Miss Allison Ch. 07 – BDSM

Miss Allison Ch. 07 – BDSM

The essential background on this storyline is embedded in this chapter, but you’ll get more out of this story by reading Chapters 1 through 6. Please assume that all characters were fastidiously hygienic and well lubricated.

encontros Rapidos

This series is dedicated to the real David. He’s the primary impetus behind this chapter. He loves surrender of control and humiliation.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Chapter 7

It was a Thursday evening in my not so cozy home, thinking about how my life had changed in only a few weeks since I allowed my next-door neighbor, Miss Allison, into my world. It was Miss Allison who took my “confidential” fifty question sex survey from my home office, a survey that revealed my deepest and darkest submissive fantasies, and started circulating it to her sorority sisters.

One of her “sisters” turned out to be my boss, who I now called Miss Meghan, who had her own submissive girlfriend, Rose, and was trying out her kinky ideas on me before she tried them on Rose. In one of my sessions I had the privilege of licking another man’s cum off of her. Miss Meghan also started whoring me out to clients, the first of which, Roxanne Martin, was a sexy older woman who got an ass reaming and butt fucking from yours truly. It was a “chore” I’d happily do again.

But there was a price to pay for this sexual bliss. The price was my freedom. I had surrendered myself and my possessions to their whims, and they had quirky whims. At work, Miss Meghan and her French intern Claudette interrupted my work for periodic humiliations and I had to wonder who else had been given copies of that damned survey; Miss Meghan kept hinting about the need for a trip for me to HQ in Cleveland, and talking about paying out my big bonus in installments geared to my “new responsibilities,” meaning whatever amused her as her personal sex slave.

Be mindful, I wasn’t complaining. I had more sex in the last two weeks than I’d had in the last ten years. And Miss Allison and the others fed that black spot in my soul, a black spot that had no sustenance for the first fifty-five years of my life. I reveled in the darkness. To dwell in a world where acts of humiliation were performed without shame and without judgment by others.

I was part of that world now. A world I had no intention of ever leaving. Ever. My love for Miss Allison was unconditional. I would do anything for her. This was not a relationship of abuse. It was a relationship of trust. I trusted her to treat me the way I wanted to be treated. I wanted to be humiliated, tormented and worse. It was a perverted way of feeding my craving for attention, admitting to myself that I was a sexual deviant, and expressing my sexuality in ways that exceeded my powers of imagination.

In my old life, I was a cultured, educated senior business professional and a community guy, serving on local committees. Now each new humiliation by Miss Allison forced me to show who I really was, a slave to my own desires. Allison’s strength was a sort of psychological judo, using my own hidden needs against me. I constantly craved her attention.

And attention I received. I was pissed on by Miss Allison and butt fucked by Miss Allison’s sorority sister Miss Lori, and Miss Lori had come back the next day for a “Key Ceremony” with a Champagne toast with Miss Lori and Miss Meghan and Rose, to announce she had changed the locks on my house and to present keys to all of them. Now I was just one of many key holders, all of them had access and Miss Allison had made a dozen keys she might give out. Miss Allison also pointed out that she had changed the passwords to my computer, tablet, phone, TV and my smart home, so she controlled my digital world.

Miss Allison thought it was amusing that she’d changed the name of my digital assistant, which I discovered when the alarm went off at 3 a.m., followed by polka music, and my shouting “Alexa, alarm off! Alexa, music off!!” had no effect. I had to text Miss Allison to beg her to shut it down. Miss Allison refused to tell me the new name so Miss Allison was in control of the lights and sound and temperature.

While I was at work, Miss Allison changed everything else around too. I had the same furniture and art and kitchen things, but all arranged differently just to make the point that Allison was in control. The TV only showed what Miss Allison choose, or nothing at all. It might have been a women’s sports game that she wanted me to take detailed notes on, or some random YouTube training video. Last night it was a video on organizing shoe storage, and Miss Allison made me analyze the woman presenting it: “write 100 words about her looks and what you imagine: tits, ass, legs, pussy, be descriptive.” Then of course she shared it around, and Miss Meghan called me into her office to berate me.

“So, the closet lady has tits like ripe melons, and probably has a Brazilian? You are pitiful,” she said to me, shaking her head in disgust.

After I had Miss Lori’s initials ‘LL’ tattooed on my ass Miss Allison said I should show the same respect to her and Miss Meghan. I couldn’t imagine going through the pain of two more tattoos. Miss Allison loved to have me strip down in front of others and show the tattoo as proof of my submission.

Miss Allison started flexing the power she had over me. When I was in the local hardware store to pick up fall lawn fertilizer and gardening gloves, the owner said, “Hey, David, I have your other order too, the one that Allison on Grove Street called in for you. It comes to $27.86.” I paid for it with a laugh, but didn’t open the bag though it felt heavy until I was back in my car. Ring bolts, screw eyes, snap hooks and connectors, and a short length of chain. I had to think back to that survey question: “Have you ever been chained? Does that excite you?

Uh oh.

* * *

I returned from the hardware store still puzzling over the bag of hardware Miss Allison picked out for me. Was it for a restraint device? The idea of being restrained excited me. The idea of being controlled like that was thrilling in a sexual way. How desperate was that? I handled the short length of chain, feeling how it was heavy and cold, I remembered reading a book as a teen about Houdini, who was naked and chained when he performed his escapes, and being aroused then.

I got a beer out of the refrigerator and grabbed the “snacks” in my pantry and stared at the collection of metal parts. The taste of the beer was awful. Miss Allison had replaced my usual IPA with a non-alcoholic beer that was disgusting. She was trying to make me lose weight and also to remind me that she was in control of what I ate and drank. The usual family size bag of potato chips was replaced by sheets of dried seaweed and flax seeds replaced the jar of peanuts I always kept handy. If she wanted to make me into a scarecrow she was going to succeed.

As I sat at the kitchen table, my stomach growling, I heard a key turn in the kitchen door lock. No knock. A slight Asian woman came into the kitchen holding a closed wet umbrella. It had apparently started raining outside. She ignored me and hung up her raincoat, still dripping water, on an empty coat hook. She then turned to me and acknowledged my presence.

“Hello David. I’m Keiko Muramoto. I went to college with Allison.”

She was a bright-eyed woman, slight of build, smallish breasts, she cut a nice figure in her conservative business suit. She looked like she just came from a corporate meeting. Long straight black hair and a narrow face, though pleasing. Best of all she was wearing four-inch heels on her small, dainty feet. That brought her up to my height.

“I’m David . . .”

She held up her hand like a traffic cop. I stopped talking.

“You’ll speak to me when I ask you to,” she said. She waited for my silent acknowledgement and then continued.

“I’m a sorority sister of Allison, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out. I’m here as a favor to Allison. Quite frankly I run a busy accounting practice and I’ve got my own issues going on back in New York. She’s really a newbie to all this so she delegated a portion of your survey to me because she didn’t know exactly what to do.”

She dared me to speak. I didn’t.

I was hypnotically watching as she carefully unbuttoned her blouse to the waist. I could see her translucent bra underneath. It was highly erotic and meant to titillate me, which it definitely did.

“So you’re asking yourself what I’m here to do. In fact you’re dying to know. But I’m not going to tell you. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Not knowing what I’m doing to you and why? I’m not here to spoil the fun am I?”

She came up to me and up her finger under my chin, pushing my chin up so I was looking down my nose at her. Her expression was serious but she was exciting the fuck out of me.

“So Allison asked me to call you ‘slut’ and I declined. Although you’re no doubt one I’d rather address you by your name, so you’re David to me, OK?”

So it was my turn to talk, but I didn’t know how to address her.

“OK, Miss Keiko,” I said, taking the safe approach. Then I forgot my place. “Thank you for coming Miss Keiko.”

She put her hand on my crotch and squeezed my balls through my khakis and boxers. Even though she was small, she had a strong grip and it hurt.

“I didn’t ask you to speak.”

I started to open my mouth.

“Uh huh,” she said, stopping me in time.

She let go of my aching nuts and struck a pose so I could see her blouse open and the outline of her breasts behind her bra.

“So David, what would you do for me if I took off my blouse? Do you want to see my breasts David?”

I was hoping that wasn’t a trick question.

“Yes Miss Keiko,” I answered precisely and correctly. My cock was throbbing in my pants. She was good. Really good.

“How about you get on your knees and unbutton your pants? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I didn’t have much but what I had was hers. I unbuttoned my pants and took them down to my knees.

“That’s far enough,” she said. “Now the boxers. Just to your knees.”

I lowered my boxers. My penis was embarrassingly erect and even dripping. She knew I was a whore.

She gave me a smile of satisfaction. “It isn’t much, is it David?”

“No Miss Keiko,” I said.

“Well . . . it’ll have to do,” she said, looking dismissively at my cock.

“Play with yourself David. And if you amuse me I’ll take off my blouse. But not until then.”

I looked ridiculous, fully clothed, with my pants and boxers down to my knees, kneeling with a hard on that wouldn’t quit. There was already a small puddle of precum on the floor. I went to work on my erection, spitting on my right hand before stroking myself. I moistened my left thumb and rubbed it around the head of my cock, mixing the precum with it to make the skin slick . I was staring at Miss Keiko while I was doing it. It felt amazing.

She must have been satisfied. She peeled her blouse off and tossed it on the floor. She had a demi bra on, so I could see the tops of her well-formed breasts and the bottoms through the lacy and translucent material. Standing there in her heels she looked sexy as fuck. I was beating off while I was staring at my mysterious apparition.

“Uh . . . uh . . . uh . . .” I grunted, never taking my eyes off her. I was getting close and I wanted her to see and hear my fealty to her. She met my worshipping gaze while she unclasped the back of her bra and shed it, showing me her breasts. Her beautiful breasts. I couldn’t help myself. I fisted my penis and came all over the floor, splattering cum everywhere. I milked balls dry.

Miss Keiko bent over and picked up her bra and blouse and gave me a look of disgust.

“You came without permission.”

She hadn’t asked me to say anything so I stayed still as a statue with cum still dripping off my cock. It was not my finest moment. I felt like the puppy who peed on the floor.

She watched her put on her bra and hook it and then rebutton her blouse. Everything she did was sexy.

“Goodbye David. I have business in Baltimore and maybe I’ll come back . . . or maybe not. If I do decide to come back we’ll see how good you are at following instructions.”

She pulled open the door. The window blind banged against the door as a gust of windswept rain came inside, scattering leaves on the kitchen floor. She opened her umbrella outside but before she left she leaned inside to give me one last admonition.

“Think about what you’ve done. You’re satisfying your own desires and not mine. If you were a true submissive you’d know what to do. That bag of hardware. Leave it on the table right where it is. If I come back tomorrow I’ll put it to good use. You can take tonight to think what that might be. And clean up your mess with your tongue. If I come back tomorrow I’ll ask you if you followed my order. I will know if you’re lying.”

She shut the door hard enough that the window blind rattled again.

I looked down at all the cum I’d ejaculated from my needy penis. She was all about orgasm control and I had none. Even her flashing her tits got me off. I was an amateur and needed to be better. As my penance, I dutifully licked up every speck of cum, thinking of her and her perfect petite body and commanding demeanor, and the hardware on the table that was going to end up on me, God knows how.

With my chore complete, I stood up and hitched up my pants. My first stop was the refrigerator to get a non-alcoholic beer to wash the taste of cum out of my mouth. I sat at the kitchen table cradling the beer, sipping it slowly and listening to the rain beating against the kitchen window, thinking about Miss Keiko and how she’d use me for her pleasure.

* * *

Of course they’ll be a Chapter 8.