Daphne Says by Paul Moore
“’There was no need to go through your browsing history. Your bookmarks were quite enough to fully instruct me.’ She giggled. ‘I have it all on a thumb drive. I have been treated to some extremely stimulating materials. I was up most of the night reviewing them, and I have a pretty thorough understanding of where Reginald’s dirty little mind has been.’ She had everything! She flashed a lascivious smile. ‘You and I are going to have ever so much fun together!’”
When Reggie and Daphne meet it is lust at first sight. He is well aware that he is an unattractive man with no future prospects. He is astonished that such a rich and beautiful woman seems to be interested in him. After trouncing him at tennis, she invites him to play a new game called “Daphne says”. The rules are simple, he obeys her completely or he leaves her and never returns. A combination of blackmail and seduction entices him to agree to her terms. Her demands are cruel, and increasingly severe, as he finds himself becoming the sexual plaything of Daphne and her entire household staff.
Includes: Female domination, oral and anal sex, male on male sex, bondage, spanking, whipping, and humiliation
Daphne descended the cellar stairs with rapid, quiet grace . I had been alerted to her return already, by the crunching of the carriage wheels on the lane. I had heard the clop of her shod ponies stamping away the flies that stung their sweating haunches. I was listening and waiting while Daphne unharnessed them and sent them off to the stable.
I was waiting for her in the center of the cellar floor. The top of the stairs was above my line of sight. So I was seeing her only in the eye of my mind at first, imagining her sweeping the low crowned, wide brimmed hat from her head to wipe the sweat from her brow and shake out her auburn hair before Hanging the hat on the shaker peg in the entry hall. I imagined her lacing her fingers and flexing them before she stripped off the driving gloves , her blue eyes narrowing and her delicate lips curling upward with expectation as she thought of me, waiting below.
Then she was trotting down the stairs, her boot soles barely tapping the steel treads, striking a light bell like tone . Her tight knit breeches were hugging that perfect ass. Her jacket was unbuttoned to display the bare flesh beneath. She paused two steps from the bottom and stood smiling, arms akimbo to lift and open the bodice and frame all of that perfection between the lapels. Her breasts, golden from the sun, elegantly formed fruits that could fill my mouth with their ripe succulence, should she choose. It was my treasured hope that I might earn the privilege of tasting those perky nipples before the day ended. I looked forward to feeling them stiffen and swell with arousal under my tongue. She stroked them with one hand to tease me as I watched her other hand absently fondle the small key that hung from a chain between her breasts. She regarded me there, looking down upon me. I was waiting for her. naked and chained, kneeling, attempting a smile, but managing only a sort of grimace as I drooled around a rubber bone.
“There’s my good boy, Reginald!”
I wanted to run to her and throw myself at her feet, to nuzzle her leg and confess my adoration. I am too well disciplined for such wanton display. I wouldn’t even if I could. I remained as I was, kneeling, with my bottom on my heels; knees well apart with my hands on my knees, back straight. I was forbidden to look her in the eyes, unless commanded to do so; but she would gaze her fill of me, checking my posture, studying me for signs of poor attitude. I aimed my gaze at the floor, and strove to communicate to her telepathically the depths of my utter adoration and gratitude.
I wore only my chastity belt, a metal cage around my cock, and a rubber bone wedged into my mouth by a locking head strap. The belt and cage were stainless steel, the locks securing them were brass, the key that opens them dangled between those exquisite, perky breasts as she bent down to examine me.
“is it me that you are so happy to see,” She tapped the key with one of her flawlessly manicured nails to make it chime. I am very careful to meet her high standards where nail care is concerned. She prefers that I leave her claws a bit long, with sharp points- the better to scratch me with.
“Or this?” She made the key chime again.
It was a rhetorical question, of course. I was forbidden to speak that day , even to mumble around a rubber bone. I was only permitted to scream. Could I speak, I would have whispered, “You, my Goddess!” I hoped that my eyes said it for me, and believed that I was answered by her slow smile.
“Perhaps later I shall open up my toys and play with them.”
A stainless steel strap was connected at the back to the stainless steel band around my waist, hooking down to divide my ass cheeks and anchor a large plug deep inside me. The plug was there to enlarge my anal opening and keep it opened wide. It had been an intentional message to me when she worked that monster into me four hours earlier. It was her not so little clue that I would be getting shagged good and hard later on. I had spent the entire morning wearing a constant reminder of this inevitability.
I wasn’t going anywhere. Cock cage and belt were joined with a padlock to two meters of chain bolted into the stone wall. In the most literal sense, she owned my ass and had me by the balls.
She knows that I am more responsive if I am already sore when she begins fucking me. Sometimes I am too responsive, and she must stifle me with a fat leather gag that is secured to a leather strap and buckled tightly at the base of my skull. It is equipped with “D” rings should she wish to attach reins. She uses the reins when she is inspired to hold my head up high while she rides my ass in the manner of a ruthless jockey, her riding bat urging my flanks.
“Look at me.” She dropped to one knee in front of me and locked her eyes on mine. I felt the heat of her fingertips encircling my caged cock, the unexpected stab of her claws finding the narrow spaces between the bars.
During my long morning wait, my internal muscles had inevitably tired of resisting the hard shaft having its way inside of me. Sometime after the first hour or so, they had surrendered to the impossibility of expelling it and gone slack. Exhaustion had brought me a bit of relief.
The points of her nails on my hungry cock made me tighten reflexively against the shaft within and rekindled the aching soreness inside me, as my cock quickened and strained against the bars of its prison. The space between the bars is too narrow for a finger to enter, but her long nails were busy spiders, stinging here and there. Her index finger poked into the end opening that I ordinarily piss through to seek the tip of my cock, the pointed talon threatening to become a catheter. My hands remained upon my knees, where protocol required them to be, though they wanted to clench into fists of frustration, or reach out to caress. My aching anus clenched tightly around the shaft again, and my cock shamed me by yearning toward the impalement.
How far I have fallen in love.