Contrition 4

by Graymangazer & Sadiax

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2014 - Graymangazer & Sadiax - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; captive; basement; cuffs; gag; hood; bodybag; straps; bdsm; torment; nipple; strapon; release; les; oral; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Part 4

Please read the previous parts first to understand what is happening. Please feel free to comment and message me, I always reply.

I must keep calm. I'm frightened and close to panic, but I have to keep calm.

All is total blackness, any sound I do hear is muffled, and in fact I'm not sure it isn't just in my head. I can't speak, I can't even move my jaws, but worse I can't move my body. She put a hood on my head; not a loose fitting bag like before but a tight, thick leather hood. She spent forever tightening and retightening the laces and buckles, the only opening was a hole for my mouth but this was soon filled when she pushed a thick stubby leather object through the gap. It stretched my jaws to the limit making the hood feel even tighter, that was when I first felt panic, when I couldn't breathe, but I discovered air holes under my nose. Then she encased me; something, rubber or leather, I'm not sure which, was wrapped around my body and the straps? Held me firm, so very firm. All the other times she had tied me I was able to move, to struggle and writhe, but not this time, now I'm immobile, I can't even find the leverage to strain against the bonds. I can't believe how totally bound I am and I can't believe how I just laid here meek and compliant the whole time she did it.

Now as I lay in silent total darkness images flash through my mind, horrifying visions, pictures of her lowering my mummified form into a shallow grave or nailing me into a coffin where I will never be found. With a supreme effort I manage to push the thoughts away before I go insane, and I know that here in my helpless state I have to trust her, trust that she won't kill me, trust that she has more use for me and that she will ultimately look after me. Can I trust her? I have to, I have no choice. I do trust her, I do. Even after everything she has done, deep in the back of my mind I have to believe she will care for me. If I don't believe that I will be lost.

She... something is crushing my chest, and now light, blessed light, she has pulled away the covering over my eyes. I look in fear up at her body, she too is encased, in shiny black latex, but she is free and she grins down at me. I try to tell her, no that's not right, I try to plead with her, beg her to be merciful, I promise I’ll be good, a good slave. But she leers at me and pulls aside the latex at her crotch; her fingers part the wet folds of flesh and delve inside.

I am disgusted but mesmerized and I watch as she pleasures herself, her hand no more than a foot from my face. I find I am straining to raise my head to allow myself a better view, why? Why do I want to see her like this?

I wonder if she will use me the way she did before. But if that is so why has she kept me gagged? Her fingers are on her clit and she sways, I manage to look away and see that her eyes are almost closed, she looks to be in ecstasy and I'm jealous of the pleasure she is experiencing. My mind flashes back to how she fucked me, that's the only way I can describe it; it wasn't about desire or lust, it wasn't even about sex, it was about control and humiliation. And I was humiliated, the pain from being whipped combined with her pounding into me caused, no, forced me to cum, cum shamelessly, cum in a way I have never dreamed of. As I orgasmed and her hands wrapped around my throat I thought I would die, but die such a beautiful death.

Now I watch enthralled as her fingers caress herself so slowly. Her pussy is wet and glistening, a teardrop of her juice is sliding down the glossy rubber on the inside of her thigh. Her fingers; so slim with perfectly manicured nails, red and wet, stroking and teasing. She pinches her clit gently and she shudders. My neck is aching as I strain my head up in an attempt to be closer to her.

I realize I am sucking the gag as though it is a cock, her cock, and I am disgusted with myself but I don't stop, I suck as I stare at her fingers, wishing perversely that they were inside me. And I wonder what in hell she has done to me? What sort of twisted animal has she turned me into? But as her hips writhe and her pussy moves closer to my face the thought evaporates.

"You've had your fun my darling slut, now it's my turn," she is breathless and her voice shakes slightly, she is still sitting on my chest as she places something over my gagged mouth, I can feel her fastening it in place and when she removes her hands I can see an enormous cock seemingly growing out of my face. With her knees either side of my head she raises her hips and positions herself over the dildo and using both hands she spreads her wet labia and slowly, oh so slowly sinks down swallowing the long shaft into herself. Smoothly her bottom begins to rise and fall as she fucks my face.

I watch her stretched pussy engulf the black shaft, I can see everything in vivid detail; the changing layers of flesh as she slides up and down, small rivulets of liquid running down toward my mouth only to be reclaimed by her pussy as she lowers herself once again. Her scent is strong in my nostrils as I suck in air and I imagine I can taste her.

"Mmmmm, oh yes Darby that's it, fuck me, fuck your Mistress,” I can just hear her words and I suddenly realize it is no longer she who is moving but me. She is up on her knees and I'm straining my neck to thrust the dildo up into her. The groans from my efforts echo inside my head as I try to push deep into her, and my neck and shoulders begin to ache and burn but I persevere.

Her hips are gyrating, the dildo sliding so easily into her, the fingers of one hand massaging her clit while the other grips her breast. She pulls aside the latex to expose the soft mound topped with a hard dark nipple and she mauls and kneads her flesh. Her breasts are smaller than my own, with no hint of sag, and I can't stop myself from comparing my larger less firm breasts unfavourably with her perfectly shaped ones.

Her body is squirming above me, her hips humping to meet my weakening thrusts. The dildo is wet and glistening, and I have a mental image of my masked face also covered with her juices. Releasing her breast she grabs the knot of hair she has left exposed at the top of my head and she uses it as a handle to control my movements. I'm ridiculously grateful for her help and I renew my efforts to please her.

Soon her movements become more frantic, less controlled as she approaches her climax, her head hangs forward and she is looking down directly into my eyes, her dark hair like a curtain about her face, her half closed eyes gleam and she bites her bottom lip. She grins and looks almost demonic as she pulls my head hard against her crotch, my scalp hurts but she holds me firm with the cock buried deep within her. Her hips make short quick jerking movements and the knuckles of her fist press against my nose as her fingers move fast over her clit. She writhes and pulls my hair harder and she emits a low gurgling wail as she reaches a climax.

She stops moving with the dildo deep inside her, her body stiffens and she throws her head back. I can see the sinews in her neck standing out and she trembles and strains as though something is being torn from her very being. Time is frozen for long seconds, then exhaling she sags and falls forward. Supporting herself on her outstretched arms she takes deep shuddering breathes; my head is forced back by the ever erect dildo still trapped inside of her. I can see her wetness oozing around the cock and my tongue slides over the leather in my mouth in a vain attempt to taste her.


"Oh God that was so good! I'll have to do it more often," she is laying on her side next to me, the fingers of one hand idly stroking up and down the dildo. "I think you're starting to enjoy yourself too, aren't you Darby? We'll have to do something about that, you haven't earned the right yet, not by a long way," Lifting herself up onto her elbow she unclips the toy from my face and also pulls the gag out of my mouth, I fill my lungs with cool air, only now beginning to realize how stifling it is inside my cocoon.

"Clean it my slave slut," she says in a not unfriendly tone, she holds the head of the dildo against my lips and without conscious thought I begin to lick her drying secretions from the rubber penis. Soon it is wet once more, this time with my saliva. She draws the dildo away and I follow it with tongue extended and she giggles, allowing me to lick and then teasingly moving it out of my reach, I know it is a game to her, but a game that I dare not refuse to play.

"Up, up that's it, higher, good doggy," she laughs as I try hard to raise my head high enough to reach, and as though she has changed her mind she allows me to make contact but this time she feeds it into my mouth, deeper and deeper until my head is pressed back against the floor and still she forces it home. I gurgle and gag and she pulls it clear, coughing and heaving I manage not to be sick. The game is repeated and each time the dildo is forced deeper and held longer. I can feel the head entering my throat as though she wants to push it into my stomach. When she finally stops I am crying once again, this seems to please her and she smiles as she leans over me to lick away a tear from my eye.

Using a paper towel she gently wipes away the drool from around my mouth but leaves her finger touching my lip, as she presses slightly I open and caress it with my tongue. Her finger is replaced by her mouth and she kisses me, kisses me so passionately my head whirls and I suck on her tongue hoping the kiss never stops. She has me so confused; Pain, pleasure, humiliation, tenderness? I don't know what is coming next, what her ever changing moods will bring me.


The game is resumed and the dildo is once more touching the wall of my throat, I try to fight it but she holds firm "Don't panic, breathe through your nose, that's it, almost there, soon you'll take it all, and more besides," she talks calmly, instructing me. She places her hands on my chest to help her stand, but pauses and squeezes my boob; she runs her hand over and around as though she has just discoverer my breasts, "We've neglected these a little haven't we?" And leaving me immobile with my lips stretched around the dildo she moves to the table.

I watch her; I watch her bum, so tightly encased in rubber swaying as she walks, is she doing it deliberately knowing I'm looking? I don't know whether to hate her or want her. She searches among the items there and without thinking I suck on the dildo and wonder what she has in store for me next, I can feel my nipples grow hard and I'm not sure whether it's through fear or anticipation.


Such a sweet feeling pervades me. I am suffused with light. I feel capricious and whimsical. I look back at her, bound and suffering and my heart skips a beat. A smile twitches my lips and I wink at her as I turn to go and wash. I stretch languidly before her and blow her a kiss as a tear forms in the corner of one eye and swells, blooms and bursts along her cheek, a silver runnel traces the tight straps and once again the petal of her ear.

The shower is hot and I wash languidly, my fingers slipping between my thighs and easing open my sex. I purr to myself as I consider things; my revenge is well underway. She has paid her debt already but the months of anguish are harder to erase than that. I want more from her and as I wash I consider this; is she enjoying this enough that I could free her and just keep her here? Would she stay voluntarily? A connection has been made, albeit an entirely unintended one.

Then suddenly I feel cold and shiver as I realize what I have done, and the potential consequences of my actions settle on me. My fury, seething and constant has blinded me to all else. And suddenly my world dissolves. I tear over as the water cascades down my numb body. I turn off the shower and dress in a silk robe, belting it tight around my waist I pad barefoot down the stairs and into the kitchen. I sit there at the table trying not to think about her alone in the basement. I try not to replay her expression as I slid from the dildo and stepped back from her shaking, trussed body.

The coffeemaker chugs away as I sit at the table and gaze unseeing into the back garden, and my mind turns over the options I now have. Should I turn her loose? Maybe tie her and hood her and return her to her home? Then just drive away hoping there will be no comeback, and that I have covered my tracks well enough? Or should I untie her and beg her to forgive me? I know now that I have done her a great wrong. How could I have acted like this? The sore inside me, the one that has poisoned me and changed me, has been lanced now and I am free of the past. I can move on, but to where? I sit there as the coffee goes cold in front of me. At last I make a decision.

I make my way down into the basement, a dread seizing me, squeezing at my heart. She’s there just as I left her of course. The straps are tight and secure and the dildo bobs as she tries to raise her head to see me. I sit beside her and stroke her naked, exposed breasts absently. The same breasts that I tormented with pegs and crop just a couple of hours ago. I think that this softer me has her confused. She makes a muffled noise, a question evident, but I choose to ignore it.

“We need to talk Darby,” The words come out without me consciously saying them. and she strains to look at me, her eyes seeking mine.

“You don’t even remember me, do you?” Her mind is clearly racing and she offers a soft, querying noise. “Perhaps it’s just as well….” My fingers begin to feel the straps around her body and before I know it I am untying her. “I have done you a great wrong Darby,” She eases her jaw as the gag slides from her lips, a sliver a silver connecting it briefly then gone. “The desire I feel for is real though and I know you can feel something too.” The silence seems endless as I wait for her response. I feel myself aching to keep speaking, to explain, to justify, seeking forgiveness, but I prevent myself. I will wait to hear what she says.


"W...Why? Who are you?" I finally find the courage to speak, to ask the questions that have been in the forefront of my mind. But I lay still, as still as I can; so as not to give her a reason to punish me, I'm unsure whether or not this is just another cruel game she is playing with me. Yes I'm able to move, I'm free of the bondage that she has kept me in, but mentally I'm still wrapped in chains. I may have the use of my arms and legs, I know I'm bigger and probably stronger than her but she is ultimately superior. If she decides to do something to me I know deep inside that I'll accept it. I'm scared of her, and of what she might do if I resist, but then I wonder if maybe I just won't want to resist. And that's the thing that frightens me most.

She doesn't answer me, staying silent, making me nervous. Instead she smiles sadly down at me and her eyes glisten, I think she is going to cry? Then I become aware of her hand on my breast, gently massaging, I bite my lip as her thumb circles my nipple. Despite my situation I inhale, pushing my chest out into her caress.

"I'm sorry, whatever I've done I'm sorry," my voice trembles, I want to sound sincere, I am sincere. But I don't know that she believes me? She must believe me. My mouth is dry and I can feel her fingers gripping my nipple, and I hold my breath waiting for the pinch and the pain. At first it doesn't come and I'm screaming inside, willing her to squeeze and twist, and then slowly she tightens her grip and the hurt seeps into my flesh and my mind. My eyes close and I hold my breath and I realize I'm speaking, as she pinches harder I whisper barely audibly, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I was wrong Darby, wrong to blame you. You were only doing your job. I thought I could make it right, can you forgive me?" she slackens her grip on my nipple, absently rolling the tender flesh between thumb and forefinger.

Could I forgive her? Should I forgive her? Do I want to forgive her? I hold my tongue fearing a trap. Her fingers leave my nipple and move down my body, from my breast and over my stomach, she is touching me so lightly but still I can feel her sharp nails, I can feel them scraping like a razor running over my flesh. I lay with my arms submissively at my side unable to move; I gasp and suck my belly in as her hand passes over my navel. She halts her fingers just above my pubis and I want to scream, I want to beg, to threaten, to plead with her to continue, but I can't. I am helpless to resist but my pride is still strong and won't allow me to beg.

"You can go Darby, you're free," suddenly she sits back on her heels and we look at each other, she seems so sad and I have the crazy thought that somehow I have disappointed her, that I'm not good enough for her. She looks away and after a minute I struggle to sit up, it's difficult, I'm stiff and tired but I manage, and expecting her to stop me at any moment I crawl on hands and knees to the stairs where I can use the door to pull myself to my feet.

"What will you do?" she asks. Holding on to the doorframe for support I turn to face her, "will you report me? Go to the police?"

I turn away without answering, in truth I don't know what I'll do, but as I climb the steps up into the kitchen I can feel tears in my eyes. I hear a sob, I don't know if it came from her or me and I feel perversely guilty about leaving her. Stumbling through the kitchen I grab a coat to cover my nakedness and stagger outside, my car sits there and with relief I see the keys in the ignition. As I collapse into the driver’s seat I also notice my bag on the floor.

I have no idea where I am so I drive aimlessly until I see something that I recognise. My eyes are blurry with tears - tears of what? Relief, sadness, regret, I really don't know - but I make my way home and soon I am laying in a hot bath with a large whiskey in my hand. I have been kidnapped, raped, yes raped, abused and tortured, I know I should phone the police but I'm so tired and I wonder if they will believe me? Will anyone believe me?

I still don't know who she is and I doubt I can remember where her house is. I can feel my eyelids drooping and the water is growing cold so I climb wearily from the bath and wrap myself in a thick dressing gown. In my bedroom I dry myself and I pause when my hand touches my pussy, my bald pussy. A vision enters my mind; a vision of me with my legs spread wide and her shaving me, her beautiful face a mask of concentration as she watches the razor. I realize that my fingers are slowly stroking between my labia as I remember her touch and I pull my hand away as if it is stung. Climbing into bed I try to drag my mind away from her but I can't and I'm still thinking of her as sleep claims me.


"Darby? Darby? Can you hear me Darby?" The voice comes from a long way away and I gradually become aware; I have been asleep and now somebody is calling me. I open my eyes and it takes a few seconds for me to register what I am seeing; it is her and she is smiling down at me, her hair and face made up immaculately as though she is going on an important date, she's wearing the same figure hugging black dress that she wore the first time.

"W...what do you want? Please leave me alone” I manage to say before she clamps a hand over my mouth.

"Shush, don't speak; you know you need permission,” she hikes her dress up revealing her smooth mound, I can't help but stare; the lips are swollen and they glisten with the wetness of her arousal. She swings her leg over me to kneel astride my belly and smiles when she sees me staring at her crotch, "You want it don't you? You want to kiss it, to taste it, don't you? It’s okay, you can taste me soon, and in fact you'll be spending a lot of time doing just that from now on."

She grins and I whimper as her hand slips under the elastic of my pyjamas, my thighs part slightly as the tip of her finger pushes slowly into my damp pussy. I groan with embarrassment because she'll know how aroused I am. I want to stop her but I can't move, I want to beg her to stop but I can't speak. I'm not tied but the imaginary ropes that secure me are as strong as any real ones.

"I changed my mind Darby, I've decided to keep you," her fingers stroke me and I shake my head no but her grin broadens, “Oh yes my sweet, you'll be my slave forever now, my plaything, my toy. You can join all my other toys, I have so many and they are all for you,” she raises her arms for me to see; her hands are filled with toys; clamps, plugs, vibrators, dildos, whips and chains and so much more, I can see two nipple clamps that are mouths, her mouth, with her perfect teeth and huge bells attached. I look on in horror and dread as she starts to giggle.

I try to tell her no, I don't want to be a toy, I'm a person, please, please don't do this to me. But her giggling turns to laughter and the hand sealing my lips has become a gag, filling my mouth, silencing me. A huge dildo slowly rises from the gag before my eyes, ready for her to use for her pleasure. I have become a toy for her amusement and I scream silently.

Her fingers work their way deep inside me and my hips push upward seeking, wanting more as my body betrays me. I shudder when she grips my nipple, squeezing hard and pulling so that I arch off the bed. I'm moaning, pleading through the gag trying to make her understand; if only she would remove the gag so I could feel her lips on mine, so I could taste her, taste her mouth and taste her sex. But she is laughing at me, she is shaking with laughter, crying with laughter, her mascara running down her face creating the mask of a mad woman. And as she shakes the toys rattle together and the bells chime forming a discordant music, becoming a familiar tune, growing louder, and louder until my eyes snap open.

My alarm clock wakes me, the digital display illuminating the empty room. As I become aware I realize I have one hand down my shorts, my fingers halfway inside my very wet pussy, my other hand is gripping my nipple. I lay stunned for long seconds then slam the button to stop the music, I roll onto my side and curl up into a ball and cry quietly.


As I sit at the kitchen table sipping hot tea I wonder what I should do, but I don't know. I don't even know what day it is? But I guess it must be a work day. There is no way I can concentrate on business so I phone to arrange a few days off. I try to put out of my mind what has happened but it’s something I will never forget. I feel I should do something, something to make her pay, something to help make me feel better, but what? I can't tell the police, or anybody else, I couldn't bare the shame of people knowing. I decide things will somehow improve if I know who she is and why she did what she did. I remember something she said about me just doing my job; I realize that could be a clue so I decide that will be where I start.


It was surprisingly easy and I was correct in my assumption; I now know everything I need to know about the young woman who turned my life inside out, and I do indeed feel so much better. I got lucky straight away. I started by tracing the people who I had to recommend for redundancy; three stood out, people who hadn't been with the company long enough to receive a substantial pay off and were on record as being less than happy about having to go, and when I pulled their files there she was. And looking at her face again as she stared out from my computer screen made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. I studied her profile and spent a week researching her, It amazed me just how much information one can gather about another person; I now know almost everything about her, from where she goes on holiday to what type of food she prefers, and armed with this knowledge I made a decision. And it all brought me to here and now.

I'm sitting in my car, fifty yards from her house and watching as she tidies a flower bed in her front garden, because of the warm weather she is wearing just a tee shirt and shorts, even dressed like this she looks good and I imagine her slowly peeling the shirt from her body damp with sweat. I mentally scold myself; although I have come to terms with what happened and the way I felt and reacted I remind myself that’s not the reason I am here. I continue to watch her for almost an hour until she goes back into her house and taking a deep breath I clutch my bag and climb from the car.

The walk to her door seems endless and I rehearse what I plan to say, I'm nervous and I clench my fists in an effort to stop my hands shaking. I will tell her how wrong she is; explain to her why I did what I had to. There would be no comebacks, no recriminations, what she did would be forgotten, eventually, hopefully, and we can both get on with our lives. I will apologise for what I had to do to her and hope she feels the same about what she did to me. If she can't accept this I'll have no option but to go to the police. It's a scare tactic, but I want her to know that she did wrong and that I am a lot stronger than she might think.

Ringing the doorbell is a major task for me and I almost turn and run. She opens the door and smiles up at me before realisation sinks in. I take a breath and pull my shoulders back, I open my mouth but no words come. She looks hot and dusty, her white tee shirt is dirty and I can see that she is braless, her small nipples standing out through the material. I struggle to remember what I had planned to say as I picture her perfect breasts, it takes all my strength not to reach out and touch them. I lick my dry lips with a dry tongue. She has her hair tied up but a few strands hang loose over her face and I fight the urge to brush them away. A small bead of moisture hangs on her cheek and as I stare at it I am defeated, I want to kiss it away, I want her to take me, to hold me and never let me go. She tilts her head and everything I had planned, the very reason I am here is forgotten.

I hang my head in defeat and submission, I am contrite now and I at last admit what I truly want, “I'm sorry Mistress. Please, please will you have me back," I wait for what seems a lifetime, neither of us speaking. I can't look at her and still she is silent.

Eventually, when no answer is forthcoming I turn and slowly walk away, in my mind I am screaming, begging her to say something to stop me, to call me back, and I wonder if I can exist without her. I walk through the gate and hesitate, did she speak? Or was it in my mind? Did she say my name, did she?


My heart is racing fit to burst. I can only stare dumbly at her. She is a vision of grace, of redemption. She is mine and all I have to do is reach out and take her hand. My tongue feels rooted to the roof of my mouth. I cannot speak. I am spellbound. She turns and begins to walk away. I can sense her tears, trickling down her cheeks. She reaches the gate before I find my voice from somewhere.

"Darby," I croak. She turns, hope lighting in her eyes. Such a beautiful creature.

I extend my hand, grubby with soil from the garden. The sleepless nights are behind me now and the futures lays in front of me, clean and clear and open. And she is in it. I will not make the mistake of treating her too gently. She needs the cruelty, the dominance from before and this gives me the permission I need to allow the closed and locked gate on my sexuality to swing open once more.

"Get inside," I tell her, my voice strengthening.

A blissful smile radiates across her face and she walks as if in a trance towards me and past me into the hallway, the frisson of her body as it passes mine makes me instantly wet. We stop in the kitchen and she turns to face me. I take her chin in my thumb and forefinger, tilting her head so she looks me straight in the eyes. I need to see the resolve, the strength.

"I won't be easy on you," I tell her bluntly. She smiles and nods.

"I didn't think you would Mistress," her voice sends thrills through me.

I press down on her shoulders and she sinks obediently to the floor onto her knees. I feel so aroused I can barely control myself. I unbutton my shorts and let them drop to the floor. My panty covered pussy is inches from her face. I can feel the voltage between us cranking higher and higher.

"You may kiss me," I tell her and she presses her face against my pubis, her sweet pink lips finding my pussy and pressing urgent, pleading kisses there. I slide my hand down my panties and begin to stroke myself. My pussy is slippery with arousal and I lean back against the table to steady myself as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of my knickers, sliding the silky material down my thighs her tongue comes out to seek my clit. I gasp and writhe, alight with pleasure and anticipation. My hands entwine in her long red hair and I twist them until I can feel her wince and falter.

"Upstairs, Darby."

She rises carefully, my hands still controlling her until I release her. Taking her hand sweetly I lead her up the stairs. When we reach the top I indicate my bedroom with a nod of my head. We kiss and our hands are everywhere, searching, reacquainting ourselves with each other. I feel so happy and complete and I know that she does too. The past days have been a blur of worry. Would the police arrive on my doorstep at any time? Would I ever see her again? But now, my mind stills and allows my body to take over. I have not climaxed since I rode her face that day and now I am bursting for it, my body aching with desire and longing.

We tumble onto the bed, undressing each other until we are naked and her pale, freckled skin is open to me, her sweet pussy lips pouting enticingly at me. I can barely think, the need is so strong to consume her, to own every single, freely proffered inch of her.

The first time is mutual, an orgy of desire sated freely on one another? We writhe, entwined like two serpents, a mass of probing fingers, kissing lips, licking tongues and biting teeth. As we lie there in sated completion, fingers loosely holding those of the other, I look into her eyes and see the need there. The reason she came back to me. The reason she came home.

I reach over to the nightstand without breaking her gaze and bring out the ball gag and the collar.

"Welcome home, Darby,“ I whisper ”we're in for a long night," she kisses the ball as I press it to her pink lips.

"Thank you Mistress, I so missed you..."

A tear forms in the corner of her eye and shimmers before trickling down her pale cheek. I force the gag home behind her teeth and pushing her head forward I buckle it tight at the back of her neck, those tiny red hairs arousing me uncontrollably.

I kiss her gag, her stretched lips with passion and meaning.

What a beautiful way to begin our new life together.........

The end

For now.

You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum