mirror, unable to believe how beautiful, how sexy she looks in her erotic predicament. Her hair falls luxuriously down her back as if pointing the way, past her tied hands, to the smooth pale globes of her bare buttocks. Beneath immaculately-applied grey eyeshadow the heavily mascared eyes of the she-male in the mirror sparkle with nervous anticipation. I stare at the full red pout of my lips, watching myself lick them, faintly tasting the residue of my recent ambush on Glenn's lovely cock... Yesss... now that might have been just one blow-job too far, seeing as it ended up getting me into this position in the first place.

My face is flushed and bright, wide-eyed with the knowledge that soon my master will return, bringing with him his friend, David. I feel my stomach churning inside at the thought of what I have been told will happen... under the watchful eye of my beloved, this total stranger will be allowed to put me over his knee and administer the rest of my punishment for this mornings behaviour - a "thorough" spanking. If I take it like a good and grateful girl and they are pleased with me, then as a special treat, I will be allowed to have David watch while Glenn gives me a good and proper fucking (...oh Glenn...).

I hear the car returning in the driveway below the open windows and my heart immediately starts racing like crazy. Doors slam and I hear two voices downstairs (...and the first thing he will notice will be your pale white arsecheeks, clenched feverishly round that lovely thick dildo...). I wait for ages, then, wondering what is happening. Interminable, agonising, minutes later, I hear them on the stairs, the sound of laughter mingling with their approaching footsteps. Any second now they will be outside the bedroom door...

I toss my hair back nervously, seeing the colour rising helplessly in my cheeks, feeling my nipples standing out hard and proud beneath their covering of fine mesh, my prick proudly, solidly erect (...to be seen like this by a stranger, to openly reveal my shame, the naked strength of my desires...).

The door opens and Glenn enters the room, causing my heart to flip once more at the sight of his tanned, handsome face. Our eyes meet and I know that he can see just exactly how aroused I have become, awaiting and anticipating his return. As the pressure from the cord behind me finally relaxes, I stagger to hold my aching limbs upright, consciously aware that I am my master's property and about to be displayed before his old friend. Caught tight in the grip of the cockleash, my flushed prick juts out, hard as iron, a counterpoint to the constraining femininity of my bodystocking. We both know that I belong to him alone, to do with as he wishes - and at the moment his wish is to enjoy seeing me chastised by a stranger...

"Come on in, Dave," he welcomes the other man, "meet Jemima. It certainly looks like she's pleased to meet you..."

Part 2 - Jemima is Extremely Naughty before Breakfast.

It was one of my weekend visits to my new boyfriend. Bright and early that morning, Glenn was trying to get dressed, ready to go and collect an old drinking and clubbing partner, David, from the nearby train station. We hadn't had even had time for our customary love-making, and I was playing up a bit...

It wasn't that I didn't mind David coming to stay for the weekend - Glenn had had quite a social life going back many years and kept in touch with lots of people - but deep down, I couldn't feeling a little bit resentful that he didn't prefer to just spend the time alone with me. In bed. Having me.

As you might be able to tell, Jemima was feeling a bit provocative and tarty (...I want him now. I deserve him. I am going to make this gorgeous man come in my mouth, whether he likes it or not...).

I am feeling so naughty in fact, that I have sneaked back into bed wearing my new bodystocking, totally enamoured by the sensuality of the sheer all-over nylon, the way my awareness of my crotch and backside is accentuated by their bareness against the sheets. All made up and horny as hell, I had been counting on being manfully fucked through the open-back of my new black fishnet playsuit. What did he mean, there wasn't going to be time? There should always be enough time to give Jemima a good seeing-to...

Kneeling before him on the soft bedroom rug covering the polished floorboards, I look up into frowning, hazel eyes and make a play of licking my full, freshly-rouged, lips. I speak softly, cooing in my best little-girl voice, "Is this lovely big cock for my breakfast, then?"

Without waiting for a reply, I grab his firm bottom with my hands, pulling him to me, rubbing and working the awakening muscles whilst literally burying my head in his groin. I take all of him into my mouth and hold him there, warming the curled sleepy penis until it starts to wake.

He looks down at me in exasperation, "Jemima!" he says, irritated, but turned on despite himself, "I'm going to be late!".

He HATES being late, in fact he's the most punctual man I've ever known (...but this time, David is going to come second and YOU'RE coming first, my darling boyfriend...) but I also know that he can never resist a juicy, early-morning, blow-job...

His cock is stiffening nicely, becoming too large for my mouth to contain. I help it to unfurl, running my fingers down his crack and under his body, teasingly rubbing his tight anus, his perineum, fingering the heavy balls, stroking and encouraging nature to take its wonderful course...

My hands move over his buttocks, fondling and caressing the cool flesh while I lick his stiffening shaft all over, teasing the swollen, plum-like, glans, delicately exploring the pouting slit with the very tip of my tongue - I know exactly what turns my grumpy boyfriend on and I make sure that I put on a show. I'm certain that he's still annoyed with me but the readiness of his body beneath my touch tells me he has absolutely NO desire to interrupt me in mid-naughtiness...

At last I allow my lips to close over him, taking the entire head in my mouth, enfolding the smoothness of the ridged helmet,before rubbing the fullness of my bottom lip along its soft underside. He gives a little gasp, as I knew he would, and I maintain my position, repeatedly working my lip against this soft lower skin.

I glance upwards to look at his face high above me - eyes shut, mouth half-open - a shiver runs through me at the knowledge that I am giving him such pleasure. I watch his expression as I open my lips wide and take as much of his length in my mouth as I can manage. Breathing through my nose, murmuring my enjoyment deep in my throat, I kneel before my lover, his rigid manhood between my lips, overwhelming me with the vitality of its strength, the beauty of its purpose, the promise of its reward...

I take the thickened base of him in my right hand and gorge myself freely on the proud shaft, now slick and wet with pre-come. Momentarily I lean forward, resting my forehead against the gentle curve of his stomach. The solidity of his maleness, the close proximity of his body next to me, enhances the excitement of making love to such an intimate part of him. I am barely aware of my own prick, straining up and hard between the smooth nylon of my legs.

I begin sliding the moist circle of my mouth down the slightly curved shaft, pubic hair briefly tickling my nose, before pulling back up until my lips close round the thick head of the glans. Slowly, sensually, I coat it with saliva, my tongue lapping round the warm flesh lollipop until I can feel it pulse in answer. Then again I engulf him, forward and back and forward and back, bobbing sharp and quick in the rhythm I know drives my boyfriend crazy.

Without stopping my endeavours, I glance up at the face of the man whose stiff cock is in my mouth, seeing him gazing enrapt at my red lips working on him, my body moving before him, my exposed bottom swaying delightfully with the full, pumping motion of my head (...won't be long now...).

A strange sense of glee floods through me, I am pure sex now, totally devoted to serving him...

And now I'm sucking him properly, and steadily wanking him at the same time. My hair falls forward, forming a tent for my eagerly worshipping lips, a secret shrine in which to receive the special, pearly-white, sacrament that both sustains and feeds my love (...oh I want to taste him I want to taste his come NOW...)

I feel Glenn's hands at the sides of my head, fingers wrapping gently in my tumbling hair - a sign that he is close - and in a frenzy of lust I close my eyes and take charge, wanking him hard in my fist, blatantly fucking him with my mouth, pleading, coaxing demanding that the approaching tide rise up from the splayed, sweaty balls beneath my chin and into my waiting mouth where it belongs. (...ooo yes... on his knees right behind me cool hands feeling my arse, thrust up and ready for him, then reaching down under my waist, between my legs, taking hold of my aching stiffness while plunging his cock into my hole until I squeal in delight, squirting into his hand...).

A sudden thickening of the shaft between my lips and my lover's orgasm rushes into my mouth, abruptly exploding in short, fierce, bursts onto my tongue, my teeth, filling the back of my throat.

"Mmm MMMmm," I let him hear my pleasure at being granted the sublime, sticky, gift of his passion, at eliciting such an intense and powerful response. The smell of his spunk is everywhere - in my nose, in my hair - I gulp the thick, viscous, fluid down with relish, taking all he has to give, just as I have done so many times before. My lover's early-morning come is warm and plentiful, tasting of nothing else but pure fresh love.

The oozing pulses finally subside and I busy myself with the task of delicately cleaning the still-stiffened organ. At last, pleased with myself, I sit back on my heels, licking the last remnants of his seed from my lips and with a big grin on my face. I feel proud and clever to have swallowed his come yet another time.

My boyfriend takes care to look cross, "Didn't I TELL you I was going to be late?"

He dresses quickly, his brow creased in obvious thought. I start to wonder if I might have bitten off more than I can chew here...

"I think its about time you learnt that the whole world doesn't actually revolve around Jemima and Jemima's fun."

"Glenn..."

"Just be quiet and do exactly what you're told, for once."

I know a hint when I hear one, so I stop and wait, a bit nervously now, for my master to decide what is going to be done with me...

Part 3 - Jemima has to Learn Who's Boss.

He orders me to put my black high heels on. I stand before him, knowing it is like one of our games, but feeling trepidation nevertheless.

"Open your legs and stand still," he warns in a tone that brooks no disrespect.

He IS being rather rough with me. I hear him scrabbling in our toy drawer selecting some items, before coming up behind me. A hand briskly separates my bumcheeks then my best thick buttplug is suddenly inserted into me from underneath. "Oo!" - he could have used some lubrication!

He attaches the thick studded belt round my waist, securely fastening it before pulling the dangling rear straps up between my legs, crossing them over and tightening them at the front with a jerk that threatens to lift me off the ground. "Uuhh", I clench round the unshiftable object now wedged in my bottom by the straps and, sticking out in front of me, my erection throbs in proud sympathy.

"Chew on that for a while, you little minx," he mutters in exasperation. I manage to pout most effectively at my cruel boyfriend - without him catching me.

The black leather cockleash is wrapped firmly round my excited prick, snug collar leaving only the shining purple mushroom of my exposed glans in view. Deftly he laces the enclosing leather tight around my shaft then attaches the D-rings round the base to the two taut straps running down into my crotch.

Attaching a long silver chain to the ring just below the head of the cockleash, my boyfriend stretches it out in front of me, clipping it to the ironwork at the foot of the bed.

Satisfied with the flagpole effect of my imprisoned cock, he moves round behind me.

"Wrists," he gives the familiar command and I place them behind my back. Velvet cord binds them tightly and I sigh, feeling the usual sensual, submissive, delight that always comes with having my hands bound. For some reason I get VERY turned on if Glenn french-kisses me while I'm tied like this - and the wicked bastard knows it...

In the mirror, I watch him estimate the length of cord needed before walking over to the door and looping the other end over the handle. For someone who's late, he seems to be taking plenty of time and trouble to make my life uncomfortable.

"Lets see how that is," he steps aside and gently begins to close the bedroom door.

The velvet cord gradually becomes taut, pulling my wrists back towards the closing door. I carefully follow the pull backwards, balancing on the high stilettoes, until I feel the cockleash tugging on my prick at the front. I pause, but the door continues to shut, tightening the pull on my prick and really forcing my hips forwards... I gasp, unable to retreat any further - and as my wrists start to pull me over, the door closes, leaving me high and dry, teetering on my heels, impaled on my buttplug,and powerless to do anything except concentrate on not falling over. Even the slightest sway of my hips produces a slight, heavenly, tug of pleasure on my cock.

Glenn comes and stands close to me, looking directly into my eyes. If he can't see the depth of the feelings running through my body, the hard evidence of my excitement poking out in front of me serves to give me away. He takes my face in his hands, kissing me hard in a way that lets me know just how much he, too, is turned-on by my impromptu punishment. I allow myself a mock struggle to free my wrists, feeling myself melting inside with pleasure, knowing that he will still be able to taste himself on my lips. My nylon-sheathed toes curl in their high-heeled stilletoes - I am utterly excited by my helplessness before him.

He breaks off to whisper in my ear, his hands find my breasts, moving in slow, tantalising, whirlpools over the stretched nylon. My breathing begins to quicken as his thumbs rub across my stiff nipples and he tells me that the only reason I have not been gagged is that I will be alone in the house until he gets back, and how, in the twenty minutes or so that he will be gone, I can think about what David will think when he sees me like this, and about how much I will deserve the spanking I am going to get... I shiver, pressing my body against his clever, teasing, hands; this man and his imagination are so sensual, so erotic to me - I feel he knows me totally, inside and out - how did I ever manage to live without him, without all this?

Then he leaves me there, poised and helpless in my bondage. The sound of the bedroom door shutting behind him merges with my unbidden groan of pleasure as my hips once more jerk forward, pulled by the inexorable pressure on my throbbing, tightly-laced, erection. All I can do now is wait...

Part 4 - Displayed Before an Old Friend.

I turn as much as the cockleash lets me, looking at him over my right shoulder.

David is maybe ten years older than Glenn. Beneath a neat grey goatee beard, his long, thin, face was quite lined and his hair, although still plentiful, was a sparkling silver-grey that presumably used to be jet-black. He is wearing an old-fashioned corduroy jacket and trousers in dark blue, together with a shirt and tie of obvious quality. Incongrously his left ear is pierced four, no five times. No other visible jewellery that I could see.