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After an appetising lunch, Aunty Pat and Anita Armitage left to get kitted out in different outfits, which I was soon to find was part of their penchant for always looking ravishing for their sex slave.
My aunt instructed me to return to the games room and await their return and I was kneeling in the middle of the chamber when the domination duo returned.
Aunty Pat had chosen a lustrous black PVC top which covered her shoulders and breasts, heaving the 40-inch glories into stunning uplift, the nipples sticking out in the shiny material. On her arms were black, elbow-length PVC gloves. She went bare-crotched but her legs were encased in gleaming black leather boots which came half-way up her thighs.
Anita also mouth-wateringly dressed. On her short-cropped brown hair sat a jaunty little black Muir cap, an open fronted red PVC brassiere thrust her 34-inch breasts forward enticingly and a red satin garter belt held up shiny black stockings. Red high heels completed her erotic outfit.
I wanted to fuck both of them!
Aunty smiled and held out her hand to get me to stand. “Now my dear,” she announced, “it’s time to teach you pose flogging. You’re going to do the posing, we’re going to do the flogging. Won’t that be fun?”
“Yes, aunty,” I replied, “but there’s something I want to say.”
Aunty looked me directly in the eyes and nodded: “Say away!”
“I want to fuck you, aunty,” I said, as fervently as I could.
Aunty Pat frowned. “Oh dear, Nita, it looks like we’ve got a problem here. Look, Rick, we’re training you to be a sex slave and that’s our number one priority now. We can discuss this ‘fucking’ business later.”
Then she smiled at her friend: “Rick here is obviously having a problem with this.” And with that she stroked my eight-inch hard-on. “I think perhaps the open-fronted posing pouch might help him with his problem.” Anita grinned mischievously at my aunt, who then told her: “Fit it for him, there’s a darling, while I fetch the gear for his pose flogging.”
Anita went to a drawer in a table along one wall of the dungeon and returned holding a little rubber pouch with a sturdy leather strap attached. Pulling the opening of the rubber garment, she fitted it around my scrotum, then let go and it snapped into place, gathering my balls in its tight grip. As Anita adjusted the strap tightly around the base of my cock I felt hundreds of little pricks starting to inflict themselves on my balls.
Aunty Pat returned carrying a cat o’ nine tails and a metal rod like a golf club, only with leather grips at each end. She surveyed Anita’s handiwork and smiled at me: “There, that should help drive those lustful thoughts from your naughty mind, my dear. Wasn’t that nice of Anita?”
I gulped. “Nice” wasn’t the word I had in mind. “Yes, aunty,” I answered. Aunty nodded her agreement. “Yes, it was so nice, I think you should give her a nice long kiss to say thank-you.”
It wasn’t an observation, I realised, it was a command, so I stepped over to the lovely raven-haired lady and went to kiss her on the mouth. Both Anita and Aunty Pat roared with laughter.
“No, no, no, Rick,” said my aunt. “A nice long kiss down here is a euphemism for cunnilingus.” And I looked at Anita who was pointing at her pussy. I went down on my knees, said “Thank-you, Miss Anita” and started to kiss her pussy lips, an action which only served to keep my prick stiff and add to my pain from the punishment pouch.
After a minute or so, Aunty Pat tapped me on the shoulder and said: “That’s enough, Rick, no need to make a meal of it!” I stood and faced the busty brunette.
“Here,” she said, “take this”, and thrust the metal bar into my hands. It was about four feet long. “This bar will remain in your hands throughout Escort Çarşı the session,” Aunty Pat explained. “Now in a pose flogging there are three positions, and you will be ordered to adopt them on the command ‘Position 1’ and so on.” I nodded.
“The first pose is on tip toe,” said aunty. “Raise the bar above your head, arms fully extended and spread your feet about a yard apart – that’ll help with your balance.”
I did as I was told, feeling the strain on my calves and thighs as I assumed the position. “That’s the pose,” said Aunty Pat, “now all we need is the flogging.” And with that she traced the cat down my back, from shoulders to buttocks.
The thongs felt cool on my naked flesh. “It’s a rubber flogger,” Aunty Pat explained, “which means it won’t break the skin and it won’t be too painful – just a light stinging.” And then she flicked the flogger between my spread thighs, the tips of the lashes curling around my rubber-cover balls.
I let out an involuntary “Oooouch” and earned a reprimand from Miss Anita: “No, Rick, it’s ‘One, thank-you Aunty Pat’.”
“Sorry,” I apologised, “one, thank-you Aunty Pat.” The words were hardly out of my mouth than the second stroke stung home across my shoulder blades. I counted properly. Then a third cut into my buttocks.
Every now and again the blow was of such force that I was forced to teeter forward on tip toe. Already the strain on my legs was starting to tell. I was sweating freely.
After 10 strokes, Aunty Pat halted and handed the cat to Anita. “Take him through position two, darling,” she instructed and made herself comfortable on an easy chair to watch the second segment of the flogging.
Miss Anita stepped beside my straining body and said: “Right, slave, feet a yard apart, then bend over until your hands are grazing the carpet.” I bent over, my back towards Aunty Pat, and presented my arse what I thought would be a perfect flogging position.
Just then, there was a knock on the door to the chamber. “That’ll be the girls,” said Aunty Pat, “I told them I’d let them watch Rick’s training if they finished their chores early.” And with that she walked over to the door and let the two Latin ladies, Pepina and Conchita, into the room.
As they crossed the floor of the games room to be seated on the couch directly behind my back, I noticed that both had removed their black leather shorts and were now clad only in black leather g-strings and black high heels. Their small breasts with the cherry red nipples erect, were bare.
As Pepina and Conchita settled down on the couch, Miss Anita drew her arm back and flogged the cat down across my tautened buttocks. She continued the punishment for 10 strokes, then was instructed by Aunty Pat: “Move on to position number three, now Nita!”
The gardening girls broke into applause at this. “Eees going to like this one,” one of the pair said. “I’m sure he will,” said my aunt as Miss Anita went into command mode.
“On the floor, kneeling with your knees about a yard apart, slave,” she told me. I did so. “Now behind you put your feet together, then place the rod behind you, lay it across the backs of your ankles and grab it.” This forced my upper torso and genitals into a completely helpless display for my dominatrix.
Miss Anita stood alluringly before me, her nipples peeping through the open-fronted PVC bra, her minge brown and inviting. Then she raised the flogger and cracked it down across my chest. “One, thank-you Miss Anita,” I called out.
“And now this is why you’re going to enjoy this position, Rick,” I heard my aunt say from her seat. Anita then moved forward and rubbed her sweet-smelling pussy across my mouth, before pulling back and delivering another blow.
“Two, thank-you, Çarşı Escort Bayan Miss Anita,” I intoned, and once more was rewarded with an aromatic pussy being rubbed over my face. This continued for 10 strokes, then Anita was replaced by my aunt.
She repeated the 10-stroke, 10 pussy lick, punishment-pleasure game and after the final stroke, I heard a voice from the couch: “May we ‘ave a go with ‘eem, meestress?” Aunty Pat looked down at me and smiled. My mouth fell agape, aunty had promised to keep the lesbian gardeners away from me!
She realised my confusion, then replied: “Of course you can, girls – 10 strokes each.” Before handing the cat o’ nine tails to one of the gardeners, Aunty Pat glanced down at me: “I know I promised to keep you away from the girls, darling, but I’ve changed my mind, it’s a woman’s prerogative, you know.”
Then standing before me was a now-nude gardener – it was Conchita, she informed me. She had stripped off her g-string to reveal a very dark, slightly shaven pussy, with shocking pink piss flaps.
Her first stroke fell across my cock and balls. I bit back a shriek and cried “One, thank-you, Miss Conchita” and the Latina lowered her pussy to my mouth. It was a strongly-smelling snatch, with a mixture of sex juice, sweat and urine, all intermingled in an intense aroma.
The 10 strokes were delivered, and as Conchita handed the flogger to her gardening mate, she remarked: “Look, ‘ees still ‘ard – ‘e likes eet, the filthy pervert!”
Pepina’s pussy was a twin-sister of her colleague’s, semi-shaved, dark with pinkish piss flaps. The taste, too, was strikingly similar, that triple taste of sex, sweat and piss, and I was both thrilled and disgusted to feel that throughout the 10-stroke punishment, my penis retained its rigid erection.
At last the three-pose flogging was over and Aunty Pat, helping me to my feet, told the girls they could leave. Both stepped up and kissed me on the cheek, and fondled my stiffness, before leaving the chamber, chuckling.
From then on, the days ran into a summery blur. Each morning, after breakfast, I would be prepared to ride either my aunt, or Anita, out around the property. Anita was lighter than my aunt, but not by much, so both were a weight on my shoulders.
On other mornings, for a change, I would be saddled to a pony cart, which Anita and Aunty sat in while I dragged them around, encouraged from time to time by a buggy whip stroke across my back or buttocks.
After each “pony” session, I was allowed to cool off in the lovely waters of the swimming pool, but with the added humiliation of having to haul myself from the pool at the end of each lap for the obligatory pussy adoration, then cut with the crop, as a signal to set off on another lap.
Then it was down to the basement games room where Anita or Aunty Pat – sometimes both – enjoyed playing “games” with me until lunchtime, by which stage I was (a) rather tired, and (b) extremely hungry.
The afternoon was either spent lounging by the pool or, if either of my lovely tormentresses was in a teasing mood, in the torture chamber undergoing punishment and pleasure, sometimes just punishment. From time to time, the gardeners played the pose flogging game with me, always leaving me in a state of flustered arousal.
The evening meal was usually followed by a movie session, in which I was allowed to pick a porno video, while Pat or Anita made a choice, so we always watched two movies. I, without hesitation, chose a movie with a femdom theme, because I loved the comments Anita and Aunty Pat passed on the performances.
Aunty Pat’s preferences were usually black and white “film noir” while Anita’s were of the lesbian variety – one which included Çarşı Escort the gardeners in a steamy sex session.
One evening, about a week after my arrival, I collapsed into bed and had almost fallen into a deep sleep, when I felt a rustle of the sheets. Anita snuggled up alongside me, and lay a warm hand on my cock.
“Your aunt suggested it was time we did something about your problem down there,” she whispered. “She’s worried that you may have a case of blue balls.”
I kissed her softly on the mouth and asked: “How old are you, Miss Anita?” She chuckled. “Why this obsession with age? I’m 30. And my other vital statistics, which I guess you’re also interested in, are 34-25-35. Now, will you fuck me?”
I did, and for the first time since my visit to Aunty Pat’s I was allowed relief from the longing ache in my poor balls. When I awoke the next morning, the sun was streaming through the curtains and I was alone.
A fortnight after my arrival, the day had followed its usual routine. I had played the role of “pony” carrying Aunty Pat around on my shoulders, during which journey she had enjoyed two noisy orgasms.
There had been the lengths of the pool to cool down, punctuated by pussy adoration at the completion of each lap, and then a session in the games room – a pose flogging, and a worship session of “perfume” licking from the two dominatrix’s lovely bodies.
After lunch, Miss Anita had ordered me to set up the flogging frame in front of their poolside recliners.After strapping me into it, she oiled my naked body and left me hanging there, the hot Arizona sun improving what I considered to already be a sensational tan.
Later, the two ladies arrived, clad in one-piece PVC playsuits – aunty’s was black, Anita’s a vivid red. The suits were both cut away at the breasts, so their boobs – Pat’s large and jolly, Anita’s smaller but firmer – were completely uncovered. The garments’ crotches were open view, as well, allowing me unhindered glimpses of two lovely pussies as they lay back on their loungers. I felt my prick begin to rise as I gazed on their bodies.
After Aunty Pat and Anita had made themselves comfortable, the two Latin lovelies, both naked, although they wore black high heels, arrived with an ice bucket holding a bottle of finest Dom Perignon champagne, and a tray with two flutes.
As they opened the Dom and poured a glass for Pat and Anita, my aunty made a call on her mobile. The two gardeners then left the poolside deck and I heard aunty’s side of her call.
“Hi, Ebony, it’s me Pat. I’m well. I’m just calling to invite you to a poolside party tomorrow – I’ve got a lovely young sex slave nephew, and I thought I’d show him off. Lovely! See you at midday!”
Aunty Pat then punched in another number. “Hi Paula, it’s Pat here. Fine thanks. Just a quick call to invite you to a poolside party here tomorrow – midday onwards. I want you to meet my young nephew – he’s from London and he’s a sex slave. I think you’ll find him cute. Great! See you tomorrow!”
Another number selected, another conversation. “Bobbi – great to hear your voice, long time, no see. I’m throwing a small but select poolside party tomorrow to introduce my young nephew to some friends – I’m inviting Ebony and Paula, too.
“He’s 20-years-old and he’s a sex slave – you’ll adore him. Tomorrow then? Midday on. Yup. See ya!”
The calls over, Aunty Pat turned to Miss Anita: “Get him down, there’s a darling.” Anita freed me from my place of bondage and I rubbed the circulation back into my wrists and ankles. Aunty Pat looked up at me, her big breasts glistening in the hot sun, her thighs brown and burnished. “On your knees, darling,” she ordered and I crouched down beside her lounger.
“Now, since I’m throwing a poolside party in your honour, how about thanking me, very, very nicely?”
Aunty widened her thighs, allowing me a clear view of her moist minge.
I shuffled closer to her magnificent perfumed place and started to thank her. Very, very nicely.
To be continued ….
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