Her Master Returns (Dark BDSM Erotica) (4 page)

“That’s right, Blondie!” snarled the man, emphasising the
point. “You’re my bitch and I’m your Master. Now before you strip,
kiss my boots. Lick them, Blondie. Show my friend what an obedient
bitch you are. Kiss my boots then lick them. Lick them all over
like a faithful dog.”

This was so much more humiliating than the previous occasion.
Being smacked and ordered about was degrading enough, but to have
someone present to witness the indignity was hideous for Emily. And
to be treated like a dog – the bitch that she had become - was
another added layer of crushing mortification. Yet Emily did as she
was told, perversely excited to be here again and have all her
dignity stripped away – to be an obedient slave, used and abused,
and hopefully get fucked good and hard at the end, which in the
depths of her depravity was what Emily craved.

Pulling herself together, slowly accepting her disgusting
nature, Emily placed her hands upon the damp cement floor that
reeked of male urine. She bowed her head at Her Master’s feet and
kissed the top of each of his boots. She shuddered to think of what
a sight it must look – this act of submission, the ultimate in
deference – to kiss a man’s feet. Every social bone in her well
bred body was screaming in repugnance, yet Emily continued to obey
Her Master, revolted, but thrilled beyond measure as her tongue
flicked out to lick the black boots, tasting the dust of the street
and the office along with the tobacco like tang of the
leather.

One boot then the other was washed all over, Emily getting
ever more excited, panting out her lust as she lashed the leather,
sniffing and nuzzling, rubbing her head against Her Master’s legs,
truly a bitch now brought to heel.

“That’s more like it, Blondie,” Her Master finally said,
satisfied with the worship and the obedience being shown. “Now be a
good bitch and do the same for my friend. Drag your tongue over to
him – taste the floor.”

Layer after layer! How much could she endure? To lick the
floor that stank of piss. Would the depths of her depravity know no
end? A voice of sanity was screaming in Emily’s head:
‘Stand up and tell them to go fuck
themselves!’
But this cock loving
submissive had already lost that battle, totally enslaved, body and
soul, defeated by Her Nemesis who had renewed his claim to mastery,
and by the simple little word
‘need’
.

Her stomach twisted when her tongue made the contact – the
hard cement floor rough and damp, pungent and acrid. Emily thought
she might be sick, it was so disgusting. Trailing her tongue, she
fought another battle, and this one she won – holding down the bile
and vomit in her stomach as she inched her way the yard or so to
where another pair of boots, fine and expensive, waited for her
attention.

Emily performed her duty and licked the footwear, less
enthusiastically, but she still made a good show – doing what Her
Master
‘needed’
her to do. Five minutes of humiliation that was enjoyed by
all. Then it was time for Emily to get naked. It was time for her
to get fucked and thoroughly abused – another little chore that was
apparently
‘needed’
– for reasons that would be made known in the fullness of
time, but for now her role was to blindly obey.

Chapter 4

Kneeling on the wet floor between the guest of honour and Her
Master, Emily’s hands were shaking as she began to strip. First she
took off her bolero jacket, pragmatically folded it neatly and
placed it on the floor to her side. Next came the blouse. It took
her several tries to unbutton the thing, but she was finally able
to loosen the garment. It slid off her shoulders easily, and again
got folded and added to the jacket. It was at this point the new
man got involved in the action – he picked the garments up, stroked
the warm silk blouse like a pampered cat, before placing the
clothing on top of Emily’s bag. An odd piece of consideration, but
continentals can be funny like that.

Feeling a little better towards this stranger who was destined
to screw her and do God knows what else, Emily removed her bra
slowly, taking her time, obeying Her Nemesis Master by prolonging
the process. Both men watched patiently as she finally bared her
treasures: two beautiful creamy orbs that were full and pert,
crowned with coral coloured nipples that were shamefully fat and
painfully sensitive. On seeing their glory, the Italian let out a
groan – a rare sign of appreciation that Her Nemesis picked up
on.

“Play with them, Blondie! Put on a show and include the shade
thing – you know what I mean.”

Emily knew all right! It had been one of his earliest taunts
during their weird courtship in the elevator, guessing a closely
guarded secret that the shade of her lipstick matched the colour of
her nipples. Deeply thrilled by the memory, Emily caressed her left
breast, massaging the flesh before pinching the hard nipple, making
herself moan with the self inflicted pain that was all the more
delicious because it had been ordered by Her Master. Then she
repeated the trick she had performed the last time she was here:
raised the tit to her bowing head and kissed the hurting bud. As
she did so she raised her eyes to the stranger – sapphire blue eyes
that sparkled through drying tears, eyes that conveyed a fearful
acceptance:
I’m doing this for you because
My Master commands it. You can take what you want, but I’ll always
be His.

There was a further few minutes of tit play, which Emily
performed for the new man, putting on a good show, acting the
wanton slut – playing the role she knew was needed. And Emily took
strength from the knowledge she was providing him a service. It
made her feel good. It made her feel shockingly horny. Then a cough
from the stranger indicated enough – it was time to get on with the
strip and show him another couple of treasure!

When it came to her skirt, Emily looked to Her Nemesis for
guidance – should she stay kneeling or should she stand up to
remove it. The man understood her quandary without any exchange of
words, and with a firmly pointed finger instructed his bitch to
remain where she was. Emily unfastened the zipper and shuffled down
her skirt; then once at the knees she lifted one then the other so
the skirt slipped under and she could slide it along the dirty wet
floor. She took off her shoes and placed them beside the crumpled
skirt. The quiet man collected them and added them to the attire on
the Chanel bag at the basin.

Practically naked, Emily paused for a moment. The stranger was
looking with hunger on his shaded face, and Emily could envisage
the sight she portrayed: a trim slender body with generous curves;
dressed in pearls and a collar with a leash; the last vestige of
her modesty covered by a thong, the gusset of which was shamefully
drenched and hiding a surprise that wasn’t meant to be
shared.

With a tinge of regret but accepting her lot, Emily removed
the thong, repeating the process she had performed with the skirt.
With another groan of approval on seeing her exposed sex, the quiet
man picked the skimpy thong up. But he did not add it to the rest
of Emily’s clothing; instead he took a sniff, a dog smelling to
check if the bitch was in heat. Then satisfied he placed the thong
in his jacket pocket – a little souvenir of London for him to take
back to Milan.

Emily observed all this out of the corner of her eye, not
daring to look directly at the Italian for fear her boldness might
offend. Her mind was elsewhere though, wondering and listening,
hoping for some form of acknowledgement from Her Master. Over the
weekend she had shaved the landing strip of pubic hair, supposedly
as a treat for her husband Les, but Emily knew fine well she had
done it for Her Master, wanting to please and entice him to use the
part of her body he had promised to rut for hours. Nothing came,
which was a bitter blow. Emily wondered if she’d made a mistake and
would be punished instead for this piece of initiative. Life was so
uncertain down here in the basement with a man that was impossible
to fathom or read.

Silence ensued, a lull before the storm. Then a chug on her
leash heralded the first roll of thunder. Emily’s Master motioned
to the bench in the middle of the room and bade her to kneel on it.
She crawled to the bench and slowly got on it, unsure of what was
to follow.

She could have guessed!

With her eyes averted downward, focused on Her Nemesis’s feet,
Emily only heard the sound of the zipper as a cock was released
from it confines. She didn’t look up, although she was itching to
gaze upon that beautiful phallus again. She heard sounds behind her
– the new man now moving and approaching the bench, but there had
been no suggestion that he had got out his cock. Emily found
herself wondering what it would be like when he did - would it be
in proportion to the rest of him – massive and foreboding. The
notion both thrilled and terrified her.

Emily was dragged out of this reverie when she felt the new
man’s groin rub against her bare ass, the swell of his covered
erection pressing into Emily’s fleshy buns as he straddled the
bench behind her. Emily gasped as she registered the mass that was
there, all her fears and hopes apparently fulfilled; but her focus
was again changed when the strong hands of Hades grasped the back
of her head. One hand had fingers curled into her blonde hair, the
other gripping the collar round her neck. He jerked Emily’s head up
and brought her face to face with the familiar cock of Her Nemesis.
Suddenly and brutally the throbbing member was pressed against
Emily’s lips.

Emily opened her mouth instinctively as the thick hard cock
pushed its way inside, giving her no time to react except to utter
a muffled cry. The familiar ache in her jaw came back quickly, and
she tried to still her tongue as it worked reflexively in an
attempt to push the phallus from her mouth.

Her Nemesis stood absolutely still with his hands on his hips,
but the hands that grasped Emily’s head and collar pushed her
forward to engulf the big cock completely, forcing the length into
her agonised throat and bringing fresh tears to Emily’s eyes. The
fingers in her hair tugged, pulling her back quickly. The hand on
her collar pushed Emily back on, effectively impaling her mouth
again. Over and over, the big man behind her pushed and pulled,
forcing Emily to fuck herself in the face with Her Master’s rigid
cock.

She gagged and sputtered at first. The drool came easily and
in copious amounts. Her hands instinctively came off the bench as
she tried to control the violation of her face. A hard pull on her
hair made her place them back down; Emily gripped at the sides of
the bench to hold them in obedience.

Again and again she was pushed and pulled, repeatedly mouth
fucked by her stationary Nemesis. She remembered being pummelled
from the last time and struggled to relax her throat in order to
take the invading organ deeper, and do so without retching and
incurring Her Master’s wrath by vomiting on his trousers. It wasn’t
easy.

This new plan of attack was just as brutal as the first time,
only it was Emily’s head that was moving towards the man instead of
his hips pounding against her. Back and forward she went, the
harbinger repeatedly impaling Emily on the cock before her face.
But after a few minutes, the hand gripping her collar was only
rested there, and while the fingers still curled in her hair,
Emily’s head was moving of its own accord. Her mouth slurped
greedily at Her Master’s cock, and she was stunned to realise that
she was doing so on her own.

Emily licked and sucked at the member fed to her. In her
enthusiasm she moved her hands again, only this time the purpose
was not to push away, but to find the man’s hips and pull him in so
she could worship his dick all the better. The new man allowed her,
loosening his grip even more on Emily’s collar and hair. Lost in
her depraved lust, Emily’s tongue danced its way up and down Her
Master’s length, dipping into his piss slit to taste the flowing
pre-cum, hungry for this flavour that she still found offensive yet
needed like an addictive drug.

“See what a slut she is for a big cock! The dirty whore is
trying to get her tongue all the way down it. She’s trying to draw
out my spunk. Well, if that’s what you want, Blondie, then that’s
what you’ll get. I said I’d fire down your throat the next
time.”

That brought Emily back to full alert. She had been enjoying
acting like a cock slut, feasting on the meat, but having the man
come in her mouth – that would be something else. Emily was
horrified at the thought for she detested the taste of spunk, and
she fought to try and prise the man away, but Hades was behind her
holding her head firmly again. Her Nemesis started to pump in and
out, gathering momentum with long lusty strokes. Emily could hear
his groans as he humped at her throat - there would be no escape
from her spunk tasting fate.

The exchange was made quickly. Her hair and collar were freed
by the new man only to be captured a moment later by Emily’s
Nemesis Master. He continued to pump his cock into her mouth, the
head sliding down her throat making Emily retch and gag. It was an
agonising torment, and the thought that he would soon fill her
mouth with spunk made her forget about the new man for a moment.
Then suddenly the Italian had her full attention...

CRACK!