Sunday, 22 September 2013

Dance of desire

Tim had decided to leave the office shortly after 11 in the morning. It was a hot July day in London and he had decided to grab some fresh air and a chance to clear his head, having already been hard at work for four hours.

Wandering around his office, the faint chimes of piano music echoed through the streets towards him. He decided to follow the tuneful trail to its source. Soon after he saw a large red-bricked Victorian building. Most of the windows on the ground floor were open, presumably to let in some air. The music by now had formed into a discernible melody; a dramatic score by Tchaikovsky.

Although he at first held back, the open windows drew him closer, as if they were beckoning him to look inside. His eyes were just above the sill, high enough to observe the large troupe of girls dancing in perfect time to the piano. Their athletic bodies, unrestricted in tight-fitting tops and leggings, twirled, leaped and gyrated in poetic, fluid motion. 

The movement of these graceful creatures made him gasp. Each of the dancers was a beguiling beauty, each of them with incredible physiques. Unknown to him, however, he too was being watched. From across the room, a dark patrician figure rose from his seat. His silver hair caught the sunlight as he walked behind the girls. Dressed in a dark linen suit he betrayed no signs of feeling the heat.

Tim scurried away before the windows slammed shut. The dancers despaired at having to work in even hotter conditions. The older man, having hidden his students from view, turned back and resumed his place in the chair. Alana didn't flinch when the windows slammed and continued her movements with as much effort as ever, despite the uncomfortable conditions. Kyle, the pianist, also continued without pause.

Around the room sat several male dancers, enjoying the sight of their female counterparts. They waited patiently for their turn to dance. They, too, had bodies which many would envy. Being able to deftly lift a dance partner without any effort necessitated strong muscles, but they also needed to be equally graceful and light on their toes.

At last the music stopped and the dancers were allowed to stretch and rest. The teacher moved through them, giving tips and not holding back in his criticisms. This was, after all, one of London's premier ballet troupes and competition amongst them was tough. Nevertheless, they all maintained fiercely strong friendships.

"Alana stand up." 
"Can I grab some water first, Mr Deauville?"
"No. Explain to me why you put so little effort into your pirouettes."
"But I was putting in effort and I was perfectly in time."
"Timing isn't everything! You need to put more bounce in your spin, otherwise you look like a clumsy spinning top. Now you can go and fetch your  water, but you really must try harder."

Alana walked out to the water cooler and tried to regain her composure. She was exasperated; she knew she was a good dancer. In fact, she was a prime candidate for prima ballerina. So why did Mr Deauville give her such a hard time?

She greatly disliked that man, hated him in fact. But he was the best in the business and so could get away with acting like an authoritarian prick. He had once been a ballet dancer, too, and had retained his physique and good looks despite his years. Maybe it was his bitterness about not being young and lithe any more that made him such a difficult man. It was hard to consider him handsome when he acted so unreasonably.

"Hey hon, ignore that bastard. You're the best dancer we've got and if he doesn't realise that then he's a fool."
"Thanks Tab. He's just so frustrating."

Tabitha, one of Alana's best friends, was also one of the best dancers in the company. They supported each other and shared a flat as well as gossip about the troupe. The piano struck up again and they both glanced through the door to watch the boys dance. Their thin tights left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and by now the girls knew who was and who wasn't circumcised.

"Are you going to Jamie's party?" Asked Tab.
"I was going to but don't really feel up for it."
"Come on...please! I need you there with me."
"You need me to be your wingman you mean."
"Well, maybe, but it'll be fun! Don't let Deauvile get you down."
"His parties also tend to be pretty debauched."
"We'll leave before that happens. Please?"
"Fine, but you owe me cake."


Tabitha opted to wear a revealing outfit consisting of a tiny grey miniskirt and plunging yellow vest. With perfectly round breasts that most women would envy, she actually wished they were much smaller as they could affect her performance, and therefore held her back from being an exceptional dancer.

Alana wore jeans and a tight black t-shirt. She, and her smaller-sized breasts, weren't here to attract anyone. Jamie's parents were wealthy, and had bought their son this incredible bachelor pad near Covent Garden. It came with a rooftop terrace on which Jamie and his friends had set up a barbecue. There was also a paddling pool in which some of the dancers cooled off on this sultry summer night.

Being such a tight group, Alana knew everyone here and could happily converse with them all for many hours. There were also a couple of younger dance coaches and Kyle the pianist, all of whom Alana got on well with. But she was here for her friend and so followed her wherever she went, ready to step in and help her achieve her goal. Her goal, at the moment, just so happened to be the host. 

Jamie was busy flipping burgers. There was also copious amounts of salad, couscous and vegetables. In a career where you depended on your body and figure, what you put into it had to be carefully measured. Tab and Alana helped themselves to bowls of lettuce, tomato and grilled Mediterranean vegetables before approaching the barbecue.

"Hey Tab, hey Alana."
"Hi Jamie." They replied before kissing him on the cheek.
"Perfect evening for it." Said Tab.
"It sure is."
"Lovely terrace, too."

Alana sensed that the conversation was rapidly becoming awkward and so decided to dredge up something that Tab had mentioned a couple of days ago.

"So, Tab, did you ever talk to Deauvile about him perving on you in the shower?"
"He did what?!" Exclaimed Jamie, almost dropping a burger.
"Oh, yeah. I was taking a shower in the locker room after Tuesday's session and thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye."
"Well, I was completely naked and dripping wet so I immediately grabbed a towel. But yes, I think it was him."
"Dirty bastard." Commented Alana, but after Tab's description of herself in the shower she could see that her friend now had Jamie's complete attention.

She took her food, grabbed a pomegranate juice and found herself a seat at the edge of the terrace. In the street below, several floors down, tourists thronged and people began seeking out restaurants for dinner. She could also see the twinkling capsules of the London Eye from here.

Before long she had been joined by Drew, who had started at the company at the same time as her. Because of this, and the fact that they both had been brought up in Kent, they had formed a friendly bond. Their relationship had never gone beyond that; both were too content with how things were. 

They chatted for over an hour about work and the events of the past couple of weeks. Alana was happy to talk only with this man tonight. She wanted to remain just friends, but that didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy his good looks. He was tall, as many of the dancers were. But, unlike the others, he had a unique rugged look which came from his shiny, tousled hair, stubbled face and bright blue eyes. It was a look that often got him cast as a villain, a role he was more than happy to take.

Alana also got the impression that he enjoyed being with her, too. She was aware that, with her long, straight black hair, green eyes and high cheekbones, she could possibly be thought of as attractive. A splash and giggling redirected her attention towards the paddling pool. Tab had stripped to her bikini and was messing around with Jamie. Drew had just tried restarting the conversation when the host stood up to make an announcement.

"Jelly wrestle!" He yelled, somewhat drunkenly.

Tab whooped with joy as the host hustled away to make a pool full of jelly. Alana rolled her eyes at Drew. He laughed in response then watched as Jamie poured jug after jug of melted jelly cubes into the water. Tab and another girl who remained in the pool with her yelped as ice cubes were next added to the mix.

"You're not taking part then?" Asked Drew.
"Oh hell no, I've seen what happens in this situation."
"You have?"
"Well, maybe not seen, but I've certainly heard. I want to remain completely clothed thank you. How about you? Going to take on Tab?"
"Er, I don't think so." Drew laughed. "I'm pretty sure that Jamie intended this to be a girls-only competition."

Tabitha and the other girl, Yvonne, had helped themselves to more drinks. They knew what was expected of them and so were steeling their resolve. The jelly had begun to harden. Both girls wore string bikinis. They were now surrounded by most of the party attendees. 

"Five, four, three, two, one, wrestle!"

They circled each other for a while, the audience yelling and growing more excited. Yvonne suddenly pounced forward and took hold of Tab. They grappled then slid into the jelly. Now they were covered in the slime which increased the men's enjoyment. Alana laughed at Roger and Himanshu who were throwing even more jelly over the girls.

Their hands were everywhere and soon enough Tab's bikini top came undone and fell from her breasts. A loud cheer arose, which she acknowledged before continuing topless. She soon had her revenge and so now both girls were wrestling almost completely naked.

Alana and Drew watched from a distance whilst continuing to chat. Alana noticed the excitement of most of the men, visible in their trousers. She also watched the two pairs of bouncing breasts and admired the boldness of her friends. Drew was enjoying the view, but Alana dared not look at his crotch in case he caught her staring.

The men around the pool yelled and cheered as first one girl, then the other lost their bikini bottoms. Their bodies glistened with slimy jelly, both now trying hard to win and oblivious to their nudity. Tab was now lying on top of Yvonne, pinning her down. 

Yvonne struggled to regain an advantage but the slippery goo was making it difficult to gain a purchase on her foe. Her hands slid all over Tab's body until a finger, then two, hooked into her arse. The audience watched, transfixed and ecstatic, as Tab squirmed against this intrusion, but she remained on top. Jamie, mouth open, at last came to his senses and declared Tab the winner.

He held his hand out and helped the naked girl, dripping goo from her orifices, out of the pool. She was given a towel before Jamie led her naked away from those hungry eyes and into his bedroom. Tab had won her man. Yvonne was helped out by Roger and Himanshu but Alana didn't see what happened to her as Drew began speaking.

"Well, that was exciting." He said, somewhat breathless.
"Yes, very." Alana replied, pleased for her friend yet jealous of the attention she had commanded. She was also a little turned on by the sight of her beautiful friend naked and lusted after by all those men.

Alana and Drew left the party together in the ember glow one gets having enjoyed the company of someone attractive and interesting. They ended their evening-long conversation with a fond farewell and secret thoughts of what it would be like were they to become a couple. They remained, though, resolutely good friends.


It was so hot in the studio the next day that sweat dripped from the dancers onto the floor, causing some of them to slip. Mr Deauville remained unmoved, as did the closed windows. The whispered conclusion amongst the troupe was that they were being punished for the antics of last night.

Alana managed to grab some time with Tab who, despite the trying conditions, had a satisfied grin affixed to her face. She also, overnight, had gained the attention of most of the male and some of the female dancers, as had fellow wrestler Yvonne. Their admirers were projecting memories of the girls' naked bodies onto their tight-fitting clothing.

"So, you fucked him?"
"Oh yes. It was...good."
"Just good?"
"Just good. But to be honest I was a big ball of horn having been naked, and somewhat probed, in front of all the guys."
"You looked fucking delicious, and it was obvious that all the guys wanted to lick that jelly from your body."
"Yeah, I'm sorry if we became centre of attention. Actually, I'm not sorry, but I hope it didn't distract Drew too much."
"Well he was distracted, but then so was I. Besides, we're only friends, remember?"
"Sure, only friends."
"Alright then, moving on. So you shaved then?"
"Don't be vile 'Lana!" Giggled Tab.
"Oops, talking of vile." Alana whispered back and nodded towards the far end of the room.

Mr Deauville strutted towards them down through the canteen. Behind him walked one of the young coaches, Jon, who had been at last night's party. Both of them looked to be in a dark mood.

"Tabitha come to my office. Alana wait there"

Alana squeezed her friend's hand. They both correctly guessed that word had got out about the antics of last night. Tab and the two men disappeared around the corner and Alana heard the door to Mr Deauville's office slam shut. Soon after came the sound of Tab's raised voice. Deauville, as ever, remained quiet, despite his anger.

After several minutes the voices died down. Alana edged closer. The piano and dancing had resumed in the other room. In the office there could still be heard low voices but then these stopped too. Next came a sound that Alana couldn't quite believe. 

It sounded like flesh on flesh. A hard slapping sound. She was about to run into the office when she heard it again. And again and again, lots of loud slaps in rapid succession. Could it be? Were Deauville and Jon spanking Tab's bare backside? Alana was both horrified and curious. 

The spanking went on for a few minutes. When it stopped Alana scurried back to her seat. She heard the door opening and Tab came back into the room, alone. She had a wide grin on her face.

"What the hell happened?" Asked Alana.
"Those dirty bastards almost kicked me out of the troupe. Instead they told me to pull my tights down. Deauville then gave me a bloody good spanking."
"What?! You're kidding?"
"No, I shit you not. At first I was thoroughly humiliated but then, you know what? I actually started to enjoy it."
"You enjoyed..."

They were interrupted by Deauville and Jon coming back into the room. Deauville was carrying what looked like an egg timer. Alana squirmed. She hoped she wouldn't get the same treatment as her friend. Or did she? Tab had disappeared into the studio. It was now just the three of them in the room. The dance teacher beckoned Alana into his office and she followed.

"Dancers should be graceful, dignified creatures." Deauville pronounced in that haughty tone of his.
"But I..."
"They should not be frolicking naked on a roof."
"I didn't..."
"Nor should they associate with those who do." Alana didn't reply. 

Jon produced a collar from behind his back. This immediately aroused Alana's suspicions. The junior coach handed the collar to her. It was wide and too large for a dog. The black leather felt smooth in her hands, a few silver rings had been sewn in. Deauville instructed her to put it on.

"This is a test that many budding ballerinas have attempted. We have to rely on our sponsors. Our sponsors expect the very best girls." 

As he was saying this he was attaching the timer to the back of the collar, which was now fastened around Alana's neck. She wondered what point he was trying to make.

"You are one of our best, Alana. In fact I do believe you have it in you to be one of the best ever. Now, let's see if you're able to maintain your composure. Follow me."

Jon led the way into the studio. The other dancers were all sat around the edge taking a break. Deauville nodded at Kyle who began playing a complex piece on the piano. Alana felt the timer being set, but she couldn't see how long for.

"Dance." Said Deauville.

She hesitated and looked around the room. Everyone was watching. The piano approached a place in the music where Alana could begin her routine. Trying to forget what was around her neck she began twirling and leaping around the room. The others disappeared, the walls vanished and the floor softened beneath her feet. She was in that magical place where there was nothing but her and the music and she felt as light as air.

The harsh buzz and strong vibration of the timer broke through the delicate tones of the piano. Alana had been dancing for just over twelve minutes. Every single one of those watching, dancers and coaches alike, gaped in awe as the beautiful ballerina continued dancing without even a moment of hesitation.  Deauville allowed the piano and dance to carry on for another minute before ordering both to stop. The noise of the timer was drowned out by cheers and applause.

After the fuss died down and Alana was doing stretches she was approached by one of the older girls, Zara. Alana had a lot of respect for her and, at 24, was eight years her junior and so always happy to listen to advice.

"That was very impressive Alana." Zara sat beside her.
"Thank you, but I'm sure anyone could do it."
"Oh I'm pretty sure they couldn't, which is why I need to speak with you."
"Sounds serious."
"Kind of. Have you seen Himanshu and Roger today?"
"No, I don't think so."
"They've both been sacked because of last night. Jamie is only here still because his family donates so much."
"Oh shit."
"Deauvile is a protective man, you see. He looks after us girls like a jealous lover. But I've noticed that he has taken a particular interest in you."
"Yes, but he has had favourites in the past. Now, this may sound a little strange. Every now and then Deauvile holds parties for donors at his huge house in Oxfordshire. Previous favoured girls have been told to attend or risk losing their place in the troupe."
"Oh god."
"It gets worse. I was friends with such a girl and she told me that she was expected to entertain the donors, most of whom were men."
"You don't mean...?"
"Yes. You'll be told to strip and...well, you'll find out the rest."
"Shit, I don't believe this."
"I'm sorry Alana. The only thing I can say to console you is this will only last for a couple of years and that my friend kind of enjoyed it. You know the prima ballerinas of the Royal Ballet, the Kirov, the New York Ballet? They were all Deauvile's favourites, they all went through this, but look at them now. It's just something you have to do."


Alana and Tabitha seemed to have switched personalities. Following her spanking Tab had become less hedonistic. It was as if she had achieved everything she wanted before concentrating entirely on her dancing. She was also having regular sex with Jamie and so didn't see the need to be outrageous and gain his attention.

The punishment that Mr Deauville had doled out to Alana also stayed with her, as well as, of course, what Zara had said. But unlike Tab, Alana wanted to rebel. She had done nothing wrong and, besides, she wanted to test the older man. He often occupied her thoughts and she knew she should not think of him as anything but her coach. But he was still a handsome man, and strong, too, as strong as the young male dancers. Alana was sure that he could pick her up and hold her above his head like the best of them.

Alana had become more Tabitha-like, for want of a better way to describe it. She flirted with the boys, wore ever-more revealing clothes and attended every party going. Her friend, Drew, began pulling away from her. This wasn't the friend he had come to know and love. He had tried to guide her away from this downward spiral but she was having none of it.

Halloween loomed and with it numerous invites to house parties. It was a Saturday, Tab and Alana had just spent the day shopping for clothes as well as costumes for Jamie's party, which they knew would be the best of all they had to choose from. Before they went home they had stopped for a few drinks and now wandered through Covent Garden slightly tipsy.

The big, bright sign seemed to call out to Alana; 'Decadence Dance Bar. Tonight only: Amateur strip, the hottest competition in town'. Alana went up for a closer look, dragging Tab behind her. In the small print was instructions for entrants. The competition started in ten minutes and competitors must bring their own outfits. In Alana's bag was a slutty cheerleader uniform and lingerie, which she had bought for Jamie's party.

"You've gotta be joking?" Said Tab.
"Come on, it'll be fun."
"I'm not going to strip in front of strangers 'Lana!"
"Exactly, strangers, no one will know us. Plus the prize is £1,000."
"No, thanks. Come on, let's go."

But Alana turned and marched past the bouncers and through the doors. Tab reluctantly followed out of a sense of responsibility for her friend. The club offered hardly any light apart from the brightly-lit stage on which shone a floor to ceiling pole. Dozens of comfortable-looking red sofas faced the stage, all of them full of men and one or two women.

"Am I too late to register?" Alana was asking a man behind a desk.
"Almost. Do you have a costume?" Replied the surprisingly attractive dark-haired manager.
"Have you done this sort of thing before?"
"No, but I am a dancer."
"OK, basic rules; stay on the stage, you can only go topless, any money thrown on stage is yours, your dance must last three minutes, no more and no less. Who's this?" 
"This is Tab, she's my chaperone."
"If you say so. She can stay out here. Don't worry, we'll find somewhere for her to sit. Last thing; what music do you want?"
"Do you have any Goldfrapp?"
"Good choice, I'm sure we can find something. Changing room is through here. There are five other girls competing."

In the changing room it was like Halloween had come early. The other girls were each in faintly ridiculous costumes. They all said a warm welcome to Alana and they chatted amiably to ward off any nerves. The girl dressed as a sexy nurse was in fact a nurse, something they all had a good laugh about.

From her shopping bags Alana pulled out her cheerleader uniform. She held up the big cheerleader pants then rummaged in one of her other bags and extracted a new pink thong. She held both pieces of underwear up and thought again of Deauville. She dumped the big pants and slipped on the thong. The first girl had already completed her dance and had returned to the room exhilarated and almost naked.

This was too much for the quiet blonde in the corner. She put back on her ordinary clothes, wished the others well and departed quickly. Alana kept her rebellious self front and centre and began thinking through her routine. She put thoughts of how she had suddenly become this toy for men out of her mind, and barely noticed that the nurse had returned naked from the stage. Doubts still seeded themselves but then she heard the start of her music and the performer in her took over. She strode out through the curtains and on to the stage.

Bright lights illuminated the narrow stage, which jutted out into the middle of the room and was surrounded by a now horny audience. Alana began doing what she did best; dance. She hadn't danced in heels much before but her tiptoe poise overcame this. 

Her movements weren't raunchy, instead she incorporated her balletic style into the removal of clothes. As she pirouetted she unbuttoned her top and flung it out to Tab, who was sitting near the front. Next she held her left leg high above her head, a move which exposed her thong-clad arse beneath the tiny skirt and had cash raining onto the stage.

She spun again and removed her bra. Her breasts, slightly less than a handful, came free. Their youthful, perky shape kept them pointing up and out despite the fast rotations. Oblivious to the salivating audience Alana continued to dance and spin, the movement causing her miniskirt to rise and reveal her perfect bottom. Soon the skirt was removed too.

Dressed only in her pink thong and white stilettos, Alana worked some stripper moves into her ballet routine. She dropped to her knees and pressed her breasts into the stage, giving everyone a glimpse of her pink privates, barely contained by the thong. The feel of cool air on her exposed holes gave her a perverse pleasure.

Tab watched her friend with awe and admiration. Her long, unblemished legs, her toned midriff, firm tits and smooth marble bum. So enraptured was Tab by the beauty on stage that she didn't notice two smartly dressed men get up and leave.

Alana finished on the shiny black stage with one leg stretched in front and the other behind, the twin half moon curves of her creamy buttocks protruding provocatively. When the music ended moments later the audience cheered boisterously and showered her with cash. Gathering up her earnings, Alana quickly tottered off stage.

The contestants all returned to the stage together and stood semi-naked, awaiting the judges decision. Alana learned from Tab later that the nurse had stripped fully nude and produced some very x-rated moves. The judges ignored the fact that the rules banned total nudity and awarded her the prize. Nevertheless, Alana left with almost £200 in tips and her sense of rebelliousness quelled, for now.


Alana was summoned to Mr Deauville's office.

"So you're not interested in staying at the academy?" Deauville began as soon as the student closed the door behind her.
"No! I don't want to leave." Alana replied, immediately losing her composure.
"I'm sure you don't, but you were given a warning. You then decided to perform at a strip club."
"How did you..."
"How do you think that reflects on you, and on us?"
"But I..."
"It's a shame, you had such potential."
"Please, I'm sorry, please don't kick me out."

Mr Deauville didn't respond and the silence, after such an intense exchange, hung heavy in his small office. He returned his attention to his computer.

"Please leave, now."
"No, please. Please. I'll not do anything like that again."
"Too late. Some of our sponsors saw you and they're very disappointed."
"Oh god. I...what can I do?" Something suddenly occurred to her. "I've heard that other girls have been invited to your parties."

He stopped typing and stood. He then went to the window and gazed down to the busy street below. Alana was shaking with nerves and had become suddenly aware of how very much she wanted to stay in the troupe. A small part of her was quietly admiring the power of Deauville, and how that seemed to enhance his attractiveness. At last he turned and picked up the egg timer.

"Put your hands behind your head and look up at the ceiling." He instructed.

Alana did as she was told. She could just about see Deauville pick up his egg timer but couldn't see what time he had set it to. His next action came as a surprise. But somehow she had been expecting that something like this would happen, since the day she stepped into that strip club. 

She felt his strong hand grab the waist band of her dance tights. No dancer wore underwear beneath this item of clothing, and Alana was no different. She felt the egg timer being placed on the gusset of her tights and when Deauville let go of the waist band she felt the ticking of the plastic object on her pussy. The older man had expertly located the timer so that her lips enveloped it. It was in direct contact with her clit.

Deauville returned to his work, leaving Alana to stand perfectly still with that ticking time bomb against her skin. The anticipation was terrible, her nerves were pulled tight. A minute passed and her arms and neck began to ache. She found it more comfortable to arch her back but this just pressed the timer even harder against her nub.

Anticipation throbbed through her. She couldn't bear the tension, but didn't dare move. At least the plastic had now warmed to match her body temperature. More minutes passed, Deauville typing away indifferently. He stopped and looked up.

The whirring plastic burst into life. It thrummed hard against Alana's flesh. The only reaction she gave was an audible gasp, otherwise she remained with her hands clasped firmly behind her head. Deauville stood and went over to her. He locked eyes with her and knew that she was being intensely stimulated. She just clenched her teeth and stared back.

At last the timer stopped, but Alana's pussy continued to throb. Deauville thrust his hand into her clothing to retrieve the gadget. She thought she saw just a flicker of a grin tug at his mouth when he felt her wetness on the plastic. He returned to behind his desk on which he placed the timer. At last he looked into her eyes.

"You need to prove to the sponsors that you're committed to being a dancer. You were on course to becoming prima ballerina, let's see what you can do to improve your chances. In the next few days you'll receive an invite. Now go back to the studio."
"Yes, thank you Mr Deauville."
"No girl, you call me Sir now."


The days following her meeting with Mr Deauville were tortuous for Alana. She knew that she had to make up for what she did, but the thought of exactly what it was she may have to do terrified her.

Deauville continued to occupy her thoughts and she sought out as much information about him as she could gather. She even found old footage of him dancing. His body was magnificent and his dancing was like nothing she'd ever seen before. He truly had talent, no wonder he was so revered.

She also dug into the history of famous prima ballerinas who had once been under the tutelage of Deauville. No news story, magazine article or biography mentioned parties that involved nudity. Whatever it was she would be expected to do, at least she knew it would remain a secret.

Conversations with Zara and Tab about what may happen at the party had eased her mind a little. Now it wasn't what she would have to do that concerned her, just the worry of not knowing exactly what may be done to her. Her friends also reiterated how great this would be for her career and even admitted to being somewhat jealous.

The invite greeted her when she returned home on Thursday evening. It stood out amongst the usual bills and junk mail. Immediately she slit open the cream envelope on which her name and address had been written in beautiful calligraphy.

Alana Edwards
You have been invited to
Stanton Manor
Saturday 8 October
8pm, carriages at midnight
Your car will collect you at 7pm

This last line had been written beneath the print in the same flamboyant handwriting as was on the envelope. Alana ran her fingers over the expensive stationary, contemplating the near future.

For all of Friday Alana chatted and danced. She ate and drank. She didn't talk nor think about Saturday. After watching some more Deauville videos and reading about his achievements, that strange sense of desire overcame her again. She even found herself looking forward to the event, but this may have been due to a desire to get it over and done with.

At exactly 7pm on Saturday the doorbell sounded. Alana had picked out a simple dress and grey ankle boots. Her chauffeur wore an expensive suit and peaked cap. He held open the door on the brand new black Mercedes. The interior was upholstered in white leather. Between the rear seats a bucket of ice containing an open bottle of champagne was cooling.

She helped herself to a glass as the car glided through the city streets. Suburbs soon flashed by and at last the frenetic metropolis was replaced by hushing trees and undulating fields. Amidst this verdant countryside nestled the home of Mr Deauville; Stanton Manor. 

Large, ornate metal gates silently swung open. A long gravel road through a small forest ended when the green wooded curtains drew apart to reveal a massive house. Jesus, Deavile must be loaded thought Alana.

The chauffeur opened the car door and another of Deauville's staff opened the imposing red front door of the house. As Alana passed her she sensed that she was being assessed. The elegant woman was in her forties, attractive and stern looking. She led the younger girl through the house to a grand marble staircase.

The more she saw of this incredible property the more Alana was impressed with her tutor's vast wealth. For a couple of minutes she forgot why she was here. But then they came to a door, which the woman opened for Alana. The room boasted a thick white carpet, dark, patterned wallpaper and what looked like a large ensuite. 

"If you need anything press that button on the dresser. It's about quarter to eight now, I will be back for you at half past."
"Thank you."

After the door was closed Alana went to the dresser. On it she saw expensive make up, on which that same cream stationery had been used as a label. On it was written 'Paint'. Besides this was a pair of red and black Louboutin heels, thin black leather collar and Agent Provocateur underwear with the label 'Wear'.

She picked up stockings, suspender belt and a tiny G-string. Shocked that there was no bra or corset, she was however relieved to see a razor - wearing a G-string that barely covered anything could have been even more embarrassing. Next to the razor was a plastic bulb-shaped object. 'Clean' said the label.

Alana took a closer look. A nozzle protruded from one end of the bulb. Suddenly realising what it was she dropped it to the table. Why had she been given this? The douche was designed for anal cleansing, which implied that even this part of her was to be used tonight.

She took a deep breath, grabbed the razor and douche then headed to the shower. Emerging several minutes later, feeling perfectly clean inside and out, she began her preparations by applying the make up. She heard voices downstairs as she slid on the suspender belt, stockings and G-string. 

Next she stepped into the shoes and stood looking at herself in the dresser mirror. The reflection pleased her. A perfect, curvy female form with a small handful of breasts and firm stomach. The G-string really was tiny and covered only half of each labia. She was glad that she had shaved her pussy completely.

Lastly Alana put on the collar. The leather was amazingly soft against her skin. There were two small metal loops on the front which jingled when she walked. She looked in the mirror again and noticed quite how much the heels pushed out her bum and tits. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

The lady who had greeted her at the door entered then walked around Alana, this time unashamedly assessing her. Downstairs the voices had died down, and Alana was suddenly struck by nerves.

"Come." Instructed the stern lady before turning and walking out the door.

Alana followed, nerves gnawing at her stomach. Thick carpets ran down a long corridor and down another staircase. Together they moved soundlessly until they reached a very long, narrow room with a red curtain down one side. In the middle of the room stood Deauville. Alana was led to him. She suddenly felt even more naked than she did before, but something inside her made her refuse to try and cover up.

"You'll be performing The Dying Swan." He whispered. "Dance the simple version, you are wearing heels after all."
"Yes Mr...Sir."
"Good girl. The sponsors are looking forward to seeing what you're capable of."
"Yes Sir."

He turned and began walking away. But then he stopped, hesitated and walked quietly back to her. His right hand lifted. With the back of it he stroked her breasts, her nipples pinging as his hand moved over them. He then ran his fingers down her sides and across her midriff. She stood perfectly still.

"Beautiful." He sighed, before turning once again and leaving the room.

She was left alone in the room, electrified by the touch of her master's hand. The curtains twitched, then slowly drew apart. She turned towards them and what she saw caused her heart to thump hard. This wasn't a long, narrow room. It was a massive room, lined with bookcases and filled with about 20 leather armchairs on which sat men varying in age from about 40 to 70.

She was on a stage. At the edge was a leather flogger, gold vibrator curved at the tip, a small bottle of lube and a leash. These, too, we're labeled. The flogger had a 'Punish' label, the vibrator and lube 'Play' and the leash 'Own'. There was also a label by itself which read 'Eat'. Nerves had now consumed her.

Just then some music started. The Dying Swan by Sant Saens. The numerous expensive speakers made it seem that there was a live orchestra in the room. Alana quickly regained her composure and the dancer in her took over, just as it had in the strip club.

She began the small, delicate movements of the Dying Swan routine. The audience disappeared and she was in her own world, where she danced on the melancholy chords. Only occasionally, when her legs were split and her naked bum stuck out, did she consider her audience. 

The heels hindered her but didn't stop her from giving an excellent performance, after which the men applauded enthusiastically. Embarrassed, and without knowing what else to do, she curtsied, then stood bare breasted and looked out into the darkened room.

When the clapping died down she heard a man, who she thought may have been Jon, the dance coach, begin addressing the still seated audience.

"We begin with punish at one thousand." He announced. Someone in the dark put up their hand.
"We have one thousand, one one? One two? One five? Two thousand?"

Alana realised it was an auction, and was smart enough to know what it was being sold. Her.

"Two five? Three? Three five? Do I hear three five? No? Sold to Mr Fredericks for three thousand pounds."

A rotund, sweating man arose from his seat then walked with Jon to the stage. The man stepped up and Jon handed him the flogger.

"You have five minutes."

The sweaty man looked hungrily at Alana. He flicked the flogger lightly at her breasts. At first she flinched, but then remained still. Each time she was struck her tits jumped. She hated his filthy grin and the look of delight in his eyes.

"Turn around and bend over" He commanded.

She did as instructed and felt the cool leather fronds strike, momentarily cling then fall from her buttocks. He aimed a few swats at her exposed labia. The blows came harder and harder. They began to sting which caused her to breathe in sharply. This only served to increase his pleasure and whip his naked toy harder.

"That's five minutes." Said Jon.
"Magnificent." Uttered Mr Fredericks, admiring the red marks he had left on Alana's buttocks.
"Stand and turn girl." Jon commanded.

When Alana turned she couldn't help but notice the bulge in the bald man's trousers. Disgusted, she averted her gaze downwards.

"Next; play. Starting at four. Four five? Five? Six? Seven? Anybody?" No one responded.

Instead of accepting the last bid Jon strolled up to Alana. He stood behind her and put his hands on her hips. As if revealing a precious work of art he slowly, slowly rolled the G-string down. She felt it stretch over her buttocks, peel off of her pussy and slide off of her legs. Naked, she stood on display to the audience.

"Do I have seven?" Jon resumed. "Eight? Nine? Ten? Come on, let's make it a nice round number for this stunning girl. Thank you, ten! No more bids? Sold to Lord Taylor."

The man didn't look like a lord. He looked too young, was dressed too sharply. He didn't take his eyes off of the naked girl as he approached then mounted the stage. Jon handed him the vibrator.

"Ten minutes."

Flesh-on-flesh contact must be banned, thought Alana as her new master fought the urge to feel her bare skin beneath his hands. Instead he picked up the lube and coated the vibrator. Without turning it on he delicately touched the tip to her pussy.

The gold metal was cold against her skin. Giving herself to this man, to the aroused audience was a thrill. A thrill, which was a great surprise to Alana. She allowed them to own her, she revelled in the power of her nudity and the command it had over these important men.

She looked at her tormentor with submissive eyes. The vibrator nuzzled her parted lips and rubbed up and down the tender flesh beneath. Her clitoris hardened and grew to meet the toy so that when Taylor switched it on she grunted and reflexively moved her hips forward to press harder against it.

The golden baton was slid gently into her. The curve was perfectly angled to reach her g-spot. Lube mingled with her juices and her senses trembled with delight. Being a toy for these men now became a thing to revel in.

He withdrew the vibrator, leaving her wanting more. 

"Turn. Spread your arse. He ordered.

She turned and folded at the waist, presenting herself to him. He teased her nub with the high frequency pulsations. Again he plunged the toy into her glistening cunt. Now he stood aside and circled her dilated anus, which twitched and puckered in anticipation.

The vibrator eased painlessly into her acquiescent hole. Murmurs of approval rumbled over the room. She was fucked in this way until the lord's time was up. He lovingly extracted the sparkling toy and placed it into his jacket pocket.

"You all know what's next; eat! Starting at fifteen thousand, twenty, twenty five, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty. Sixty? Thank you! Seventy, eighty. Eighty thousand pounds? Thank you sir. Ninety? No more bids? Sold to Mr Al Abadi for eighty thousand pounds."

A tall Arabic-looking man stood and came to the stage. He had dark, slicked-back hair and wore a silk grey three-piece suit. His face was adorned with a perfectly trimmed goatee beard and a wide smile that revealed superb teeth.

"Fifteen minutes."
"A cushion, please." Asked Al Abadi.

Jon gave him a thick leather cushion which he placed on the edge of the stage. Al Abadi took Alana's hand in his and led her to it. He guided her to the floor. For a moment she expected him to unzip his trousers but instead he stepped off the stage and stood in front of her.

He adoringly stroked her legs and hips. Then he gently pushed on the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs wide.

"Slide forward lean back and hold your legs apart and high. Higher, girl. And further apart."

She obliged until he was satisfied with her position. Her training as a dancer allowed her to comfortably stay this way. Her new found role as slut allowed her to unthinkingly open herself up to her purchaser.

Al Abadi settled himself in the V of her legs. He kissed her supple thighs and this direct contact provided yet another new sensation for Alana. His beard tickled sensitive skin, his tongue caused ripples of expectation. The efforts with the vibrator had resulted in the dilation of her pussy and arse. Her lustrous pink folds ready for his touch.

He kissed her directly on her cunt, nuzzling the engorged clit. Alana's naked breasts heaved as she breathed deeply in pleasure. His tongue danced out a random pattern over her sex, leaving a trail of saliva. It plunged into her lubricated hole, lapping at her nectar.

"Are you tired girl?" Asked Al Abadi, after several minutes of gorging on her.
"Yes Sir." Replied Alana, her voice quivering from being so close to orgasm.
"Lie on your side and hold your leg. Straight up, that's it."

He leaned over her and nibbled on her nipples then licked away his marks. He then resumed his attentions on her soaking wet cunt. Just when she thought she would surrender herself to euphoria his tongue left the hot pink flesh and moved back. 

The tight aperture of her arse contracted at the first lick, but then relaxed into the feeling. He devoured her, delving deeper and deeper, tasting her clean, earthy essence. Although she missed the sensation on her clit she started to enjoy his slathering wetness in and around her hidden depths.

Just as that wondrous orgasm approached Jon called time. Her oral master gave her one last, long kiss on the spread lips of her pussy before returning to his seat. Alana resumed her standing position, arms clasped behind her back as lube and saliva oozed out of her. She wondered what more could be done to her. The men had fully explored her flesh and crevices.

"Before we continue let's have a round of applause for our entertainer." Said Jon. The men applauded and whistled as Alana remained submissively bared for their delectation.
"So now, the main event; own. I am going to start at seventy. Seventy, there we go. Eighty, ninety, one hundred, one ten. One ten? Thank you. One twenty, one thirty, one forty, one fifty. One fifty to own this beautiful girl for the night. There we go, one fifty. Do I have any more bids? No? Sold to Mr Wesley for one hundred and fifty thousand pounds."

Mr Wesley had been sitting towards the back of the room and so Alana hadn't been able to properly see him before. Now she could see that he was a tall, handsome man and, at about 40 years of age, one of the youngest there. He was dressed impeccably in a perfectly tailored suit that clung to his sturdy frame. Beneath he wore a bright white shirt with gleaming silver cufflinks. His jet black hair was plentiful and swept back from his tanned and elegant face.

"Gentlemen, we have raised almost two hundred and fifty pounds this evening, a record sum." Jon picked up the leash and gave it to the winning bidder. "Mr Wesley you have until 9AM tomorrow morning to enjoy the delights of the stunning Alana. For everyone else, please join us in the conservatory where drinks will be served."

Alana glanced briefly into her new owner's eyes. They were a light greyish blue and fixed on hers. She returned her gaze to the floor as he attached the leash to her collar. The stern lady appeared at the side of the stage.

"Please, follow me." She said.

Mr Wesley told Alana to lead the way so that he could enjoy the wiggle of her nude bum as she followed the lady. The high heels made her legs look even longer than they were, the stockings and suspender belt providing a lacy frame to her taut peach.

They were shown to a room as beautiful as any Alana had seen before. Larger than her entire flat, it boasted a huge fireplace with crackling fire and stone surround, dark wooden floor on which Alana's heels clipped and an intricate rug that ran almost the entire length and width. Opposite the fireplace a king sized four poster bed. On either side of the fireplace windows opened out onto the darkened forest.

"There are condoms, lube, restraints and anything else you may need to enjoy her in that set of drawers. Should you need anything then press that button on the bedside cabinet. Through that door is the ensuite bathroom. I hope you have a lovely evening." With that the lady left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Mr Wesley led his naked property to the centre of the room, between the fireplace and the bed. On a table at one end of the room a platter of food had been set out. He went over to it and began eating, all the while appraising Alana. He poured two glasses of champagne then returned to where his girl was stood.

He took a sip. Alana's eyes were focused on the rug. She was contemplating her breasts and the brief mound which divided into the luscious folds beyond. At the edge of her vision she saw Mr Wesley raise the other glass and slowly tip it over her breasts.

Cold, fizzing champagne spilled over her contours and rushed over her pussy. Her owner got to his knees and caught a few sweet drips with his tongue before kissing her sex. His fingers explored the tantalising landscape of her body as he returned to his feet. Putting a finger beneath her chin he angled her head so that she was looking at him. They kissed, his tongue enticing hers to play, his lips clamping on hers.

"Stand in front of the fire."

The champagne began to evaporate as she stood before the flickering flames. She could see from the shadows that he had his cock in his hands and was masturbating to the sight of her perfect derrière. He stopped, stood and took hold of her leash.

"On your knees."

Now he made her crawl around the room whilst he followed, his eyes on the winking star of her anus. She felt a tug around her neck and stopped. Another tug and she stood.

"Remove the belt and stockings."

She unhooked and unclasped the silky suspender belt then dropped it to the floor. Next she rolled the stocking down her left leg, stepped out of her shoe and picked the hosiery off her toes. Then the right leg, her balanced dancer poise allowing her to bend from waist to floor. Two burnished buns parting to unveil her scrumptious holes.

Before she could straighten up she felt a stinging slap on her right buttock. Her master placed a strong hand on her back, keeping her in position. Another thwack, aimed at her left cheek. Alternating blows followed, each stealing the air from her lungs.

As suddenly as he had started, Mr Wesley ceased spanking her now rosy rear. He grasped her lead and took her to the bed. He left her there and went to rummage in an antique cabinet. In an ornate mirror Alana watched him return with four pairs of dark leather cuffs. Only then did she notice the hooks along the bed posts.

Obediently she let him put her ankles and wrists in the cuffs, and them in turn attached to the hooks. Her body was now in an X shape, her arms and legs spread widely, her front facing the bed, her back to her master.

It felt...good, sexy. It was liberating. Something inside made her arch her back and push her sensual enslaved lusciousness towards her captor. He had won her and she was his. It was so incredibly simple and such a huge turn on. The heat from the fire enveloped her, it's golden glow mirrored on her soft, youthful skin.

Minutes passed before finally he touched her. Fingers deftly traversed her neck and back. They delved between her gorgeous toned cheeks seeking out the widened sphincter. An obeisant moan came from deep within her. His possession of the bound dancer was almost complete.

His attention on her arse made her clit and pussy sing with desire. When he pulled out the middle digit that had been probing deeply she thought she would get what she wanted, and arched her back further. Instead she felt a warm, slimy object on her yielding anus. A crystal butt plug slipped inside her.

With that task done the master turned his attention to her starved cunt, coated in the liquid manifestation of her excitement. She surrendered herself to his desire, sighing and mewling happily. He paused and she looked in the mirror. First the suit jacket was removed and hung up on a wooden hanger. He removed the expensive cuff links then unbuttoned the shirt.

Alana watched, fascinated and delighted by her master's body. His torso rippled with muscles. Shoes, socks and trousers were quickly discarded, revealing tree trunk thighs and tight, bulging boxer shorts. Just then did he notice her watching him. She quickly looked down but it was too late.

He went to a cabinet and returned with a black silk blindfold. He ran it behind her tumbling hair and expertly fastened it so that she was blind to what would be done to her.

What happened next was totally unexpected. He wrapped her in his brawny arms in a powerful embrace. Alana felt so secure in the grip of this strong man. He laid his head on her shoulder so that his mouth was centimetres from her ear.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." He said in a low, quiet voice.
"What you have, your body, your ability to move in the most graceful way, is a gift. A special, wonderful gift. When I saw you in that strip club I knew I had to rescue you, to own you."

Alana's heart had slowed, her naked skin even more sensitive to the heat from his own bare body, especially the swelling that was pressing against the small of her back. He stepped away.

"If you want to leave, though, you can. I will release you now and you don't ever have to see me again."
"I..." Alana whispered, unsure of what to say.
"Mr Deauville thinks you're a fantastic student, one of the best he's had. Whatever you decide, it won't affect your career. You're free to go."

She didn't move. Thoughts bounced through her head and she momentarily forgot she was naked. Instead she considered her career and her current situation. The man, Mr Wesley, was very handsome and obviously caring. She could, however, get dressed and get on with the life which she now realised hadn't been particularly exciting. A decision was reached.

"I don't want to go. I want to be yours." She declared.

He took her in his arms again, holding her tightly. He then dropped to his knees and covered her arse in long, lustful kisses. She responded by offering herself further, giving him the juicy fruit within that he desired. Now he unclasped the wrist cuffs from the top of the posts and moved them to two other hooks at the foot of the bed. 

The nude girl was now doubled over, allowing her captor to feast on her spread arse and cunt. His thick lips clamped on hers, tongue slathering her, sending shivers of euphoria through her loins. He licked up her syrupy cum then held her while she rested.

Still blindfolded she heard him climb onto the bed. He stroked her hair then gently guided it forward. A warm, rigid appendage brushed against her mouth. She responded by opening wide and taking him deep. Returning the oral pleasures he had bestowed on her, she lapped at his rigid cock.

Having been whipped, toyed and tongued for hours on end, Alana was pleased that her body was allowed some respite. She was also hugely turned on by the gasps of pleasure emanating from her master and was amazed at the power she had over this mighty man. With just a flick of her tongue to the base of his cock she could make him quiver with joy. Occasionally he would fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples.

As soon as she tasted his salty precum he pulled away. The sturdy bed barely moved as he stepped off. Being blindfolded her other senses were now particularly keen, and so she could hear the soft swish of his feet on the carpet, the scrape of something being taken from a drawer and his presence now directly behind her again.

He freed the cuffs from the hooks and, in one swift movement, scooped his naked slave into his arms and deposited her on the bed. With the assistance of some chains her wrists were now attached to the posts at the head of the bed and her ankles to the middle of the end posts. Lying on her back with her legs high and wide she was fully exposed for him, as she had been for Al Abadi and her audience earlier. 

After casually running his hands over the naked girl he kissed her long and languidly on her saturated sex and stretched arse. From the latter he carefully pulled out the butt plug, pushed it back in and repeated. He gently fucked her orifice, expressing his admiration for how clean and trimmed his slave was.

The hot, stiff touch of him on her cunt came unexpectedly. She drew in a deep breath then let it sigh out as he entered her. The rubbery condom he had slipped on was unnoticed by her, although he assured her that he was wearing protection.

His lascivious flesh was the missing piece of this kinky puzzle of an evening. It filled her and stretched her. It teased her and sated her. Somehow he anticipated what she needed next and leaned in to meet her mouth with his, tongue thrusting against hers in symphony with his powerful hips.

Carnal freedom cast away caution and she squirmed against him, wanting more of his cock. Leaning in to kiss her again he removed the blindfold so that she could see his muscles flexing as he pleasured himself with her. His exquisite eyes were drinking in the sight of her pussy swallowing him. 

Once again his hands found their way to her bouncing tits. He grasped them tightly as he fucked her harder and harder. She climaxed for the umpteenth time, the fever on her clit and G-spot tingling all over her subjugated body. Now at last she fully appreciated the butt plug which allowed her body to completely surrender every hole and inch of flesh to her master.

Oh and how big, how fulfilling his perfect member felt. The way it glided in and out, now throbbing, now growing bigger and harder. He pulled out, tore off the condom and released his albumen essence over her hand-marked breasts, growling exultantly. Alana revelled in the warm, silky feel of it and exalted in the sense of achievement, that it was her beauty, her honed body that had caused such a peak of delight in this powerful man.

Cum drooled from his cock onto the floor as he waited for his pulse to return to something close to normal. He freed her from her shackles then fetched a wet towel for her to wipe herself with. She was surprised at the quantity of her own cum, and happily towelled it away before cleaning away his pool of goo. At the same time Mr Wesley lovingly removed the butt plug and kissed her sex one last time.

"Do you still want to be mine?" He asked.
"Yes, Sir, more than ever."

He climbed into bed with her and surrounded his girl with adulation. Before she closed her eyes she glanced at the antique clock on the wall. Half past four in the morning. Almost a full working day's worth of fabulous depravity. It seemed to have gone so quickly.


Alana found herself alone in bed the next morning. This filled her with sadness until she saw a note on the bedside table. She sat up and read it.

Last night I met an angel. 
The greatest thing I have 
ever done with my life
was to make her mine.
We will meet again, my
beautiful Alana, and soon.

Your master,

H Wesley

The slave girl floated out of bed and danced to the bathroom. She sang happily in the shower then danced back to the bedroom. Mr Deauville was stood waiting for her. She stood still, face down to the ground.

"Come here, girl. Drop the towel."

She obeyed and sashayed naked to the domineering man. Then something wonderful happened. He smiled. A smile so warm and genuine that she couldn't help but look up and smile too. He put his hands on her bare hips.

"I'm very proud of you Alana. Mr Wesley owns you now, but he also has the interests of the troupe in mind and will continue to share you. I believe he said that you're free to do what you want. So, do you wish to continue your old life?"
"No." Alana replied, without hesitation. "No, I don't mind being shared and am very happy belonging to Mr Wesley."

Now Deauville laughed with delight and embraced the naked girl in a loving hug. Alana hugged him back, enjoying the feel of his clothes on her bare skin. She had become such a different person over the last few weeks.

"Last night the company earned a lot of money thanks to you. You will also get a large share. Arts cuts have been devastating for us, but with this arrangement we will thrive, and, even better, you're happy."

He stood back and looked at her. Both were still smiling. Alana's career was assured, her income high and she had a mysterious, magnificent man in her life. She felt so grateful to handsome Mr Deauville.

"Would you like to pleasure yourself with me, Sir?" She asked, looking coy.
"Dear girl, I would like nothing more. But right now that wouldn't be entirely appropriate."

He stroked her bum, breasts and pussy. How she adored this man.

"You may get dressed. Breakfast will be brought to your room. Be ready for the car to collect you at eleven this morning." He spun and walked to the door, then called over his shoulder. "And give yourself a rest. I expect you in the studio on Monday as usual."

Monday, 16 September 2013


London Alternative Market is one of many monthly events that I've been meaning to go to for ages, but only just got around to visiting. My timing was good; this was London Fetish Weekend (the more fun of the two LFWs) and this was a particularly large version of the Market.

Inside was a cornucopia of excellent craftsmanship. Perfectly tailored latex, imaginative toys and more wonderfully kinky people than you could shake a flogger at. Talking of which...I bought a lovely red flogger, along with a colourful glass butt plug (picture below).

I unexpectedly ran into several of my most favourite people too. It pleases me no end how well acquainted I've become with some of the members of this community in a relatively short space of time - long may it continue.

After the market I met with a Twitter friend and we had some great conversations, leaving me plenty to think about and realise how the kink side of me is developing. Although I enjoy being a sub, it's becoming apparent that I get the most out of being a Dom, and that this is the role in which I can offer much more.

That evening I christened G with the flogger. She isn't into pain, and I knew this when I bought the leathery toy. Instead I wanted to brush her bare naked skin with the multiple fronds. She loved it, sighing with delight as strands of suede played along her pussy, which she'd presented to me on her hands and knees.

The butt plug...well let's let her think about that one for a little longer...