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13 Temmuz 2022, 11:37
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?!"
"Yes Mistress."
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?!"
"Yes Mistress."
"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?!"
"No, Mistress."
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.
"Whir."
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.
"Do it!"
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, izmit escort (https://hususu.com/) 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?"
"Yes Mistress."
"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.
"Gina: Hooters?
"Maria: Weighted nipple clamps!
"Deanna: Been there, done that.
"Gina: Clothes pins?
"Deanna: Too S
* * * * * * * * * *
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?!"
"Yes Mistress."
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?!"
"Yes Mistress."
"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?!"
"No, Mistress."
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.
"Whir."
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.
"Do it!"
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, izmit escort (https://hususu.com/) 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?"
"Yes Mistress."
"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.
"Gina: Hooters?
"Maria: Weighted nipple clamps!
"Deanna: Been there, done that.
"Gina: Clothes pins?
"Deanna: Too S