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The following is a sequel to “Becky’s Instruction”. Like the former, it is a collaborative effort between me, Becky, and Rachel. Is it completely true as well? I wish I could say, but neither Becky nor Deanna are willing to tell. What I can say, however, is that regardless of where truth leaves off and fantasy begins, Becky’s adventure sure was a wild one!
* * * * * * * * * *
The elevator arrived at the thirty-second floor of the ultra-modern skyscraper. The doors opened, and Becky stepped out. She drew a deep breath, then searched her purse for the old-fashion-style calling card (Mistress) Deanna had sent her. She took it out, and searched the fine calligraphy.
“Apartment thirty-two eleven.” she read aloud.
Like the first time; the only other time, she had given herself over to her Mistress, her palms were sweating and her heart was pounding. But unlike the first time, the thought of backing out was far from her mind.
She turned the card over and continued to read aloud: “You are expected to arrive at precisely seven PM.”
A quick glance at her watch told her she was right on time. Filled with anticipation, she started down the hall. At the end, she stopped short, straightened her skirt, and opened all but the last button on her blouse. She adjusted it, so that her black, low-cut, lace push-up bra was fully visible; placing her more-than-ample breasts on center stage. With a touch of trepidation, she reached out and pressed the buzzer. A moment later, the door opened.
“Hello, little one.” Deanna said, “Won’t you cum in?”
Becky’s eyes widened at the sight of her Mistress dressed in a red satin, halter-top baby doll; with matching ankle-wrap high heeled sandals. “Do you like what you see?” Deanna asked.
“Yes Mistress. Very much.”
Deanna ushered Becky inside and closed and locked the door. “Little one,” she began, “the last time we were together, you were reluctant to follow many of my commands without mulling them over first.”
“Mistress? Let me explain.”
“Silence little one!” Deanna snapped, “We are no longer playing by your rules! We’re playing by mine! Understand?!”
The sudden rush of warmth deep in her pussy made Becky’s heart begin to race.
“This time, failure to carry out my orders immediately, without question, will result in swift, exacting punishment. Understood?!”
“Good. Now take off your blouse and your skirt!”
Becky quickly complied. She stood for inspection. Deanna circled her. “Sexy bra . . . thong panties . . . garter belt . . . stockings . . . stilettos. Very nice. You followed my instructions well.”
“Thank you Mistress. I . . .”
A sharp slap to Becky’s rounded rear made her jump. She fought back the urge to squeal at the stinging aftermath. “Did I ask you to speak?!”
Another sharp slap. Becky winced, but did not utter a sound. Deanna smiled, a smug little smile, then moved to the couch and sat down.
“Little one,” she said, picking up her lap desk, wireless keyboard and mouse. “I have a surprise for you. Face the monitor.”
Without hesitation, Becky did as she’d been told. Deanna began to type. A few more keystrokes later, the web cam came to life. “Open your bra and take it off.”
Becky’s obedience was immediate. Deanna took hold of the mouse and used it to focus the camera in on Becky’s breasts.
“Click . . . whir . . . click . . . whir . . .click.”
One by one, the still photos of Becky’s enviable endowment appeared on the screen.
“Push your panties down.”
A momentary balk. “Little one!”
Becky slid her panties down to the tops of her stockings.
The camera focused in on her pussy.
“Click . . . whir . . . click.”
Becky stared at the screen: fascinated, humiliated, enthralled by the pornographic pictures of her womanly; parts.
“Turn around! Bend over! Spread your cheeks!”
“Click . . . whir . . . click . . . whir . . .click . . . whir . . . click.”
The now-familiar sound of the camera’s focus told Becky that her puckered bung had be-cum the center of attention. She could only imagine how explicit the images were.
“Now spread your pussy lips.”
Another momentary balk.
Her hands trembling, Becky exposed her clit and vaginal opening to the camera’s view.
“Click . . . whir . . . click . . . whir . . .click.”
More typing. Becky held her pose.
“Turn around! Panties up! Bra back on!”
Becky coaxed her thong back in place, then turned to face the screen. The display had changed to that of a chat screen. Becky hurriedly fastened her bra. Two windows popped-up. In one, an elegantly dressed woman who appeared to be in her early forties was leaning back in a leather desk chair scrutinizing; something, before her. In the other, a slightly older woman wearing a paint splattered sweatshirt and torn jeans was sitting in a wicker swing-chair doing the same.
“Little one,” Deanna said, “FYI, the reason my two friends are studying their screens so intently, bahis firmaları is because I sent them copies of the pix I just took of your; privates.”
Becky could feel her face flush. She turned to confront her Mistress.
“Face the web-cam!”
Each word fell harshly. Becky immediately complied. “Little one, I told you before, punishment for disobedience would be swift. Unless you wish to masturbate for them, I suggest that you do exactly as you are told. Nothing more. Nothing less. Understood?”
“When you called and said that you wanted to further explore your; submissive, side, I decided to enlist the help of my friends Maria and Gina. Each are . . . how should I say . . . well versed, in all things sexual. Both on the giving and receiving end.”
The woman in the paint-spattered sweatshirt began to type. A chat window opened up. “Read it aloud.” Deanna instructed.
“Gina: Hey Deanna! You weren’t kidding when you said she had a great set of boobs! And her pussy is even nicer than you let on.”
The elegantly dressed woman began to type.
“Maria: Don’t you mean ‘tits’ and ‘cunt’? Sluts like her don’t have ‘boobs’ or a ‘pussy’!”
Becky winced. The words stung even more than the spanks she’d received earlier.
“Gina: Boobs . . . tits . . . pussy . . . cunt. Who gives a fuck what you call them?! Her’s are ripe for sucking and fucking!”
It was Deanna’s turn to type. “Deanna: Now that we have that settled, can we agree that her ass isn’t too bad either?”
Gina and Maria began to type simultaneously. “Maria: I’ll go along with that.
“Gina: Yeah. Me too.
“Maria: I’ll bet her boyfriend loves fucking it!
“Gina: I know I sure would!”
Becky was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. The red light on the web cam told her it was still on. Logic told her that if she could see Maria and Gina, they could see her. Her thick waist. Not so slender hips. Everything her sheer bra and panties did little to obscure.
“Deanna: Time for some brain-storming. First up, her hooters.
“Maria: Weighted nipple clamps!
“Deanna: Been there, done that.
“Gina: Clothes pins?
“Deanna: Too S&M.”
A momentary lull.
“Maria: Clover clamps! Make her not-so-little nips scream for mercy!
“Deanna: Prefect! Now for her . . . twat.
“Gina: I haven’t heard that word in ages!
“Maria: Give it the full-blown veggie treatment! Start with a carrot, move on to a banana, then a cucumber, and finish her off with an eggplant!
“Deanna: I’d have to go shopping first.
“Maria: You don’t keep those ‘necessities’ on hand?
“Deanna: Not all of them.
“Gina: Make her fuck it with that big, black dildo of yours. The one that’s a foot long and big around as my fist?”
The image that flashed in Becky’s mind terrified her.
“Deanna: If I did that, Sam’s ten inch ‘throbbing python of love’ would never be enough to satisfy her again.
“Maria: His what?
“Deanna: Never mind. Let’s think about this for a while, and move on to her ass. Suggestions?
“Gina: Fill it with anal beads! You do have some of those, don’t you?
“Maria: Fig it! While she has a big old vibrator — switched on high — shoved deep in her cunt!
“Gina: Screw the vibrator! While she has another finger jammed up her ‘twat’!
Tears began to well in Becky’s eyes.
“Maria: Look at her face! The idea scares her to death!
“Gina: I’d be sacred too if it were me! A double figging? What could be worse?!”
“Well, little one?” Deanna asked, “Is Maria right? Are you scared to death?”
“Yes mistress. A little.”
Maria continued to type. Becky read aloud. “Maria: What did she say?!
“Deanna: She wanted to know if you’d cum over so she could eat your pussy to show her appreciation for your suggestion.
“Maria: I’d love to, but I’ve got a board meeting in ten minutes.”
Becky could no longer fight back the tears.
“Gina: Look how disappointed she is! Maria, you’re the chairman of the board, cancel the fucking meeting! How often do you get a chance like this?
“Maria: Not often enough. What the hell! Tell her I’ll be right over!”
“Please mistress.” Becky whispered, “I . . .”
Deanna began to type. Becky read aloud. “Deanna: And let you cut into my time? No fucking way in hell!
“Gina: Didn’t your mother ever teach you to share?
“Maria: Selfish bitch!
“Deanna: Damn straight!”
Becky’s head was swimming. Though she had never performed oral sex on another woman, the idea of being made to do so was not totally unappealing. In fact . . .
“Deanna: Let’s see . . . boobies . . . slit . . . anal opening. I think we have all bases covered. Any more suggestions?
“Gina: I still think you should let Maria cum over so Becky could eat her pussy. Think of the ratings if you did it as a web-cast!
“Maria: I always wanted to be a porn star.
“Deanna: Maybe next time.
“Maria: I’d love to stay kaçak iddaa and chat some more, but my assistant just walked in. Enjoy your figging, little one.”
Maria logged off.
“Gina: It’s times like these I wish Boston wasn’t so far from New York. What I wouldn’t give to personally supervise your figging, little one. To watch the slut in you beg for more. Have fun!”
Gina logged off as well. Deanna closed out of the program. “Masturbate for me!” she commanded.
Becky slid down her panties, then raised her fingers to her mouth to wet them. “No! Dry.”
Thoughts of what was to cum were pushed from Becky’s mind, as memories of the last time her ex-husband had fucked her came rushing back. The humiliation she’d felt when he forced her over the arm of the couch (while three of his buddies watched), pulled down her shorts and savagely entered her unprepared pussy. The pain of his thick cock raking her ‘dry’ inner walls.
“Do it little one, or I’ll do it for you!”
With fingers quivering, Becky began to masturbate. Gently. Slowly.
“Like you mean it!” Deanna snapped, “Or are you asking for me to masturbate you myself?!”
“No Mistress. Please Mistress. It’s just . . . It hurts when I’m dry.”
“You should have thought of that when I told you to take your panties down, and spread your pussy lips.”
“Earlier? Before I introduced you to Maria and Gina? It took you an eternity! Now start masturbating! Or I swear I’ll do it for you!”
Becky closed her eyes and tried not to focus on the pain as she furiously stroked her aching clit.
Like a gift from heaven, her juices began to flow, and the pain began to give way to pleasure.
“Cum on little one. Faster! Frig your dear pussy. Make it cum. Make it cum!”
Becky’s fingers were a blur. With each stroke she moved closer and closer to the edge. Her throaty moans told she was getting close.
Deanna waited . . .
Waited . . .
It was a command Becky wanted desperately to ignore, but did not. “No!” she cried in frustration.
“So close, but yet so far, little one?” Deanna said with a wicked grin.
“Please mistress? Let me finish? Let me cum?”
“Are you begging, little one?!”
“A good thing.” Deanna said, “Now. A question. Have you ever been subjected to a figging?”
“No Mistress. At least I don’t think so.”
Deanna almost burst into laughter. “Then you have no idea what Maria and Gina were talking about?”
“No Mistress, I don’t.”
Deanna picked up the keyboard and logged onto the internet. A few keystrokes later, she was at the site she desired. “Read, little one.”
“Figging is the act of inserting a finger of fresh, skinless ginger into the anus or vagina. It is a practice that dates from Victorian times, when it was used as a means of disciplining wayward women. When the anus is the target of stimulation, the finger is carved into the shape of a butt plug. When the vagina is the orifice of choice, the finger is carved into the shape of a canoe.
“The effect, simply stated, is caused as the ginger oils are released, and absorbed by the sensitive flesh. Though the rate of progression varies from ‘recipient’ to ‘recipient’, it begins as a gradual warming that becomes more and more intense, especially if the ‘recipient’ squeezes down around the finger . . .”
“When applied to the clitoris,” Deanna interrupted, picking up where Becky had left off, “the effect is more of an intense burning. It is achieved by carving a long wedge from the center of the root, then scooping out a small depression that is then placed over the clitoris.”
Deanna logged off and shut down the computer. As she did, the doorbell rang.
“Another surprise, little one. Answer it. But first, pull up your thong and take off your bra.”
As if in a trance, Becky did as she was told. Naked, for all practical purposes, she walked to the door and reached for the knob. Fearing (or perhaps it was wishing), to find Maria standing on the other side, she turned it. Her pulse began to pound. She pulled the door open. Awaiting her was a very young and hauntingly beautiful woman with piercing blue eyes, and long, light brown hair. Becky couldn’t help but stare at the exotic miss. Her flawless features. Her curious outfit: pale pink surgical scrubs, white, high heeled pumps. The nondescript backpack she had slung over one shoulder.
“Hello, little one.” the young woman said with a wry smile that put Becky quite ill at ease.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Becky could feel her face begin to flush. “Yes. Of course. Won’t you cum in?”
The young woman brushed passed. Becky closed and locked the door, then followed her into the living room.
“Little one,” Deanna said, “I’d like you to meet Gina’s daughter, Miranda.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Becky said.
“For me too.” Miranda said, raising an eyebrow as she raped Becky with her eyes.
The moment was awkward: for Becky. Deanna made it even more so. “Help Miranda kaçak bahis get undressed, little one.” she said.
The command took Becky aback. “Little one?” Deanna said, her tone firm.
Miranda tossed her backpack aside, stepped in front of Becky and stared intently into her eyes.
“Little one!” Deanna snapped.
With trembling hands, Becky reached out and took hold of the hem of Miranda’s top. Her arms became weak. Slowly, she eased it upward. Inch by inch, Miranda’s athletic contours came into view. Becky’s pussy began to grow warm. Warmer still as the curve of Miranda’s large, firm young breasts began to show. Even warmer when the cool air worked its magic on Miranda’s tiny, ruddy areolas.
“Finish the job, little one.” Deanna said softly. Becky lifted the now-bunched top up and over Miranda’s head, then off.
“Touch her breasts, little one.” Deanna said.
Miranda tossed back her hair and smiled. “Go on, little one. Feel me up. Make my nipples even harder.”
Becky hesitated. Miranda reached out and gently mauled Becky’s breasts. “Feel me up, little one.” she whispered, her fingertips drifting away, “Return the favor.”
Miranda’s soft, feminine touch somehow emboldened Becky. Like a brazen schoolboy, she ran her hands over Miranda’s breasts. Caressing. Exploring. The flesh was warm and inviting. She traced the crowns of her areolas. Again. And again. She moved downward: to the underside.
“Kiss her nipples.” Deanna said.
Becky froze; then leaned forward and did as instructed. Not passionately, more like a mother kissing her child. “Very good, little one,” Deanna said, “now take off her bottoms.”
Allowing her fingertips to drag, Becky removed her touch from Miranda’s breasts and tugged open the tie that snugged the waist band. Miranda smiled her curious smile. “They won’t reach the floor on their own, little one.” she said.
“Yes mistress.” Becky said softly.
Miranda’s smile broadened. “Deanna.” she said, “Did you here what your sultry slut called me?”
The word ‘slut’ echoed in Becky’s ears. An icy chill swept over her: paralyzing.
“I did.” Deanna’s tone barely hid her amusement.
Miranda held Becky’s gaze. “You didn’t go and spoil my fun? Tell her why I’m here? Tell her what I’m going to do to her? Did you?” She said.
“And spoil my fun too?” Deanna said, “I think not.”
Becky’s legs grew weak. This was something she had not bargained for. It was one thing to give herself over to a woman only slightly younger than she, but quite another to surrender her will to one who was more than young enough to be her daughter. But . . .
Deanna leaned back and seductively crossed her left knee over right. “Little one?” she said, “As you may have gathered by now, Miranda is here to further your; instruction. Although I’m not sure why, she intends to go easy on you. Provided, of course, that you obey her every command; immediately, without question, or hesitation. Understood?”
Miranda’s half-smile returned. “Slide your hands inside my bottoms.” she said, “Place your palms on my butt-cheeks.”
Becky did as she was told. The bottoms fell to the floor. “Squat, so that you are eye-level with my pussy.”
Again, Becky did as she was told. “Run your hands down my legs. Feel every muscle. Every tendon. But don’t take your eyes off my pussy.”
Becky stared at Miranda’s closely cropped pubes and thick, protruding pussy lips. Slowly, she moved her hands over Miranda’s lithe, powerful legs. For reasons she could not explain, images of the actress Lynda Carter in her role of ‘Wonder Woman’ flashed in her mind. The Amazon lore. The idea of being made to fulfill the every desire of the mythical character. To fulfill the every desire of; Miranda.
“Stand up, little one.” Miranda said “Arms at your sides.”
Miranda picked up her backpack and took out a pair of clover-style nipple clamps that were linked by a fine silver chain. Without warning, she began to pinch and stretch Becky’s right nipple. Roughly. Squeals of pain escaped Becky’s lips.
“Quiet, little one.” Miranda said, “Or I’ll give you something to whimper about.”
Miranda fixed the first clamp in place, then repeated the process. Lightly, she ran her finger along the length of the chain, making the clamps bite in. Becky drew a quick breath, trying desperately not to cry out. “It never ceases to amaze me,” Miranda began, “just how easy it is to get these tormentors to do their job. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?”
“Keep that in mind.”
Miranda turned her attention to Deanna. “I’d say it’s time we introduced our little one to the world of figging. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Deanna uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet. “Most definitely.”
Becky’s heart began to race.
“Little one.” Miranda said, “While Deanna gets the ginger, I want you to cum with me.”
Miranda opened the door to Deanna’s spacious bedroom and ushered Becky inside. “Take off your garter belt and panties.” she said.
Becky quickly complied. Miranda smiled, then fixed her gaze on Becky’s cleanly shaved pubes and pussy. “Does Sam find it more pleasurable going down on you without all those nasty pubic hairs getting in the way?” she asked.
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