As instructed you are waiting in your hallway, just behind your front door. You are kneeling with your knees wide apart and your hands behind your neck. You are naked, your breasts are thrust forward by your position, your eyes open, though lowered, you wait. Listening intently, nervously for the first sound of my arrival. Your mouth is dry, your heart is thumping in your chest. You have no idea what the evening will bring. You know I intend something special but I have been vague about what will actually happen. You have prepared your self very carefully, shaving your pussy to silken smoothness, rouging your nipples and pussy lips after pinching them to a luscious fullness. The anticipation arouses you perhaps more than your careful preparations and wild imaginings that have teased and tormented your mind all day.

You shift uncomfortably, your arms and knees begin to ache, but still you maintain your position. You know very well what will happen should I arrive and find you are not doing as you have been told. You hear the key in the door and your breath catches. The door swings open and I stand there. I step through the door but do not close it. You are exposed. I wonder whether you will move, run to hide or drop your hands to cover your self. But you do not, even though every part of you is screaming to do so. The thought of your lewdness, of being exposed thrills you even while it makes you squirm. You shiver and I finally relent and let the door close.

I kneel before you and gently run my fingertips over your lips and down you throat to your breasts, I brush your nipples lightly as I look in to your eyes. They swell still further. I take a silver chain from my pocket. I fasten the tiny clamps to your nipples and tighten them until they hold you firmly just on the edge of pain, then I attach another fine chain, your lead. A few tugs to make sure they are well attached and test your obedience in silence and then I simply command,"Up!" and you gracefully rise, your hands still clasped behind your neck. I lead you by your chain to your bedroom.

Once there I tell you to kneel once more and standing behind you I fasten your wrists in to padded cuffs. By these I lift you up and draw you towards the hook I have previously set high on one wall. The chain that is your lead hangs down between your legs brushing your mons and tickling your pussy lips. I slip a blindfold over your eyes and leave to fetch myself a glass of wine. You remain quite still as instructed until I return. Sitting in front of you, I take your ankle and place your foot on my shoulder. The firm pressure as my hand encloses your ankle like a cuff makes you breathe more deeply as your belly churns. I press your inner thigh to open you and expose you. I lean forward to smell your hot scent. You shiver, torn between the delicious vulnerability your position makes you feel and the sweet melting inside it creates, and the sense of shame that such helplessness excites you. You feel my breath on your pussy, desperate for my touch, you remain silent as instructed, only the forward, involuntary motion of your hips as you seek for the sensation you crave reveals the strength of your desire and the uninhibited wanton need I love to make you acknowledge.

My fingertips trace the contours of your thighs and circle around your sex. Lightly brushing. With every moment the need in you increases, the ache inside .... soon your sex is dripping.....Suddenly without any warning I whip my fingers up between your lips. Unzipping you so that the petals of your sex open wider. Your knees tremble and you gasp with the shock. I lean forward and slowly begin to lick your sex, my hand pressing in to your belly to draw back your clit hood and give me access with my tongue. I tease you with tongue, lips and teeth. Your clit grows ever harder until finally I am satisfied and slip a tiny clamp snugly over it to maintain its lovely erectness, the clamps dangling pearl beads rolling over and bouncing against your clit even with the small movements of your belly as you breathe, sighing deeply. I then take from my pocket a small jar of tiger balm. With a small brush I paint your pussy lips and clit. The immediate cold soon turns to a burning itching heat. You are desperate to close your legs, desperate for stronger contact to soothe and ease that terrible itch inside. You are denied. I want you wild and I want you wanton and your pleasure is to serve mine.

Moving your thighs wider apart I slowly insert two love balls pushing them into your throbbing sex, pulling them out so slowly to only push them within once more, teasing you until your breath becomes ragged, the muscles of your inner thighs jumping and quivering. A small arse plug follows, pushed into you easily lubricated by your own juices, its long tail hangs down nearly reaching the floor. I place your foot back on the floor and stand back to admire you. Lips open, breath coming in long drawn out gasps you barely remain on your feet. You are a picture of desire.

Next I take a small waist clincher type corset, and tightly fasten you in to it, followed by a rubber thong that traps the balls inside you but slit to allow the clit clamp and its little dangles to hang free through the elastic rubber, another hole through which I thread the tail of your arse plug. I add some more tiger balm directly to your clit until I know from your sweetly agonised face that the itching burning is intense and focusing the attention of your whole being in that one little bud. I pull gently on your tail, satisfied that when I release it the elastic rubber of your thong combined with the tightness of your arse draw will the plug securely back within you.

When I remove your blindfold you gaze at me eyes beseeching me; the need to be filled fucked and used apparent to me in every movement you make. Quickly I turn you over my knee and spank you soundly, your squeals soon turning to moans of pleasure as each slap churns the love balls and arse plug deep within you and my hand beneath you teases and torments you, pulling maddeningly on your nipples and clit. You begin to feel the rising wave of pleasure that will plunge you recklessly in to orgasm. But I time it to perfection and deny you. I push you off my lap only to seize your hair and draw you to your knees between my legs. Using your mouth only you struggle to release me and eventually you do, hungrily you take me in to your mouth and desperate to please force your head down, feeling my thickness fill your throat. I sit and enjoy your determined efforts to serve me, practising all the little tricks I have taught you so well. Slowing yourself you gaze up at me, your eyes begging permission, I smile and nod my consent and you return your attention to my pleasure so skilful with lips and teeth and tongue that soon I erupt in to your throat groaning with pleasure. As I cum you are seized by ripplings of pleasure deep inside that threaten to tip you over the edge, your hips grind searching, needing, aching for my touch. But my one hand in your hair and the other gripping your corset holds you and forbids you. You can only moan and shudder loathing the denial, relishing the control and deepened sense of submission to my will.

I give you only moments to regain a little composure. I adore you hot and flushed with need and wanting. I dress you: Stockings, heels, long elegant black dress. A few moments to attend to your makeup and then it only remains for me to fasten your silver collar about your neck and throw a long cape over your shoulders and you are ready for the evening.

We will eat out. You will have your wrists unfastened just before we enter the restaurant. You will be elegant and give every appearance of being the beautiful sophisticated lady. But underneath you and I know who you really are. A wanton slut, completely conscious of her seeping pussy, the need inside her to be filled and fucked. The tingling of your clit, the throbbing of the benwa balls, the brush of the butt plug's tail against your thighs, the ache of your nipples. All beneath a surface of elegance and refinement. You revel in both the roles, not caring which if either is real, though in fact I know you to be both, beautiful needy fuckslut, intelligent independent woman.

You hate it and you love it. You love the knowing that you are different. You love the knowing that you are pleasing me, submitting to my wishes in everything. You love the knowing that whilst no one else understands why, your sexuality is exuding in to the room. Heads are turning, people are staring, you are exposed to all and yet you are hidden. Only your discipline in remaining composed protects you from shame especially when I command that you hand me your tail beneath the table so that I may tease you with gentle pulls. But you are disciplined and even on the cusp of revealing your self you enjoy the control you now have so that only a slight widening of your eyes indicates you feel the insistent movement in your arse. You soak up the attention of those around us, loving and so aroused by the game we play.

You know also that the evening does not end here. You know that I will take you back and I will undress you, I will shackle you to your bed. Your thighs, ankles and wrists spread wide. I will play upon your body with clamps, dildos, vibrators: sometimes demanding that you hold back, sometimes forcing upon you more pleasure than you think you can take. That when I give you that sweet permission you will come even as you faint from the pleasure of it, only to regain consciousness to find that you are cresting yet another and another wave of intense pleasure. You know you will be spanked whenever the whim takes me to do so, often you will beg me to do so, sometimes submitting to and craving much harsher treatment from flogger or crop, in fact any of the many toys you delight to bring to me to use upon you. Unusual for me to insist upon your silence, I love to hear you admit your needs, beg for what you desire, knowing that the sound of your own voice asking for these shameful acts to be done to you, or asked of you will play like a tape in your mind over the following days. An infinity of possibilities opens before you as your mind ranges over the evening and night to come. You know that when we are finally satiated with pleasure there will be tenderness and closeness, the soft murmurings of lovers in the dark hours and this special intimacy you crave as deeply as all the wild erotic games, being open, known, accepted, wanted and cherished by a man from whom nothing is or can be hidden.

You sit demurely knowing that all this still lies before you and for a moment the mask of refinement slips and you smile the smile of a wanton slut, aglow with the fire of your own sexuality.

Sir Julian
©2001