Made For Sex (17 page)

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Authors: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

BOOK: Made For Sex
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“Yes, Mistress.”

“What if I say no?” She usually denied him any release for several hours. The women liked their slaves to be constantly erect, anxious to please in order to be allowed to climax.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Bobby said, sweat forming on his forehead.

Ronnie reached underneath him and squeezed him tightly. “Is that better?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, although both of them knew it was not.

“You may come,” Ronnie told him.

“My shorts?”

“Too bad. After you spurt they'll be all sticky inside.” She smiled. “Of course, for the rest of the day, as you move, you'll be reminded of my generosity.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Touch it yourself.”

Standing in front of Ronnie's chair, Bobby rubbed the length of his rock-hard cock through the tight elastic fabric. When she sensed that he was almost ready to climax, Ronnie picked up the paddle and swatted his ass. He came, screaming.

For the rest of the afternoon, Bobby followed Ronnie around, sitting at her feet as she lounged with other women, fetching drinks and snacks for her and her friends, and watching the way the other women treated their slaves. He was so lucky, he realized, that Mistress Ronnie knew exactly what he liked.

That evening, at dinner, he cut Ronnie's meat and fed her, waiting until she was finished with her meal before he ate anything. The cruise ship staff discretely ignored the goings on, although one busboy stared longingly at Ronnie.

After dinner, three of the women and their slaves put on a show. The men danced, slowly stripping, then one of the men was whipped by the other two under the direction of the women.

Bobby took part in a contest to see which of four naked men could hold out the longest against the sexual teasing of a woman who looked like an in-the-flesh Barbie Doll, with huge breasts and a tiny waist. The woman whose slave lost the contest and spurted semen all over the stage dragged the hapless man back to their cabin for what would undoubtedly be a long lesson in self-control. Ronnie praised Bobby for his ability to restrain himself and, as a reward, let him fuck her with a large dildo.

The following morning, Bobby unwrapped the packages Ronnie had brought. Inside one he found a flanged anal plug and in another a harness to both control his cock and keep the dildo in place. Ronnie lubricated the plug and filled his ass with it. Using the many buckles, she fitted the harness so that it held his balls away from his body, showed off his erect cock and held the dildo deep inside his ass. For the entire afternoon, he wore nothing else so that everyone in their part of the ship could examine his body and discuss his excitement level.

About four days into the cruise, Bobby was feeding Ronnie lunch when she noticed the busboy staring intently at her. He was in his late teens and of medium height with shoulder-length sun-bleached blond hair held with a rubber band at the nape of his neck and pale blue eyes that seldom left her hands. As she thought about it, Ronnie realized that he had been watching her since the week began. As he stared, she quite deliberately poured the contents of her water glass into an empty cup beside her and when Bobby tried to refill it, she waved him away.

“Young man,” she said, pointing at the busboy, “I need more water.” The other two couples at the table stared at her, obviously curious as to what was going on.

“Certainly,” the busboy said, fetching the pitcher. When Bobby looked crestfallen, Ronnie said, “I know you like serving me but don't worry. You'll be rewarded later.” She pointed to an area on the floor beside her chair and Bobby sat down.

As the busboy arrived with the water pitcher, Ronnie said, imperiously, “Pour very slowly and don't spill a drop.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You've been watching me,” she said as the young man poured the water, his hand unsteady.

“Yes ma'am.” The glass was about half full.

“Don't stop pouring,” she said, unzipping the front of his black slacks. His hard cock sprung free, sticking out lewdly. She wrapped her hand around it and held tightly. The busboy's hand began trembling so much he spilled water on the table. “You spilled,” Ronnie said.

“I'm terribly sorry, ma'am,” the young man said.

“What's your name?” Ronnie asked, still holding his erection.

“Mike,” he answered, gazing at Ronnie's filled water glass.

“Well, Mike, you've been very careless.” Ronnie looked at the other two women and their subserviants, all of whom were watching the scene before them intently. “What should we do with careless workers, Mike?”

“They should be punished.”

“I agree,” Ronnie said. “What are your duties for the rest of the afternoon?”

“I'm off duty at two and I don't have to serve again until dinner.”

“Oh, you'll have to serve again before that.” Ronnie glanced at her watch. Quarter of two. “Good. Report here to me at two-oh-one sharp.”

“B-b-but I have to change out of my uniform. That will take at least five m-m-minutes.”

“Two-oh-one. And I don't like to be kept waiting.” She gave his hard cock a final squeeze.

Zipping his pants, Mike scurried away.

“May we stay and see the show?” one of the women asked.

“Of course,” Ronnie said. The two women moved to the far side of the table, their men at their feet. Ronnie's heart was pounding. She particularly enjoyed the thrill of a first encounter with a man who wanted to be dominated. She looked at Bobby, sitting quietly at her feet. Since he was paying for the week, she had to be sure this was all right with him. “Yes?” she whispered. From the smile on his face, she knew it was fine.

Precisely at two-oh-three, Mike arrived in the small dining room dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. His breathlessness was a result of either running from the kitchen or his excitement. Ronnie purposefully looked at her watch. “You're two minutes late.”

“I did the best I could.”

“Let's understand a few things. First, I am Mistress Ronnie and you will always address me that way.”

Mike rubbed the palms of his hands down the thighs of his slacks and swallowed hard. “Yes, Mistress Ronnie.”

“Good. Second, you will never look me in the eye. Your gaze must never be above my waist.” Mike's eyes dropped. “Third, you will never wear anything from the waist up or the ankles down in my presence unless I expressly tell you to.” When Mike didn't move, she added, “Is there any problem with that?”

“No, Mistress.” As rapidly as he could, he pulled off his sweatshirt, kicked off his shoes, and dragged off his socks.

“I love the look of bare toes. Wiggle yours for me.” He did.

“Have you ever been with someone like me before?”

“Yes, Mistress.” He hesitated and Ronnie motioned for him to continue. “Her name was Mistress Gail and she was my neighbor for a few months about a year ago. We were together only a couple of times.”

“Good enough. Then you understand what is expected.” Ronnie reached out and grabbed Mike's crotch. “Why me?”

Mike trembled. “You're very strong, and very beautiful….

“And…?”

“And you treat your slave the way I'd like to be treated.”

Ronnie removed her blouse and Mike stared at her bra, which had zippers up the center of each cup. “Unzip me with your teeth.”

Hesitantly, Mike knelt down and took the tab of the left zipper between his front teeth. He pulled gently until one puckered brown nipple poked through the opening. “Bobby,” Ronnie said, “the other.”

Bob quickly complied. Ronnie placed one hand on the back of each head and forced one mouth to each breast. “Suck,” she said, “and maybe I'll reward the one who does the best job.” Ronnie leaned back, submerged in the sensation of two mouths on her body. “Nice,” she said. “You are each doing a fine job.”

Ronnie looked at the two other women who had been intently watching the performance. Each of them had bared her breasts and had her slave servicing her nipples.

“Bobby,” Ronnie said, waving the two men away, “you know how I like my pussy licked. Instruct Mike on the proper procedure.” She slid forward on the chair until her hips were at its edge. When she parted her thighs, the two men saw that she wore no panties.

As Mike knelt between her spread legs, Bobby said, “See how wet she is. Doesn't she smell fantastic?”

Bobby showed Ronnie's newest servant how to stroke her inner thighs, flick his tongue over her swollen lips, and use his fingers to give her maximum pleasure. “Now,” Bobby said, pointing to her clit, “rub her right there, just hard enough to make her feel it.”

“Ummm,” Ronnie purred. “So good.”

To Bobby, this situation was unique, and incredibly erotic. He was not quite a servant, but not a master either. And he was anxious to show the newest slave how to satisfy his mistress.

“You're doing well,” Bobby said, slightly jealous of Mike's ability to please. “She likes three fingers in her pussy if she is going to come.” He hesitated. “Mistress. May I touch you as well?”

Ronnie nodded and Bobby took one nipple in each hand and pinched the swollen tips. With Bobby's hands on her tits, Mike's tongue lapping her pussy, and his fingers deep inside her cunt, Ronnie came. Her body jerked so hard that the two men had to struggle to stay connected.

“Oh, splendid,” Ronnie said when her breathing returned to normal. She smiled at the two other women, each of whom was having her pussy serviced. “Are you very horny?” she asked her slaves.

“Yes, Mistress,” they said in unison.

“Then strip. Quickly.”

When they were naked, she said, “Face each other.” The two men stood, close enough so that their erections were almost touching. “Now, hold each other's cock.”

When they hesitated, Ronnie ordered, “Do it now!”

With a groan, each man reached out and wrapped his hand around the other's cock. Ronnie remembered a conversation she had had with Bobby several months earlier when he had admitted to the dark fantasy of holding another man's cock and being held by him as well. She had decided to make it come true for him.

“Mistress, please don't make me do this,” Bobby said. His body, however, said that, rather than stopping, he wanted to be forced.

“Quiet,” Ronnie snapped, looking at Mike carefully. “And you, Mike?”

He bowed his head and whispered, “I will do whatever gives you pleasure. If it gives you delight to watch me do this, then I can only obey.”

“Then, Mike, make Bobby come.”

“Please no, Mistress,” Bobby said.

Ronnie stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm sorry, Mistress,” Bobby said.

“Good. Now you will both do as I say. Make each other come while I watch.”

The two men stood, stroking each other's cock, watching their hands, their breathing hard and ragged. “Concentrate,” Ronnie said and the men did.

“Cup each other's balls and fondle them. Use both hands!” As the small group watched, the two men acted out their hidden desire.

It took only moments until each man spurted semen on the other's hand. One of the women cried out her pleasure as her slave drove her to orgasm. The other climaxed silently.

“The rest of the cruise was delightful,” Ronnie told Carla, sipping a fresh cup of coffee. “Mike spent each of the remaining afternoons with a different woman.”

“How did you know about Bob's desire to touch another man?”

“He'd told me once, when I forced him to reveal his darkest fantasy, and his body language that afternoon was more than eloquent.”

“You always seem to know how to find that extra bit of spice. How do you do it?”

“I've no idea. I guess I read my friends well.” She tapped her forehead. “And I remember everything.”

“I hope, someday, I'll be that good.”

“You will,” Ronnie said. “You will.”

Jeffrey DeLancy III was an extremely dignified looking man in his mid forties with eyes that were almost navy blue and carefully trimmed, salt-and-pepper hair, beard, and moustache. A corporate attorney visiting New York, his three-piece suit was immaculately tailored and he wore a heavy gold ring with three channel-set sapphires on the ring finger of his right hand. When they met, Carla had commented on his well-developed body, and he had told her that he played racquetball and tennis as often as he could.

Now, as Carla returned from the ladies' room, Jeff was staring at the picture of the nightgowned woman clutching her bedclothes to her breast and staring, terrified, at someone just behind the camera. As Carla sat down he slammed shut the book. “Let's go back to your place,” he said, picking up his coffee cup, then setting it down without drinking any. “This fantasy business is silly.”

“We can go if you like,” Carla said, “but I think there's something you want to tell me.”

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