Serving The Commander

Addicted to Serving The Commander

Author's note: All characters in this story are over eighteen and act consensually at all times. No AI was used in writing this story. I welcome email feedback and DM's and will do my best to reply. HG xx.

There are times when I question my addiction to serving The Commander, because I'm not generally the addictive type. I don't smoke or do drugs, and while I enjoy alcohol in moderation I can usually take it or leave it. I'm no wild child, either. I stick to the rules, pay my taxes and can't remember the last time I got so much as a parking ticket. And yet, quite recently I willingly allowed two men that I didn't know to use my pussy and ass at the same time for The Commander's amusement. I loved every moment and would do it again in a heartbeat if he ordered me to.

Over the past two years since I first chose to explore this part of who I am, I have often questioned that choice; I suppose you might call it self-analysis. Perhaps I should pay a therapist, not that I could afford one. I live alone in a modest house that I inherited from my parents, and have a job that pays enough to cover the bills and even the odd holiday, but I'm not what you'd call wealthy. My car, for example, is a twenty year old Toyota Yaris.

I did once open up about The Commander to a gay friend of mine called Marcus, who described himself as unshockable. "There's nothing you can tell me that will offend or embarrass me, Stevie," he said. He was wrong, and sat open mouthed as I told him my secret. "You are winding me up!" he shrieked, losing his composure. "I don't believe you. Prove it, girl!" His husband was working late, so I was able to show Marcus the neat row of welts across my bottom and thighs where The Commander had used the cane on me two days earlier.

For a while, Marcus sat at the other end of the couch with his hands over his face. He had always been a drama queen, but he was genuinely staggered. I tried to explain why I would relish a man in his sixties bending me over his knee and thrashing my bottom so fiercely. In the end, all I could point to was the intense orgasm that I'd had as The Commander disciplined me, but I don't think Marcus was convinced. He wittered on about daddy issues, my deceased parents and my need to escape from my otherwise mundane life.

Marcus kept returning to the fact that my late father was in the Royal Navy until he retired at the age of fifty-five, only to pass away with my mother in a tragic accident a year later. While in the navy, he had reached the rank of lieutenant commander, so Marcus speculated that my dominant's title was no coincidence. Perhaps, he suggested, I was compensating for my loss.

Maybe he had a point, maybe he didn't. Perhaps it's just the intensity of sexual release I achieve with The Commander. I mean, I've had lots of boyfriends and girlfriends and had great sex with several of them, but with The Commander it's on another level, seriously. He makes my whole body sing when he allows me to cum, and the endorphin and dopamine hit is like nothing I can describe.

Marcus wondered whether some would view my relationship, if you can call it that, as abusive, but they'd be wrong. For a start, everything I agree to is consensual, and I have a safe word that The Commander will respect. I know this because I used it once, when he strapped me to a low bench and used a fucking machine on me. After about an hour, the sensations became too much, and I began to feel sore, so I yelled, "Strawberry!" and it stopped instantly.

The Commander quickly released the heavy leather buckles that held me in place, carried me to a bed, and held me close, caressing me and insisting that I drink lots of water. He even apologised, saying that he hadn't realised how over-stimulated I had become, and that he would always respect my safe word. He produced some lotion and used his fingers to soothe my swollen pussy, which - somewhat ironically - made me cum again.

That's the other thing about The Commander. He can be kind and he treats me like a human being. Of course, there are times when he, his friends or strangers use me like a toy, but only when it's very clear that I've agreed to it, wanted it. He never belittles me or humiliates me, and we occasionally go out in public as a couple and interact in a non-sexual way. We enjoy dinner together, or even watch a movie, such as The Odyssey, which we saw recently. Sure, he asks me to wear sexy outfits, which I'm happy to do, but it's very civilised.

The Commander is a fascinating man, with a wealth of experience. He left the Royal Navy having achieved the rank of commander, started a digital security business and then sold it a few years ago for a lot of money - millions, I think - and decided to retire to a life of hedonism. I don't think there's a country in the world that he hasn't visited in his sixty-four years on this planet, and I love to hear stories about his travels. I don't think that there was ever a wife or children but there are a few details that he keeps from me, such as his real name. I could probably find out, but I don't want to.

My decision to explore a submissive relationship first began two years ago. I had just celebrated my thirty-third birthday, although 'celebrated' might be the wrong word. Six weeks prior to my birthday I had broken up with someone I was falling in love with. She was called Marianne, and was a French postgraduate student on a research contract at the University of Portsmouth, my home city and the home of the Royal Navy, on England's south coast.

We had just finished making love when I made the mistake of telling her I was falling in love with her. She sat bolt upright in our bed, and, in her cute French accent, said, "It's not making love, Stevie, it's fucking, OK? You seem to be confusing the two things." I knew instantly that we weren't on the same wavelength, although it wasn't until a couple of days later that we had a blazing row which culminated in her storming out, yelling abuse at me. It was no surprise when I saw her in the shopping centre holding hands with another girl within days.

Since I was eighteen, I've always been attracted to men and women, and never thought of it as odd; it's just who I am. I don't even have a preference for one gender or the other; I'm either drawn to someone or I'm not. That said, on the day of my birthday I felt very alone and rather sorry for myself. I got drunk, which is something I very rarely do, and signed up to a website which promised enticing possibilities for open minded singles. No, not Tinder or Bumble, but a more specialist one with a joining fee.

For a while, all I received were messages from men that had two things in common. First, they were creepy, and second, they were misspelled and contained appalling grammar. I began to despair, until one day I received a short message from a user called The Commander. It read: "Hello Sleepless in Portsmouth. I read your profile and think we may be able to create sexual synergy together. For clarity, I am a dominant, and seek a submissive younger woman. In order for me to distinguish the genuine from the timewasters, and indeed the sex workers, I would need you to attend an assessment session at my home. Your reply will result in more details. Discretion assured and expected. The ball is in your court."

I re-read the message the next evening, after work, when I was sober and my self-induced headache had gone. I was now in my thirty-fourth year, and had been repeatedly unlucky in love, most recently with that bitch Marianne. What did I have to lose? I lay on my bed, reading his message over and over, and began to imagine what the 'assessment session' might involve.

Almost without me realising it, my hand unbuttoned my denim jeans and reached inside to my smooth pussy lips. I always keep myself scrupulously hairless in that area. To my surprise, I was quite wet. The message itself was authoritative and well-written, seemed genuine enough, and had made me feel horny. I circled a finger over my clit, which rose up, aching for attention.

I pictured a stern-looking master, whip in hand, ordering me to carry out filthy acts in front of him. If I hesitated, or questioned him, he would threaten me with lashes across my naked back. The fantasy became crystal clear in my mind and I pumped three fingers into my dripping pussy while rubbing my erect clit harder and harder. I actually yelled out, "Please, Commander, let me serve you! I'll do anything you want, anything!" Of course, there was no one in the house to hear me, but my own words made me writhe on my bed, torturing my pussy with both of my hands.

I closed my eyes, lost in my fantasy, and exploded messily over my fingers, my underwear and the bed. I've always been a squirter, given sufficient stimulation, and my fingers had done a great job. "Oh my god, fuck!" I cried. "Mmmmm, so hot, so good. Yes, oh yes, aaaaah!" I howled, a delicious orgasm flooding my body and brain with pleasure, making me shudder and twist on the bed. Hot fluids sprayed everywhere as I rode my climax to its conclusion.

For several minutes I lay in a puddle of my own cum, basking in the afterglow of my orgasm. It had been a few weeks since I'd had sex, but even so, the thought of surrendering to a dominant master had reduced me to jelly. I grabbed my laptop and sent a reply. It read: "Dear Commander, I would love to serve you, but understand your need for me to prove that I am serious. I await details of the assessment session that you require of me. Yours in submission, Sleepless in Portsmouth."

As soon as I'd sent it, I felt a twinge of regret. What the hell had I just done? Why on earth would I agree to humiliate myself in front of a complete stranger, who could even turn out to be a crazed axe murderer? As I tasted my sticky fingers, I had my answer. I would agree because it was so damned hot, and had turned me on more than I could have imagined. And anyway, I hadn't disclosed personal details, and could simply ignore any reply.

The reply took two days to arrive, and was terse, to say the least. It instructed me to report to an address in East Meon, a village in the Hampshire countryside. I should, I was told, expect to be there for two to three hours and should wear normal clothes. The message included a code number that would allow access to the address, where I would receive further instructions. I was reminded that I could change my mind or withdraw from the process at any time, and that if I did I would never hear from The Commander again.

I'd told myself that there wouldn't be a reply, that it was some eccentric person playing a silly game. This was not, it seemed, the case: I had a decision to make. My father's voice floated into my thoughts from somewhere. "Seize the day, Stevie," it said. "Don't make the mistake that I made of assuming there'll be another time. Trust me, there might not be." I'd spent most of my life playing it safe, and where had it got me? Perhaps it was time to take a leap of faith.

I took a day off work and found myself parking my car on the driveway of a handsome detached house on the edge of East Meon, a very prosperous village in Hampshire's beautiful Meon Valley. The house was imposing and looked immaculate, with a manicured walled garden to the rear, and iron gates and high hedges at the front. For a moment, I thought I was stepping into a feature from Country Life magazine.

I entered the code, causing the heavy front door to swing silently open. I was conscious of security cameras watching me and assumed my arrival had been closely observed. The front door opened onto a hallway with a pristine marble floor, wood panelled walls and rooms to the left and right. As I peered down the hallway I saw a kitchen at the far end. Unsure what to do, I noticed an envelope on the hall table marked 'Sleepless in Portsmouth.'

The note inside the envelope told me to enter the room to my right, remove all of my clothes and put on a blindfold that I would see on the couch. I was so enthralled by the mystery that I didn't hesitate or question my instructions. The room was carpeted but sparsely furnished, with a couch and a low coffee table in front of a bay window. Sunlight streamed into the room past heavy drapes, making the air warm. Sure enough, a velvet blindfold lay on the couch. Within seconds, I stood totally naked and blindfolded, literally unable to see anything.

I sensed a door opening, followed by footsteps coming towards me. I tensed as something traced down my spine, making me shiver with anticipation. What was it? It felt like latex, or some sort of plastic or leather. A riding crop, perhaps? The holder circled around me, touching various points on my body and lingering on my pert and modest breasts. I'm a 32C, so not tiny, but not buxom either. I have not got a single piercing, bar for my earrings, nor any tattoos.

I very nearly jumped as the person spoke. His voice was deep, soft and yet authoritative. His accent was a very upper class English one, rather unlike my own more working class dialect. "You are lovely, my dear," he said, clearly and calmly. "It's very refreshing to see a body without tawdry tattoos. I approve." In truth, I liked the look of ink, but had never got around to getting any done. "Wait thirty seconds while I leave the room, then take off your blindfold and sit on the couch," he said. "I will be watching remotely, and wish to see you masturbate to orgasm. Take as long as you need." He pressed something into my hand, which I assumed was the object he'd been touching me with.

A thrill shot through me as I heard the door click closed behind him. Oh my god! I thought. This is real, and so hot! It was only later that I reflected on how I could have been opening myself up to a world of trouble, but at that moment my pussy was ablaze with desire. In my hand was a huge dildo moulded in the shape of a black cock, complete with veins and a mushroom-shaped head. I looked up and saw a camera in each corner of the ceiling. Masturbating while being watched - and recorded, no doubt - by a mysterious stranger was both ludicrously risky and very, very exciting. Looking back, I suspect that was the moment that I first experienced the thrill of submission.

I lay back on the luxurious leather couch. The leather was warm due to the rays of sunshine beaming in to the room, and I sighed deeply, feeling aroused and deliciously naughty. I'd never, ever done anything like this before. Of course I'd masturbated in front of or with partners, but they were people that I knew and trusted. The man I had just allowed to inspect me remained a total stranger.

I traced a finger along my smooth, slick pussy lips while licking the giant black dildo that I held in one hand. The more I gazed at it, the more I wanted it inside me. I've always been a bit of a size queen, I suppose. I looked up at one of the cameras and held my gaze on it while sliding the tip of the dildo inside me. I had a selection of toys at home but this was as big as any of them. I closed my eyes and pushed it in further, gasping at the delicious friction it created. My clit is rather large and protrudes like a miniature penis, making it easy, if not obligatory, to touch it.

Once the black cock was inside me as far as it could go, I began to pump it in and out with one hand, while teasing my clit with the other. It felt amazing, and the knowledge that I was being watched made me even more turned on. I was doing something almost taboo, and the rush of being so slutty created a feedback loop. The more I thrust the dildo in and out and the harder I rubbed my clit, the more of a whore I felt.

It only took five minutes for me to erupt with a powerful orgasm, so aroused was I. I normally take at least half an hour, but this scene was so exhilarating that I could not hold back. I always vocalise, and cried out, "Fuck, yes, oh my god! I'm cumming, can't stop! Yes..... oh yes..... FFFFUCKK!" As I knew I would, I squirted hard, sending jets of fluid shooting from around the dildo buried in my pussy. I was conscious that I had made a mess on the couch underneath me and the carpet in front of me.

It was quite possibly the hardest I had ever cum from masturbation, which was saying something, since I was very keen of pleasuring myself. If ever there was a sexual Olympic Games I'd fancy my chances of representing Team GB in the self-love category. I relaxed, slid the dildo from my stretched pussy, and licked it clean. I love how I taste. I fell back onto the soft couch and awaited further instructions.

To my surprise, The Commander's voice came from somewhere. It might have been from a camera, or there could have been a speaker somewhere else in the room. In any event, his voice was calm, clear and measured. "That was most enjoyable," he said. "Well done. I have one further task for you. In front of you is a coffee table, with a drawer. Open the drawer, remove the small bottle therein, and drink it. Show me that you have swallowed the contents. Do not, I repeat do not, spit the contents out. You have made enough mess already."

I leaned forwards, pulled the drawer open, and retrieved a small clear glass bottle containing a pale yellow liquid. The bottle had a rubber stopper, which I eased open. I sniffed the contents of the bottle, smelling the unmistakeable odour of fresh urine. He wants to see if I'll drink his piss, I thought. He reasons that if I do that, I'll do almost anything.

The liquid could, of course, have been drugged, poisoned or whatever. I was alone, and no one knew that I was in a strange place with a deviant man controlling me. Some would say that I should have run and kept running, never to return. I didn't run. Instead, I gulped down the warm liquid, trying not to taste it. Actually, the taste was very mild and almost pleasant, and I didn't retch or cough. I looked up at a camera, opened my mouth and showed him that his pee was now in my tummy.

"Excellent," came the voice. "Now, please get dressed and leave. If I wish to pursue matters, I will be in touch within twenty-four hours. If you do not hear from me within that time, then we shall have no further contact. Please enjoy the rest of your day."

I drove home feeling a buzz of excitement mingled with trepidation. One the one hand, I had just carried out three kinky acts that I would never normally have dreamed of doing. The fact that I'd done them felt dangerous and intoxicating. On the other hand, what might I be letting myself in for? I decided to do some mundane tasks such as grocery shopping and laundry, telling myself that he wouldn't make contact again. I reasoned that he probably had several candidates lined up, some of whom were bound to be more enticing than a novice such as me.

Despite telling myself that he wouldn't be in touch, I still logged on to the website and regularly refreshed the messages button. At precisely eight o'clock, my persistence was rewarded. My heart raced as I saw that there was a message from The Commander. It read: "If you reply with your name and home address, I will send my driver to collect you tomorrow at seven p. m. Look out for a black Range Rover. Sit in the rear, do not engage the driver in conversation, and wear whatever you wish. My maid will greet you and take you upstairs to prepare you. If you do not reply by midnight tonight, I will assume that you do not wish to pursue matters further. Regards, TC."

I spoke out loud to an empty room, something I often do when I'm trying to reach a decision. "Well, Stevie, shit just got real," I said. I reasoned that I had two options. The first was that I could ignore the invitation, delete my dating membership and resume my life as a singleton with a mundane job, tight finances and sporadic relationships. Option two was to reply as requested, take a risk and see where it led. The tingle in my pussy made one of those options irresistible.

At exactly seven o'clock the following evening, a black Range Rover came to a halt outside my house. Bizarrely, I was nervous about a neighbour observing me getting into an unfamiliar vehicle, but being November it was dark and they all had their curtains drawn. I settled into the sumptuous leather of the car's rear seats as it whisked me through darkened streets and into the countryside towards The Commander's house. The driver said nothing, and nor did I.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the house. The driver, who I now noticed was wearing a peaked cap and balaclava, opened the door for me. Although it was dark, I could see that he was a black man, and he appeared to be tall and well-built. He steered me towards the front door, which opened as I ascended the steps. "Have a nice night, ma'am," he said, the only words he had uttered on the journey.

As the door opened, it revealed an older lady, aged, I estimated, in her fifties. Somehow, I had expected a maid dressed in some sort of latex French maid's costume, but this person wore dark jogging bottoms and a maroon polo shirt. She was of average height, and had close cropped dark hair. A nose ring pierced her septum, and there must have been two dozen studs in her ears, including her cartilage. "Hello, Stevie," she said, warmly. "Please follow me." She led me upstairs and into a large bedroom.

"I'm sorry if this all a bit cloak-and-dagger," she said, as I entered the room with her, "but The Commander is obsessive about his privacy, and trusts only a handful of us. My name is Annie, and your driver is called Michael, if it matters. He will return you tomorrow, or earlier if you wish. The Commander wanted me to remind you that you are free to leave at any moment, with no repercussions. He likes to use the safe word 'strawberry' if that is acceptable to you. Utter that word, and he will immediately cease whatever he's doing. The safe word applies to me as well."

"Gosh," I said, "what might you do to me that requires me to use the safe word with you?"

Annie smiled, and for the first time I saw a flash of desire cross her face. "I am tasked with showering and soaping you, Stevie, and making sure that your back passage is squeaky clean. Some girls rather like that, but some object." I knew that I would be in the former category; the idea of being soaped and given an anal douche by a mature maid was very appealing. I pride myself on my gaydar, and could tell that Annie was either bisexual or a lesbian. I assumed that she couldn't wait to get her hands on me. "Then there's the hair, costume and makeup, which everyone likes," she added. "Would you undress for me please, Stevie?"

And so it begins, I thought, and removed my sensible sweatshirt, leggings, bra and underwear. I was a little surprised when she did the same, but she explained that we would be showering together, so clothes were inappropriate. I saw that her generous breasts were pierced with horizontal bars, while her tummy and clit hood had vertical bars. The curved clitoral one, in particular, fascinated me, and I asked her about it. "The Commander suggested it," she explained. "The lower steel ball feels so nice when it touches against my clit. I'm almost always horny."

I almost felt that I was in a dream, one of those strange ones you have when you've eaten too much cheese. Here I was, naked, standing next to an equally nude woman who I'd only met minutes previously, discussing clitoral stimulation before showering together. It wasn't my typical Friday night, that was for sure. Annie took my hand and guided me to an en-suite shower room, where I stepped into a large walk-in shower cubicle. I noticed Annie grabbing a rubber douche bulb as we entered the cubicle.

She turned on the overhead rainfall showerhead, which was instantly warm. Not scalding, but just right. She squeezed a good dollop of shower gel into her palms, and began to spread it over me, including my breasts, buttocks and armpits. "I don't think we'll need the razor, will we, Stevie?" she said. "You're are super-smooth all over." She reached between my legs, before slipping two soapy fingers inside my pussy, making me gasp in surprise. "We've got to make sure you're clean everywhere," she purred. "Now, bend over."

I braced myself against the wall with my back to her. She slapped each buttock hard, saying, "Oh yes, The Commander will enjoys these peaches. Very nice. You want some more, honey? I can tell you like that, oh yeah you do, don't you?" I noticed that her breathing had become ragged and her face flushed. Yeah, she likes girls all right, I thought. She used some soap as a lubricant, slid the tip of the anal douche inside of me and squirted warm water into my anus. It felt wonderful, and I backed towards her, making her laugh.

"Whoa there Stevie, steady girl! I'm under strict instructions not to have too much fun with you tonight. Another time, maybe. Now, expel what's in your sexy little bottom, please." She repeated the process, pronouncing my back passage clean after the second attempt. She turned off the shower and told me to dry myself using the fluffy towels that hung on the wall.

Once dry, she laid me on the bed, face up, produced a bottle of lotion, and squirted a generous pool of liquid between my breasts. She then straddled my hips and massaged the lotion all over my torso and arms. It felt so very sexy, especially when I sensed moisture from her pussy as she sat astride me. She reached behind her back, traced a finger along my slit, and said, "Gosh, Stevie, I don't know who's wetter, me or you. What a pair of horny bitches, eh?" She hopped off me, before saying, "Turn over and I'll do your back and your calves." She was, it appeared, making a conscious effort to avoid my private parts, although I suspected she would love to explore them if allowed.

Once finished, she sat me in front of a dressing table, complete with mirror, and applied makeup. I was normally very conservative in my choices, wearing pale lipstick and subtle eye makeup. "The Commander likes his girls to look a bit tarty," she giggled. By the time she'd finished, I hardly recognised myself. The woman staring at me in the mirror had dramatic dark red glossy lipstick, emerald green eye shadow, black eye liner and thick mascara. Annie had tied my hair back in a ponytail and applied approximately two tonnes of foundation, although I had to admit my skin looked flawless.

"Good," she said. "Let's get you dressed. It won't take long." From a small cloth bag, she produced a set of black lacy lingerie that fitted perfectly, making we wonder whether someone had estimated my measurements on my assessment visit. Fishnet stockings, panties, a push-up bra and a suspender belt made up the set and made me feel very sexy. Annie produced some very high heeled black leather stilettos which again were a perfect fit, albeit far higher than anything I would normally wear.

Just as I thought she was finished, she reached into one of the drawers of the dressing table and held up two sets of studded black leather cuffs. She attached one to each ankle and each wrist and fastened the chunky steel buckles tight. "The Commander likes his girls to be restrained," she explained.

Annie led me downstairs and into a very large and grand living room where I got my first sight of The Commander. He was sat in a huge leather armchair, sipping a glass of Scotch whisky. A bottle of Laphroaig stood on a side table next to his chair. Annie stood beside me, quite naked, until The Commander said, "Thank you, Annie. Excellent job, as always. I'll call if I need you." Annie turned on her heels and left the room without saying a word.

"Please remain still, my dear, while I take in your loveliness," The Commander said. Once again I observed that his voice was very upper class, quite soft but firm and authoritative. He stood, walked around me, touching me, caressing my breasts through my bra, and stroking my buttocks. He sat back in his chair, took another sip of whisky, and said, "Kneel in front of me, young lady. We must have a little chat before things can progress."

I had become a keen consumer of porn, and had watched plenty of videos featuring a D/S relationship, so had some idea of how to behave. I sank to my knees, looked downwards, and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Very good," he murmured, "very good indeed. Now, Stevie, I want to make two things very clear to you. First, that is the only time I shall use your real name. I know who you are, where you work and where you live. I was so sad to find out about your parents' tragically early deaths, my dear. It must have been horrendous for you. Genuinely, I'm so sorry."

I knew I should keep my head bowed, but felt compelled to lift my chin and look at him. The Commander was elegantly dressed in a dark grey business suit, with polished black shoes and an azure tie. His dark hair was receding and swept back, revealing a long nose, strong jawline and piercing blue eyes. He was clean shaven and looked for all the world like an unusually handsome accountant.

I wondered if he would berate me for lifting my head without permission, but he smiled and continued talking. "Rest assured, my dear, I will not use any of your personal information for nefarious purposes. So, secondly, you must know that you may terminate our, ah, arrangement at any time and without notice. You, my sweet, are not my prisoner, although there will be times when physical escape will be impossible for you. You do, however, have your safe word, which will halt any activity immediately. Tell me, my dear, what is that word?"

"It's 'strawberry,' Commander," I replied. My voice trembled a little, but I was not scared. It was more the adrenaline surging through me, but I neither wished to fight nor take flight.

He chuckled, and said, "Good. I'm pleased that you called me by the correct name. For context, I was a commander in our glorious Royal Navy, before successive governments hollowed it out, leaving it a pale imitation of the senior service, and causing me to resign. Still, now you know why I call myself what I do; it's not conceit, I assure you." He motioned me towards him and I shuffled forwards on my knees. "Which brings us to this: what shall we call you, my dear?"

"Whatever you wish, Commander," I said. "I will accept your choice."

"My word, you are a quick learner, aren't you?" he chuckled. "Very well. I shall refer to you as Kitten, since you are both adorable and a fast learner. Be aware, however, that in the heat of battle, so to speak, I will use much cruder words to describe you. Now, bow your head. I have something special to give you."

I did as instructed, and felt something being placed around my neck, then fastened with a chunky buckle at the back. I touched it and felt the unmistakeable texture of leather. I also felt a D-ring at the front of the collar. "This, Kitten, is a symbol that you belong to me," he explained. "You may decide to remove it when you leave this place, or you might choose to wear it permanently. It's up to you." Without warning, he unzipped his trouser fly, and allowed his cock to spring from his boxers. "So, Kitten, let us begin. I am feeling very, very aroused," he breathed. "Suck my dick. I know you want to."

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room had changed. The Commander had been patient and almost fatherly up to this point. Suddenly, he had issued me with a sexual demand. I was shocked at how keenly I obeyed. Was it really this easy to fall into submission? It appeared that it was. "Yes, Commander," I said, "my desire is to do whatever you wish." I appreciated that that sounded cheesy and cliched, but I meant it. Already, I was feeling the power of submission.

His cock was very hard, fully erect and was twitching with anticipation. I have always loved sucking cocks. I enjoy their hardness in my mouth, their body heat and even their taste, especially if the man cums in my mouth, which I adore. That said, some are nicer than others. The Commander's penis was gorgeous. Big, but not obscenely so, just the right thickness, and rock hard, with a purple tinge to its head. I like cocks that are veiny, and his was precisely that, with blood vessels that stood proud of his shaft.

I swirled my tongue around his purple head, before licking his shaft and kissing and sucking his balls, which felt ripe and heavy. The Commander groaned. "Oh, Kitten, you are so good at that. Swallow my dick, you sweet little bitch." I have a party trick, which is that I'm able to relax my throat, overcome the gag reflex, and hold a cock deep in my throat for some time, while breathing through my nose. "My word, that's nice," he moaned, and I did it over and over for several minutes.

Then I made my first mistake. I completely forgot the dynamics at play, began to masturbate him, and muttered, "Come on baby, cum for me." He pulled my hair to ease my head from his cock, and stared at me. He looked furious. "I will decide when I cum, Kitten, not you!" he barked. "Not only do I get to decide when I have an orgasm, I will determine if and when you do, too. Do I make myself clear? Do I?" he hissed. I dissolved into tears. I was embarrassed and felt stupid. I'd fallen at the first hurdle, and was compounding my error by crying like a silly teenager. It could be over before it had truly begun.

That's when I first experienced The Commander's softer side. He picked me up - he was a strong man with muscles sculpted in the military - laid me across his chest, put his arms around me, and stroked my hair. "OK, Kitten, enough tears, shush," he murmured. "We all make mistakes, and we're still learning how this will work. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Kitten."

"It's OK," I sniffed. "You're right, it's not my place to call the shots. You're The Commander, and this silly kitten must learn the rules." I meant it. I'd already felt the thrill of submission, the buzz of being controlled for his sexual pleasure. I knew I'd get my reward if I could just learn the protocols of how the game was played.

He sighed. "You do know that you must be punished for your mistake, don't you?" he asked. "It's the best way for you to learn, you see." I nodded, wondering what he had in store. Deep down, a dark desire inside me was stirring, one that I couldn't explain then, and still can't today. I wanted to feel the sharp sting of pain, hoping that it would lead to sexual release, but more than the physical sensations, I wanted to allow another person to hurt me. I knew it was fucked up, but suddenly I wanted it more than anything.

"You're right, Commander," I breathed. "I'm a bad girl, and deserve punishment, so that I can be better in future. Teach me a lesson, please, I'm begging you."

"Very well," he said, his voice calm once more. He eased me over his strong, powerful thighs. "Bend over, so that I may punish you, Kitten."

As I wriggled into position I felt a trickle of vaginal fluid escape my panties and trickle down my inner thigh. God, I was getting so turned on, and it must have been obvious to The Commander. He ordered me to pull down my panties, leaving my buttocks and thighs exposed. "Don't spare me, Commander. Give me a lesson I won't forget," I urged. I felt his muscles stiffen in readiness.

There was no warning of the first impact on my bottom, and I yelped, more in surprise than pain. Then came the second blow on my other buttock. Smack! This time it hurt, and the noise of his palm striking my skin seemed to reverberate around the room. I screamed, partly at the blue streak of pain that shocked my body, and partly at how quickly he'd delivered the stinging blow. Instantly, I knew I liked it. "Thank you, Commander!" I blurted, expecting more. Smack! The third stroke was even fiercer. Already I could feel my skin reddening, blazing with the impact. "Thank you, Commander! Again, please!" I howled.

By the time he'd delivered the final blow, I was feeling euphoric from the pain. I knew that endorphins would be rushing to the scene, and could feel a flood of secretions oozing from my pussy. What I hadn't expected to feel was his fingers slipping into my sopping vagina, exploring and finding my G-spot. "Good girl," he panted. "Now it's time for your reward. Cum for me, Kitten. Climax over my hand. Do it!" he urged. I groaned, helpless with pain and desire in equal measure.

A tidal wave of sensations flooded into my brain, with only one possible result. I exploded into one of the most intense and long-lasting orgasms I had ever experienced. "Oh god, so good, oh my fucking god!" I panted, as his relentless assault on my G-spot continued. My pussy convulsed, sending orgasmic shockwaves pulsing through my entire body, which shuddered and shook with sexual bliss. I don't remember what words I formed, if I even did. It was probably just a series of 'aah,' 'oooh,' and 'nnnnggg' noises.

I imagined The Commander had seen a fair few squirters in his time, but even he seemed taken aback by the gushing fountain of fluid that I produced. Driven on by my howls of ecstasy, my pussy ejected a spray of juices all over his lovely suit trousers, his hands, and even over the armchair he was sitting on. Neither of us had a stopwatch, but my climax must have lasted the best part of five minutes. Every so often he rubbed my clit, making my orgasm roll on and on.

Can a person become addicted instantly? I've never used drugs, so I can't say for sure, but in retrospect I think I was hooked at that moment. I had never experienced such a sexual high before, and immediately knew that I wanted more of the same. The combination of stinging pain, helpless submission and sexual release was utterly intoxicating.

Eventually, my orgasm began to subside, and I remained draped over The Commander's thighs. "My word, Kitten, that was spectacular," he commented. "You are quite the little pain slut, aren't you? I shall have to discipline you more often. Perhaps the cane next time, hmmm?"

"Yes please, Commander," I replied, "I would like that." He did not reply, but instead pulled me to my feet, eased my panties into place and took my hand. "Follow me," he said. "I'm going to take you to a room that you'll grow to love. One where the couch and carpets are a little less premium than in here. Gosh, you really did make a mess, didn't you? Never mind."

I found the high heels Annie had given me quite tricky to walk in, and my stinging bottom didn't help me concentrate on walking, but I managed to stay upright as I followed The Commander to the end of the hallway, through an oak-panelled door and down a short flight of steps to a basement room, or as The Commander proudly announced it, the dungeon.

I had seen such rooms in porn videos, but being confronted with the real thing was eye-opening. There were four main items in the large air conditioned room. The first was a huge, inviting bed at the far end, which I noticed had leather straps bolted to each corner. The second item was a St. Andrews cross mounted to a side wall, again with restraints at various points. Thirdly, a wide leather-padded bench with extensions for all four limbs stood in the centre of the room, and finally a rather sinister-looking fucking machine sat in another corner, a phallic dildo hanging menacingly from one of the two steel arms projecting from its flywheel.

The walls were fitted with racks of various designs, which housed all manner of whips, toys, clothing, footwear, lubricants and more. There was a dizzying assortment of devices, many of which I was sure I would become acquainted with in due course. I glanced up at the ceiling and saw the inevitable camera, and a heavy-duty electric bondage hoist bolted, presumably, to a joist above it. Everything looked pristine, surgically clean and, to my eyes, exciting.

"Take a good look around, Kitten," The Commander instructed. "In a moment, I shall place a blindfold on you, before securing your arms to the hook above you. Then, I will enjoy teasing your more sensitive parts, before fucking you while you stand. I won't flog you, since you've already had a spanking. Is any of that unacceptable to you, my dear? Please be honest. Transparency and communication are vital to mutual pleasure, I find."

"That sounds divine, Commander," I replied, certain that I would enjoy what was coming. "Please proceed." As promised, he slipped a velvet blindfold over my eyes before clipping a chain to each wrist. He raised my arms, used a remote control device to lower the ceiling hoist, secured the chains to the hoist and raised it. He removed my heels and said he would allow my feet to remain flat on the floor. Finally, he made me widen my stance and shackled a spreader bar to each ankle, before pronouncing himself satisfied.

"Jolly good," he said. "I'm off to do some late night shopping. I'll see you in a day or so." My jaw fell open and I spluttered in confusion. "Only joking!" he snickered. "Once I've finished with you I'll let you down." That was the first time I'd experienced his slightly strange sense of humour, but I liked it. It reassured me that nothing bad was going to happen, and that The Commander was not a monster. I wouldn't say I was relaxed, because I was in a state of high sexual arousal, but I certainly felt safe. Crucially, he had already gained my trust.

I heard him fussing around the room, looking for something, and getting undressed. He told me that his suit trousers would need dry cleaning, since I'd soaked them when I climaxed a few minutes earlier. "Annie will take care of that," he said. With that, he pressed his body against mine. He felt strong, lean and muscular, and his erect cock pressed against my thighs then belly as he circled me. He kissed me, tenderly and almost lovingly, and I shivered with delight. I adore kissing, especially when the other person is skilful.

As he kissed me, he reached his hands around and squeezed my buttocks, before stepping behind me. I felt his cock pressing into the small of my back, hot and hard, before he parted my ass cheeks and, very gently, teased my pussy lips with his cock, making me groan with pleasure. He also touched my rosebud, very lightly. I whimpered, and he said, "Oh, you like that, do you, Kitten? I bet you're getting wet at the thought of having your bottom filled, aren't you? It's all clean, and must feel rather empty, no?"

"Yes, Commander," I mumbled, unsure quite what response was required of me.

"Speak up!" he barked, making me jump with his raised voice. "Stop muttering and tell me how much you want something in your bottom!"

"Oh god, Commander, I want that so, so much," I replied, my voice much firmer, perhaps even pleading. "That would be truly lovely."

"Right answer, Kitten," he breathed. I sensed him holding something, then felt his finger tracing around my asshole. It felt naughty and delicious. "Let's get you lubed and stretched," he said. "Then I've got a nice big plug to sit in there." He worked a slippery finger inside me, then two, and finally three. He took his time, kept checking that I was OK, and used lots and lots of lube. I do love anal, but have had some lovers in the past who were in too much of a hurry, making it unpleasant. The Commander, by contrast, was an expert.

He pronounced me ready, stepped away, then returned. I felt a warm solid object pushing against my butthole. The Commander eased the plug inside me, inch by delicious inch, before the large head plopped past my anal ring. My bottom greedily sucked in the rest of the plug until its base nuzzled against my entrance. I felt so wonderfully full, and realised it must be a steel or glass plug, since it was very heavy.

He moved around to my front, and lightly slapped each breast, explaining that he wanted to stimulate my nipples, which he then rolled between his fingers. Just as I was wondering why, I felt the intense pressure of a nipple clamp on one breast, then the other. "Well now, just look at you," he murmured. "All restrained, cuffed, plugged and clamped. What a beautiful Kitten, just the way I like my girls to be."

The Commander reached between my legs, made a comment about my dripping pussy, and started to massage my clit, which was as usual very prominent. "Oh, Commander, that feels so amazing!" I gushed. "So, so good. Thank you." I didn't dare ask for more, but desperately wanted him to continue.

He moved behind me once more, offering his hard, pulsing cock up to my slick pussy lips. He pushed gently and, with little to no resistance, his dick eased inside me, filling me completely. God, he felt so big, so solid and so warm. "There, Kitten, I bet that feels nice, doesn't it?" he asked. My whimpers of bliss told him that it did. Suddenly, he began to thrust urgently inside me, bumping his cock against the plug in my ass and slapping his balls against my buttocks. "Take my cock, you slut!" he growled. His demeanour had changed from gentlemanly to dominant. "Do you want your cunt filled, bitch?" he hissed. "Well, do you?"

"Oh, yes, Commander, I do," I groaned. "Please, I'm begging you, fill me up, every last drop. Empty yourself into my pussy!"

I thought he would cum instantly, but in fact he continued fucking me hard for several minutes. Now and then he pulled out completely, leaving my pussy empty and begging to be filled again. Then he plunged back inside me, his warm, hard cock stretching me gloriously. He reached for something, which turned out to be a bullet vibrator, which he held, buzzing loudly, against my throbbing clit.

I remembered what he'd said about him controlling my orgasms, and tried to fight the desire to climax, but it was becoming too much, and I knew I was close. I just hoped he was, too. "Please, Commander, let me cum!" I babbled. "I need to cum so much! I'm begging you, sir, please, please, PLEASE!"

Then came the words I was desperate to hear. "Cum for me Kitten, cum now!" he ordered. I complied, squirting like crazy as he drove me wild with his dick and with the bullet vibe. He erupted inside me at precisely the same moment, yelling, "Take my cum in your pretty little cunt, you whore! Take it like the slut you are! Oh, oooh, aaah....... JESUS! YYYYYESSSS!"

His voice echoed around the basement dungeon and prolonged my own incredible orgasm. I actually felt his hot cum spurting into my pussy as he drove his cock against the butt plug inside me. "Fuck, oh FUCK!" I screamed. "So good, so...... uh, uh, uh........ aaaah.....!" I lost the power of speech, threw back my head, and issued a silent scream of pure bliss to the universe. I felt as if I was floating on a cloud of euphoric stimulation, and may have even blacked out for a second or two.

I opened my eyes to discover that the room was blurred, but soon snapped back into focus as The Commander ran his hands over my body, kissing me everywhere and whispering, "Good girl, well done, good girl!" over and over. I know it sounds weird, but in that instant I felt loved, cherished and appreciated. He and I had just created magic together, and were basking in its afterglow. He knew exactly how to combine dominance with tenderness.

Things got a little fuzzy after that, but I ended up on the huge, crisp, cool bed at one end of the dungeon, with The Commander standing over me, smiling benignly. He lay beside me and held me close. It was so wonderful to feel warm, human contact again after being single for a while, and I nuzzled into his chest. "Wait there," he said, walked to the door, opened it and called out, "Annie! Can you hear me? Bring us a tray of snacks and water, please." There was a reply from somewhere in the house acknowledging his request.

A few minutes later, Annie, now fully dressed again, entered the room and set down a tray of cheeses, fruit, crackers and bottles of water. She looked at me laying naked on the bed, and said to The Commander, "She really is lovely, isn't she, sir? May I play with her sometime?"

"Of course," The Commander answered. "I think Michael would like to join in too, don't you? For now, I want Kitten to tell me all about herself. Goodnight, Annie. We'll see you in the morning."

Nine months later

If there's one thing I do enjoy it's a long soak in a warm bath at my modest but cosy home. It gives me time to think and reflect. It was late summer, and I'd been serving The Commander since the previous autumn. I was now fully addicted to our arrangement. Like a drug user denied their fix for too long, when I'd not seen him for a few days I began to feel different. I became edgy, fidgety and above all, horny. As soon as he summoned me to his house, I got the fix I needed.

I recalled that, after I'd been with The Commander for a month, he took me to a piercing studio to have a vertical clit hood piercing done, exactly like the one that Annie had. She told me how the contact between the bar's bead and her clit made her constantly and wonderfully horny. However, the guy at the studio told me that I should abstain from sexual activity for two weeks after the procedure. That was the longest two weeks of my life. Annie wasn't wrong, though, and once healed I began to experience the best orgasms of my life.

My life had changed in other ways, too. I realised that, prior to meeting The Commander, I'd been constantly searching for that special person who would make my life complete. I accepted that you had to kiss a lot of frogs before you met your prince or princess, but I had simply rebounded from frog to frog without a sniff of any heirs to a throne.

As soon as I submitted to The Commander, I ceased dating, because he was all that I needed. He made it very clear that I was free to see whomever I wished outside of his dungeon, but I didn't want anyone else. My life improved greatly, because rather than wasting time on unsuitable partners I joined a gym, started running and swimming regularly, and improved my diet. I used my free time productively rather than indulging yet another frog.

Very soon after becoming The Commander's submissive, I altered my wardrobe. He gave me some money, and invited me to go shopping and buy myself a new wardrobe. I realised that I'd grown used to invisibility, by which I mean clothes that would avoid any attention. Grey and baggy had become my default look, along with flat shoes. "Kitten, you are a star, and you should shine like one," he told me. He transferred two thousand pounds to my bank account, and said, "I want people to see you sparkle, to notice you, and perhaps even feel a little envious of you."

I remember going to the office Christmas party and having several of my colleagues eating out of my hand, so to speak. I wore a short, sexy and tight sleeveless black leather dress, fishnet tights, high heels and of course my collar. When he first collared me, The Commander told me I was entirely free to remove it when I was not with him. I actually asked him to have it engraved with something like, 'Property of The Commander,' but he declined, saying that I was not his property, even if I wanted to be.

I wore the collar with pride, because it was a gift from him, a symbol of my servitude, and was unique. He promised me that he did not now have any other girls apart from me, so I was happy to show the world that I was his, even if he did not want me to feel owned by him. I asked him about other girls, and he said that when we first met I was one of three, but that he'd quickly ended his arrangement with the other two. To me, that made wearing his collar even more special.

Of course, I got a lot of comments, especially at that Christmas party, where I suppose I went over the top a little. One girl, who I didn't even know, called me a slut and threw her drink at me. Hilariously, it missed but covered the poor man stood next to me. Sadly for her, he was the Human Resources director. He later told me that the girl handed in her resignation after the Christmas holidays.

Another way in which I changed was that, under The Commander's supervision, I had new sexual experiences. The most thrilling of those was the time he made me airtight. I remember getting home from work one Friday evening, and debating whether to eat first then masturbate, or the other way around. I hadn't seen The Commander for a week and was feeling ridiculously horny. Then my phone pinged with a message. It read: "Please be here for eight p. m. for some fun and something new. Expect to stay the night. TC xx."

The evening began in the usual manner, with a shower, soaping and douche courtesy of Annie. Curiously, Annie did not get dressed afterwards. I noticed that Annie seemed especially cheerful, to the point where she was humming a tune, something I'd never heard her do before. When I queried why, she smiled and said, "You'll see." Another thing that was odd was that she insisted that I be taken down to see The Commander completely naked, apart from my collar and four cuffs of course. Finally, she clipped a dog leash to my collar, and kept tugging on it as we descended the stairway to the living room.

The Commander, as was his habit, was seated in his favourite armchair, sipping a glass of Scotch whisky. "Good evening, my sweet," he said, as courteous as ever. "How are you tonight? Is everything in order in your world?" I knelt before him, bowed my head and clasped both hands behind my back, informing him that I was very well. "I expect you're wondering why Annie is naked, and why she has you on a leash?" he asked.

"Well, yes, Commander, I was a little curious about that," I replied.

He chuckled, and said, "I have decided that it's time to reward Annie, since she has been such a marvellous maid, housekeeper and even accountant," he explained. "Her reward is that tonight, you belong to her. I have agreed that she may have her wicked way with you. Rest assured, I will be involved and present, but for a change, Annie will decide what happens to you." I looked up at Annie, who tugged my lead and grinned, before leading me on all fours to the dungeon.

Once in the basement dungeon, Annie unclipped me and ordered me to lay, face up, on the huge bed at one end of the room. She quickly fastened strong ropes to each of my four limbs, before securing them to bolts at each corner of the bed and tightening them. I was stretched out in a 'X' shape, quite unable to move. I felt a trickle of wetness oozing from my pussy.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I met you," she said. "Commander, may I call her Kitten?" He smiled and nodded. "Well, Kitten," she purred. "I'm going to use you as my bitch, and force you to give me orgasms galore. Plus, there'll be a little pain involved. Actually, let's start with that." She moved out of my sight, then returned with a clear plastic tube that had a screw top at one end. I had no idea what it was, but soon found out.

Annie straddled my legs, traced her fingers over my pussy, and massaged my clit piercing. My clitoris responded instantly, springing from its hood and throbbing against the steel ball at the base of the piercing. I couldn't help it, and gasped, "Fuck! Oh Annie, that's so good, I love that."

Annie leaned forward and lightly slapped my cheek. I was shocked, although it didn't hurt. The maid had just slapped me! As if reading my mind, she said, "Tonight, I am not your maid, understand, Kitten? Tonight, bitch, you'll call me Mistress Annie. Got it?" I nodded, dumbfounded. "Good, now behave yourself," she growled. She placed the open end of the tube directly over my clit and began to turn the screw at the other end. Instantly, I realised what was being created: suction. I watched, mesmerised, as my clit grew obscenely large inside the tube as the suction built. "Good?" she asked, tersely.

It felt incredible. My clit was super-sensitive anyway, and this made it pulse and throb so deliciously. Annie smiled a wolfish grin, hopped off of the bed and returned with a set of clamps, the sort with metal teeth. I assumed they were for my nipples, but I was wrong. She opened the jaws and closed them on my labia. Fuck! It really hurt! I yelped, but soon the pain was replaced by a glow instead. My clit was burning and my pussy lips soon joined in, creating a pain/pleasure feedback loop that had my head swimming.

"They come off when I'm satisfied," she declared. "Everyone needs an incentive, don't they?" She shuffled to a position above my face, and hovered directly over me. Her pussy lips were puffy and aroused, and a blob of creamy fluid dripped into my mouth. "Eat me, Kitten," she ordered, and lowered her sopping pussy directly onto my face. Immediately, I drove my tongue inside her as far as I could, and used my mouth to stimulate her clit and its piercing. "Oh my," she groaned, "you're good. I knew you would be."

In order to take my mind of the fires burning in my labia and clit, I tried to count how many orgasms I gave Mistress Annie. It was at least five, although it may have been more since some rolled into the next. After about an hour, she eased off of me, panting, and declared herself sated. She sat up, inserted two fingers into my pussy, found my G-spot, and rubbed hard. I cum very easily when someone does that, so it didn't take long.

As I began howling, announcing my impending climax, she whipped off the labia clamps and clit suction tube, causing blood to flow back to my tortured flesh. I had as powerful an orgasm as I could remember. It was so overwhelming that all I could do was scream, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!" over and over, as I writhed and bucked against my restraints. Mistress Annie just sat between my legs, playing with herself and admiring my explosive orgasm.

Eventually, my climax subsided, and I began to relax, knowing that she was not finished with me, but savouring the exquisite glow of satisfaction that a shattering orgasm leaves in its wake. "Well, Kitten," she whispered in my ear, "The Commander was right. You really are something special. I'm going to unclip you now, but don't you run off." She kissed me all over as she unclipped my limbs, before slipping a blindfold over my eyes. "You, my darling, are in for a proper treat," she breathed.

I waited on the bed, unable to see anything, and heard the dungeon door open. I sensed a person entering the room, but was unsure if it was The Commander. The person wriggled behind me on the bed, and I felt their skin brush against me as they did. They must, I concluded, be naked. "Turn around, face them, and straddle them," Mistress Annie ordered. As I did so, the person pulled me down by the waist, impaling my pussy on his cock. Fuck, he was enormous! "Kitten, let me introduce you to Michael," Mistress Annie snickered.

As Mistress Annie lifted the blindfold from my eyes, I looked down to see a smiling young black guy beneath me, his cock buried in my pussy. "Good evening, ma'am," he said, still grinning. It was The Commander's driver, who I'd literally never spoken a word to before. "We meet again," he added. The craziness of the situation was so absurd that The Commander, Mistress Annie and Michael all began laughing. I soon joined them, but could not escape the glorious feelings that Michael's huge dick was giving me.

"Well, Michael, are you going to fuck this slut, or just lie there giggling?" Mistress Annie asked, her game face back on.

"Sure thing, ma'am," Michael answered, in what I could now hear was a strong American accent. I later learned that Michael was a postgraduate student at the University of Southampton, who did driving assignments for The Commander as a part time job. He began to thrust inside me, using his strong frame and toned abdominal muscles to drive his beautiful cock into my willing pussy. "You like that, huh, sugar?" he growled.

"Oh I do, Michael," I purred, "I like it very much." I placed my hands on his huge, hairless chest, and for a few minutes simply enjoyed my pussy being filled and stretched. "Fuck me, stud, fuck me hard," I urged. Suddenly, The Commander appeared behind Michael, his cock hard and angry-looking. I'd almost forgotten he was in the room. Instinctively, I closed my lips around his shaft, sucking him just as fervently as Michael was fucking my pussy.

"Gosh, I'm feeling left out," I heard Mistress Annie say from behind me. I felt something prodding at my asshole, and instantly knew that she was wearing a strap-on. I felt her pouring lube over my back and easing it inside my tight hole. "Let's make this delicious little whore airtight, shall we, gentlemen?" she said.

Within seconds, I was the meat in a four person sandwich. The Commander was fucking my face, grabbing my hair and pulling me onto his rock hard cock. Michael hammered into me from below, while Mistress Annie pounded my ass with her big latex dildo. I was in erotic heaven, doing something I'd never done before and loving every second. "Don't stop!" I yelled. "Fuck me senseless! Fuck my cunt, my ass, everything!"

At some point, it all began to blur into one huge and euphoric cloud. I felt like I was in a vast warm bath of sexual bliss. I became unable to distinguish between the hot rush of tingling sensations from my anus and the sharp, intense friction from Michael's cock. Tears ran down my face as The Commander rammed his cock down my throat. I just wanted it to last forever, and to be used like a sex toy for all time.

They told me later that they each climaxed, but I'll be honest and say that I was so wrapped up in my own towering orgasms that I didn't even feel the men cumming in me. When I started cumming, I couldn't stop. I twitched and shuddered as orgasm after orgasm crashed through me. I remember yelling, I recall fluids spraying everywhere and I have a recollection of Mistress Annie screaming a banshee howl of joy as she came; she was using a double ended dildo that penetrated her pussy and my anus at the same time.

I must have blacked out briefly, because I don't remember being laid on the bed on my own. As the room gradually shifted into focus, I realised that I had fluids oozing from every orifice. Spunk dribbled from my mouth and down my chin, cum trickled from my sore, swollen pussy, and lube made its way out of my gaping asshole onto the bedsheets. I felt totally used and deliriously happy at the same time.

The Commander, Mistress Annie and Michael were perched around the bed in the manner of relatives visiting a patient in hospital. "Thank you, thank you all," I murmured, "that was a-fucking-mazing." Michael and Mistress Annie stood, kissed me on each cheek, and melted away, leaving me with The Commander.

As time passed I descended completely into my role as submissive to The Commander. He seemed to have a limitless ability to invent new ways of experiencing sexual pleasure with me, and each one made me adore him that little bit more. He began to involve Annie and Michael more in our games, and seemed to enjoy watching just as much as taking part.

He sat in the back of the Range Rover and made me suck Michael's cock as Michael drove us to dinner, then asked Michael to finger me to orgasm on the return trip home. Annie and I regularly had sex in front of him. I discovered that his favourite treat was for us to get naked and sixty-nine in front of a log fire in the living room while he watched and masturbated, while smoking an expensive cigar and sipping brandy. I loathe the smell of cigarettes but rather liked the aroma of his Cuban cigars.

Another of his favourite things was to strap me to a bench, lower it nearer the floor, and set up the fucking machine that he kept in the dungeon. He would sit on the bed, stroking his cock, enjoying the sights and sounds of me climaxing over and over again. For added spice, he sometimes put a porn movie on a laptop and made me watch it, or attached two dildos to the machine and had it fuck both of my holes at once.

I asked him once if he preferred having sex with me himself, or watching other people doing naughty things with me. "Gosh, that's a good question," he replied. "At first, I wanted you all to myself, even though Annie kept nagging me to let her play with you. But now, I think I enjoy others fucking you just as much. I suppose it's because I've learned to enjoy your pleasure just as much as my own." His words made me feel even more special, because he wasn't some strict dominant using me purely for his own ends. He cared about my feelings too, and that wasn't something I was used to. It felt good.

One month ago

I'd come to realise that more and more of our games involved a third party or parties, and that this gradual change was something that The Commander, rather than I, had instigated. I was still as captivated by him as I'd ever been, and trusted him completely, but he'd shifted his role a little. To use a football analogy, he was like someone who had transitioned from being the star player to being a player-coach. He often looked on, watching the performance, but joined in now and then, rather like a substitute, to stretch the analogy.

That said, he rarely allowed third parties to visit his house, with the exception of Annie and Michael, whom he trusted completely. He told me that he was by nature a private person, and wished to preserve that privacy. As a result, our third party fun happened in more public settings, with The Commander in the background. As an example, he offered me to a woman that we met in a hotel bar, on condition that he could watch us have sex together in a room that he'd booked. Afterwards, she blew us both a kiss and left, never knowing our identities.

That was why his announcement about the dinner party he was hosting came as rather a surprise. One evening, I was curled at his feet, rather like a faithful dog might be, as we watched his favourite TV show together. Over time, we'd discovered that we enjoyed talking, relaxing, going out to dinner and other non-sexual activities. "We're becoming like some old married couple," he joked. I often thought that when we went out together, people would assume he was my father, and I rather liked that, since I still missed my real father very much. That said, I doubt I would ever have ventured out with my dad wearing a tight leather skirt, high heels and stockings, as The Commander liked me to wear.

The TV show finished and he switched off the device. "Oh, Kitten," he said, stroking my hair, "I have a social event planned that you should know about. Next weekend, I'm hosting a dinner party for three trusted advisors and their spouses. They're people I who I know will be discreet, although I am a little anxious about inviting six people to my home. I think I owe it to them, though, since they've been very good to me, and most supportive.

"If it matters, they are my lawyer, my financial advisor and my accountant, and I very much want to thank them for all they've done for me over the years." He hesitated, before adding, "You, my sweet Kitten, will be part of my gift to them. I would like you to be available to them throughout the evening for any intimate contact they might wish, including, of course, the spouses. Now, it might be that they choose not to do anything, but I strongly suspect that they will. I do need you to agree, my dear, since I know it is asking a lot. What do you think?"

I pretended to be mulling the idea over carefully, although in reality my heart was racing at the idea. "So that I'm clear, Commander, I might end up being used during the evening as a sex toy by six people that I've never met before, am I right?" He nodded and smiled, knowing that I was almost drooling at the prospect. "The answer is yes," I purred. "It sounds like a lot of fun. I assume you will, umm, supervise?" Again, he nodded.

The day came around soon enough, and Annie was, as usual, tasked with preparing me. I noticed that she paid extra attention to my back passage, adding lubrication to the usual douche that she administered. "The Commander's guests may well wish to use your ass," she said, "and we must ensure you're nice and ready for them." As if to emphasise the point, she gently inserted a nice big butt plug back there. "Just to keep you nice and stretched," she explained.

She did my makeup, opting for a more goth look than usual, applying pale foundation, dark eye liner and eye shadow, and black lipstick. I rather liked the look, and resolved to use it more often. She dressed me in black stockings, a suspender belt and high heels, together with a push-up bra and, of course, my collar. I asked about panties, but she said there was no need, since they would simply get in the way. Finally, she used gel to make my hair more spiky and Gothic, attached earrings, pronounced me ready to go, and slipped a blindfold over my eyes, informing me that The Commander did not want me to recognise any of his guests. I mean, what if I bumped into one of them at the supermarket one day? Awkward.

As she led me carefully downstairs, I heard voices and laughter, and realised that the guests were already present. To my surprise, she took me straight to the dining room, and said, "Let me help you onto the dining table, Kitten. Usually, we have flowers and candles, but not tonight. No, this evening the table's centrepiece is you. Now, lay down, while I see to the food in the kitchen. The Commander will be in shortly, I expect. Oh, and Michael is helping me serve dinner tonight, just so you know."

I will admit that lying on the table, dressed in lingerie but no underwear, blindfolded and plugged, was one of the more unusual things I'd ever done, but it was very exciting. I felt my pussy moisten and savoured the big plug in my bottom moving about as I got comfortable. Well, as comfortable as it's possible to be when lying on a solid oak surface, which is to say not very.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. I heard footsteps approaching, heard the door open and listened to the gasps as each guest saw me on the table. The Commander took control, exuding his customary quiet authority. "Friends, let me introduce you to Kitten, my submissive young lady friend," he announced. "Kitten is a gift from me to you tonight, to thank you for your help and support in recent years. She is an incredibly horny girl, and will say yes to pretty much anything you wish her to do. All her orifices are available, although I would ask that you do not mark her permanently. Now, shall we eat?"

The next two hours, as the meal was served and consumed, was possibly the most surreal of my life. Initially, conversation was very polite; it was almost as if I wasn't there. Hearing a woman address the man sitting opposite her, with my glistening pussy directly between them, was most odd. "I agree," the woman said, "I very much doubt that the new Prime Minister will prove to be anything other than useless." I assumed that no one was quite brave enough to be the first to touch me or speak to me.

Every few minutes, The Commander stood and asked that he and each guest move round one space. "I would like each of you to get an all-round view of Kitten," he explained. Since there were seven diners, it was inevitable that one person would be sat at the head of the table, facing my feet and looking directly at my private parts.

After three moves, a woman's voice said, "Kitten, what is that glittering between your legs, my dear?"

"It's a clitoral piercing, ma'am," I answered. "It's a steel bar that pierces my hood and presses a small bead against my clit. It was The Commander's idea, and I love it." I took a deep breath, and added, "Would you care to see me touch it?"

I was surprised at the breathless nature of the reply. Clearly, my admirer was becoming a little flustered at my response. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind, Kitten," she replied. "I would love to see you touch yourself." I decided to put on a bit of a show and began massaging the piercing and my button, which instantly grew large, aching for attention. I have an unusually large clitoris; it's almost like a miniature penis. "Oh my word, that is very sexy, Kitten," the woman murmured. "Do it some more."

I lay on my back, raised my legs, and began to masturbate properly for her, rubbing my clit harder and slipping two fingers inside my pussy, now slick with juices. I noticed that all of the clatter of cutlery had stopped, and the only sound in the room was my heavy breathing as I became increasingly aroused. I adore being watched, and was incredibly turned on.

"Go on, Sarah, masturbate with her," came a male voice. Was it her husband, perhaps? "You know you want to, you naughty thing. Show us what a sexy wife you are." Ah, definitely a husband then, urging his wife on.

Within seconds, I heard her groans, moans and gasps as she pleasured herself, no doubt watching me intently. "You dirty little bitch, you're making me so wet," she hissed. "Cum for me, Kitten. I want to see you climax."

I was so turned on that it took seconds to oblige. I rubbed my clit furiously and pumped my fingers in and out of my pussy, making squelching noises as I upped the frequency. "Oh ma'am, I'm cumming for you, yes I am!" I howled, before shrieking out loud as my orgasm hit me. "Yes, oh my god yes, YES! Aaaaaah, urgggh!" was all I could manage, lost in my own little world of excitement and pleasure.

I was unsure if Sarah had cum too, until several moments later when she said, "Oh god, Kitten, that was so nice. Be warned, though, that's not the first time you'll make me cum tonight, I promise you."

Suddenly, things became much more tactile. Unseen hands groped my breasts and pinched my nipples, my buttocks were squeezed and every inch of my body was stroked and felt up by the guests. At one point I was lying on my side when someone - a woman, I presume - ran their sharp nails down my spine, sending delicious tingles fizzing through me.

Just as Annie and Michael cleared away the dessert plates, The Commander announced that we should adjourn to the living room and continue the fun there. As he spoke, I felt a person straddle my hips, before leaning forwards and kissing me. The contact was unmistakeable: another woman. "I'm Debbie," she purred, "and I'm here with my husband John. My favourite thing is a sixty-nine with a girl while he fucks her ass. Interested?"

"I'm yours, Debbie," I replied. "In every sense. Lead on."

She hooked a finger through the D-ring of my collar and led me into the living room, which I recognised from the thick carpet that my high heels sank into. There was a short delay while she undressed, but judging by the sounds of zips being pulled and trousers falling she was not the only one getting naked. She lay down on a couch and pulled me on top of her, kissing me intensely and squeezing my buttocks. She found my tight hole and squealed with delight as she realised I was plugged. "That'll need to come out," she muttered. "Brace yourself, sweetheart. John is fucking enormous."

I turned around so that her open legs were beneath me while my crotch hovered above her face. Using my fingers and tongue for guidance, I located her wet, smooth pussy lips. Like me, she was totally smooth in that area. I began to trace my tongue along her slit, tasting her juices, which were musky, a little salty, and delicious. I felt fingers tugging gently at my butt plug and heard a man's voice saying, "Mmmm, that is one beautiful bottom, Kitten. Eat her pussy, Debs, while I give her ass a proper fucking."

Cool air flooded into my back passage as John eased the plug from inside me. Debbie and I lapped at one another's pussies, and I realised the wisdom of Annie's words earlier. John was, it appeared, in a hurry, so it was as well that my ass was already stretched and lubricated. I was ready to receive him, and told him so. Fuck! His wife wasn't wrong: he was huge, bigger than anything I'd had back there before.

I couldn't help it, and cried out, "Oh my fucking god, John, you're huge! I'm not sure I can take it all!" John was nice and slow, however, and kept checking that I was happy to progress. As he eased beyond my anal ring, any discomfort vanished and I began to enjoy the glorious sensation of a massive cock in my bottom, combined with searing pleasure from my clit and pussy. Debbie's tongue and lips were divine, and I urged them both to continue. "Debs, that's so, so good! John, split me in two, fuck me hard, PLEASE!"

The three of us settled into a delectable rhythm of sucking and fucking. I could sense Debbie beginning to tense and arch her back as I drove my tongue inside her tight pussy. "Fuck my cunt with your tongue, slut!" she cried. "John, split this bitch in two! Deeper! Harder!" Judging by the moans and groans emanating from elsewhere in the room, we were not the only ones getting down and dirty. I caught a whiff of cigar smoke and pictured The Commander in his armchair, sipping a brandy and watching all of the naughtiness unfolding before him.

I was surprised just how long we all kept going without cumming, but knew that something had to give. That something was John, who suddenly yelled out, "So good! So fucking good, shit! I'm cumming in your ass, Kitten! Right. Fucking. Now. FUUUUCKKKK!" I actually felt his enormous cock pulsing inside me, spurting his creamy cum into my darkest, most private parts. He held himself inside me for a while, before easing out of me and collapsing backwards.

"Come on, baby, let's cum together!" Debbie cried, as she redoubled her assault on my clit and pussy. "Come on, bitch, squirt in my face. Cum on my face, slut!"

I was getting closer, but needed a final push to take me over the edge. That nudge came from The Commander, who must have now been standing over us. "Do as she says, Kitten!" he barked. "Cum, and cum now! NOW, DO YOU HEAR ME?" I exploded on his order, spraying poor Debbie with a fountain of my juices. I could feel her writhing and bucking under me as she reached her own climax, and basked in the joyous sensation of two shattering orgasms shared.

After several minutes, we untangled ourselves and sat upright, legs splayed. I was still blindfolded, so was taken by surprise when Debbie slipped from the couch, pulled my legs apart and begam slurping her husband's semen from my butthole. Once satisfied, she left me on the couch, moved across the room and, as far as I could tell, shared a mouthful of warm cum with her spouse.

I was now sat on my own in the centre of the couch, blindfolded and unsure what to do next. I had my answer immediately. Two men sat either side of me, and began playing with my breasts and stroking my thighs. "We had a lovely dinner," one of them said, "but you haven't eaten, have you, darling? Well, how do you fancy a spit roast?"

Although it was only one month ago, things are a bit of a blur after that. I never discovered anyone else's names, although did work out that there were two other couples in addition to Debbie and John, both of them being a man and a woman. I can recall having several more orgasms, getting fucked by all the other men in the room, including The Commander, and eating pussy over and over until my jaws ached.

By the time the last guest had left I was a total mess. I had sticky cum dribbling from my pussy and ass, dried pussy juices all over my face, droplets of cum in my hair, a swollen pussy and throbbing anus. However, I had never felt so completely satisfied, and was secretly thrilled that I'd been the star attraction.

The Commander told me the next day that the evening had turned into a full blown orgy, with people combining in all possible combinations, sometimes including their spouse, sometimes not. He insisted that he didn't have sex with anyone but me, although he came inside each of my orifices during the evening. "I've had a lot of women in the last few years, Kitten," he said, "but none of them come close to you. You, my dear, are very special to me."

Yesterday evening, around seven p. m.

I sat in my bedroom, looking out of the window, waiting for the black Range Rover to appear. The Commander was taking me out to dinner, and part of me was eagerly looking forward to it, because I hadn't seen him since the orgy. At first, I was almost relieved, since I was rather sore for a few days, and - most unusually for me - not terribly interested in sex. After that passed, however, I waited to be summoned to serve him, my libido building once more.

Until last week, the summons didn't come. I began to fret. Had I upset him in some way? Usually, I spent at least three nights at The Commander's house each week, but there had been radio silence for nearly a month. If I was being completely honest, I missed him. It wasn't just the sex, glorious as it was, it was his company and the way he seemed to care about me that I enjoyed too.

I was on the verge of jumping into my car and going to his house with the intention of finding out what was wrong. I mean, he could have been unwell for all I knew, although I trusted Annie to contact me if that was the case. And then I received the message. It read: "Kitten, I would love to take you out to dinner on Thursday next week. Wear something classy, please. I have something to discuss with you, but don't be alarmed. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch, because, well, reasons. TC xx."

I read the message once more on my phone, trying to unravel the true meaning behind it. I wondered what it might be that he wished to discuss, but gave up, telling myself that I'd find out soon enough. It was early autumn in southern England, and still mild enough for a pretty summer dress, sandals and, of course, my collar. I glanced out of the window once more and there it was, his Range Rover.

I skipped downstairs, grabbed my purse and trotted towards the car, expecting to see Michael in the driver's seat. To my surprise, The Commander was driving, so I climbed into the front passenger seat. We air kissed, which was unusual since The Commander usually kissed me full on the lips, typically while squeezing a buttock or fondling my breasts. "Good evening, my dear," he said. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Commander," I replied. "No Michael tonight?"

"I'm afraid not," he said. "Michael has returned to America, because his study visa has expired. He asked me to tell you his address in Boston, and said you would be most welcome if you ever visit that lovely city."

As we drove to the restaurant, we chatted about the weather, current affairs, and even the new series of Strictly Come Dancing, his favourite TV show. He seemed a little tense, and conversation flowed less easily than it normally did between us. I asked him if everything was OK, but he didn't reply, choosing instead to mutter something about the state of the British roads and how he was pleased the Range Rover had such plush suspension.

My sense of unease grew during the meal, even though the food was wonderful and the expensive wine he chose was delicious. He seemed distracted, perhaps even a little withdrawn, and he also looked tired. His usual easy confidence and authority was diminished, and his smile was absent. As I finished my dessert, a heavenly chocolate souffle, I could bear it no longer. "Commander, what is wrong?" I asked. "Talk to me, please. You said you wanted to discuss something."

He sighed, and said, "I've been conducting a little experiment, Kitten. I haven't been in touch with you for a while, because I wanted to see how it felt without you. Tell me, Kitten, have you ever done dry January?"

I blinked, unsure where this was going. "Yes, sir, I have, a couple of times actually. I mean, I'm not a big drinker, but after about two weeks I decided I wanted a glass of wine and opened a bottle. I mean, why deny yourself something pleasurable?"

"Why indeed?" he said. "I've been experimenting with a dry Kitten month, and I don't much like it." He smiled, and I saw the tension on his face ease a little. "Listen, Kitten, I have a proposal for you, and it's this: come and live with me. If you don't like it, just leave, and we'll go back to how it was before. You'll have your own room, and you can play with Annie as often as you wish. I've discussed it with her, and she is all for it. She's very fond of you, you know."

"I don't know, Commander," I replied. "It's a big step."

"Very well," he said. "Just think about it, yes? No pressure. All right, let's get you home."

During the drive home, I tried to visualise what it might be like living with The Commander. I had reservations about becoming a full time submissive, and feared that I'd end up becoming a domestic slave, or being made to do something deviant like licking a spill from the kitchen floor with my tongue. I adored being Kitten in a sexual sense, but I had a job and a house and wasn't sure I could give those things up.

As the car glided to a halt outside my home, he said, "Let me walk you to the door. It's dark, and I want you to be safe." Once at my front door, I turned, expecting to ask him to leave me alone and give me time to think. But when I did, he looked so sad and so lonely that I couldn't send him away. I invited him in, and did that very British thing of offering him a cup of tea, the nation's traditional coping mechanism.

That was last night, and now I'm lying in a warm bath, still reeling from what happened, and trying to process my feelings. Last night we made love together for the first time ever. We had sex, yes, but it was different: soft, tender, and for a while we were equals. It was romantic. That was it, it was romantic.

I asked him whether, if I moved in, our dominant/submissive relationship would become permanent, and confided in him that I didn't think I was ready for that. He answered that no, we would confine The Commander and Kitten to the bedroom, and be our real selves at other times. He would, he said, want me to keep my job and my house.

Then came a moment that I hadn't expected. "My real name is Charles Oakley," he told me. In one brief sentence, we had crossed a line and transformed our relationship.

"Hello, Charles Oakley," I said, snuggling up to him on my bed. "It's nice to finally meet you. If I did move in, would you still throw the odd dinner party, like the one last month?"

"Well, that depends," he said. "I certainly would if it persuaded you to join me and Annie."

I get out of the bath, towel myself dry, and check my watch. It's four in the afternoon, so they'll still be open for business. I pick up my phone, and call the number. "Hello, this is Stevie Cullen. I own a two bedroom terraced house in Clovelly Road. So, I'm thinking of putting it up for rent, initially for a year or so. Could you come round tomorrow and take some details, please? Great. Oh, yeah, it's just that I'm moving in with my boyfriend, but I want to keep this place. These things don't always work out, do they?"

The End.