Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: England
|Introduction: As requested by Tricky, here is part 2. Before you ask me, Tricky, I'm already writing part 3|
Experimentation - Volume 2
One thing I can remember as clear as if it was yesterday is a small section of a particular night’s fun. Erika was being Mistress again, and she was talking about sharing me with another Mistress, to see how I could perform on another woman. I looked up into her eyes, from my supine position on the bed, and whispered huskily, “Please Mistress; not tell lies to poor bitch?”
“Lies?” Mistress asked, with a smile on her face.
“Yes Mistress,” I replied. “Mistress not very good liar. Mistress too selfish to share pretty, big boobed slave with anyone else, although bitch not mind; bitch service anyone Mistress want serviced. Mistress keeps bitch services entirely for herself, as they should be. Dirty blonde bitch service Mistress when told, but image Mistress get jealous of anyone else to have bitch service. Perhaps Mistress find husband; share bitch with new Master. Bitch service Mistress’ boyfriend, or husband, whenever Mistress commands it.”
Mistress smiled at me, and then reached down to my face with her left hand. She placed it along the side of my face and eased the thumb between my lips, so I sucked on it hungrily, as if I could get a meal from it, or some other kind of reward. “You’re right, of course,” she said. “I would never share you with anyone. I would get jealous of them if they got pleasure from that lovely skilled tongue of yours. Somehow though, I don’t image myself with a boyfriend; let alone imagine myself getting married. I don’t have any need for a man anyway, as long as I have my beautiful, big blonde slave. Men are just filthy bastards anyway! All they want to do is fuck women, and fill their cunts with spunk. Did your last Master fill your cunt with spunk?”
“Yes Mistress. Master fill beaver every day, Mistress; some days, Master fill beaver many times.”
“Did you like it?”
“Bitch not required to like it, Mistress; bitch just required to take Master’s sperm in beaver, whenever Master wanted to put sperm in bitch’ beaver. Bitch would take sperm in beaver, from Mistress’ boyfriend. Would take it every day, in beaver, up botty, or down throat into belly, too, if Mistress say to; would suck Mistress’ boyfriend’s sperm out of Mistress’ sweet beaver or shapely botty; would suck out every day, if Mistress wanted; be good bitch; always swallow sperm.”
Mistress raised her hand, as to strike me, and repeated the question. “Did you like it when your last Master spunked in your cunt?”
“No Mistress!” I answered quickly, as if I didn’t want to be slapped. I really knew that that she wouldn’t hit me hard enough to hurt; if she even hit me at all, but it seemed to be the thing to do. “Master liked doing it, and because he owned me, I wasn’t allowed to refuse his demands; I simply did what Master ordered, because I knew that he would beat me if I didn’t.”
Later that night, we were lying on top of our bed, and I was admiring the curves on my partner’s body. Although there was a fair amount of light coming in the bedroom window, allowing me to see Erika’s sleeping form, I couldn’t make out many details of her beautiful face. I reflected that a girl could have a far worse Mistress than I had! What sort of history might Mistress’ slave girl have? What sort of life might I have known before Mistress bought me and introduced me to something completely new?
Perhaps I lived in an America where the Union was beaten by the Confederacy, during the civil war, and slavery hadn’t been outlawed. Even worse, it had been expanded to cover whites being slaves; probably Union citizens at the end of the war.
Well, here goes with my imagination.
As I lay on the bed with Mistress, beside her sleeping form, I looked back at what happened to me and what had led me to my first night in Mistress’ bed. My parents had both been slaves from birth, working from an early age on a farm, for the same family. At one point, they had me; a tall and beautiful, although not very busty, blonde. My owner was too old to enjoy me, the way he had with many other slave girls, (my mother included), so after receiving an excellent financial offer for me, I was sold on for a good price. I was only fifteen, and as I was led away from my parents, I was terrified and sobbing, a being separated from my family. I had no real idea of what to expect in my new home, but I learned fast about what I was expected to do. I didn’t have to labor in a field like my parents had for most of their lives, blistering my hands and burning the skin on my back, in the heat. However, compared to what I was forced into doing that first afternoon, I would have preferred the back-breaking labor in the cornfields. By nightfall, it was clear to me why my mother had cried so much as I departed; no doubt she knew what was going to happen to me. My first Master made my ‘domestic’ duties very clear, and they all revolved around the bed, and what I was required to do on top of it. My Master was what Mistress quite accurately described as ‘a filthy bastard.” For a non-slave girl what Master did to me, I would have classified as being beaten and raped. However, I was property, and there was no refusing Master’s demands. Being a slave girl, my consent for sex with Master was assumed, and therefore it couldn’t possibly be rape.
Master was rich and liked to keep several slaves for service in his bedroom; selling them off after just a couple of years. I lasted a year and ten months, which was quite a while apparently, and then I was sold on to a new Master. By that point, I was good at what I had been taught to do; after all, I’d been beaten often enough to understand my place in life. I’d been handed around a few of Master’s friends, and a group of them they liked me. They liked me so much that they pooled their finances and bought me. That was a year of pure hell for me, and I even tried to commit suicide twice. For my pains in trying to end my misery, they whipped me with a telephone cable, making me count the strokes. I got two hundred lashes, spaced between the soles of my feet, and the base of my neck, and then they took turns at me for hours until I was sore. After I tried again to end my misery, they realized just how miserable I was, figured it was only a matter of time until I succeeded at ending my life, and beat me senseless. Figuring that I was a liability, and knowing that if I was successful in ending my life, they would lose a considerable sum of money, they waited until I recovered, and then sold me as soon as I was in a suitable condition for the slave market auction block.
My third owner was a married man and the situation was very different for me. I was teamed up with another girl bought from the same auction, and our task was to put on girlie shows for our owners, and then entertain them when we’d made them horny enough to join in. That was when I learned the art of pleasuring another woman, and realized that I was quite good at it. I was finally given an orgasm for the first time in my life, and the feeling was exquisite. I was taken aback by that. I was also taken aback when I reached the end of the second week with my third owner, and noticed that I hadn’t been beaten even once. For me, that was probably a record, and it was something it took me a while to get used to. I wasn’t accustomed to the idea that a Master wouldn’t want to beat me.
When I was twenty-five, that Master had financial problems, and being the prettiest slave he owned, I got sold off. My fourth Master was the man who sold me to Mistress. He was a mix of character styles of my previous owners. He did beat me, but not gratuitously, or for his enjoyment. If I didn’t misbehave, I didn’t get beaten, so I behaved properly. I had more duties with my last Master, but was better looked after due to that. I provided more services to that Master than I had to other Masters, but in return I got a private room to myself, which was something I’d never had before. My room wasn’t up to the same standard as Master’s bedroom, and he often used to chain me to the bed because he was afraid of me running away.
He kept me for seven years, and in that time, the only good thing he ever did for me, and that was motivated by his ego and his pleasure), was that he paid for me to have my tits enlarged. I’d been born with the program for A-cups, and Master paid to have my bust built up to B-cups, and that was something I liked. I know I was only a slave, but at heart I was a still a woman, and like many flat-chested free women, I wanted to have bigger tits.
Then I met my Mistress. I didn’t even know that I was being sold until Master told me to pack my pitiful possessions because my new owner was coming to take me away. I’d become accustomed to his way of doing things, and was scared of what might happen to an uneducated, illiterate slave girl, especially one in her thirties. I was no longer a desirable teenage girl who could command a high price if she was properly looked after. Each time I’d been sold, my price was lower, and at that age, I was like a high mileage car; I didn’t get sold to a discerning owner with high standards and an intention to properly maintain his investment. I got sold to whoever would pay the knockdown price for me, despite my age and condition, and like many old cars, slaves like me were often neglected and badly treated.
I stood by my uncomfortable bed, and, almost wetting myself with fright, waited for my new owner. When a beautiful young woman, (really no more than a teenage girl), walked in with an expensive gown and an expensive coat slung over her left arm, and a bag in her left hand, I was very surprised. After the sort of check I had become accustomed to, Mistress handed my ex Master a handful of dollar bills, and knelt down in front of me. She turned to my ex owner, held out her hand, and commanded, “The key, you bastard!” She took the chain off my ankle, placed clothes on the bed, and then told me to, “Take off the cheap shit and put these on, honey.”
I looked at the quality of the clothes I was being given, and instinctively I knew that I had found an owner who would treat me very well, despite my age and the amount of miles I had on the clock; I had, after all, been round the block a few times. Despite my age and the amount of miles on the clock, my bodywork was still in almost unmarked condition. Silk and leather were two of the things that a slave didn’t get. Nevertheless, I put on the fine quality clothes that Mistress had given me, and I was proud of how I looked. Mistress had given me a matching set of underwear; bra, panties and suspenders, all in silk. The gown was also made of silk, as were the stockings to go with the suspenders. There were knee high boots, elbow length gloves and a knee length leather coat, to keep me warm outside. I didn’t put the gloves or coat on, as I was still indoors, but I put on everything else. Mistress pointed at the cheap clothes I had taken off and asked, “Is that bag full of cheap shit like that?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, figuring that lying would do me no good.
She kicked the bag across my little room and announced, “We need to go shopping then. Would you like more clothes like those you’re wearing, because I’m not having you wearing that sort of cheap shit?”
“Yes please, Mistress!” I eagerly answered, without giving a second thought as to what I might have to do to earn them. I’d have loved more clothes like the ones Mistress had just given me.
“Put the coat and gloves on,” Mistress instructed. Once I’d done that, my new Mistress commanded, taking me by my left hand. “Leave the bag where it is; you won’t need it.” Mistress took me by my left hand, and led me towards the exit from my ex-Master’s home. When we were outside, standing beside Mistress’ massive Hummer SUV, she wrapped her arms around my waist and said, “I don’t know what sort of life you’ve led up to now, Princess, but I do know what sort of life you will lead from now on. Violence is not something you need to fear, especially from me. That idiot in there claimed that you were a plain-Jane; well-used, but highly obedient; which was why I got you so cheap, but I see that you’re far more than that. You’re beautiful, and you’re all mine. I won’t beat you, nor will I rape you. I won’t deny my intentions to have sex with you, now that I’ve seen you, but you’ll enjoy the time you spend in my bed; I promise you that!
There’ll be no cheap food on your plate, no cheap clothes on your body, and most importantly, no chains! If anyone harms so much as a hair on your head, I’ll beat the bastard half to death. If he actually hurts you, I’ll shoot him dead where he stands!” Then she kissed me softly on my mouth, and opened the car door for me to get in.
We didn’t go to Mistress’ apartment, though; she took me shopping for clothes, and spent more money than I had even dreamed of seeing, and she did it as though the massive shopping bill was neither here nor there. One incident I remember was the moment I was asked to make a choice between two big leather coats, and when I hesitated, Mistress said to the shop assistant, “Seeing as she can’t make up her mind, she can have them both.” I was stunned; the cheaper coat was eleven hundred dollars! Slave pussies like me didn’t warrant thousand dollar coats; I’d always known that. After all, my last coat came out of a charity shop! I got my previous coat when Master took me to stand outside a charity shop, told me I needed a new coat, handed me thirty dollars and pushed me into the shop. The biggest surprise of all, though, was when a teenage girl commented to Mistress that no matter how much money she spent, she couldn’t polish a turd like me. Before the girl even knew what had happened, Mistress had backhanded her across her rather pretty face and told her to, and I quote, “Shut the fuck up, you dirty little teenage slut!” Mistress said that I would polish up pretty well, so she took me to a beauty stylist, to have my hair, eyebrows and nails done.
After that, Mistress took me home, and led me into the bedroom. She explained that I was to share her bed, pointed out which was my side of the big wardrobe, and my sets of drawers, and allowed me to stow my clothes the way I liked. Mistress had spent almost twenty thousand dollars on clothes for me, and she hadn’t yet even had a good feel of my tits! I didn’t understand her thoughts, or her ways, but I was certain that I had found a home I would never want to leave.
After which, Mistress sent me to bathe while she prepared a meal for us. A power shower and a fully operable Jacuzzi were luxuries unknown to pieces of property like yours truly, and I spent a long time soaking in the bubbles. I didn’t lock the bathroom door because the thought never even occurred to me, and I was very surprised when Mistress knocked on the door, pushed it open a couple of inches to hear me better, and asked if she could come in. I wasn’t accustomed to having my owners ask me for permission to do anything they wanted to do. Mistress had a bathrobe in her hand, and told me that dinner was ready. I was a little surprised when Mistress invited me to accompany her to the dinner table, rather than commanded it, and her definition of dinner was fantastic; a full meal prepared from fresh food, and none of it of the pre-packaged rubbish that needed only heating up in a microwave. Mistress’ culinary skills weren’t great, but the quality of the food more than made up for that.
I ate the meal while listening to soft music from Mistress’ stereo, and talking to Mistress. We talked about ourselves and I learned that Mistress wasn’t a day over twenty-one, but had plenty of money inherited from her parents. After dinner, Mistress made us each a cup of half-and-half; half strong black coffee, and half expensive Irish whisky; the sort where for six 75cl bottles, you part with something like twelve to fifteen hundred dollars. The closest I had ever gotten to alcohol of that quality, earlier in life, was being hit, and/or sexually abused, with the bottle, yet Mistress was allowing me to drink it with her, and by the end of the night I was quite tipsy.
During our discussion, Mistress and I were both surprised at things we learned about each other. Mistress was surprised when I told her that I had never been taught to read, and I was even more surprised to discover that despite having just turned twenty, Mistress was still an innocent virgin. Mistress didn’t like men, but from my own experiences, I couldn’t really say that I blamed her for that; due to the way that many of them had brutalized me for their own enjoyment, I didn’t really like them either. As we talked Mistress offered me the kind of deal I would never have imagined hearing. Mistress offered this deal: She would teach me to read and write, if, starting the following morning, when we recovered from our hangovers, I would teach how her to make love to another woman!
Would I refuse an offer like that? I had found an owner who didn’t enjoy hurting slave girls; I was her first slave after all. Mistress had been orphaned a few months previously, and she was desperately lonely. Put in the simplest terms, Mistress hadn’t originally bought me, on EBay of all things, sight unseen, for sex, but for simple company, due to her loneliness. However, when she laid eyes on me, she decided to make use of my services. It was strange to think that I had been a sex toy since before Mistress started Kindergarten, but she promised me my freedom on my fiftieth birthday, if I could keep her satisfied until then. She also promised me enough money to buy a house and become educated. I’d done it for seventeen years, so what was another eighteen years of service to a gentle young woman, if those eighteen years of service would purchase my freedom? Perhaps if I served my rich Mistress particularly well, then she might give me the money to purchase the freedom of my little sister as well, at the time she freed me. I didn’t suppose it would happen, but I could hope. I could hope, because by then my sister would be almost forty years old, and unless she was particularly beautiful, her re-sale value would be quite low.
The strangest thing of all was that the only thing that Mistress asked for that night, was her first kiss. Mistress led me to our bed, and she laughed at my startled response at a sitting down on a warm bed on a cold night, she laughed at me when she realized that I didn’t know what an electric blanket was. It was my turn to laugh, or at least to try and keep a straight face, when I saw Mistress blushing as she took off her clothes in my presence. It was strange to realize that I was the only person, aside from Mistress’ mother, who had seen her naked, and that was in her childhood. I remember the way she stood in front of me in her panties, embarrassed to be seen like that by another person. I knelt down in front of Mistress, took her hands in my own, and said, “If you want me to teach you the art of lovemaking, Mistress, I’m going to have get your kit off, or it just won’t work!”
She was, at least, able to smile. She unclipped her bra and permitted me to pull down her panties. I looked up at my young, beautiful little Mistress, and my eyes took in the size of her tits. They were very impressive; the size of watermelons, and they seemed every bit as firm as a pair of watermelons. I got a little bit of a thrill at the realization that Mistress hadn’t allowed anyone else to look at her fantastic big tits before she showed them to me. I rubbed a fingertip through a full rug of Mistress’ pubes, telling her that I recommended shaving at least some of them off. In return, I got a nervous smile and an offer of her letting me do exactly that. It was amusing for me to discover that my owner was far more nervous than I was.
We settled down to sleep off the effects of the alcohol, and I was still a little overwhelmed by the turn of events that had brought me to that warm bed, and to the warm body in it beside me. Despite being a bought sex-toy for seventeen years, it was very rare that I’d shared a bed with anyone, and it took me a little getting used to that simple fact.
After the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time, woke up to find that Mistress had an arm around my waist, with her head resting on my right shoulder and her hair over my chest. She was also awake and smiling at me. I realized that it was the first time Mistress had ever shared a bed with anyone in her life. After giving Mistress a kiss, I suggested that it was time I gave her the first necessary lesson in lesbian lovemaking. The smile she gave me was worth at least a dozen orgasms. I got my Mistress on top of the bed, and for the first time in her life, she permitted a woman to get between her splayed thighs, and apply my tongue to her virginal pussy.
It was clear to me, as I demonstrated my skills to Mistress, the fact that she hadn’t lied to me about her innocence. I could tell, just from the tightness of her sweet pussy around my tongue, that there had never been any kind of prick, (real or imitation), pushed up inside it, and I decided that Mistress was going to enjoy the following few minutes more than any few minutes in her life! As I probed her sweet pussy with my tongue, and teased her clitoris with one finger, I could tell the amount of pleasure she was having by the build up of noises from her throat. The whimpers got louder and more frequent, and were followed by a strangled squeal as Mistress came, at someone else’s hands, for the first time in her life. “Do you want to change places, Mistress?” I asked.
“How will I learn, otherwise?” Mistress replied.
We traded places, and Mistress licked her first ever pussy, as I ran my fingers through her hair. As is usually the case with someone doing something for the first time, especially oral sex on a woman, Mistress wasn’t very good at it, but with a little guidance and coaching things improved, and after a good twenty minutes I felt the beginnings of an orgasm begin to build. I hadn’t told Mistress that on the rare occasions I was given orgasms, I’m something of a squirter, and when I came, I delivered a considerable squirt of feminine love-juices straight into Mistress’ mouth. The look on her face, when she came up for air, was one I wish I could have taken a picture of, it was so unique. She was clearly shocked.
Some shopping was clearly going to be in order, if Mistress wanted to continue her education; she didn’t even own a vibrator, let alone a strap-on prick, and she was definitely going to need at least one of those! After a quick Google search, Mistress selected a local fetish shop, and she took me shopping. In hindsight, she made a bad choice. It was a large building with three floors; two of which had rooms for couples to partake in the carnal delights. When we arrived in our conventional, yet expensive clothes we spotted other women in kinky outfits and Mistress drew admiring glances from all quarters. “One woman who appeared to be in her early to mid forties, and who had a much younger woman on a leash shouted out, “If you’re gonna bring pussy of that quality to a place like this, you need to keep her on a leash at all times, or you may find her getting stolen.” It took me a good few seconds to realize that she’d completely misunderstood the situation, and was talking to me! She thought that I’d bought Mistress for my pleasure, not the other way around. One of the other women walked up and patted me on the back. “That’s a fine piece of ass you’ve got there; lucky bitch! What did she cost you?”
“Mind your own business!” I snapped at her, in a way I’d heard other slave owners talk when it came to the subject of purchase prices of fine creatures like Mistress. To some of that sort, including a number of women in the building at the time, that was all they perceived Mistress as; an attractive piece of pussy that I had paid a considerable amount of dollars for.
“Have it your way, honey; I was just curious! I might have made you a decent offer on a fine piece of ass with a pair of tits as big as hers!”
I took Mistress’ hand and led her to the display racks to pick up our first set of sex toys. It wasn’t until we were looking at the array of pseudo-pricks that I noticed Mistress had put her billfold into my coat pocket. She spotted my look of recognition and quietly said, “Play along with the other women, Princess. You seem to know how to react to the others, in a way that I don’t. Put a collar around my neck, and attach a leash to it if you think it might make this easier for us.”
“I’ll do my best Mistress.” I promised.
We looked around for what we thought we might require, including smaller toys that were suitable for Mistress’ tight virgin pussy. Some of those faux pricks were big; far bigger than a virgin pussy like Mistress’ could comfortably accommodate. Some of the weirder toys scared Mistress; just because of what they looked like! While we browsed the array of merchandise, other women came over to us to check out my latest ‘purchase,’ and some did more than just look. I first realized this when Mistress let out a little yelp, after some big butch dyke grabbed a handful of her ass. She played docile enough, eyes downcast and face flushed red, that no one suspected that she owned me. As suited to the part I played, the first thing I did was get a collar and leash, take Mistress to the counter, purchase the pair, and attach them. After which, we returned to shopping, as I led Mistress around by her leash. Then I handed her a supply of toys, and what was blatantly labeled ‘Pussy shaver,’ and led her towards the cash desk. “Come on honey, it’s time to check out,” I instructed. The small toys we selected were the first things commented on at the pay counter. The woman on the checkout held up the smallest dildo for all to see. “Buyer here’s got a virgin to break in!” she announced, very loudly. “Are you sure that she’s still got her cherry at her age?” she asked me, in a quieter voice.
I stuck up the middle finger on my right hand and loudly announced, “I stuck this in her cunt this morning, and the cherry was intact then! However, when we get home, I’ll change that.” I paid the woman on the checkout and handed the toys to Mistress, telling her to pick up the bag. Then I grabbed Mistress by the leash and dragged her towards the door, announcing a little louder than was necessary, “Come on, honey, we’re leaving; I’m gonna take you home and teach you to be the expensive fuck toy that I bought you to be!”
When we got out of the building, Mistress pushed me up against the nearest wall, kissed me, and congratulated me on my playing of the game. I didn’t know what to say to her at the time, but I did take the collar from around Mistress’ neck and put it in the bag she was carrying. “Next time, leave that on until we get to the car,” she instructed me.
“Next time, Mistress?” I asked, thoroughly surprised to think that we might ever go back there again.
“Would you be surprised if I told you I’d actually enjoyed that?” Mistress asked.
“Very!” I announced in considerable shock.
“I’m surprised as well, but I guess I must just be a bit of a closet pervert!” Mistress explained. “Will you play your part as well as that, again?”
“Of course, Mistress, whatever you command.” I agreed.
“Ok then, for next time, you got me at a knockdown price from a man who originally intended me for his son, but had to sell privately because of financial troubles. Due to that, you got me for the relatively low price of thirty kays, rather than the market value of closer to forty five.”
“May I ask how much you paid for me, Mistress?” I asked in my most submissive voice. I knew that when I was cradle-snatched at fifteen, my original owner sold me for twenty three thousand and wondered how much was I worth in more recent days.
“Five,” answered Mistress. “On ‘buy it now,’ and I though you were a bargain at that price. Others obviously didn’t, because you’d been there for a week by then. You looked so miserable that I knew I had to rescue you from whatever that asshole was subjecting you to. Looking at you in the outfit you wore when I took you home, I figured that was half of what I’d have been willing to pay for a beauty like you.” Was that all that my last Master thought I was worth; a mere five thousand dollars? I knew that he’d bought me for twelve thousand, and thought that I was a steal at that price.
I wondered how I was going to do what Mistress wanted me to do. To give her precisely what she had demanded, was going to hurt her in her most sensitive spot, and for the kindness I had been shown the previous day, hurting Mistress was something I didn’t want to do. When we returned home, I asked Mistress to tell me how she served her coffee, and I made, and served, her a cup. After that, we returned to the bedroom, and with far less reserve than the previous day, Mistress stripped off and lay on the bed, with a bath towel under that rather nice ass of hers. It was surprising that I didn’t know which of us was the most nervous; Mistress or I. Still, I had a job to do, and I was going to do it.
Stage one involved my cutting Mistress’ pubes very short with a pair of sharp scissors, lathering up her pussy mound with shaving foam, which make Mistress giggle, taking the pussy shaver, and removing all of Mistress’ pubes, after which I tenderly rubbed in some the cooling balm that came with the razor. I could feel Mistress shivering with just my touches on her pussy.
Then it was time for me to take the smallest of our new toys, and rupture Mistress’ hymen. I also stripped of, and after I pushed Mistress’ legs together, I straddled her supine form and began to gently knead her fabulous tits, just listening to her whimper in her pleasure. I discovered an unusual facet of Mistress’ biological make-up; one that I was so jealous of; she could orgasm just from the attention paid to those enviously big tits. Even though I hadn’t gone anywhere near it, that lovely virginal pussy was producing copious quantities of lubrication. The moment had come and I had to put aside my reservations and hurt my Mistress. I selected the smallest of Mistress’ sex toys, took it out of its box, and gently eased the tip of it into Mistress’ tight pussy. I pressed it forward until it struck her hymen and asked if she was ready for the sharp pain that would follow.
“Do it!” Mistress commanded.
“As you wish, Mistress,” I replied, and pushed. I felt Mistress’ hymen rupture under the pressure of the plastic prick, and I heard the gasp of pain from emit from between her lips as it did. I released the toy from my grasp, but left it where it was, and I scooted back up the bed to kiss Mistress and return my attention to her tits, as her pussy acclimatized itself to the size of the piece of plastic that had, without warning, suddenly invaded it. As our tongues made contact during the kiss, I squeezed her tits in turn and pushed gently on the end of the dildo, pressing it slightly into Mistress’ pussy, and showing her far more consideration and gentility than was shown to me on my first time. Despite the small size of the toy, and the gentleness I showed to her, Mistress still whimpered slightly with the small amount of pain from her freshly invaded pussy.
Yet despite the pain from her freshly invaded pussy, Mistress gritted her teeth against it, and didn’t ask me to stop what I was doing. After a few minutes of that, I moved on to thrusting the dildo in and out of Mistress’ pussy, without causing her too much pain. Looking at the smattering of blood on the towel under Mistress’ cute ass, I was reminded of the time when the blood was my own, and I shuddered with the memory. It was much more painful for me, than it was for Mistress, and I wanted to keep it that way for her. As I slid the moderately sized piece of plastic into Mistress’ little pussy, I concentrated the actions of my other hand on the sensitive bundle of nerves that constituted her clitoris. Mistress came surprisingly quickly as I did that. I guess it was due to the size of the intrusion into her previously untouched pussy. After all, Mistress had only ever used a maximum of two fingers, and Mistress’ fingers were small and dainty! I knew that Mistress intended me to change from the small single-ended dildo to an average sized double-ended variety and properly fuck her with it, but I could tell that an invasion of that size, into Mistress’ tight pussy, was going to considerably hurt her, and that was something I didn’t want to do. I tried to dissuade Mistress from her course of action, but she would have none of it.
Mistress wanted me to fuck her with a fake prick that was far too big to comfortably fit in her tight pussy, and I knew that it was going to hurt her. At the end of the day though, when I was much younger, I learned to obey my owner, and do what I was told. If Mistress was demanding to be hurt by me, then I would hurt her the way she wanted, because I had had it drilled into me from birth that I was a slave, and I would obey. I was every bit as aroused as Mistress was, by the situation, and I did want to make love to her, but not the way she wanted. I don’t think that in my life I had ever genuinely been turned on, in the same manner. I figured that I could enjoy making love to Mistress, but how she would feel the first time she took eight inches of plastic prick was another matter.
I fitted the double-ended dildo in to my pussy, and I crouched down between Mistress’ thighs. Placing the tip of it at the entrance to Mistress’ pussy, I asked for reassurance from her. “Are you sure that you’re ready for this Mistress; it is going to hurt?”
“I’m ready,” Mistress assured me.
“You promise you won’t punish me Mistress?” I asked.
“I promise, Princess!”
“In that case, Mistress, grit your teeth, because this is going to hurt.” With a gentle push, I eased the first inch of plastic prick into Mistress’ pussy, and then it became a little more difficult. It took me a little while to get even the first four inches into Mistress, and by then she was beginning to cry. I dried the tear from the corners of Mistress’ eyes and I stopped the penetration. “I warned you, Mistress; I warned you how much this would hurt.”
“I need this, Princess, no matter how much it hurts. My friends take the piss out of me for being a virgin, so I need to change that. I need to know how it feels to lose my cherry, and be fucked by a big cock, so please, hurt me some more.” She wrapped her legs around me, and dug her heels into the backs of my legs. I thrust forward with my hips and buried the remaining four inches of the dildo inside Mistress’ pussy. She actually cried with the pain and I froze. “Keep it up, Princess; make me come,” Mistress insisted. “I can take the pain. I doubt that anyone was as considerate as this with you; treat me no differently. Take your pleasure from my body, Princess, as long as you give some in return. Close your eyes and think about what you’ve suffered in the last ten years. Image that I did a lot of that, and take it out on me with that big rubber cock. Split me wide open and make me bleed with it.”
“I can’t do that Mistress; you’ve been so kind to me, I don’t want to hurt you,” I protested.
“Do I have to threaten to hurt you, to get you to follow my instructions?” Mistress asked.
“No Mistress; I’ll obey.”
I did what I was told, and I made love to my Mistress, feeling guilty at listening to her muted cries of pain, and at watching the tears that rolled down her face and soaked into the pillowcase. Part way through our first fuck, though, I could tell that Mistress’ pussy was becoming accustomed to the size of the piece of latex rubber buried deep inside it, and that Mistress’ cries were becoming those of pleasure, rather than of pain, and my conscience eased because of that. Mistress felt better, so I felt better, but I still fucked her quite gently. She wasn’t ready for more vigorous lovemaking; that could come later, when her pussy was properly accustomed to the size of the dildo. She came quickly; harder than before, and I think that she was genuinely surprised at the intensity of the climax. I stopped thrusting, and remained where I was, with the fake prick buried deep inside Mistress, and then I kissed her again. “How was that, Mistress? Did it hurt enough to satisfy you?” I asked.
Mistress smiled up at me and replied “I hadn’t realized that fucking could be so painful, Princess. Nature intended that my first fuck should hurt so much?”
“Nature can be so cruel, Mistress. How would it have been if I’d been a man with a bigger prick than this?” I asked.
Mistress shuddered, and replied, “Bigger than that? You mean they come in larger sizes?”
I chuckled at Mistress’ feigned innocence; (she must have been sufficiently educated to know the truth;) and replied, “I’ve had bigger in me, over the years, and some of them did hurt towards the beginning, but by now, I’m accustomed to it. By the time you’re thirty, I’ll have your pussy trained to accommodate any size prick in it, and I’m sure you’ll love it.” At that, I withdrew the toy from Mistress’ pussy, and rolled off her. As I lay beside her, I watched Mistress put her fingers to her pussy and rub them around the outside, in the lube, and the blood. She pushed a couple of fingers inside herself and winced with pain. “Sore, Mistress?” I asked.
“Definitely!” Mistress stated.
“I did warn you that you weren’t ready for it, Mistress. From my own experience, I know that the soreness will go away in a couple of days, but if I continue to give you this once the soreness goes away,” I indicated the dildo, “It will continue to come back, and take longer to go away. Of course, if you continue to receive this at least once a day, once the soreness goes away, it will stay away until you want to upgrade to something bigger. You will want something bigger, won’t you?”
“Yes, Princess, I think I will,” replied Mistress with a smile on her face. “By the time I get to thirty, I want you to have trained my pussy to be able to accommodate the biggest fake cock on the market. Or a king-sized cucumber, whichever is the larger. Take out the cock, Princess, now it’s your turn to come.”
“You don’t need to do that, Mistress.” I replied.
“How am I going to practice my skills at cunt-eating, if I can’t eat yours?” protested Mistress. “I don’t have a girlfriend to practice on!”
“You won’t, I suppose.” I replied.
“Exactly! Now be a good slave girl; park your cunt on my face, and let me eat it.” I’d never had that instruction from an owner before! The closest my owners ever wanted to get to my pussy, was fucking it, and they didn’t usually care about my pleasure. The closest I got to a pleasured pussy on anything approaching a regular basis, was with my previous owner. On occasion, he used to like fucking me in front of a few friends, and for show, he used to make me come. After which, he frequently made my mouth available to any of the audience who wanted to use it; and there were often women as well as men interested in using my mouth.
Being offered pleasure in an order from Mistress, I obeyed, and Mistress began to practice what I had taught her that morning. Two orgasms in one day; probably a record for yours truly, and the day wasn’t over yet! The next surprise was when Mistress reached into one of her bedroom cupboards for her collection of childhood books. She presented me with a simple alphabet book, and began to teach me to read it. I found it very difficult at the beginning, and wondered how you could teach such things to a child of three. Yet, I persevered, and slowly I began to read those childrens’ books. (Within a year I had progressed to reading books for pre-teens and within two years, I was reading books from Mistress’ own collection, although I sometimes had to ask for help with some of the big, complicated words. I learned quite quickly that if I typed a big word into Mistress’ computer, it would sometimes give me a smaller, simpler word that meant the same. Sometimes I thought that it was cheating, but it worked and I learned the meanings of those big words.)
Back to the here and now.
Sitting naked on Mistress’ bed, with Mistress, being taught to read was highly frustrating but hugely satisfying. The concept of being able to read newspapers and shop signs was appealing, and I looked forward to being able to do so. I also liked the idea of being able to write to my family, to tell them how I was getting on, and to tell them that for the first time in my life I was truly happy.
By nightfall it was time to head for bed, and time to make love Mistress again. Mistress demanded a sixty-nine for mutual pussy-eating, and then doggy-style sex on the bed.
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