Chloe and the Agency - Part 1

She’d always been a pretty girl; has been used to men looking at her since she was 13 and her breasts began to grow. Her breasts are obvious – impossible to ignore – large for her slim frame, and firm with it.

They’re the first thing people notice about her, and since she has always been a sensual person, enjoying her body; the pleasure it can give and receive. She has happily learned to dress to advantage, although nothing too tarty. And she’s always liked strong, decisive men.

None of this is extraordinary, or interesting, until something happens that pushes her out of the ordinary. She’s always been quite ordinary – decent grades at school, but not spectacular; stayed on for A levels , but didn’t go to university; neither the most popular girl, nor an outcast, just one of the girls.

After school she got a decent job as a trainee legal secretary with a local firm, and did all the things young people do - went to dances, went on holidays, had various boyfriends. She was happy enough, but somehow, things always seemed a little pointless - the job dull, the boys shallow, unexciting.

Then something happened. She went down to London, sent by the firm, to an industry trade show – she was doing well with her training and they sent her for a bit of a reward. She was approached by a woman – a very well dressed, well spoken, discreetly glamorous woman, from some sort of exclusive recruitment agency; a very impressive personality.

She didn’t have any specific job in mind, she said, but based on CV and general presentation, Chloe could easily double her money if she were to come to London. She gave Chloe her card.  Chloe shook her head; “No; sorry, not sure”, and anyway, she had a new boyfriend at home. The woman, M, asked could  Chloe meet her later at a bar, to meet her colleague, and  Chloe said ‘Why not?’ – M was full of interesting information – much more informative than the seminars at the conference, and  Chloe was tired of walking round trade stands.

M came with a colleague, D - an olive skinned woman, very severely elegant (M was blonde). They were both very friendly, in a measured, slightly mocking way –  Chloe didn’t mind; she was flattered that they would talk to her at all – and they really knew their stuff.

After a while they said ‘enough shop talk’, and asked about Chloe, her home life. All very friendly, taking a polite interest . They paid her many compliments on her appearance, her body. It was all done in a woman-to woman sort of way, though, so although  Chloe was a little embarrassed at their frankness about her breasts, her lips, her arse, she did feel pleased and proud, in a foolish way. She was very young – still only 21.

They began talking about how well  Chloe could do – not pushy, more compliments really, but they did have a direction. They were talking about how simple men are, how a pretty girl can get a long way, if she has the ability as well.  Chloe supposes now that they wanted to see if she froze up at that point. Quite the opposite – she got a slight feeling that they might be interested in her themselves. She was flattered, a little drunk, and in a public place – with no fear that anything really bad could happen, so she giggled, let them see in her eyes she was interested.

They began to give her specific advice about clothes, tricks with the body, to distract a man, fill his head with thoughts of sex. It was all good fun,  Chloe was giggling, even as she was blushing – they of course, were cool as cucumbers, watching her. Chloe sort of knew she was being played. But she was liking it a great deal, liking their eyes on her, liking it that such successful women were paying her so much attention.

She even put on a bit of a show for them, tried out little walks up and down the bar, giggling, but knowing that they (and others in the bar) were enjoying seeing her display herself. When they announced they had to go,  Chloe was crestfallen; it shocked her how strongly she felt about it. They said their goodbyes, reminded  Chloe that she had their card, smiled cool smiles and left.

After a few seconds, she suddenly felt that if she let this chance pass, she would regret it all her life. She jumped up, ran down the street after them;

“Er, Hi! Again! .. Umm”;

They turned, smiling, puzzled; now she was so embarrassed she couldn’t speak.

“What is it dear?” said M.

“Umm, well, I .. Er .. Well I’m here in London on my own, and my train isn’t until 10 tomorrow, and I wondered .. ”, now she began to think the whole thing was a disaster.

But they knew what she meant. M laughed in a slightly patronising way - but Chloe accepted it, somehow, as appropriate;

“Well, we’re off to another meeting actually, with a client, which might go on late; I’m not sure that’s what you would really want to do on a rare evening in London.”

She hadn’t said  Chloe couldn’t go. Risking a put down, she said;

“I could do some of those things you told me, and distract him!” - meaning it only partially as a joke, but still taken aback when D, who spoke less often, and who was more serious, did something quite powerful.

She put out a finger and lifted Chloe's chin: “You want to be careful, pretty Chloe, you might get into deep waters.” She smiled at the girl, but there was a challenge in her eyes; "are you really up for this?"

A sudden rush of daring came over Chloe. These women were quite realistic about a sort of sexual currency in business dealings. She giggled a bit, and then a small, nervous, but sincere voice, which she realised was hers, said;

“If I fancy him, I might not mind.”

She was blushing crazily. She had as good as told them she would fuck their client if they took her with them. Of course it all sounded like joking, but D’s eyes were locked onto hers, and she could see that  Chloe meant it. And somehow, she did.  Chloe liked the idea of these two knowing she would let a stranger fuck her for the sake of their attention.

D’s smile relaxed a little, and something changed in her attitude toward C. She ceased to act as if she was interested in Chloe’s feelings from that instant onward, revealed her cool and calculating self. She began a slow, almost offensively direct survey of Chloe's body, as if looking over a horse.  Chloe is a little surprised, then shocking herself, realises she is pleased - somehow this means they are taking her seriously, and she finds she desperately wants to be taken seriously. 

She found herself shifting to stand more prettily, and waited until D’s eyes met hers again, nervous now, but wanting the woman to see that she was game. Trembling, she felt her nipples stiffen. She was excited, and frightened, but knew, somehow, that she was going to go through with whatever came with the glorious attention from these increasingly fascinating, masterful creatures.

M stepped closer, and claimed Chloe's attention; her voice was soft, almost concerned; "You know, D is right. You don’t really know what you’re saying. The man we’re going to see…"

"Please, please, let me come with you – I’ll be helpful, I promise – my .. my shorthand is good, and I won’t say a word!"

There was a short silence. M and D exchanged glances. D looked at Chloe, back at M, and nodded.

It was M’s turn to do the controlling thing with her finger under Chloe's chin.

“Very well. You may accompany us. It goes like this; the man we are visiting has very strict dress codes for young female staff. We will need to go and buy you a shorter skirt, some higher heeled shoes and some hold up stockings. I think the blouse will do if we cut off two or three buttons, and you won’t need your panties. You will not speak. Shorthand will not be required. You will meet his eyes only briefly when you are introduced or if he addresses a direct question to you – your eyes will be lowered the rest of the time. Don’t try any of the moves we mentioned. Concentrate on walking elegantly and keeping your thighs apart and your hands by your sides or behind your back. If are successful in ‘distracting him’ it is likely that he will use either your mouth or your pussy, possibly your ass.”

Chloe stared at her for a few seconds, foolishly, shocked. And then realised that this was no more than she had offered myself for – it was just that M had put it plainly. But it was still a shock. Now was the time to walk away.

But she couldn’t; couldn’t lose face, partly. So she blushed, and looked down. Her knees felt weak, but she didn’t move away, and after a moment, looked up again, into M’s eyes, shy, seeing that M was indeed serious, totally sincere. Chloe's heart does a little flip, then she giggles again, nervously, and hears herself say

“O .. OK.”

She giggles some more, knowing how weak this is, that her vulnerability is clear.

“Have you ever had a man fuck your ass before?”

It felt somehow pathetic to admit to her that this outrageous seeming act, which she would have slapped any boyfriend for even mentioning in passing, was outside her experience, as if she had let M down. But she didn’t dare lie;

“N .. no I haven’t.”

It was all so strange! But she genuinely wanted to oblige. Not sexually excited yet (although there were stirrings), but personally excited. Exhilarated? Certainly!

“In that case , I feel certain that we will find ourselves informing him of this, and that he will want to take your virginity there. What do you have to say to that?”

M still had her finger under Chloe's chin, and she froze for a few seconds – this was the point at which she should back down. She couldn’t not tell the truth. The truth, though, startled her as she spoke, quietly, in a breathy voice;

“I .. I think .. I think I’d quite like that to happen. W .. Will you still be there?”

Chloe was bright red, her cheeks pulsing with heat. How could she be saying these things? Yet she had no thought for anything else other than pleasing these two.

“Oh yes, he likes an audience. If the meeting is a success, we’ll pay you £500. Come on, there’s a lot to do. Oh, and one final thing. Don’t EVER, interrupt me , or D, like that again. You stay quiet, speak when you’re spoken to; listen and learn, and be extremely polite. D and I are ‘Madam’, and the client is ‘My Lord’ because he is a Lord, and his staff are all either Sir or Madam.”

They marched her into an expensive boutique, and quickly bought her a gorgeous little pleated grey skirt – a size too small and really short. Two doors along she wore a pair of high heeled wedge soled pale blue strappy mules out of the shop, and in a flash department store she was provided with white hold up stockings, and accompanied to the dressing room by M, who watched as she removed her panties and tights, took them from her and binned them, just as her old skirt and shoes had gone. The stockings were short, really only a few inches beyond the knee, leaving an expanse of bare, inviting thigh.  Chloe thanked god she’d just had her legs waxed, and had shaved her pubes a little, to neaten them. 

Then came another shock;

“Lift your skirt.”

Chloe froze, but then realised that she knew, clearly, that she wanted to. Really wanted to. In fact, she suddenly realised she wanted M to touch her there. Still, it was hard to do such a wanton thing, in a public dressing room - for a near stranger! How could this be?

Nevertheless, slowly and with short, shallow breaths, she lifted the new skirt to show her pussy to M for the first time. She was so frightened that M would decide she was ugly down there, and call it all off. She didn’t dare drop her hands, and stood there, trembling, until M spoke;

“A nice enough puss. Still too curly – just a neat line down the middle is all you need to bring attention to your slot: the rest should go; but you’ll pass. Are you wet?”

Again, the insistent need to be totally truthful, however betraying, however shaming, however it made her vulnerable;

“Um .. A .. A little” - more fiery blushing.

“He’ll want to find you wet. Keep thinking about being pushed over his desk and him taking you in the ass, with us watching. If that doesn’t work, you must tell me in the lift at his office that you need assistance. Come on, quickly now.”

The rest of the journey is a blur – she was ignored in the taxi as the two of them discussed business matters, facts and figures. She was trying to concentrate on getting wet down below. She didn’t think M’s advice very sensible – the thought of having her ass fucked had always made her squirm before. But maybe that squirming was because, somewhere deep down, some dirty part of her wanted it. She doesn’t know.

In any case, she did get wetter.

One thing she knew, though. She wanted ‘assistance’ in the lift. From M or D. Or both of them, preferably. She began to get very wet.

Chloe didn’t have to ask: D, very matter of factly said “lift your skirt, girl”, even before the lift doors closed, and, after only a tiny hesitation, she just obeyed; D’s hand was at her immediately, and  Chloe nearly swooned from pleasure and shame in equal proportions, as two fingers with long, lacquered nails ran along her slit, ending at her clit – now peeking out from its hood. She was being sexually manipulated by a stranger in a lift, with another stranger looking on!

“Look at me girl!”

She was quite frightening, really. M was firm, and strong, and  Chloe knew she would never challenge her. But D was somehow terrifyingly cold. Disobedience didn’t even occur to her.

D’s face was impassive,  Chloe had no way of knowing if she liked her pussy, approved of her wetness, or not. She might as well have been studying a routine two page report. Chloe, on the other hand, was almost overcome with the intensity of it.

“Just remember, do exactly as you are requested to at all times; keep quiet, smile prettily, be very well mannered and pretty-behaved. Try not to think – we’ll look after everything for you.”

The fact that this bald statement is not a turn-off – far from it; makes her almost delirious, like a wet dream - is mad, totally crazy, but relentlessly pulls her in, deeper in to this insane evening.

The building they are in just reeks of money and power, and its intoxicating; a visible quiver runs through her, and she hyperventilates a little, before calming herself down, shooting a look of reassurance at M as the lift slows.

“You may drop your hem now, pretty” says M, which makes  Chloe giggle – how strange, to have gotten so relaxed about showing her naked pussy in a public place so quickly.

A look from D quiets her immediately, and she takes a deep breath, knowing she must not become hysterical - realising that it is a real possibility - that her excitement is a hair’s breadth from becoming panic if she lets the strangeness get to her, terribly conscious of the way her cleavage is now exposed by the removal of three buttons from the thin cotton blouse.

She darts a quick, nervous smile at M and they are walking a short way along a wide and plush hallway to an outer office where three women sit. Two are young, pretty, leggy, busty, skimpily dressed, not so much sitting as kneeling on funny back to front chairs, knees spread apart, now looking up and smiling radiant, open, soft smiles of welcome. The other woman is in her mid 50’s, conservatively dressed, short, awkward looking, fussy, angular.

She stands and approaches them;

“Miss M, Miss D. Welcome. We weren’t expecting three.”

M says “Yes of course, I’m sorry, Chloe here just happened to be available at the last minute, and we hoped she would be acceptable.”

Chloe thinks it sounds as if she is simply to be given to this man, as a sweetener, that it was always the plan that this would happen, amazed that there is no surprise at all, suggesting that such things must be normal, here. She thinks she ought to do something about this, but, very simply, she doesn’t want to. Instead, she just thinks how clever and amazing M and D are – to have got her to this stage of accepting the unbelievable, without any seeming effort at all, in under three hours.

She is trembling tinily all over; horribly aware of the gazes of the two bimbos, who are no doubt fully aware of her likely fate. The thought of leaving doesn’t even occur to her; instead, her mind is busy with wishes that she wasn’t blushing so obviously, that she could be as cool as all the others. But then it is not they whose skirts are being matter-of-factly raised by the older PA to expose an obviously well-lubricated sex; whose slit is once again being investigated by strange fingers in a curiously impersonal way.

Part of her demands that she run away, scream, shout. But in fact she stands there, as calmly as she can, thighs well apart, as the woman concludes her little study. She can’t keep a little gasp of pleasure to herself, as the woman, either accidentally or intentionally flicks her clit, deliciously.

One of the girls giggles, to be quelled by a stern look form the older woman. Chloe blushes again. If allowed to speak, she would ask all of these women to ravish her, right there. She is more ready for sex than she has ever been, and she is loving the feeling that she is not responsible. Yes, she got herself into this situation, but now there is nothing to be done but obey.

“Her presentation is acceptable, if a little unrefined.” M says, “She’s quite fresh, not trained, but she responds well.”

“She is fully available?”

“Oh yes, completely”

What did that mean? If the last hour is anything to go by, more than she can imagine. It’s a risky, exciting, portentous phrase - “fully available” - it makes her feel all loose inside.

“Very well, I will announce you.”

And the woman knocks on an imposing door and leans through;

“Miss D and Miss M for their meeting, Sir”

She ushers them in after a short, sotto voce conversation. The room is huge, heavily panelled in dark wood, with dark, heavy, masculine furniture. The man standing at its centre is also dark; tall, broad-shouldered but not too heavily built: strongly featured if not handsome, relaxed, supremely confident. She goes weak at the knees, knowing that she is going to encourage this stranger to fuck her. And, she realises, she really wants it to happen. She’s ready to bend over his desk right now and ask him to fuck her as hard as he likes. She’s never felt so horny in her life. Or so vulnerable.

He greets M and D warmly, makes a little small talk, without seeming even to notice Chloe, who stands, her hands at her sides, desperately self conscious. The formalities subside, and Lord K (for that is his name, and  Chloe recognises him from pictures in Tatler and Queen) looks quizzically at Chloe, then over to M;

“I take it this is a little gift for me?”

“Yes, my lord; a little de-trop, perhaps, but she became fortuitously available, and, well we couldn’t think of anyone better to offer her to – if she is to your taste, of course.”

Chloe is trembling; he approaches;

“She’s nervous!”

“Extremely fresh, my lord, but ripe.”

He smiles, lifts Chloe's chin in a way becoming familiar, looks into her eyes before she demurely looks down;

“Don’t worry, pretty; you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t what you need. Look at me now!”

She knows that this is the voice of her ideal man; strength without any need to bully or rage. Her gaze quails before his ; she feels he can see the thoughts rushing through her mind;

“I think you’d be happier stripped, with your wrists restrained? You’re all of a flutter.”

A pause, as he looks at her , teasing with his eyes – she is melting. She thinks she had better answer, but no sooner do her lips move than he makes a shushing gesture, his fingers at her lips.

“Quiet, you need only answer direct questions. Others know what is best for you now. Step up onto the low table now, and prettily remove your blouse, bra and skirt; display yourself to me.”

And so, because there is nothing in her head but the need to please, she strips; without dramatic, ‘stripper’ moves, but doing her best to display herself to advantage, to telegraph submissive modesty allied to helpless arousal (all as suggested by M and D in the bar) , until she is wearing nothing but the stockings and the heels.

After a moment he speaks on the intercom;

“Girls, bring a pink satin full restraint set for the pretty gift.”

She is all but naked! Presenting herself, quietly, but as sexually as she can, to three strangers – strangers who keep upping the ante on the depth of her submission – because that’s what it is, she realises, echoes of what little porn she has come across resounding in her mind. Submission.

She wonders if her feet are far enough apart, moves them a little further out, catches a small approving nod from M, and closes her eyes in satisfaction and commingled shame. She has submitted to M and D. Will submit to Lord K. She knows she will.

Her nipples are like stones now, her skin taut with excitement, her pussy tingling. In any case she is about to be ‘restrained’ – even if it is with pretty satin. Her submission will be enforceable then. Lord K, to M and D;

“The tits are really rather good, and I think a well formed cunt, under all that hair. Obviously no virgin.”

“No, but her arse is untouched, and she’s never been restrained, or punished.”

The word punishment opens new doors of fluttering speculation. Of course; of course, how could she not have understood before – especially given D’s manner. She has submitted, to Dominants; and Dominants whip submissives – it’s a cliché, but obviously a true one. She is going to be whipped!

Now she really does taste fear at the back of her throat; her heart thuds. But she does nothing. Nothing that is, except try her hardest to look desirable; show her lovely breasts, her long, svelte legs, her smooth, firm arse, her slim belly, her long neck to their best advantage. Because that’s all she can be, here – a sexy toy. If she can’t be that, then she is pointless.

She is so happy that he likes her breasts. She is proud of them, likes to wear low cut blouses, thin tops. But now here she is deciding that a little toss of her head will set them swaying a little, and show off the stiffness of her proud nipples. Maybe if he’s playing with her nipples he won’t be whipping her. But maybe he likes to whip ‘rather good’ tits – she’s heard of this. Her eyes close as her heart trip hammers.

“Do you judge her responsive?”

D laughs, speaking now for the first time;

“Helplessly so – she’s born to be used. She’s dripping; test her yourself.”

He turns back to Chloe, looks her in the eyes again;

“Until those useless girls get here, will you restrain yourself for me?”

This IS a direct question. There is only one answer, and she gives it nervously, but willingly;

“Yes my Lord, of course my Lord”

“Hands at the back of your neck, then; chin up, grasp each wrist with the opposite hand, and don’t let go, whatever happens.” He waits until she has obeyed, her breasts lifted and set moving deliciously.

“Now you are to pretend you are restrained with strong steel chains – you can’t let go even if you want to. Understand? You won’t disappoint me, will you, pretty?”

“No, my Lord”.

When he smiles at her she melts inside. And his hand is at her sex. She had expected crudeness, but for now his touch is nearly as subtle as D’s. She mews softly with helpless pleasure as he slowly insinuates two fingers into her soaking slot – she has never been so wet, so open, so shamed. The fingers move backwards, to her ass. Feeling a constriction, she leans forward slightly, swivels her heels outward. She is helping him to penetrate her ass! And then a finger pushes into her tight little ring, at the same time as his thumb slots into her pussy.

“Gnnn. Aaaa- aah”

She nearly comes – just from the intensity of the situation. She is nearly in tears with the pleasure and the shame; the utter exposure of her wantonness, all mixed up into a wicked drug.

He steps away from, eliciting another mew, this time of disappointment. Her groin bucks, reflexively. M and D exchange cool, but satisfied looks.  Chloe is almost panicking with shame. Once again he lifts her chin, commanding her attention;

“You’re a very lovely girl; you’re also a helpless slut. If you allow me to restrain you, I have a fancy to using you rather … how shall I say .. yes .. ‘harshly’ – there really is no other word for it. Now would be the time to say that you wish to leave. You will not have another chance.”

Her head hums, her brain is too cloudy She says the only thing she can think of – the truth again;

“I .. do whatever you want to me, please. .. My .. My Lord”

Something in her relaxes then. It is over; she is no longer responsible, except for looking pretty, and being obedient. Also, it is clear from the atmosphere between the three that she has said the right thing, that they are pleased with her, and she wants that so much, because her opportunity to do anything independently has been gradually reducing over the last few hours, until now it is simply to do her best to submit prettily, and to display herself wantonly.

She is desperately vulnerable. Some sort of crude comment about her is made, that she doesn’t understand, some sort of in-joke, and they all laugh. An hour ago she would have wanted to know what it meant, felt left out, but she understands somehow that she has ceased to be a player on their stage. She has become a prop, a mechanical.

She blushes, deeply, ashamed, but somehow calm. Lack of responsibility for seeming intelligent, or witty, or well informed means more time to concentrate on what has become a fascinating subject for her: how to hold herself, display herself so that M will want to have sex with her. Because somehow M is the pivot of all this. The most beautiful, the most fascinating person she has ever met. And no, she doesn’t fancy herself in love. Just possessed.

Idly, she wonders what it will be like to be whipped. She doesn’t want it .. but, there again, she is suddenly aware that she will be disappointed if K doesn’t do something like cane her, that there will be something missing from the experience. And once she has thought that, she realises that she would like to have D take something – a belt perhaps, to her breasts. Not that she likes pain, but because she would like to see whether D’s marvellous cool would be altered in such circumstances. And then she thinks that anything D has from her, she wants M to have too – so now she is hoping that all three of her will beat her at least once.

She is lost in fantasies, as the two lovelies from the outer office enter: she is required to kneel, she is softly, even helpfully obedient, embarrassed little giggles at her own clumsiness, blushing delightfully – then they begin to attach the slinky restraints; first, a collar; fully three inches wide, the pink satin backed, as it is throughout, by fantastically pliable white leather, and decorated with sophisticated little lace trims – pretty, but obviously strong.

The collar is adjusted to fit very snugly – it will be impossible to forget she is wearing it – partly because she can now only move her head in a limited way, but secondly because each breath has to come consciously. Next, the cuffs, slightly less tight; immediately linked, first to each other, and then pulled up and back over her head; linked to the collar behind, her lovely breasts rising and swaying; their vulnerability an invitation, the proud nipples an advert of her arousal. The sensation of vulnerability is powerful and effective; she whimpers a little; the girls giggle.

The ankle cuffs are looser still, heavy, and joined by a short length of gleaming chain. Then a quarter cup, strapless, uplift bra, snugged up to the undersides of her unfettered breasts, subtly tailored to provide support and uplift, connected front and back with taut chain to the collar, making her tits appear to defy gravity, moving with exaggerated freedom.

A belly chain and a loop of chain from the collar at the front, taken between her legs and up to the belly chain at the small of her back – the feel of chain on her soft and sensitive sex lips affects and shames her almost unbearably, and she quivers helplessly, obviously, blushing as the girls giggle again.

The matching shoes are a little too small, and have what must be 4" heels, but  Chloe is in love with them as soon as she sees them. In fact, she is in love with the whole get-up, entranced with the way every part makes her feel like a living doll. She shyly raises her eyes to meet M’s, loving the look of approval she reads there, her heart fluttering madly. M smiles at her, a satisfied, saturnine smile, and says;

“Chloe, why don’t you thank Lord K for your pretty clothes, and tell him he was right to have you restrained?”

Chloe’s heart flips. She didn’t think she had to speak! Now they want a little speech from her! And to say such things in front of the two bimbos! But she must! and again, the truth of her feelings makes itself clear;

“My .. My Lord. I .. I thank you so much for .. for these, lovely, lovely things. I .. I hope that you like me in them even half as much as I like wearing them. And .. and I am happy to be restrained”

And its true- there is something relaxing about having her wrists linked as they are – again, a freedom from responsibility – enforced acceptance She cannot blame herself for not struggling, not resisting, as it, as it is simply no longer possible. There is muffled tittering from the bimbos, and a lopsided smile from Lord K, but again  Chloe gets the impression she is saying the right things.

Which is good, because these people now have her chained up and are really quite scary. And also because when she gets that feeling, she gets a warm feeling in her belly which is like a drug to her. It's the same feeling she had earlier, when parading herself to M and D in the bar; a warm, sexy, heady feeling, which centres in her pussy, and as she feels right now, makes her want to be fucked.

All of which makes it extremely easy for Lord K, approaching, to bury two fingers unceremoniously into her soaking sex, and for her to keep soft, and even thrust her hips a little, making it easy for him, knowing M can see how how completely she opens herself, overwhelmed by the feelings of surrender, of shame, and the pleasure of being penetrated. And the surrendering itself makes her hotter, and she begins to go deep into a loop of ever greater arousal until she realises she is getting close to climaxing; her hips thrusting hotly, helplessly, her lips mumbling please for more, her cheeks hot as she realises that, however ashamed she is, she doesn’t want him to stop.

But he does, stepping away from her, leaving her writhing in disappointment and shame, hearing them laugh at her helpless arousal, and having no choice but to accept it.

“Interesting. Well, ladies, we have business to discuss. May I suggest that this little lovely will be all the better for a more prettily trimmed pussy and an encounter with Miss A’s cane – she can be brought back in half an hour or so.”

“But of course” purrs M – “Just as you wish”

And without more ado,  Chloe is led, shaking, from the room, by means of firm pressure on the chain that runs between her legs, the links finding their way between her well lubricated sex lips. She is too overwhelmed by the speed of events to do anything but obey – which is, after all, what she has agreed to do. She wishes she could think of something else to do other than simply go along with them, with the threat of the cane. But in fact, doing what he wants - pleasing M, is exactly what she does want.


Average: 5 (1 vote)


Anonymous (not verified) , Sun, 07/11/2021 - 00:01
Thanks! There is more of this story to come.