Motel 7

by Bob Salinas

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© Copyright 2006 - Bob Salinas - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; FF/m; cons; X

Part One

Al, already naked, finished tying his ankles securely to the legs of the sofa and pulled himself to his feet. He clipped the short piece of clothesline, already snugly knotted around his ballsack, to a clock weight resting on the seat cushion. He had measured the rope carefully, and there were precisely three inches of slack.

He pulled himself up and packed his mouth with a carefully-selected pair of his wife’s panties, fresh out of the hamper and not fresh – just what he wanted. They were full-fashioned cotton bloomers- good for mouth packing and jacking off, but poor fantasy material. Maybe one of these years she’s try on one of his gifts from Victoria’s Secret, but Al wasn’t hopeful.

He wrapped a 3”-wide Ace bandage snug around his head, packing the panties deep in his mouth, and carefully clipped the loose end to the rest of the bandage with the little metal clip. After taking a deep breath and exhaling to savor the scent which now filled his lungs, he made a few muffled cries for help; nothing came out except gurgles, which was just what he wanted. The scent and his imagination were reflected in his erection.

Bending ‘way over the sofa, he slipped over his head the loop of rope which was securely fastened to the base of the sofa. (He knew better than to use a slip knot- he didn’t want to strangle himself.) Al reached down for a piece of cord and gave it a sharp tug; the clock weight rolled off the cushion and its weight fell sharply on his balls. Ouch! He knew what his balls must look like- a deep red inside the sack of tightly-stretched skin, bulging roundly with the load of sperm he and they desperately wanted to send spurting down his cock.

He reached to his side and grabbed a waiting pair of handcuffs. With a sharp CLACK CLACK CLACK, his wrists were irretrievably locked together. The keys were nowhere in sight.

Almost reflexively, he struggled for his freedom, testing his bonds. He was trapped- his work had been careful and carefully planned. He finally sagged against the sofa and waited for his wife to return home. On the outside of the door leading to the garage was a note for his wife, the keys to his handcuffs taped to it:

Carla – I have a surprise package waiting for you in the living room. Won’t you join me for some fun and games?


About an hour later, Al heard Carla’s car enter the garage. He heard the car door close, the sound of footsteps on concrete, and then silence for what seemed like an hour. Beside being helplessly bound, Al was incredibly horny, and to top it all off he was scared witless. Carla had made herself clear on several other occasions that she wanted no part of his demented fantasies, and Al was giving it one last try before… he wasn’t sure before what. He just waited.

Finally the door opened, and there was silence before Carla addressed him in an angry shriek which must have been audible downtown: “YOU SICK DEMENTED PERVERT! Haven’t I told you time and time again that I want absolutely nothing to do with your filthy unholy games?” She brusquely unlocked his handcuffs and continued: ”This is so far over the line I can’t believe it. I’m going to the church to talk with Sister Carmelita. When I come home in two hours, I want you gone and out of my life for the remainder of eternity!”

The door slammed. While Al hastily released himself, his aching erection only a memory, he heard the garage door open before the car blasted out and down the street. He had been down this road before, and while he wasn’t packed, he knew just what to do.

In one hour and forty-five minutes, his car was loaded with most of his necessities of his life and he was on the road. Thirty minutes later, the young lady at the front desk of the Old Sacramento Motel 7 was handing him the key to 238. “Easy to remember- 2 cubed is 8!”, Al remarked brightly to the lady, who just smiled dimly.

After he finished carrying his stuff to his room, Al surveyed the room carefully. The whole motel had been recently remodeled; the room still smelled a bit of fresh paint, and the screen of the TV was squeaky clean. Al reached into the bag he had picked up at the Del Paso Safeway and withdrew a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. Then he turned on HBO and, with a short prayer of thanks to God for inventing alcohol, proceeded to drown his sorrow.

Fortunately for this story line, this was not to be another three-day bender- Al had learned something through the years, and he spent Saturday perusing the rolling stock at the Union Pacific Railroad museum- something which he had always wanted to do but Carla just didn’t enjoy that kind of stuff.

After a cheap but adequate dinner at Del Taco ($9 including a soda), Al drove out to a boutique he knew- an adults-only place, which carried an astonishing array of videos. All of them were DVDs- it seemed cassettes had gone the way of the dodo bird.

Fortunately, Al had brought his computer- reasonable enough, since he would go back to his usual job of being a software engineer on Monday. His computer, on top of having the usual goodies necessary to high-tech work, had a DVD player and a 19” TFT monitor.

Al had selected three promising-looking features and took them up to the counter, where a smiling sweet young thing rang up his purchase, not batting an eye as she went through his selection of hard-core, filthy, woman-degrading pornography. At least that’s how Carla referred to it. (Carla had never gotten close enough to Al’s perversions to notice that it wasn’t the women who got degraded, but Al had given up trying to explain that.)

While he was waiting, a dancer from the attached nudie joint strolled through, picking out a G-string. She was wearing only filmy nylon shorts (like the cut-off top of pantyhose) and a tiny cut-off T-shirt- stuff she could take off quickly. Al returned her cheery smile but continued on with his plans for the night. He knew what enthusiastically-jiggling flesh looked like- hell, even Carla jiggled; he had other ideas and needs.

Back in his new home, Al booted his PC (which he knew down to the last nut and bolt- he took it apart and rebuilt it for fun) and tossed in the only ‘straight’ porn DVD of the trio. He’d made a good choice, though- it was hot, and so was Al!

Keeping in touch with the sexsational action on the screen, Al made his preparations for the night’s action, starring Al, of course, and his fantasy Mistress who shall remain unnamed. First off, he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and cut a length of rope from one of three coils. He passed one end under the bed, making sure that both ends met on top of the bed and left a pile of ‘binding material’ in the middle. Then he used a short length of rope to fasted a pair of ankle cuffs to the center of the footboard of the bed, leaving the cuffs on the quilt for the moment.

Grabbing a roll of kite string, Al stood on the bed and tied one end to the room’s light fixture. He cut the piece just long enough so that when he tied his keys to the free end of the cord, the keys would dangle on the mattress. After double-checking the knots, Al hopped down cautiously (he was on the second floor and didn’t want to irritate anybody who might be below) and went to his luggage for his trusty ‘ice timer’.

Al snapped the timer, basically just a steel ring half an inch in diameter attached to a plastic strap, to the shower curtain rod. He took a nylon stocking (one of Carla’s, a sturdy no-nonsense style from Wal-Mart) and stuffed three ice cubes from the motel’s ice maker into the foot end. No, five… no, six, since some of it would melt while he finished his preparations. He threaded the top end through the ring and pulled it down until the ice jammed against the ring. Then he locked a 10” Vise-Grip (model number 10WR, an incredibly useful tool and handy weight) to the hanging end of the stocking. The wrench was much heavier than the ice, of course, and kept the ice jammed up against the ring.

Next, he tied a piece of the kite string to the cord which held the keys; the other end he tied to the wrench. The cord was short enough so the keys now hung not over the bed but about a foot to the side, far out of his reach in his planned position. When the ice melted and the stocking pulled through the ring, the weight of the wrench would pull loose the knot and release the keys. Al had used this many times while Carla was away- it was about as foolproof as the laws of thermodynamics.

Satisfied, Al returned to his ‘toy chest’ and withdrew another rope- ¼” sisal, carefully cut to precise length through many uses. Some places recommended not using sisal, he thought because it was itchy and left massive red marks in the skin, but he really didn’t care about welts- nobody would ever see them. Nobody except Carla ever saw rigidly-faithful Al naked outside of a locker room, and now not even her….

He put the center of the rope, long ago marked with a red felt-tip, on the center of his chest just below his shoulders and passed the two ends behind himself. He switched hands on the strands and looped them around himself, this time below his breasts, raising the strands so they crossed between his breasts.

He continued this looping and crossing process, essentially winding a figure-8 rope bra for himself. As he made loop after loop, the rope compressed his rib cage and made breathing a bit difficult. It also pressed the meat of his chest into a marvelous and very sensitive part of boobs! Al carefully tied the rope in a square knot behind his back and checked out his reflection in the mirror as he strummed his nipples- not a bad babe, except for the beard!

Okay, time to get down to brass tacks, whatever those were.

Al pulled out a favorite ball gag- a rubber ball from the kiddies department of the grocery store knotted into the center of another of Carla’s stockings which he’d cut to fit, with a steel ring on one end of the stocking and an S-hook on the other. He wedged the ball deep into his mouth and clipped the S-hook onto the ring. He tried to call for help, as always, and was rewarded only with an even more eager hard-on. (Is that really an ‘only’?)

Thinking of the hard-on, Al reached out for a ball-stretcher- a leather strap an inch and a half wide which went around his ball-sack and pressed his testicles down firmly. This resulted in an even more pronounced erection, which Al surrounded with two latex condoms. This gave an almost pussy-like feeling of compression and helped him keep his hard-on during the inevitable slow spots in the entertainment.

Finally, he picked up a thick rubber O-ring and rolled it down over the latex-sheathed head of his cock. Once it slipped down over his flared head, it was a snug slip fit all the way down the shaft of his cock until he pressed it firmly down at the base. He could see head of his cock, an angry dark red even through two layers of nylon.

Al retrieved a new length of rope, more sisal (3/8”- strong enough for suspension games) from Home Depot. He tied one end around his legs just above his ankles and proceeded to wind the entire length around his legs until he cinched the other end most of the way up his thighs

Things were coming down to the wire now. Al dragged himself to his PC (with the carpet thoroughly and enjoyably beating up his distended nipples in the process) and ejected the DVD, replacing it with “Mistresses Yolanda and Victoria degrade Slave Martin”. He was familiar with the crew that made this video, and they did hot stuff. He started the video and dragged himself (the dragging and the accompanying degradation was difficult but exciting) back to the bed for his final preparations.

Al heaved himself onto the bed and caught his breath for a moment. Then he reached out for a pair of handcuffs and slipped them through the ropes crossing between his ‘new’ breasts, leaving them dangling there for the moment.

He scooted down to the foot of the bed, bent double, and- after a last cautious look around, as the keys were deliberately out of his reach- locked his ankles into the cuffs. Then he reached out for the rope which ran under the bed and wrapped it firmly around his waist twice before he tied the ends behind his back.

Al laid back against a pile of pillows (the better to see the PC monitor screen) and locked his wrists into the handcuffs- this held them close to his chest, where his arms kept rubbing his sensitive nipples. (Whenever he showered, he used a loofa sponge vigorously, removing any dead skin to leave his skin sensitive.) He struggled and squirmed, just to test his bonds, and found that everything was just fine- he was helpless.

OH, FUCKING SHIT! Al’s eye fell on the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, which hung on the inside of the door. Damn- he’d forgotten to put it out! He struggled desperately for a minute or two before he gave up. Well, with any luck the ice would melt and he’d be free long before the maids showed up- the six ice cubes ought to melt down enough in maybe an hour.

Part Two

Indra pushed her housekeeping cart along the second-floor walkway, trying to keep her mind from giving way to the tide of depression which seemed inevitable to one faced with all the career potential of a hotel maid. Fuck shit… Indra would never have said that when she arrived from her native Pakistan as a teenager, but it was but one of many unworthy things she had picked up along the way through a not-particularly-gentle life.

She started with room 230, a corner unit on the second floor. She knocked on the door, paused for fifteen seconds, and then opened the door. “Housekeeping!”, she called in her light and slightly-accented voice. When she heard nothing, she entered and began the ritual of cleaning the room in as little time as possible. Crap… this one had been used by a local couple, and she hated cleaning up the cum-coated sheets. Part of her displeasure was envy- she hadn’t had her legs in the air for a year, at least not with a man between them.

Some of the girls had told her that they ‘forgot’ when young couples were checked in, and when they stepped into the room they loved the frantic flurry of activity as the naked bodies scurried about, bare breasts and penises and underwear flying as they ducked for cover in incredible embarrassment. Indra had never been so lucky, but a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

Finished with 230, Indra moved on to 232, 234, and 236, just as she had so many times before. Tap, tap, tap…. “Housekeeping!”

Bob’s blood froze in his veins, and then he realized the maid was next door. He had maybe five minutes to free himself before he was once again exposed as the pervert he was. He jerked and pulled, but the cuffs were inescapable. The keys hung motionless where he had hung them, far out of reach.

Maybe if he rolled off the bed? No, the ankle cuffs kept his feet up against the footboard, and the rope around his waist made him give up any hope of rolling off the bed. That was by design, of course. He was on the verge of exhaustion when he finally gave up and lay back.

Tap, tap, tap…. “Housekeeping!” As usual, Indra counted off 15 seconds to respectfully allow anybody sleeping to wake enough to respond. She heard nothing, so she unlocked the door, pushed it wide open, and backed in, pulling her cart after her.

She turned around and her heart leaped into her throat. A man was tied up on the bed! A naked man! A desperately struggling naked man! A desperately struggling naked man tied to the bed in an overtly sexual position!

Indra’s heart slowly slid back to its normal position between her breasts, and an idea began to take shape in her mind. A maid she might be, but Indra wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination either innocent or stupid. She was both well-educated and had ‘been around the block’ several times in her 38 years.

Indra closed the door quietly, locked the deadbolt, and quickly stepped to the bed. Leaning over, she asked “Are you all right? Are you in trouble?” Al calmed slightly at her voice and nodded his head in the negative.

She smiled gently, her imagination turning over ideas. She’s heard about guys who checked into hotel rooms to play kinky games, but she’d just heard about them, and deep in her mind she thought they were just tales the girls made up to break the boredom. Well, it looked like she was going to have her own story to tell now!

Indra smiled reassuringly at him and said “Don’t worry, Sir, you’re in good hands with Indra… yes, that’s my name, Indra. You don’t want me to let you go, do you?” Again Al shook his head, negatively and vigorously. Indra smiled again, straightened up, and stepped to the door. She took the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign Al had forgotten, hung it on the outside, and closed and double-locked the door- another thing Al had forgotten.

Indra turned around and noticed the PC monitor, which was just showing the closing scene of the movie- Slave Martin was locked in a pillory which restrained his ankles in a matching pair of stocks, his aching cock swaying in the air as he watched Mistress Yolanda being royally fucked by Mistress Victoria’s oversized strap-on dildo. Yes, Indra was right- this guy wanted to play bondage and submission games all by himself. Well, she was just the help this guy needed.

Indra looked at the clipboard in her cart… 234, 236, 238… Al Kowalski. She stepped to the bed and sat beside him, idly playing with his nipples. “Well, Al, now that we’re on a first-name basis, why don’t we get to know each other?” Al looked at her quizzically.

“”Yes, Al, I’m Mistress Indra… I moonlight as a maid but I’m really the cruel Mistress you’ve met in your dreams. Or maybe your nightmares.” As Al looked on helplessly (he of course had absolutely no choice in the matter), Mistress Indra lifted her arms to the back of her neck and unfastened something at the back of her Motel 7 maid’s uniform.

Al looked at her as she pulled the dress up, revealing the tops of her stockings, then long black garters, then skimpy black Rio-cut panties, the black garter belt, a slim tanned stomach, and then a lacy black bra filled to overflowing with Mistress Indra’s breasts. Mistress Indra wasn’t exceptionally busty, but American bras are all underwired, it seems, and Indra liked to be pretty, even if it only she looked at herself in her underwear.

Mistress Indra tossed the uniform shift onto her cart and stood at the foot of the bed, her hands on her hips, her feet boldly spread. Mistress Indra wasn’t nearly as bold as she looked to Al- all she knew was what she’d been told by some of the girls and what she’d seen in a few dirty magazines she’d found while cleaning up after horny couples. But she looked at Al and saw the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes- lust for her! Mistress Indra really had little experience with men lusting for her- most guys looked right through her- but this one seemed different.

She examined the key ring conspicuously hanging in the air to one side of the bed (Al loved to see his freedom so near and yet so far) and then stepped into the bathroom to study the apparatus. Quickly seeing what was supposed to happen, she stepped back out and watched the guy watching her as she took the keys in her hand and broke the string. (Years of maid service had given her strength.) Al realized that he was now helpless before Mistress Indra; escape was impossible unless she allowed it, and that didn’t seem likely. Al’s heart sank, but his cock didn’t.

Mistress Indra stepped to the open suitcase and poked around in the collection of toys she found there- more handcuffs, straps, dildos, lengths of chain, vibrators, and other stuff she wasn’t sure about. Ahhh… more condoms! She picked one up and read “Ribbed for her pleasure”. With a smile- she recognized the advertising slogan- she ripped open the package and carefully rolled number 3 down over Al’s throbbing cock.

“Ah… you like that, don’t you? You like Indra’s touch?” Al soundlessly shouted ‘yes’, and Mistress Indra decided that if some was good, more ought to be even better, and she promptly enshrouded Al’s cock in another layer of ribbed latex. Mistress Indra also knew that a condom, and especially several, would lessen any sensations Al might feel. And a Dominatrix was supposed to minimize his sensations, delay his climax…

She had heard about barbaric things Pakistani men did to women to destroy their ability to have an orgasm, thus increasing their ability to satisfy their partners. (Research ‘clitorectomy’ if you doubt this!) Indra had fortunately escaped such barbarities and had experienced several orgasms, but at any rate some American men seemed fascinated by the forced delay of their own orgasms.

Mistress Indra knelt on the bed and played with his nipples for a while. She hadn’t been with a man for quite some time, and she loved playing with his body. Something about his inability to either resist or respond caused a tingling deep inside her- a moist tingling.

Mistress Indra slipped off the bed and thought for a moment about getting naked and using the guy. No, the girls in the magazines all wore sexy underwear, and they seemed to always make love in it too. She turned her back on Al, bent slightly, and slipped her panties down.

She looked back and saw Al’s eyes bugging out as she lowered her panties slowly. She had been told that she had a nice butt, but her cultural modesty had always kept her from really appreciating it- until now. She wiggled a little and saw how the man’s entire body strained at his bonds- especially his organ, which looked like it was made of iron.

Mistress Indra returned to the bed and reached out to stroke Al’s cock- yes, it felt as hard as iron, and just about as heavy. What to do next?

She did what seemed reasonable given the circumstances- she straddled his legs and then squirmed her way up over his hips. Al’s hands, cuffed together close to his chest, strained up toward her. She smiled and reached up to her breasts while Al stared, pulling her boobs up out of her bra until they rested on the shelf of the bra. She tweaked her nipples, already erect and hard.

For a moment, she bent over and let Al get his hands on them. He pressed her nipples between his fingers and went mad with the feeling of her soft, warm flesh. She rubbed her breasts over his face and his gagged mouth, smiling at his efforts to get his closed mouth over her nipples.

Mistress Indra pulled back and away from him. “Shame, shame… naughty man! You are going to be used, not use me.” She slapped him gently on the side of his gagged face.

Mistress Indra reached back between her nylon-covered thighs and found his organ- his cock. She held it still as she wiggled her hips and positioned herself over its tip. It had been so long since she’d had a man, and now she had one at her service!

She lowered herself onto his throbbing erection, savoring the moment of penetration by his hot meat. Then her biology took over and she began a gentle stroking, fucking herself slowly, stoking her fires of lust.

For what seemed like hours Mistress Indra took her pleasure as the ‘ribs of pleasure’ stroked her sensitive flesh. She looked down into Al’s eyes, which alternately closed with the delightful sensations she was inflicting on him and opened to stare into the dark eyes of his Mistress Indra.

Finally Mistress Indra felt the unmistakable twinges of an orgasm approaching- an orgasm which had been so long in coming she had almost forgotten it. Her body told her what to do: she reached for her nipples with both hands and pumped her hips up and down, driving the captive meat deep into her. Her orgasm exploded in her belly, and she held still while she clamped down on the intruder, wiggling slightly as she Experienced the delight.

Finally she relaxed, the spasms ended, and let go of her nipples, which she knew would be sore for half an hour- she’d gotten a little carried away! She moved up, feeling Al’s hot, rigid and unfulfilled cock slide out of her, leaving her with an ‘empty’ feeling. She stepped off the bed and reached over for Al’s cock. “Awww… you didn’t come, did you, Sir? Gee, that’s too bad. Maybe later!”

Mistress Indra picked up her panties and watched Al’s face as she pulled them up over her ‘treasure chest’. Then she rearranged her bra, pulled her uniform shift back on, and patted Al gently on the side of his sweating, frustrated face. Without a word, she left and locked the door behind her. Al stared with wide eyes at the blank surface of the door.

Part Three

Al stared at the door, then at the blank monitor, then at the door, for what seemed like hours but really was only thirty minutes. Finally he heard a key in the door and Mistress Indra entered with another maid. “Hello, Mister Al! Meet my friend Frieda.” The other maid stepped forward, looked at him, and broke into giggles.

Frieda wore the same maid’s uniform as Mistress Indra, except larger. She was by appearance and accent Mexican*, maybe forty, a couple of inches taller than Mistress Indra, and several pounds heavier. From his position on the bed in the center of the room, Al guessed she was about 5’8” and about 240 pounds.

No way did Frieda’s shape hourglass-sexy, but she looked really attractive in a strange sexy-mama sort of way. Much of her excess weight was in her bust (which projected like a cliff over her belly) and her butt (which almost made it look like she was smuggling pillows under her dress). All in all, she was extra-voluptuous in a lush homespun sort of way, but then again nobody had asked Al. And they weren’t about to!

Mistress Frieda (Al decided he’d better think of her that way from the start) was still giggling so hard that her sides hurt. “Indra, this is crazy! I should know- my boyfriend Jorge liked to get tied up too. Thank you so much for inviting me to your party!”

Mistress Indra pulled off her uniform shift and pulled up a chair on the far side the bed. She slid her panties off and sat down on the edge of the chair, her legs spread. Al stared at her open crotch, his eyes wide with lust. His cock, which had wilted while they were gone and her was alone with his concerns, had once again returned to its usual rigidity.

Al’s attention was pulled away from Mistress Indra by the movement as Mistress Frieda stood at the side of the bed and unhooked her uniform shift. She pulled it up and over her head. As it rose, Al watched her broad but firm legs (you stay in shape being a maid) came into view. The shift rose further, and she showed Al her firmly girdled belly.

With a final tug, Mistress Frieda displayed herself in an open-bottom corset over a pair of white cotton panties. The corset was the old-fashioned boned style with laces- Al hadn’t seen anything like that since he saw his grandma’s hanging on the line. The top of it was a bra, of course, but a mega-bra, which struggled to contain what had to be at least a 48” bust. The bra was really too small for her, and her boobs made up for the difference by bulging liquidly over the top, an involuntary push-up effect.

Mistress Frieda bent slightly, giving Al a view down her stupendous cleavage as she reached down and pushed her panties down and off. The corset reached halfway between her waist and her crotch, giving Al a clear view of a bush as thick as a forest. Between her heavy thighs, he could see that her crotch was as wide as his hand, maybe more.

The bed heaved up and down as Mistress Frieda knelt on it and crawled up beside him. She reached behind his head and loosened his gag. “Mister Al, I need your lips. Do you promise to be quiet? If you yell or anything like that, I’ll have to gag you again, and if I’m left unsatisfied, well, Jorge taught me what to do to keep you in line.” She reached down and gave his balls a gentle squeeze. Al figured out what she meant and relaxed while she removed the gag from his mouth.

Al needed no persuasion. “Mistress Frieda, I am happy to be of service to you. There will be no noise, I promise you.” “Good- thank you. Now be quiet.” Mistress Frieda dropped the gag beside his head and pivoted on one knee to straddle his chest; Al looked down his length at her large belly and broad, extravagantly hairy bush with a mixture of fear and dread which was belied by his tree-like erection.

Mistress Frieda smiled at the expression on his face and knee-walked up his body, reaching down to squeeze his elbows in until his face disappeared between her thick thighs. Mistress Indra picked up her chair and moved it down to the foot of the bed where she had a sterling view of his chin mere centimeters away from Frieda’s thick bush. Through the thick hair, she could see Frieda’s thick pussy lips hanging heavily down, wetly awaiting Al’s service.

“You know what you have to do for me, don’t you, Mister Al?”

“Yes, Mistress Frieda, I do.”

“Tell me what you’re going to do for me!”

“I’m going to use my tongue, the only thing I have available, to bring you pleasure. I’m completely bound and can’t reach you with my cock, but I will use my tongue on your pussy to make you feel all the good sensations you can.”

“That’s the right idea, but you’re going to be gentle and take your time to make me cum. You’re going to take me slowly to the edge of a huge orgasm and you’re going to keep me there as long as I want you to. Right?”

“Yes, Mistress. Since I’m helplessly bound, I know that I can’t come without your permission, so I will be able to devote myself to your pleasure with no thought of my own.”

“Very good- at least you know that you can’t come until I decide you can come. Now shut up and go to work.”

Mistress Indra watched between Mistress Frieda’s heavy thighs as she moved up over Al’s face and slowly lowered her incredibly furry bush to his lips. Al carefully parted her hair with his lips and tongue, his nose filled with her heady scent, until he could start to work parting her fat pussy lips. Mistress Frieda groaned and Al looked up across her belly as she began to work her fingers into the top of her corset, digging for her nipples.

Mistress Indra put her feet up on the footboard, her nylon-covered thighs spread wide, and licked her lips as her hands slipped slowly into her crotch. Mistress Frieda’s knees slipped further apart on the quilt, lowering her pussy onto Al’s face. Her bulging butt began to make circles so Al’s face was forced to follow her.

After a minute or so of Al’s tender ministrations, Mistress Frieda- her face shining with a thin film of passion sweat- reached down to unhook her corset. As it sprang free, her belly surged out and her heavy breasts tumbled free, jiggling massively. She tossed the sturdy garment to the side and devoted both hands to her nipples, twisting them and pinching them until she winced.

Mistress Frieda’s squirming became more and more vigorous, but Al worked desperately and passionately as his deepest fears and delights were realized as- helplessly bound by his own hands- he was forced to sexually service two strange women, with no possibility of his own orgasm. Her meaty crotch skimmed his face lightly, and he struggled to stroke her sensitive flesh gently, to bring her slowly to her own peak of pleasure.

Al’s face was wet with Mistress Frieda’s passionate juices before her guttural sounds became loud enough for him to hear. Actually, Mistress Indra was making almost as much noise as her own excitement had her on the verge of her own orgasm, but years of masturbation had taught her, like it had Al, that the best orgasm is an orgasm delayed, and she dragged it out as long as she could.

Finally Mistress Frieda decided her time had come. “Okay, Mister Al, you may make me cum now! Make it slow and make it last as long as you can.” She lowered her crotch to Al’s face, and Mistress Indra watched as Mistress Frieda’s ass cheeks enveloped his chin.

Al reached out to her clit with his tongue, carefully circling her clit. Mistress Frieda began to buck frantically, making Al struggle to maintain contact with her. Finally, knowing her own orgasm depended on it, she forced her hips more or less still, and Al sucked her clit deep into his mouth.

“Ahhh… that’s it… ahhh… “ Mistress Indra got off her chair and knelt beside Al’s head, wrapping her arms around Mistress Frieda’s chunky body. As Al worked desperately at the thick clit, Mistress Indra bent her head to bite on Mistress Frieda’s nipples as her hands worked desperately at her own crotch. Mistress Frieda grabbed Indra’s head and held it to her heaving breasts.

Mistress Indra’s orgasm broke first, and in her passion she bit down hard on Mistress Frieda’s nipples. Mistress Frieda screamed throatily and started her own orgasm. She threw her weight down hard on Al’s face, her hips humping back and forth, as her juices flooded out onto his helpless face.

A minute or so later, the two maids sagged to the bed, their arms around each other, and covered Al’s head and body with a tangle of satiated female flesh. A few more minutes later, they dragged themselves to their feet, giggling happily as they watched Al’s frustrated struggling, his swollen cock giving mute testimony to his need for release.

After the two ladies quickly dressed, Mistress Frieda picked up the third DVD and slipped it into the PC as Mistress Indra replaced the gag in Al’s mouth. As the FBI warning flashed across the screen, they pushed Mistress Indra’s cart out the door with a cheery “Don’t worry, Mister Al- we’ll be back after our shift is over!”

(* Author’s note- please don’t accuse me of bigotry; Mexico has some of the most beautiful girls in the universe. I just needed a lady of the described characteristics, and Mexico also makes some of the best of those, too. -- RS)