© Copyright 2008 - Anne-Marie to Tony B - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; D/s; bond; public; bath; toys; cons; X
As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant
Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)
Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through Tony-B who originally published it as “My Story”. She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.
RECAP: In Part 1, Jim Irwin, an aspiring fashion photographer met Jai Oulu, a beautiful Eurasian photography model, and discovered she liked bondage and being used by men. Part 1 described their first evening of sex together, when he decided he must own her.
Part 2: Proposition
I selected a favorite restaurant for our first dinner together. I drove there, with her sitting quietly by my side. As we entered the restaurant, I scanned the room to see where we could sit. I wanted a spot that was a bit secluded and out of the way, in case we got the urge to do something fun, and nasty, in this more-or-less public place. I asked the hostess to seat us in the back, out of the traffic pattern, and where the lighting seemed a bit darker. My companion said nothing, but dutifully followed me to the selected booth.
“As you’re seating yourself,” I whispered in her ear, “I want you to discretely pull up the back of your dress so that your bare ass sits on the vinyl seat cushion.” She nodded that she understood, and I expected her to comply as she slid into the booth on the left of the table. She was mostly out of direct sight there, and I watched as she raised her butt a little and pulled up the back of her dress to expose her ass, and sat right down again. To anyone looking, it simply looked like she was adjusting her dress for a seating position. She did that well, and I was proud of my control over her.
The waiter came with two fancy menus, opening each one and passing them to us across the table. He immediately left to get us glasses of water before taking our order, allowing us time to peruse the menu. I already knew what I wanted, but I did ask Jai what she would like to eat. She closed the menu, and said, “I’ll eat whatever you order for me”. I believed her! I figured she’d eat dog shit if I ordered her to. I also figured she’d be watching her figure – a long-time habit with most women. The waiter returned and I ordered two small steaks, medium rare, with a baked potato and green salad. I asked her what kind of dressing she liked, to which she replied, ”Whatever you order.” I decided on Blue Cheese dressing. I knew they did a good job of making their own, right here in the kitchen. “And to drink, two iced teas, please”, I said.
“Very good, sir”, he said. Off he went into the area that led to the kitchen.
She fidgeted a little and I asked what was wrong, expecting her to complain about sitting directly on the vinyl padding in the booth. Instead, she whispered, “My butt is a little sore”, and smiled, conspiratorially.
This was the first bit of complaint I’d heard from her lips, after all that I’d done to her in the four hours we had been together. I looked at her wrists, and could still plainly see the rope burns where she had been tied up earlier in the evening. “I want you to keep your hands under the table while the waiter brings the food”, I said.
She immediately complied by putting her hands in her lap, under the edge of the table. Not another word was spoken. We just sat there. I was looking at her, and her head was slightly bowed as she looked at the top of the table, not meeting my eyes directly. She also wasn’t looking around the room at any of the other diners. Clearly she was in her submissive mode, following instructions, and sitting there quietly, as I wished.
Soon, the waiter reappeared, bearing a tray with two bowls of salad, Blue Cheese dressing on the side in little serving cups, and two iced teas in tall glasses. One set was placed before her, and the second one, in front of me. She continued to sit still, waiting for any further instructions that might come to my mind. The waiter left, and returned to the kitchen. All is going quite well, I thought. She’s totally submissive. I took her dressing serving cup and spilled it’s contents over the green salad, saying, “You can eat, now, but don’t talk.”
She looked up, now, knowing that I had gotten the message. I was her Master, and she would do my bidding, whatever it might be. She smiled as she picked up the nearest fork and speared a piece of lettuce that was covered with dressing, and popped it into her mouth.
We ate in silence. I was heartily finishing my salad, but she had barely eaten half of hers, more or less picking out the pieces that were covered with the dressing, and slowly chewing each piece. I marveled at the serenity in this woman. One hand working the fork, and the other hand still hidden under the table. God, I wanted this woman again. I could feel my dick straining against the tightness of my jeans, again. I knew I was going to fuck her again before we slept. I knew she was going to stay the night, because I wanted it that way, and she was ready to do my bidding, whatever it might be.
The steaks arrived, and the salad bowls were removed from the table. The waiter also provided us with steak knives, the better to cut the meat on the sizzling platter before us. The baked potato was smashed together, end-to-end, making a bowl shaped indentation in the middle for the sour cream and chives that was brought on the side. There was a serving of warm bread in a basket, covered with a colorful linen napkin, and cold butter for either the bread or the potato. I briefly toyed with the idea of pushing a patty of cold butter up, into her cunt, but gave it up as being too hard to get away with. Otherwise, it was a perfect dinner for two.
Again, she was silent as she cut a few pieces of meat into bite-sized pieces, and sliced the potato skillfully. When she had finished with what took two hands to do, her left hand went back under the table, hiding the rope burns on her wrist. She was a jewel, following my direction to the letter. I was proud of being her Master. Proud of the power I was exerting over her. Proud of the fact that she was doing exactly what I told her to do. This woman was gonna be a “keeper”, provided she agreed, of course. I didn’t know how I was going to present my proposal to her, that she give herself to me, voluntarily, for as long as I wanted her, and as long as I continued to use her in every way possible for a man to use a woman.
Jai liked lemon in her iced tea. … She would squeeze the lemon wedge into the tea, then drop it into the glass. After she had drunk the tea, she would fish the wedge out of the glass, sprinkle it with salt, then suck the remaining juices out of it. … Like she had sucked the juices out of me, earlier in the day… What a talented mouth she had!
The dinner was finally over. She ate less than half of what was set before her, but apparently, enough to satisfy her hunger, and still keep her figure. She sat there silently, her hands folded in her lap once again, while looking down at the table top. The waiter removed the dishes, and asked whether we wanted a dessert. “No,” I said, “we’ve got to watch her figure.” This brought a slight smile to her lips, and I knew she had gotten the joke. I planned to pay with a credit card. The waiter took the card, and in a moment, brought a receipt and a cheery “Please come again.” I knew we would, and hoped that it would be many, many more times in the future. I also knew that he didn’t really know what he had said – about coming again. I knew I would be coming again, and again, in this wonderful woman, for many moons to come – especially a little later that night!
I slid out of the booth and around to her side of the table. I extended my hand, in a show of offering to help her out of the booth. Nothing was further from the truth, of course. It was only for show. I wanted to see her pull her bare ass off that vinyl seat, and slide out of the booth quietly. Amazingly, she did it expertly. Almost as if she had done it before. Or had her mother trained her how to push up away from the vinyl, while sliding her butt to the right, as gracefully as if she had been sitting on air? There was her mother again. God bless that woman. She seemed to know exactly what men liked and wanted from a woman, and had trained her daughter accordingly. As we turned to leave, I saw her slide her hand down over her ass, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress so that no one would notice she had been sitting with her dress pulled up, nearly to her hips.
I opened the car door, and in she slipped, raising the back of her dress, so that she was sitting on her bare ass again. She smiled up at me, and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for me to close the door. Instead, I pulled the seat belt into place and clicked it firmly across her chest. I pulled it tight, virtually pushing her body back into the seat, and closed the door. She was being held tightly, and had no complaint. I slipped into my side of the seat, and reaching over, opened the glove compartment and took out a shiny pair of handcuffs I’d had there for some time. I snapped them around her wrists, tightly, and reached down between her legs to find the chain and clip I had hidden under the seat. I snapped the chain onto the link between the cuffs, and she was held firmly with her cuffed hands down between her spread apart legs.
Again, not a sound from her objecting to this position. The other end of the chain, of course, had been bolted to the floor, so there was no way for her to move from the position I had placed her in for the drive home. Again I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a flat rubber disk that looked a bit like a hollowed out hockey puck. One side had been sliced off, and the interior hollowed out to make it work as a voluntary mouth gag. I moved it directly in front of her face, so she could get a good look at it, and figure out what it was going to be used for. I told her to open her mouth, and as I pushed it in, to stick her tongue into the hollowed out interior of the puck, then close her mouth and hold it there until told to take it out. Again, she followed my orders to the letter, opening her mouth wide to accept the puck, and sticking her tongue into it as I pushed it into her mouth. Once she closed her mouth not only was she gagged, but had to voluntarily hold it there, keeping herself gagged until I released her.
I swung out of the parking lot, and directly into a freeway on-ramp. She looked at me quizzically, but could say nothing. We were going for a little drive, with her in a slightly strained position of bondage in the front seat of my car. I reached over and felt her breast, squeezing it hard. I knew it hurt her a bit, but she didn’t complain, so I figured she was okay with it. Of course, with the puck in her mouth, she damn well couldn’t complain. Not much, anyway.
We drove to the lake, and along the north shore. It was a beautiful night, full moon, and all that. It was really beautiful. I told her that I loved her, and wanted her to be mine forever. I promised I would take care of her, and be a good Master to her. I stipulated she would have to serve my every need, to which she obediently grunted her acceptance. I asked her again, just for confirmation. Again, she grunted, and nodded her head. I smiled, knowing that she was going to be mine. And in more ways than just figuratively. She had agreed to do my bidding, and serve my needs, without hesitation or reservation. I told her about eating the dog shit. She groaned a little at that, and I quickly told her that I was just kidding, but she would be expected to serve my every need. Again, she nodded her acceptance of the terms.
I told her that I would have my attorney draw up a service contract, and she would have to sign it, signing over all her rights, and her body, to me forever. Again, she nodded her acceptance. I pulled over to the side of the road. Placing my hand in front of her face, I told her to spit out the gag. She did it. It was a little harder for her to do, since it seemed to swell a bit while it was in her mouth. Once it was out, I twisted her head so that she faced me, and gently lowered my lips to hers, for one of these "kiss of the ages" moments. She was more than willing, and responded to the touch of my lips. “Open again”, I commanded, and forced the puck back into her mouth for the trip home. I knew I was going to fuck her again that night, and many more nights to come.
* * * *
I decided she would move in with me permanently. We went to her apartment to pick up her things and move her to my house. Surprisingly, she didn’t have much to move. Some fabulous clothes to be sure, but few underthings. Very few panties and bras, for example. What she did have, looked more like bondage gear than underwear. For one, she had a leather chastity belt that could be locked on, and which featured two large diodes spaced to fit her appropriate holes as a way of preventing any sexual activity. A thick leather strap passed between her legs, pushing both dildoes firmly into her, and holding them there until removed by whomever held the key. Of course with her perfect body, and fabulous butt, she didn’t wear many underthings, and just didn’t need any. As she dropped the belt into her open suitcase, she handed me the key and said, “Here. You’ll be wanting this”. Nothing more need be said. I knew she would be modeling the belt for me before too long.
That belt fascinated me. I wondered what it would feel like to have it’s two dildoes forced into my twin holes if I were a woman, have them locked in, and have to wear it until my lover, or Master, decided to let me remove them. Could I pee when I needed to? What would I do when I had to shit? How much worse would it be if I were gagged, and had my hands tied tightly behind my back. Would I be able to stand up straight? Or walk? Could I wear it under my clothing without anyone noticing? I resolved to seek answers to these questions as soon as possible. I knew that Jai would be willing to endure my testing of her limits to answer these questions, and more.
She had only one piece of furniture, an ornate, white vanity table that was decorated in gold paint, and with a high-backed antique mirror. Surprisingly, it could be disassembled into several pieces; the legs separated from the dresser part with the drawers, the mirror came off the back, and the satin-covered bench was separate. “Be careful with this, please”, she said. “It was a gift from my mother…”
She had an old-fashioned “bullet bra”, the type worn by Hollywood starlets of the 40’s - bras which were designed to shape and push the breasts into cone-shaped torpedoes that stuck out in front of the body in a most provocative way. Her bra also had two holes in the front tips, allowing her pert nipples to poke through, both to be totally exposed, and for easy access to whomever wanted to suck on them until she was totally dry, if she had any milk in those silky tits to begin with. She didn’t, of course. Something I thought hormones or pregnancy would fix, one day. She was more than willing to have those luscious tits sucked on for hours at a time. While tied up during our evening play time.
Another item piqued my curiosity. I was a double-ended rubber dildo. It was about two inches in diameter, and over 18 inches long. It had a slight curve for it’s entire length.
“What’s this for”, I asked… “So you can fuck yourself in both holes at once?”
I grinned, so she’d know that I wasn’t judging, just asking.
“No”, she said patiently. “It’s for two women. The first pushes one end up inside her vagina, then climbs on top of the other woman, works it into her vagina, and they fuck each other silly.” I laughed at her description. But she continued… “The curvature allows the shaft to lie in close contact with their clitorises, helping them both to get off as many times as they want to. It’s a serious tool”, she offered. Okay, so now I knew. Seemed silly to me, especially if there was a man around who could fuck them both, as much as they wanted. Well, maybe with the help of some Viagra, anyway. …
She sensed what I was thinking. “Some women just don’t want an overweight, sweating man humping on top of them, as much as others”, she said. Seeing that she was serious about it, I dropped the subject.
A few more leather items, a few gags and blindfolds were added to the suitcase. It seemed as if she was heavily into this bondage trip. “The better for me”, I thought. A smallish corset, and some makeup and evening wear rounded out her possessions. It was obvious that she wasted no money on anything other than items which increased her femininity. “Oops”, she said. “mustn’t forget my chains.” She reached into the bottom drawer of a nearby dresser and withdrew a longish piece of chain, with padlocks on both ends. Dropping it into the suitcase, she matter-of-factly said, “You may want to chain me up to the bed, or something…” Her voice trailed off in a wistful longing for good times to come.
As days passed, I decided that not only would she be my love-slave, she would be my exclusive bondage model. I would tie her up daily and photograph her in provocative positions. I hit on a plan to create a coffee table book of my best shots, and leave it on the table for my friends and others to enjoy looking through. I broached the subject, and told her of my plan. “You may do whatever you like”, she said, and that was that. No quibbling, no protests, just total acceptance of what might have been seen as a humiliating and degrading use of her images.
Along with the photo-book, I had another plan that I wanted to set in motion. She had been polite to my friends when they came to visit, serving tea, coffee, and whatever else they might have wanted. Only she and I knew that she was never wearing any underwear during all those visits. I was about to show them more of her than they’d previously seen or imagined. Both my men and women friends would get the opportunity to see my love-slave in her most glorious moments. It might even get some of my friends to try out some of the bondage games we enjoyed so much. I loved tying Jai up, and she enjoyed being tied up. It was a totally symbiotic relationship. She gave, and I took. There were no questions about it. I was her Lord and Master, and we both knew how the relationship worked.
I had planned it for the coming weekend. My plan was to have her answer the door as my friends arrived, totally nude, and escort them to the living room where her photo-book would be open and displayed. Better, I’d have her hands tied behind her back as she liked, making dealing with the door more difficult. And if she were gagged, it would be obvious that I was totally her Master, and she would do my bidding, whatever it might be. I played with the thought of having her chained to the wall, with only enough chain to reach the front door and the living room. I thought of just having her tied to the wall, with her hands pulled up over her head, pushing her tight breasts out like torpedoes. A very minimalist approach, using just enough rope to secure her hands to the wall above her head. I knew that would excite her, as well as my guests. This would to be a “boys night out” only party. No wives or girlfriends invited.
My plan fell apart though, when I realized my friends would want to touch her, and run their hands over her magnificent body. Perhaps doing even more to her. And I couldn’t blame them. the temptation of a bound and gagged model might just be too much for them to handle. I liked my friends, but I loved this woman, this slut, this whore. She would be whatever I wanted her to be. Well, I could rent her out for an evening, to be used by my friends in whatever way they wished. Maybe $500 for an all-nighter. I figured she would be cooperative if I approached it right. If I told her it would please me if she had sex with my friends. I knew she would do it, just to please me. She was one hell of a woman - ready, willing and able to do anything, and try anything I suggested. Oh, well. Scratch that plan. I wasn’t ready to share her with anybody, just yet. Besides, there were a lot of things we had to explore before I was tired enough of her to allow others to use her magnificent body. Maybe somewhere down the road, but not for now….
The Japanese Bath, or Jai Gets Hosed …
I think it was the third or fourth day after Jai had been moved into my house that I decided to give her a bath. Not that she needed one, she was very fastidious about showering every morning, after her morning exercises, and washing her genitals after every use. I mean, she not only washed herself after every sexual use, she washed after she peed, and after she took a shit. Sometimes, she washed just because she didn’t seem to have anything else to do. As I said, very fastidious.
She kept her body clean, as well as sweet-smelling, all the time I knew her. She had a single bottle of perfume – or cologne – whatever, that she used at least twice a day, morning and evening. She always used the same Sandalwood scent. I could have found her in the dark, just following my nose. The only change was late in the evening while having sex, or as we were drifting off to sleep, when I could catch a brief whiff of her unfragranced body. Not an unpleasant smell, at all. Even when she sweat heavily during or after exercise, her scent didn’t change … Only after I had fucked her hard for a while. I attributed that mostly to her diet. Although she would eat whatever I told her to, she had advised me early on that she needed certain free time to exercise, and certain foods in order to keep her body working at it’s peak efficiency. – She had a funny way of expressing herself. But I certainly couldn’t argue with the results!
She always washed her silky hair when she showered, letting it dry naturally after toweling off her body. And her nipples always stuck out like pencil erasers after she had used a towel to dry herself. Literally, she was a Goddess, incarnated! A woman to behold, and one to be held. A woman who knew her place in the world, and accepted it eagerly.
And she was mine!
Anyway, I decided I’d bathe her that day, in the oriental way – the Japanese Bath way, to be more precise. I had read about the Japanese bathing routine, how they would soap up their bodies first, then rinse off. Then climb into a communal hot tub. … Sometimes with people they knew, sometimes not, all very polite and bowing and everything. I wanted that experience, but I also wanted Jai’s submission to my total desires, even if they were a bit kinky.
So this morning, while she was doing her morning exercises, I went into the bathroom and installed an eye-bolt hook in the ceiling above the combination tub and shower. It was an oversized tub – big enough for two, with a shower head on one wall, to which I had attached a hose and nozzle arrangement for showering or rinsing off.
Jai always did her exercises in the nude, then would jump into the tub for a quick shower. I enjoyed watching her exercise, as the definition of her muscles rippled through her lean, and beautiful, body. This morning, I had another plan for her… When she had finished her exercises, and was about to enter the shower, I came in with a piece of rope and told her to put her wrists together in front of her, because I was going to tie her up. She immediately complied, knowing full well that this would certainly make it more difficult for her to shower properly, but obeying without protest. “Be quiet”, I said. … “Don’t talk or I’ll have to gag you.” She nodded her head in acknowledgement that she understood my order.
I guided her to the tub and told her to step in. As she did so, I pulled the rope securing her wrists up and through the eyebolt in the ceiling. This was the first time she had seen the eyebolt there, and watched as I threaded the loose end of the rope through it, and pulled her hands into position above her head. There was enough slack so she could move around fairly easily, but wouldn’t be able to sit down or get out of the tub, had she wanted to. I tied the rope off and left her there to assess her position. She struggled a bit, testing the tightness of the rope on her wrists, and deciding there was no escape, stopped struggling, ready to accept whatever I was going to do.
I left the bathroom to get the other things I was going to use on her, but carefully positioned the mirror on the medicine chest above the sink, so I could watch her from the bedroom. When I left, I turned to watch her in the mirror. She tried pulling her wrists apart again, and pulled at the rope which was securely fastened to the eyebolt in the ceiling. Satisfied that she was well bound, she relaxed in acceptance.
I returned in a couple of minutes with a bucketful of hot soapy water, a large sponge, and washcloths. “I’m going to bathe you, Japanese style”, I said.
I set the bucket down in the tub at her feet, and dipped the sponge into the soapy water, waiting a minute or so for the sponge to absorb some of the water. While in the bedroom, I had removed all my clothes except for a pair of shorts. I climbed into the tub with her, and using the soapy sponge, soaped up her body, real well, except for her face, and hair. I paid attention to all her erogenous zones, running the sponge down between her ass cheeks, between her legs, and up the front of her abdomen, paying particular attention to her clitoral area. I heard a slight intake of breath escape her lips, and found she was breathing heavily. I continued soaping down her legs, and feet, then told her to tilt her head back, which she did. I continued using the sponge to soap up her arms, and bound hands.
I used the shower hose and nozzle to rinse her off, then back to the soapy water for a second washing. This time, I spent considerable time on her genital area and breasts. “Spread your legs”, I commanded. She immediately complied, and I used the sponge to thoroughly wash her private parts, which now belonged to me. I had her turn around and washed her back, and ass. She was still breathing heavily, and I could tell she was stifling the urge to moan in pleasure at what was being done to her. Again, I took the hose and nozzle to rinse her off, lingering with the water flow directed at her clit, long enough for her to achieve a silent orgasm. I liked making her orgasm, particularly when she was gagged or had been told to be quiet during the process. I knew it was hard for her to do, but it was part of her discipline, and she knew also that she would be punished if she violated my rules.
I sprayed her all over, including her face and hair. She was sopping wet.
Finally, I left her standing there, while I filled the tub with hot water. As hot as I thought we could stand without being burned, and perhaps simulating the heat of a Japanese Hot Tub. When it was almost up to her knees, I untied the rope from the ceiling and told her to sit down. She did so, with her wrists still bound. I removed my shorts, and sat down behind her, so I could reach around and play with her tits as my manhood grew between her cheeks where she could plainly feel it growing. She knew that she would be fucked in just a little while. …
I squeezed her nipples, and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Jai!”
Next week, find out more about their relationship, and the phone call that changed their lives.
story continues in My Odyssey - Part 3: The Games People Play As narrated