Her husband her slave at the mountain cabin His story

(my husband continues his story)


I stood there naked on the cabin’s porch, arms and legs pulled away by the chains and cuffs, and watched the long shadows move slowly across the courtyard. My arms began to feel heavy and the leather cuffs on my wrists dug into the skin a bit. My legs were spread, but not far enough to be uncomfortable. The cool air had relieved the stinging on the underside of my cock, but the memory of Annie cock-whipping me kept me very hard.

It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t heard her in the cabin for some time. I didn’t know where she’d gone, and my arms were tiring. A brief moment of doubt trickled through my mind. Annie was making my fantasy about slavery come true, but she didn’t have any real experience as a Domme. We’d played around a bit, but never anything serious, and I wondered if she would know where to draw the line. We had negotiated no safe word and no limits. I didn’t think she even really knew what those were. All we had were a handful of playful bedroom scenes over the last year and a few steamy fantasies I’d nervously related to her. I didn’t want to break the momentum, but I wondered if I should. I was about to call out to her when I heard her footsteps. She walked across the front room and out onto the porch. Her steps had the loud clack of hard soles. She’d changed out of the tennis shoes she wore on the drive to the cabin.

I turned and looked at her. I forgot about negotiating safewords and limits. She had changed clothes. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, tied beneath her ribs so that her midriff was bare. The top few buttons were undone to show off her cleavage. She had jeans on, with the legs tucked into black leather calf boots with four inch heels. She somehow looked exactly right for a Domme at a mountain cabin, and I smiled. Annie just arched an eyebrow and walked down the front steps. She had a video camera and a tripod, which she set up facing me a few feet in front of the porch. When she got in the Durango, I was afraid she was going to leave me there, and I didn’t think I could make it much longer. But instead, she just backed up and swung around so that the headlights were shining in my eyes. She needed the light for the video camera.

Coming back from the car, she turned on the camera and came up the steps. I wanted to ask what she was going to do, but kept quiet, trying to think like the slave I was supposed to be. She walked up to me and, taking my cock in her hand, kissed me roughly. Her tongue forced its way into my mouth, exploring me. Her hand slid down and cupped my balls tightly. Suddenly she broke off the kiss and stepped behind me. She loosened the chains holding up my arms and I thought she was going to release me, but she only gave a little extra slack. Then she knelt and tightened the chains holding my ankles, pulling my legs farther and farther apart. She moved back and forth, from one to the other, forcing me into a wider and wider spread. When she stopped, I was struggling to keep my balance with my legs almost five feet apart and the chains on my wrists now pulled tight as well.

Annie stepped in front of me. Even though she’s a tall woman, I am still four inches taller than her. But, with my legs spread so far apart, and her wearing heels, she now towered over me. I found myself staring directly at her cleavage. She reached behind me and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back roughly so that I looked up at her face.

“Are you staring at my breasts?” she asked sharply.

“Yes mistress,” I said. “I was. They look very nice.”

“Of course they do,” she said. “But don’t you think slaves should ask permission to ogle their Mistress?”

“Yes Mistress, they should.”

She waited, not saying anything, just pulling my hair and holding my neck bent backwards, opened, available to her. I looked up at her sweet, severe, face and my head swam. My inner thighs were straining, and I swayed back and forth in my bondage. Annie stood very close to me, and my cock brushed against her jeans. With a quick, savage motion she leaned forward and kissed me again, using her hand to press my mouth up against hers. Once more, her tongue parted my lips, my teeth, and felt its way around my mouth. My own tongue tried to spar with hers, but she forced it down, beat it back and claimed my mouth for her own. She turned her head and drove deeper into me, pulsing her tongue, fucking my mouth with it. I whimpered. She was amazing.

Slowly she pulled away from me, breaking the kiss and stepping back. She picked up the leather crop once more and caressed my cock with it. I was leaking pre-cum, a great big bubble of it collected at the tip, but she ignored that and ran the crop along the underside of my shaft. I thought she was going to give me another cock-whipping. I hoped she was going to give me another cock-whipping. But when she slid the crop down my shaft towards and past the base, and brought the flat leather tip of it to a stop pressing gently against the bottom of my scrotum, I realized she had something else in mind.

“Sean,” she said, “do you really want to be my slave?”

“Yes,” I answered, hastily correcting myself by saying “Yes, Mistress.”

The crop moved downward, away from my balls, and with a slight flick she brought it back up to tap firmly against them. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it made me jerk in my bonds.

“Are you sure you want to be my slave?” she asked again.

“Yes Mistress, I do.” I replied. She swung the crop again, striking my balls a little harder this time. I jumped again, and she repeated her question.

“Do you really want this?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Again, the crop slapped against my balls, harder still. I let out a gasp. She asked the question again and again, striking my balls harder each time. I always answered yes. How could I give any other answer? I was overcome by lust, lost in the scene. I became somewhat incoherent after a time, but still always answered yes. I lost count of the blows, and so did Annie, but from viewing the video tape later, I know that it was twenty progressively harder blows to my balls. At that point, she figured I really was serious, that I really wanted this and would welcome all that she had planned. She disappeared inside briefly, then returned, unchained me, and led me inside to the sofa. A bowl of soup and some wine were waiting for me. I recovered enough of my senses to eat. It had been a long day and I was suddenly very hungry. My balls ached as I sat there, naked on the striped corduroy couch, but my cock was still hard and the pre-cum ran freely down the shaft. When I was finished with dinner, Annie took me, still nude, into the bathroom. She told me to relieve myself, take a quick shower, and report to her in the bedroom. She reminded me to shave.

The shower was huge, but rustic. Rustic was actually an understatement. The floor was cement, and cold and rough on my feet. But the shower itself was eight feet on a side and had a skylight floating above my head. The water, a short run from the heater, was hot quickly and I savored the warmth after my evening nude in the cool air. My inner thighs had a slight burning sensation from being stretched so far, and my balls radiated a dull ache.

I made sure the shower was quick, and toweled off. I hung the towel back on the rack and saw my shaving gear sitting next to the sink. I lathered my face and carefully shaved the five o’clock shadow. I brushed my teeth, dried my face, and realized my cock was very hard again. I was looking forward to the bedroom. Annie had played out a great scene for me on the porch, and I couldn’t wait to slide into her pussy. It would be an intense fuck. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and whispered “You lucky bastard” to my reflection. With the smile still on my face, I opened the door and stepped across the hall to the bedroom.

“I thought I told you to shave,” Annie said quite sternly, as I stepped naked through the bedroom door.

My hand went quickly to my jaw line, feeling the smooth skin as a puzzled expression replaced the smile. I gulped with sudden realization, my other hand moving involuntarily to my pubic hair. Annie laughed. Not a wicked, evil laugh, but an impish playful one.

“Just kidding,” she said. “You shaved the right fur. This time anyway.” Her eyes dropped to my pubic hair as her lips pursed in thought. She was wondering what I would look like without it. But after a moment, she set aside her thoughts and came towards me with leather cuffs again. She was now wearing a powder blue silk robe that came no lower than her upper thighs. Her smooth, shapely legs were intoxicating, but the cuffs made it clear I was still a slave and I had to remind myself not to ogle without permission. The wood stove roared away in the corner, heating the room nicely. The video camera stood in another corner, the red light quietly announcing my upcoming scene would be preserved on tape. Annie told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I complied and she quickly cuffed them together. Then she put cuffs on my ankles, but didn’t bind them together. Instead, she buckled thigh straps onto me and ordered me up onto the bed.

“Face down,” she directed. I struggled up onto the bed, my hands useless behind me. When I was laying face down, Annie grabbed my left ankle and brought it up behind me. I felt a touch of cool metal and heard a snap. She had padlocked my ankle to the thigh strap. Next she did the other leg, and then separated my wrist cuffs, reconnecting them to my ankles as well. I was hogtied, face down on the bed.

Annie climbed up onto the head of the bed, casting off the flimsy robe and sitting in front of me. Her legs stretched out to either side of my head. She was naked, and her pussy glistened. She was very wet. I could see where thin trails of liquid had run several inches down her inner thighs, and the scent of her excitement washed over me. Her pussy was inches from my face. I longed for it, and she knew.

“Lift your head, slave.”

I struggled to pick my head up as far off the bed as I could. Annie slid down, slipping her pussy right under my lips. Her hands touched my head and she gently pushed me down onto her as her thighs opened further. I could barely move. The position was uncomfortable, but my tongue and mouth worked franticly. Annie’s hips rose rhythmically, pressing against my face, driving against my lips. I had eaten her pussy many times, but never while bound. I had performed orally on her, but always as a lover and never before as her slave. Licking her pussy as her husband, as a free man pleasuring her of his own free will, had been enjoyable, one of my favorite forms of sex. But serving her as a captive, compelled to do this and unable to pull away or refuse, was powerful beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Her hands moved my head, directing my attention where she wanted it. She pushed me down when she wanted more pressure and pulled my head back by my hair when she wanted less. I was nothing more than a sex toy, a tool for her pleasure. I’d never been as excited or overwhelmed.

She came, trembling and panting, her fists clenching tightly in my hair and grinding my face against her pussy as the tremors racked her body. She slowly came down from the orgasm. I felt it passing as the tension in her fingers and her thighs bled away. I kept licking, more softly now, hoping she would continue, seeking a second climax. But she slid out from under me and let my face gently fall against the blankets. Her hands ran absently through my hair. Gradually her breathing returned to normal and she let out a sigh. She rose from the bed and put the silk robe back on. Her hand ran down my shoulder, my arm, and then my flank and thigh. I was still bound, wrist-to-thigh-to-ankle, and she left me that way as she walked into the bathroom.

I lay there, feeling the pull of the leather and smelling her pleasure. She had soaked the covers where my face now lay, and my face itself was covered by her juices. My cock was hard but trapped beneath me. My balls ached now not just from the beating they had taken not so long ago, but also from desire. Annie returned shortly, wearing the same robe but now over flannel pajama bottoms. She turned off the video camera, then checked the fireplace, making sure the door was secured. Back at the bed, she freed my ankles from my thighs, but left them cuffed together. She also left my wrists cuffed to my thighs. She pulled the covers back and told me to scoot underneath them. I did as she said, and Annie climbed in bed with me. She pulled the covers over us and moved her hand to my anxious cock.

She stroked me very lightly, very briefly, then blew a kiss to me and said good night.

“No masturbating,” she said as she turned out the light, a barely suppressed giggle in her voice. “You’ll get your release eventually. But not tonight, Love. Slaves sometimes have to wait.”

She was asleep in minutes, her soft, contented breathing haunting me in the darkened room. I was surprised to realize how exhausted I was. Even so, it was a long time before I could fall asleep. Annie had thoroughly stunned me that day. I thought of what morning would bring, and wondered if my own fantasies could even compare.
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