Whatever You Want · Part 1

Whatever You Want · Part 1 (1/4)
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(Despite what the story claims this is a work of fiction, however it is much more fun if you read it as if it were true.)

Numerous times in the past he has asked me to relate this event and just as many times I have refused him. Personally I don’t think it is anyone else’s business, but so be it. The reason he was so insistent that I write it, is that one night I told the story to him as if he had not been there at all. He didn’t say anything during my entire rendering of the event and the only way I knew he was listening was that his breathing became more and more shallow (which was my original intention… I was trying to get him in the "mood" after he had had a hard day at the office).

When I was finished, actually after we were finished, he told me I had to write this story. Well he has finally gotten his way… So here goes.

was one of those rare days when everything just falls into place.

We had left the kids with my mother in-law for the afternoon and she called to say that they were having such a good time why not just let them sleep over for the night and pick them up in the morning. This meant that we had the house to ourselves for the entire afternoon and evening!

Smiling like mischievous teenagers we ran up to our bedroom, stripped as fast as we could and got down to business. It may have been a quickie, but it had also been a goodie!

we lay resting in each other’s arms, I asked my husband, "What would you like to do for the rest of our day?"

He responded, "Oh I have a few very definite ideas…. as long as you’re willing?" He ended the remark with a question in his voice. He’s a good man and I realized right away he was asking for some kinky sex time, but at the same time leaving me an out if I didn’t feel like it.

flicked my long curly hair over my shoulder and gave him my best Cheshire cat smile, "Darling whatever you want is just fine with me". His blue eyes glittered with desire and lust; he kissed me full on the lips and started to dress.

"Andrea", he said.” If I were you I’d take a little nap for a while, because I know you are going to need all of your energy soon. While you do that I am going to go prepare a little fantasy fest". Down the stairs he went, leaving me to my own devices.

I took the time to shower and dry my long curly hair. Then I did as suggested and laid down to rest.

About half an hour later, he returned. He was dressed very stylishly, all in dark colors. He wore a black blazer, a dark charcoal gray shirt and black pleated pants. Looking over at me expressionlessly he did not say anything for what seemed like a long time. "Is this how you greet your master, slave girl?", he finally asked. His voice was hard and strong and I knew he was deep into his role. I quickly leapt out of the bed and scurried to kneel on the floor before his feet. Naked as a jaybird I knelt there, with my knees together and my butt resting on my heels. My hands were demurely folded on my knees and my eyes were fixed on the floor in front of his feet.

"That is much better, my darling slave", he said softly. At the same time, he reached down and cupped my chin with his right hand. He gently raised my head so that I was looking up at him and the sealed envelope he waved in his left hand. "You will take this envelope and do exactly what the instructions inside tell you to do. Nothing more and nothing less. Do you understand?", he asked.

"Yes, master", I responded taking the envelope and lowering my eyes once again. Without another word he turned and left.

I could not wait to open up my instructions to see what he had in store for "his slave". But first I had to stand up. Heck, that hard wood floor is tough on the knees. I closed the door to the bedroom and opened the envelope. Inside was a laser printed listing of the outfit, in detail; he wanted me to wear for the next part of our encounter.

There was however, no mention of what was to occur during this encounter.

Opening the bottom door of my dresser, I removed the black and red ribbed corset.

Placing the soft silky satin around my body I snapped the hooks in the front together. There were laces in the back, which would need to be tightened further, but the fit even now, was a snug one. This does not mean that I am heavy or out of shape, just that this garment was exactly what its name implied… a corset. Truthfully, as I looked in the mirror over my dresser, I felt pretty proud of my figure.

No I am not Cindy Crawford, but after three children and 30 years, I was still sporting a 36-25-37 figure. I wouldn’t mind being a little taller, as I am only 5 foot 4, but I was happy with my weight at about

125. Cupping my breasts I re-seated them in there half-cup satin settings. A dark half moon from each nipple showed over the thick red satin. The cups were actually designed to work like a push up bra and they did their job admirably, showing off quite a bit of my cleavage.

Next I slid on a pair of black silk panties. They were not the original satin g-string type panties that had come with the corset, but were equally if not more, interesting, as they were crotch less. Actually, if

I kept my legs together you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were crotch less, but then again I don’t think my husband / master was planning on keeping my legs together tonight.

From the top draw, I removed red stockings. I expertly rolled one and slid it over my arched foot and up my calf, gently unraveling the nylon hose until it reached its limits at mid thigh. I did the same to my left leg and then attached the six garters of the corset to the tops of the stockings. These were composed of a three-inch band of lace with little black ribbons circling each top. I turned and backed up towards the door, so that I could make sure that my seems were straight in the full-length mirror. I smoothed and straightened the stocking and seems at the same time by bending full over and grasping my left ankle, then using my skilled hands I gently and caressingly followed the silky smooth nylon path up my calf and over the knee and finally to my thigh.

I finished this process on the other leg. Although I was very happy with the way the stockings looked, I still frowned at the mirror.

Going to the closet I retrieved the next item on the list, spiked heel black patent leather pumps. I slid my foot down the pumps steeply arched sole and shimmied my toes into their tight pointed confines. The second shoe followed quickly. Then I tottered back to the mirror.

I turned and looked over my shoulder so I could see myself from the rear.

This time I smiled at the sight. High heels may be one of the most uncomfortable forms of footwear known to woman, but there is nothing like them for making a short woman’s legs look longer and shapelier.

heels now rested a full five inches off the floor. This, as I alluded before, made my legs appear much longer. The muscles in my calves were flexed perfectly, rounding out the proper curves of my legs.

Black five-inch spike heels flowed into the red roadway of my seamed stockings, forming a V aimed right at the center of things. Jeez I was getting hot just imagining what my husband / master would be thinking when he saw me in this costume! I took a deep breath and turned back to the list.

From the back of my dresser drawer, hidden from prying eyes, I took out an old fashioned black choker, complete with an ivory cameo. I placed it about my throat and buttoned the three fastenings tightly behind my neck.

Looking in the mirror and fingering the cameo, I remembered seeing it in an antique shop and saying to my husband, "Isn’t this a wonderful choker".

He smiled at me and said, "With the appropriate modifications it will be".

My fingers drifted down to the shinning brass D ring below the cameo.

Yes, I had made those changes myself. I am quite good with a needle and thread and I had added the three small brass D rings so skillfully that they looked like they had always been there. This formed a very beautiful and effective collar. I began to get hot… horny even, for my husband / master. He could easily have requested that I wear that four-inch thick heavy leather collar that he was so fond of (that thing rubs the bottom of your chin raw, forcing you to always keep your head up), but no he had selected this choker.

A narrow box in the same drawer provided me with above the elbow black satin gloves.

I had this type of glove in black, red and white, but he had stipulated in the instructions black. I placed these on the dresser, knowing that I couldn’t apply my makeup with them on. The instructions had even outlined this process, although not in as much detail as my garments.

Just that he wanted me to wear full make up, eye shadow, mascara, blush and flame red lipstick. This color isn’t the best for my Irish white skin tones, but it did match very closely with my corset. Besides he is the master and his wish is my command.

I finished this process and slid on my gloves. Following the next command, I donned a black floor length wrap from one of my peignoir sets, I suppose, to shield myself from unwanted eyes. This made sense, as I did have to pass a number of windows prior to entering my masters’ sanctum (the living room) that I had been instructed to do upon completion of dressing.

a last precaution I walked back and forth across the bedroom floor practicing walking in my sky-high heels. Walking in spike heels, properly, is an art. Unfortunately for me it was one I had grown unaccustomed to, as I hardly ever wore even three-inch heels anymore. Generally

I wear flat soled or low-heeled shoes or sneakers to keep up with the needs of our family. So back and forth I went, the wooden floor resounding with the click of my heels. Setting the heel down just slightly before the toe was the lesson to be remembered. I wobbled a bit, but then remembered to keep my toes pointed straight ahead and not fall into the trap of splaying them outward like a duck. As I gained confidence I even worked a little at putting a pleasant sway into my hips. I smiled to myself.

Feeling as ready as I would ever be, I opened the door and proceeded down the stairs to the living room. The opaque French doors that opened into that room were closed. Taped to one of the doors was a manila envelope.

I opened it and read the small white card that was enclosed, "Put this on. Knock on the door." was all it said. I took the black satin night mask (blindfold) from the envelope and slid it into place over my eyes. The elastic strap buried itself into my curly auburn locks, tightening the black material over my eyes. I knocked as instructed and felt the double doors before me open.

felt my master fingering the center "D" ring on my choker. Then I heard a metal snap and could feel the slight weight of a leash. I knew that leash well, as it used to belong to a toy poodle that we no longer owned and now had found a new way to be useful. He tugged lightly on my tether, leading me into the room. He walked me around the room in a circle. He was probably watching every move that I made, making me happy that I had taken the extra time to work with my heels. As

I got used to walking blindfolded, I began to exaggerate the sway of my hips. I could feel my translucent black wrap rub my milky smooth hips as I moved. That sound that everyone knows of material rubbing against material filled the air, even over powering the soft classical music playing in the background.

if reading my mind my master stopped me, with both a firm hand and a slight jerk on the leash. He removed the black gauzy wrap as if he were taking a fine mink from a lady, gently yet firmly. Again he led me in a circle about the room, the leash always maintained just that little bit of pull without being overly uncomfortable. Finally he stopped in the center of the room and I could feel the leash fall loosely to my side.

Until he spoke I could not tell where he had gone or what he was doing as the floor was covered with wall-to-wall carpet. When he spoke

I knew he was standing a short distance in front of me, maybe six or eight feet.

"You will do everything I command of you of you slave, is this correct?" he asked.

"Yes, master", I answered quickly, but slowed my speech and added a sultry tinge to my voice. "I will carry out your each and every request and it will please me to do so".

He paused a minute before responding with a rye sarcastic tone to his voice, "We will have to see about that slave". He continued in a more informative voice, "I will not tell you what I have planned for the remainder of this day, but if you have any questions ask them now".

I thought for a moment and said, "I know not to use your real name in this encounter master, but is there any other name you wish me to refer to you as. Or have you another name you would like me to respond to?" When we role-play we sometimes take on different names and or personalities. I truthfully was hoping that his response would give me a general idea of what I was in for tonight.

"You may refer to me as either Master or Fellows" he spoke softly and firmly.

"And I will refer to you as either slave or Lady Andrea". My heart fluttered and my stomach dropped. He had only role-played "Fellows"

once before and that was the most grueling and difficult bondage encounter

I had ever had. After that experience, I had to ask whom this "Fellows"

person was that he had created. He told me that Fellows was a mythical

English Butler, who traveled through out Victorian England meeting out severe punishments, to naughty wives and unruly daughters.

Hesitantly

I asked, "What am I charged with?"

I could feel his eyes burning through my blindfold, as he responded, "Inadequate performance of your wifely duties". Whew, this was going to be a rough one. Maybe not as bad as the time before, when I had been accused of infidelity, but

I knew that using Victorian England standards this charge was only slightly less severe.

I lowered my head to acknowledge my servitude. I knew that only exact compliance would earn me any type of reprieve from the harshness of the events that were about to unfold. "What would you have me do master?", I asked demurely.

"First we will have to make sure that you are adequately able to follow orders", he said softly. "As of course a proper wife should."

"Spread you legs and bend over at your middle, resting your hands on your knees", he commanded. I did as instructed, quickly but as gracefully as possible.

I knew that I was in a perfect position for a paddling, but I was confused because his voice was still coming from in front of me. I stayed in that position waiting. I felt, rather than heard, him move next to my side. I soon knew what he had in mind as I felt the straps on my corset begin to tighten. I was so concerned with everything else that was going on that I forgot that those laces had not been properly fastened. I could feel his progress as he worked his way down from the top with the first set of those damning cords. Tighter and tighter the straps were drawn. Halfway thought this process, he stopped and gave me a couple of minutes to get used to the tightness.

Resuming, he continued his ministrations. A final mighty yank, while using one hand to hold my back down, signified the completion of his work.

"Ooooohhhhh", I exclaimed unintentionally, as the air was pushed from my lungs. The corset was so tight that I was sure that my breasts were going to pop out from the pressure! I felt his hands encircling my waist, as he checked his work. "Ah", he said. "Your waist has been reduced to a mere 22 inches and you accepted your lot quietly and serenely.

I can safely say that this was a perfect administration of the classic corset." I smiled and relaxed a little this was high praise indeed from him and so early into the encounter… Oh, oh what is he covering up, I wondered.

Again

I could feel him walking around toward the front of me. I heard him sit down. Probably in one of the wing backed chairs that looked so much like mini thrones. "Remove your gloves", he said. I did so quickly, dropping them on the ground before me. "Now, my dear

I would like you to put your hands between your legs and finger yourself."

I did not move right away, but realizing my mistake I began to slowly move my hands towards my vagina. The other shoe, as they say, had fallen.

Generally, as you may have guessed, I will do just about anything.

My unconditional exceptions were any type of group sex, animals or exhibitionism.

There are certain things, however, that I really abhor and playing with myself was on the top of my list.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed my fingers between the smooth silky fabrics and began to softly stroke my clit. I wasn’t penetrating myself. I was only rubbing the balls of my fingers over my mound. Even so, the atmosphere was so sexually charged that I couldn’t help but feel the heat build between my legs. I could feel my face relax and heard a small moan escape my lips. In the back of my mind I sort of registered the fact that somehow, being blindfolded, was actually making this easier for me.

"Please put you fingers into your lower region and play with your G-spot", Fellows commanded.

I had forgotten that he was sitting right in front of me, which gave him a perfect view of my upwardly thrust cleavage and the hands between my legs. My fingers slid easily into the now wet entrance to my vagina. It was an easy chore to find that little flap of skin inside of me that was the so-called G-spot or sweet spot. I began use my digits to play with it and soon I started to feel warmer all over. My breathing was becoming ragged; due to my excitement level and partially the tightness of my corset. "Oooowwww.

Ooooowww. Ooooowww", I moaned deeply. I started flicking my fingers more and more quickly over my sweet spot. "Oooohhhhh…

OOOOOHHHH…. OOOOOHHHHH", I moaned louder and louder and louder as I came closer and closer to climax.

"Stop completely, right NOW", Fellows said loud enough to be heard though my moaning.

"Nnnnnoooooo", I shrieked without thinking.

"What did you say slave?", he said so quietly and menacingly that I almost missed it.

Immediately, I realized what I had done. I stopped all movement and gushed, "I am sorry master. Forgive your poor slaves stupidity. I beg for your forgiveness master."

The silence was laden with menace, even the classical music playing seemed more like a dirge than the normal light selection.

"You are not forgiven, but

I will hold you punishment in abeyance, until the end of this evening.

If you can manage to get through the rest of the day without another slip up, perhaps… perhaps I will let this indiscretion slide."

"Now take your hands out of your pussy and lick off all your own juices", my master commanded. This was another of my least favorite things.

As far as I was concerned male cum, while being thicker and saltier was much preferable to its more acidic female counterpart.

make up for my earlier gaff, however, I quickly brought my hands up to my face and began to lick them clean. As I finished licking off each digit, I put that finger full into my mouth and swirled my tongue about it. Then I pulled it out with an exaggerated sucking motion, all of the time working hard to make those slurping, sucking and licking sounds that accompany a blowjob. I knew that this was particularly pleasing to my husband / master, so I really played it up. I finished with a last loud lick and let my hands return to my knees.

"Very, good slave Andrea", my master informed me. "Now return to a straight standing posture."

I did as instructed, not as gracefully as I would have liked as I swayed a little due to my high spiked heels. I regained my balance as I brought my legs back together and folded my hands demurely over one another below waist level. I could feel the leash hanging in front of me as its gentle swinging motion touched the back of my hands.

"Take the your leash and use it to whip your butt and thighs", he commanded me. The leash was made of white leather about three quarters of an inch wide. It wasn’t very long, but it was a least five feet or so, which when I grasped it from waist level gave me plenty strap to use in my self-flagellation. I could not of course see, but through feel and my own imagining of the picture of where the leash / whip should land;

I landed a perfect first shot. The double slap of the leather loop handle could be heard loudly as it burned into the split of my cheeks.

"Eeeewww", I gasped, as I surprised myself with the intensity of my own stroke. I swung again. I could feel the leather wrap around my upper thigh just before the explosive crack of the lash as it slammed into my rear end.

I am not an expert on whippings. In fact this was one of the few times that it had been used in one of our encounters. Therefore I had never taken the time to think on what a perfect lash that this leash would make.

If the loop of the handle hit just right, it was like getting hit twice at the same time, hence the double crack. While not very wide it was still made of heavy thick leather and was therefore quite effective.

Crack.

The lash landed again. This time on my right, the far, buttocks.

Every time the whip landed I sucked in breath, which made an elongated hissing sound. “Hiiiisssssss", then Crack. I could feel myself tensing my buttocks each time and I could feel the heat on my cheeks building.

I had been swinging methodically, but not quickly. Giving the lash a little more or less length each time so the pain would switch from cheek to cheek. I was sure that my firm cheeks, under my tight black silk panties were probably no longer white, but pink!

I had lost count of how many times I had smacked myself when finally my master said, "You may stop now". I let out a long sigh and let the leash hang loosely from my hand. I could feel him walk around me; he moved the black material off of one cheek at a time as he inspected my work.

"Very good", he informed me. "I see by these bright red weal’s on your posterior that you have not been slacking".

"Spread your legs slave", he commanded. I did so spacing them about eighteen inches part. "Further", he said. Emphasizing his point with the slap of his powerful hand to the inside of one of my legs. I opened my legs as much as I could without falling off of my heels, so my feet were probably spaced a little over two feet apart. I felt his hands gently caress my ass cheeks, then move down to my vagina. Unfortunately, he did not dally there. He merely pushed the silken material away from my mound so it was entirely uncovered. Again I felt him walk past me and heard him sit down on the chair before me.

"Whip your sex", he said simply. This time I balked. Never had I been whipped there. I had seen it done in a couple of the very few

S&M videos, which I had, let my husband / master talk me into watching.

In none of those scenes had the women enjoyed this treatment, in fact it had looked down right painful.

"Please, master can you be more specific", I asked pleadingly. He knew I was looking for a reprieve, but this time it did not come.

"Choke up on your leash and slap the handle very quickly against your sex", he expounded.

I continued to balk, but to cover this I said, "I truly don’t understand how you wish me to whip myself, master Fellows.

Please explain further." I knew my master was getting upset, so I continued, "I will do what you command, but I truly do not understand".

"Hold the leash at the beginning of the looped handle", he instructed as calmly as he could. I moved my right hand as instructed. "Waggle the handle upward and downward", he continued. I did so and I could feel the six-inch long double loop of leather go in the proper directions.

Whatever You Want · Part 1 (1/4)
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