Women In Charge by mikey2much
Women In Charge
by
It was easy for him to put himself into the mindset of the young man on the sled. Mick was a ‘taster’ he had tasted every dish that the table of life had put before him. He had tried the sled with his girlfriend and partner Leesa calling the shots. It wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was an experience that he would always remember.
He tried out every device and toy that he made, he needed to know how it felt. It was his job. He was a ‘test pilot’ for all the kinky shit he made and designed. He made the bondage equipment for all the clubs in New York, and in Philly. Hell, both Hellfire, and Paddles had his name written by the payphone offering his services like he was a prostitute. But it worked, most days he received a package in the mail with some leather item needing fixing or replacing. Best of all, it was completely below the radar, completely in the black.
Mick watched the slave, remembering the unique feelings of being naked, hooded and bound in public. He imagined the leather of the hood would have soaked up a lot of different smells since he had made it two years ago. As he stood there watching he saw the slave swallow several times. He knew how it felt to breathe around the phallic like soft gag. Since he had built it, Mick realized how long it was and how the gag was something that rode the slaves mind. It truly was a constant threat to choke the slave if he didn’t work at keeping it wet and moving it around in his mouth. With the hood laced on tight, there was no place to spit or puke, the slave had to learn to adapt. That’s why they called it a training hood.
The hood had a strange effect on a slave, denying him sight and speech, but at the same time giving him so many other sensatory feelings. Like the smell and the taste of the material as it wrapped itself around his head. A dehumanizing embrace that he had been as powerless to escape then, as he was to forget now.
The hooded slave could hear the movements and the sounds from the busy room that surrounded him. A couple had been playing on the swing in the corner, he could hear them as plain as if he was watching with his eyes. He heard the girl moan in sated lust, his mind watched, as her mistress slow fucked her in public.
The slave couldn’t help but get hard as he listened to their passionate screwing, making his cockring bite into his swelling cock. He wanted to turn his head to better hear the action but he couldn’t because of the restraints that held him on the bondage sled. He had become an object, a sex object.
A smile graced the face of Mick as he remembered the drug like rush of the realization that he had become sex. Sex, the hole sex, and nothing but the sex, no that was not quite right, he was a sex toy. When you are bound and helpless, hurting from mistreatment that you took pride in bearing. Accepting pain as a price you are willing to pay to provide pleasure to someone you love. And at the same time you realize that you are still serving a purpose. The same purpose that any other sex toy would perform, getting somebody off.
He was desperate to get his mind off of what was about to happen to him. His Mistress, a woman by the name of Pat, was selecting a flogger from the rack on the wall. She was wearing a seven-inch dildo that stuck out from the custom leather harness that Mick had made for her two years ago. It was part of the same order that included the hood and a complete set of his best restraints.
Mick stood in the doorway taking in the sights that the room was offering. He wasn’t the only one watching, there had to be at least twenty people in the room. They filled the two large couches and three wingback chairs that were placed amongst the stocks, the bondage sled, the swing, and in the corner the Gynecological table. Every area had a crowd watching, and everybody seemed to be getting alone with everybody, it was a very good party.
In An effort to make the room seem larger, they had hung mirrors on all the walls and put two full-length mirrors on the closet doors. Mick caught his reflection in the mirror across the room. He saw a short balding man, with a slightly protruding gut, leaning against the doorway. Something about the way he had his legs crossed and the way he held his coffee made him look like he was waiting on a bus or something. He didn’t look like he belonged in the room, nearly everybody else was either completely or semi-naked or they were dressed up in wonderfully erotic fetish wear. Mick’s tee shirt and jeans just didn’t fit the room. Many of the guys in the room knew him from past parties and started to wave and talk to him. He waved and had a word for everyone who approached him; it was part of the job. Soon enough the hot sex scenes drew their attentions away from Mick.
His eyes scanned across the room to the swing, the scene that had so captured slave Steve’s attentions in the hood, had captured the room’s attention now. It was hot as hell. The top, a girl that came to a lot of the parties, was a tall slim black woman. Mick remembered that she was a social worker from down in Philly. She was a lesbian who lived with a woman named Jezebel. Topaz was her name and she worked in child welfare. Jezebel did domination for a living; she was always flying somewhere to have a session with somebody. They ran a sexual boutique down in south Philly where they helped him sell his floggers and paddles. Mick had known them for several years now but still couldn’t tell which played the top role in their relationship.
The girl secured in the swing was a white girl, a little plumb but still nice to look at. She raised up her ass to receive the long silicone cock deep into her cunt. The strokes were long, slow and deep, the top in no hurry to finish, wanting to string it out. The chubby girl in the swing moaned out loud when her Mistress, a tall redheaded woman, reached out and twisted her nipple. The black girl smiled and the two of them started to play with the bound woman. Soon the girl had to be gagged with a ball gag to keep her from screaming as they forced her to cum again and again.
He took a sip of the hot coffee that he held, turned and walked through the kitchen and back into his leather shop in the rear. Passing the table loaded with finger foods and soft drinks Mick snagged a couple of donuts. As he placed them on his paper plate he heard the sound of a man’s voice, a long low moan coming form the front room. Sounded like Stevie was getting that strap-on scene he had often dreamed of doing. Mick smiled around a mouth full of donut as he considered the old proverb, ” Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”
As he walked into his workshop he purposefully left the door open, exposing the young woman who stood topless in front of his table to anybody in the kitchen. Mick couldn’t remember what her name was, he thought that it was Sue but he wasn’t sure. He decided to call her slave and let it go at that. When he finished his donuts he wiped his hands on a towel and picked up the box of saran wrap.
He looked at the scared young woman and said, “come here slave.”
Sue, or who ever she was, came to stand before him while he sat in his swivel chair.
“Closer,” he demanded, she edged closer coming between his spread legs. She wore only a small transparent throng panty, Mick could see the wet spot caused by her arousal, and he could smell her heat as she fidgeted from the close contact with a strange man. Mick ignored her discomfort. “Put your hands behind your head.”
She obeyed, her smallish breast sticking out from her chest, her flat stomach rising and falling with her heavy breathing, her eyes held tightly closed. The sounds of the flogger meeting soft flesh came from the front room; the girl flinched with each smacking sound.
Mick started to wrap the clear film around her body, brushing against her erect nipples when he reached behind her with the roll of plastic wrap. After about twenty revolutions he thought that he had enough. The young woman was wrapped from just under her tits to just above where her pubic hair would have started if she had let it grow, but she was clean and smooth, no hair. Reaching for a roll of duct tape he started to wrap it tightly around the plastic wrapped woman. He pressed the tape hard onto the saran-wrap sealed body of the girl, his hands gliding across her pushing and pressing, ironing out wrinkles as he taped her. His fingers worked the tape into the area under her breast, the lifting and poking causing her nipples to show her excitement. The tape was covering over the layer of saran wrap, soon the girl was wearing a sliver corset of tape.
Mick stood back and looked at the girl, she was really quite pretty. Her straight reddish hair was cut short, like a young boy’s, but her face was so clearly feminine. Her eyes were watching him now. Once again he ignored her. As he rose from his chair, he placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders. He felt the stiffening in her flesh as she prepared to resist him, instead he moved her aside as he stepped over to his sewing table. He got a few magic markers and a tailor’s tape, returning he once more used the girl’s shoulders like handles to move her where she should be, this time there was no resistance.
Her breast were made more pronounced by the tight wrappings, while they were too small to hang down over the tape, they were pushed and squeezed upward like an offering. The nipples jutting hard and erect the darker flesh that surrounded them wrinkled up tightly, making the nipple stand out even more. She was one sexy package; he forced his thoughts back onto the job at hand, starting to draw a design on the duct tape she was wearing. “Turn to your right.” He never looked at her when he spoke, he tried to think of her as an object not a person. It was all part of …
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