Heather's College Experience
 A small yellow, decade-old hatchback pulled wearily into a well-worn
apartment parking area from the traffic running between Uptown and the
University a mile or so further down.  Slowly it rolled the length of
the pot-holed lot, found a spot in the afternoon shade and pulled into
it.  The bearded driver adjusted the rear view mirror, lit a cigarette
and sat back in his car seat to smoke and watch.
  Minutes later, as he knew they would, a small group of chattering,
giggling coeds emerged from the street-side entrance, clambered across
the lot to stuff themselves into a small car of nondescript color often
preferred by 2 out of 49 students.  After several unsuccessful attempts
to start it, the little beast finally clattered to life in a cloud of
blue-black exhaust and chugged reluctantly out into the late afternoon
traffic, pinging off toward the University.
   The bearded man restarted his car and drove back to the newly vacated
spot, passing then carefully backing into it.  He shut off the engine
and pried his six-foot-two-inch frame out from behind the wheel.  After
gathering an assortment of packages from behind the seat and under the
hatch, he locked the car, dropped his smoke and ground it out with his
boot before heading toward the building.
   It was a typical example of off-campus apartments: cheap and basic.
After glancing at the mailboxes by the front door, the man plodded up
the stairs covered with a stain-blemished, semi-ancient carpet.  The air
smelled faintly of stale beer.   He stopped at the third floor in front
of the first door on the left.  Apartments were strung along either side
of the long hall running the length of the building.  Somewhere, a baby
squalled.  Other voices, mostly young, could be heard as muffled
rumblings occasionally punctuated by a blaring stereo or the rise and
fall of friendly banter or arguments.
   The man stood still listening before setting down his burdens.
Casually looking down the hall and stairway, he pulled out his wallet,
removed a small plastic card and flexed it experimentally.  He slid the
card into the door jam slightly above the lock set doorknob.  He checked
the stairway again.  He leaned his body weight against the door and slid
the card behind the door latch.  A door opened down the hall.  The man
quietly palmed the card.  Then he started patting his pockets as if he'd
lost something.  Voices and footsteps came toward him.
   "Where the hell are my keys...." he muttered half aloud as two young
men passed him without a glance.  He dug into his jeans pocket as if
searching as he watched the two descend and walk outside.  They never
looked back.   He pulled the card back out, returning to work.   Moments
later, the door swung open soundlessly.  The bearded man picked up the
bags and pushed the box through the door with his foot.  The door swung,
again soundlessly, until it closed with a quiet "click".
   He was inside her apartment; a dingy one room affair with bath and a
small kitchenette.  On the street-side, a large curtained window was
flanked by two smaller ones.  A bit of breeze ruffled the curtain's
edge.  The opposite wall, to his right as he stood by the door, cheap
metal bi-fold doors hid the apartment's principle storage all along the
common wall with the neighboring apartment.  The bathroom was straight
across the main room just beyond the closets.  To the left of the
bathroom door stood an ancient bunk bed bolted to the wall.  Beyond it
was the patio door leading to a balcony overlooking the parking lot.
   In front of the windows was a small round kitchen table with two
chairs covered with leafy-looking aged vinyl.  Dried flowers served as a
center-piece.  To the left of the table was an alcove where an old,
permanently smudged refrigerator, a formerly white sink gray with age, a
small chipped enamel gas stove and more cheap metal cabinets prove this
area passed for the kitchen.  Still, it all held a woman's touch.  The
place was clean and obviously made as livable even on a student budget.
She always brought sunshine to the dreariest places.  He smiled whenever
he thought of her.  And he thought of her great deal.
   He calmed himself; his heart was pounding and sweat beaded on his
forehead.  He hadn't done anything like this for a number of years but
to get everything ready in time, he'd have to get started.  He took a
deep breath before pushing the box to the center of the small room and
left it there.  Dropping the bags onto the table, he stepped over to
pull open the curtains and cranked open the windows.  He stripped off
his shirt then strapped a tool belt around his waist. Returning to the
table, he rummaged through bags removing an odd assortment of hardware
that looked more appropriate for a boat rather than an apartment.
   His mind fully on his task now, he stood idly scratching his broad,
muscular, hair covered chest reviewing the items he brought.  Clamps,
yes.  Hammer, yes.  Drill and bits, screws and screwdriver, bolts, nut
driver, metal hooks, cleats, rope, bar, shower head - all yes.  Good.
Picking an assortment of items, he stuffed them into his tool belt
pockets of before holstering the drill and heading towards her bathroom.
He glanced at his watch; four hours left before she returned from work.
                                  * * *
   Heather Cummins was late as usual, running from her office, long
dark brown hair flying, to scurried toward the bus stop.  She'd been
fortunate to be hired by a top America hotel corporation as one of three
lead interior designers while still completing her degree at the
University.  It was less fortunate that she could not afford to buy a
car with her work site located in an outer suburb with infrequent and
inflexible bus service.
   "Damn," she flared, her bus was coming down the highway and she was a
block from the stop.  Running in heels and a tight skirt was a pain even
if she was in excellent physical condition.   Luckily, the stoplight
between her and the approaching bus turned red.  Good.  Her slight bosom
heaved as she controlled her breathing, slowing to dignified pace.   At
the bus stop, she did a quick check to make sure she was all there.
Briefcase, art-portfolio, purse and her athletic bag with her dance
stuff in it.
   She opened the purse, pulled out a bus pass and hair brush before
quickly stuffing the purse into her gym bag.  She stood running the
brush through her long hair as the red and white bus arrived in a cloud
of gray diesel fumes.   On board, Heather plopped down stacking her
stuff on the next seat for the 40-minute ride to catch a downtown
outbound transfer. 10-minutes later, she would be a block from the dance
studio for a two-hour workout followed by a shower.  Another bus ride
home but she'd had to get a few groceries before walking the last few
blocks.  "Wouldn't a car would be wonderful?" she said, wistfully.
   Heather let her mind wander back to the thoughts she'd been lost in
before running for the bus.  A slow day, being between hotel projects at
the moment, she'd spent her afternoon in her office staring out the
window fantasizing about her man.   Well, he wasn't exactly HER man but
she liked to think of him that way.  He was talented, intelligent,
handsome and kind.  She was sure he was a fantastic lover, even though
the sexual part of their relationship had never come to pass.  Not yet,
at any rate.  She tried seducing him several times but he resisted her
advances.  That only made her lust for him all the more.
   Their relationship had two problems.  First, she was inexperienced in
matters of the heart.  Not that she hadn't had her moments.  Heather was
just slow to warm up to anyone, man or woman.  He had been a steady
friend for two years before she fell in love with him.  Which brought up
problem number two: he was married.  From the first day she met him;
happily married, too.  Worse, his wife was also a good friend; they were
all weekend actors in a local Renaissance Festival during late summer
and early fall.  She spent Friday nights at their house so they could
get an early start for the six a.m. cast call on Saturday mornings.
   Finally her lust over-rode common sense.  She had, several times,
kissed him seductively always feeling him respond to her but then
withdraw.  He wasn't angry about it.  He didn't mention it at all.  Over
time, Heather tried different things to arouse his ardor.  Often, when
staying overnight, she "forgot" her bathrobe and would "discreetly" be
seen walking around in a skimpy semi-transparent baby-doll outfit.  She
tried going bra-less although she was troubled about the smallness of
her breasts.  She took classes at school just to be with him.  She made-
up reasons to come to her apartment together just to be alone with him.
Nothing worked.  The more she tried, the more distant he became.
Heather knew he was a man of remarkable self-control and, besides, she
really didn't want to hurt his wife.   Still, her lust was nearly
uncontrollable at times.
   Heather realized she was restlessly crossing and uncrossing her legs,
stimulating herself and annoying the person next to her.  No matter, her
stop was next.  In a few hours, she would be home; she could spend time
thinking of her man and hoping for a day when he fulfilled her fantasy.
                                  * * *
   Less than four hours later, Heather Cummins walked down the street
toward her apartment juggling two additional bags she'd just picked up
from the neighborhood Shop-n-Spend.  She felt good; dance class always
invigorated her.  Her breasts bobbed in time with her steps, heels
clacking rhythmically while striding down the street.  Middle Eastern
folk-dance, particularly belly-dancing, had rather erotic qualities to
it.  By the time she showered, it was all she could do to keep her
fingers from wandering among her pubic fronds tickling her excitable
clitoris.
   She rounded the corner glancing casually towards the parking lot.
Heather stopped short.  What was HIS car doing here?  She looked around
for his familiar form but she couldn't see it.  She walked slowly passed
the parked cars, casting her gaze toward her apartment window.  Hadn't
she closed the curtains before leaving for work?  Puzzled, she went up
the chipped concrete steps into the foyer of the brown brick building.
Mail peeked from the slot in her mailbox but her arms were too full to
wrestle out her key.  She looked for him sitting on the stairs awaiting
her return.  Nope.  She climbed the steps to her flat expecting to see
him at every turn.  By the time she'd reached her door, Heather was
mystified.  Where was he?  Not on the landing.  Neither him or a note
waited by her door.  Perhaps he shoved something into her mail or maybe
he just stopped to visit the bookstore across the street.
   "What's wrong with the damn lights," Heather muttered, fishing out
her keys nearly dropping everything.  She managed to get the door open
but the lights wouldn't come on.  A bag started to slip as she flicked
the switch on and off.  All at once, the precarious balance disturbed,
various bags and packages conspired to follow the laws of gravity.  She
fruitlessly snatched at first one, then another but each eluded her
grasp and continued slipping.  Abandoning trying to keep things in her
arms, Heather followed her own possessions toward the floor, landing
awkwardly on her knees.
   "REAL graceful!" she snorted sarcastically watching an orange do a
lop-sided roll back into the hall.  Thankfully, she had put off getting
eggs.  The dusk light would be enough to navigate around the room.  She
set the rest of her bags down, recaptured the errant orange and shut her
apartment door.  As she bent over to gather her stuff together, she
suddenly became aware someone watching her.   Startled, Heather turned
to the intruder sitting at her table, silhouetted against the window.
"Who are the hell are you....." she started to demand.
   "Silence!" commanded a familiar voice, sternly.  Heather's heart
raced while she watched him slowly rise, turn slightly letting the
failing light fall upon his face then return to the shadows.  "Allow me
to introduce myself.   I am Judge Roberto.  I am here to conduct your
trial.  A trial for which, if you are found guilty you will sentenced to
some form of punishment!"
   Heather knew the voice and, despite the robe, recognized the shape
only too well.  The reason she hadn't seen him outside was because he
had been inside.  She briefly wondered how he did it but decided it was
unimportant.  Here was the man she thoroughly loved and she didn't
really care how he got in.  Just that he was in.  She felt the stirrings
from her afternoon fantasies return.  But what was this stuff about
judges, trials, crimes and punishments?  As amateur actors, they often
played little role-games to help their performing skills for weekend
festivals.  Was this a game?  Was he practicing something to see how she
would respond?
   "I'm sorry," she said in a chirpy voice, "Once again, with clarity?"
   "You are charged with several crimes," Judge Roberto ignored her tone
and spoke in a official-sounding voice as he slowly rose up from the
chair.  He was so much larger than her, his form seemed to blot out the
window.  "Do you wish to hear the crimes you have been charged with and
do you stand ready to have your case heard in this court, by this
judge?" he demanded.
   Her cue, she knew.  He was being so forceful, Heather cleared her
throat nervously.  "Yes," she heard her own small voice answer.  If only
she knew what the game was.
   "Step forward, then, to hear the charges laid against you," intoned
the robed figure ominously pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor
where an open box sat.   Heather slowly walked forward, stopping just
short of the box.  She stood bathed in the summer evening's light from
the window while her judge remained a dark, forboding silhouette.  The
room grew strangely quiet.
   Suddenly his deep voice boomed, "You have been charged with the crime
of loving a man already married to another woman!"  The Judge paused,
for effect letting the accusation sink in.  "Further you, with all
deliberate intention, repeatedly attempted to seduce this married man
and conspired to avail your young, nubile body to his sexual need at
every opportunity, hoping he would take advantage of you," he sneered,
contemptuously.
   Heather felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.  Even as play-
acting, it shocked her!  All at once, guilt at her own uncharacteristic
wantonness seized her.  Before she could stop, tears brimmed in her eyes
then spilled down her cheeks.  All along she knew she had been kidding
herself about how subtle she was.  Oh god, hadn't she really intended to
be obvious?  She sniffed, watching her heart's desire pace back and
forth in front of her.  Clearly he knew what she had been doing and why.
Perhaps that this wasn't an acting exercise, after all.
   The Judge sat back down. "You have two choices.  If you plead
innocent then we, and I mean WE, will go through a lengthy and, most
probably, messy trial involving other people.  But if you plead guilty,
throw yourself upon the mercy of this court and this judge," Judge
Roberto's tone softened, "I will see your punishment will be here, now,
and a matter that need go no further than these walls."   He paused
watching the petite, dark-haired woman standing feet together, weeping
and sniffing a few paces from him.  He must be a better actor than he
thought.
   Perhaps, he should lighten up.  But the fact was, he an endured
unimaginable temptation during the previous two years.  She was a lovely
creature, soft, demure, well-proportioned despite small breasts.  It was
her tiny tits had been the hardest thing to resist.  Roberto hungered to
pinch and squeeze the firm cone-shaped titties and hardened nipples he
had seen so often through her nightgown or poking up under her t-shirts
on cold days in the campus coffee shop.  It had to end, somehow.  One
way or another, she would know that he was not going to continue as her
sexual tease.  Resolutely he asked, "How do you plead?"
   It took time.  Heather wept, off-guard emotions flooding in with
repressed sexual thoughts once tucked safely away.  She felt small,
vulnerable, fragile, exposed.  Like a child caught stealing for the
first time.  After a few minutes, she pulled out a handkerchief and
dabbed at her eyes.  But each time she went to speak, instead of words,
a new sob would burst out.  She knew he was growing impatient and she
needed to respond quickly, now.  She blew her nose, sniffed a couple of
times and then looked up.  It may have started as one but, in the blink
of an eye, it became very much more than a game.  Her tears were as much
relief as from confrontation.  They were real tears.  But she wasn't
going to let him know that.  Not yet, at least.  She flipped her long
brunette tresses back and drew herself to her full five-foot-two size.
"Guilty," she whispered with just a touch of defiance in her voice.
   Judge Roberto wasted no time once the confession was made, "Heather
Cummings, you have been found guilty of all charges."  He gazed at her
for a moment; Heather lowered her eyes.  He approached, stopping just in
front of her and lifted her chin with his finger.  "You ARE going to be
punished," he said, stroking her flushed cheek.  "You're going to get
everything you wanted along with things you've never dreamed of.
Understand, once it begins, you WILL do everything - and I mean
EVERYTHING - you are told.  You have one, last, chance to stop all
this."  He held Heather by the chin,  his eyes boring into hers. "Tell
me to leave and I'll go.  But this is your last chance!" he warned.
   The repeated mention of punishment did worry her.  She wasn't
entirely sure they were both acting and it all had erotic overtones,
somehow.  Heather had become intrigued by this, caught up in the
whirlwind of emotions as much as the scene they were playing out.  She
longed for release from her own tormenting sexual desires.  She WAS
guilty.  There seemed no alternatives for either of them.  Heather met
his gaze, "I accept you as the executioner of my punishment," she spoke
huskily but with an air of conviction.  Without warning, his lips were
tenderly upon her own.  His tongue feathered along touching but not
touching her full lips.  Startled, she pulled back slightly.  Then as
she realized his intention, leaned forward with anticipation.  Just as
she did so, he was gone, moving back toward the window.
   "The preparation for your punishment begins!  Remove your jacket," he
demanded.  Heather heard his voice as if from a great distance, her mind
working slowly.   She looked down in surprise at seeing her hands
already unbuttoning the light tan dress-jacket.  It came off revealing a
matching tight, short-sleeved blouse and short skirt beneath.
   "Now the skirt..." he continued.  Her heart pounded.  A loud rushing
noise was in her ears as she unbuttoned the skirt's waistband and pulled
it over her pert ass, then let the cream-colored silk drop to the floor.
Without waiting for instructions, her half-slip followed.  She stepped
out of them and stood in her high heels, blouse and pale blue panties.
   "...and your blouse," he commanded. "Then remove your bra, panties
and finally your shoes."  She had known it was coming but she became
more reluctant with each piece of clothing removed.  Slowly Heather
unbuttoned her silk blouse.  The chill air caused goose-bumps on her
arms and her nipples harden slightly, pressing against their bra cup
prison as her shirt opened.
   An odd thrill flutter through her.  Now, it was real.  She was being
asked, no, TOLD to strip until nude.  Nude.  Never in her adult life had
she stood naked in front of anyone.  Could she do it?  Fleetingly, she
thought of grabbing her things and running for the bathroom.  Would he
chase her?  No matter how much love was in her, the threat of punishment
and the thrill-fear of being stripped caused very real doubts.  After
all, how much did she really know about this him?  How much does any
human know about any other human?
   But her hands knew what her heart really wanted.  The bra unclasp;
thin silk withdrew from sensitive nipples.  Her small, tight, conical
breasts with tiny, bud-like nipples stood begging to be touched.  Thumbs
hooked into the waistband of her panties and they dropped to her ankles.
She bent over pulling them around her shoes.  She felt wafts of air
moving through her pubic fur.  Finally, she kicked off her tan pumps.
   She stood, a Venus nude.  Her long, slightly-wavy brown hair cascaded
down passed olive-tone shoulders to reach just below her nipples.  Small
but pert titties shyly peeked out from beneath her brunette mane with
teenage-like coyness.  Slender, graceful arms hung at her sides; her
expressive hands, for the moment, clasp quietly just below the gentle
slope of her stomach.  Poised, as it were, just above the dark triangle
of her Mons Venus.  Firmly shaped legs from her flowed from her angular
ass-cheeks to delicate ankles perched above dainty feet.  Sensuousness
laced the air like the fragrance of vintage wine waiting to be tasted.
  "The box before you has a pair of shoes.  Put them on," said her
Executioner.  Having given herself over to punishment, Heather no longer
simply obeyed his command, but followed each instruction with grace and
fluidity to show off her body to the best advantage.  Being stripped
nude made it easier somehow, just a touch sluttish.  Her pussy tingled.
She found the shoes, they were black with very high heels.  Standing,
she bent her leg at the knee pulling her foot up behind her.  They fit
perfectly; how had he known?  Finished, she balanced atop the new high
heels awaiting her next order.
   "Take your clothes and hang them up."  That was a relief.  On her
salary, silk was hard to come by and she hadn't been keen on leaving it
piled on the floor.  She turned slightly to improve the view of her body
as she bent over, keeping her legs straight.  Gathering her clothes, she
walked seductively over to her closet.  After everything was where it
belonged, she walked back slowly to giving her executioner a good view
her lithe, athletic body.
   "Come here," Roberto ordered.  Walking in the highest heels she'd
ever worn, Heather stopped a foot in front of her captor.  "Kneel," he
commanded.  As she did so, he opened the bottom of his robe.  She was
shocked, again.  It hadn't occurred to her mind that he was naked
beneath the robe!  As a child, Heather led an affluent but sheltered
life; moving often during her father's corporate climb.  She'd never had
more than a few friends, seldom close ones, before moving on.  Being
attractive, she had been pawed at by a boy or two in high school.  But
she developed late and her tits had been tiny.  Boys seemed to prefer
the girls with big breasts.
   She'd never seen anything but a picture of a man's penis before and
that had been an unappetizing one from a college anatomy textbook.  Now
she was confronted with a very real, very hard cock pointing straight at
her.  Heather wondered, what he expected her to do with it?
   "Understand, this is NOT your punishment!" Roberto said sternly,
"This preparation is to benefit me, your Executioner.  Lean forward,
open and take my cock into your mouth."  He waited for her to comply.
Unsure about this, Heather leaned forward, opened her mouth and placed
her lips lightly around his cockhead.  She rolled her eyes up at him,
expectantly.  "Lick and suck it as you would a tootsie-roll pop until I
tell you to stop," he looked down at her, "Clear?"
   Silently, Heather bobbed her head up and down causing his rigid rod
to bob with her motion.  Roberto leaned forward.  Suddenly his big hands
shot out to her tender titties.  Grabbing and pinching their sensitive
nipples, he pulled her up towards his face.  "Hheeyyy!" she yelped,
surprised.
   "I said `clear'" he snapped.  "Do YOU know what to say in response?"
   "Y-y-yes," she stammered.
   "`Yes', what?" he demanded, tightening his grip.
   "Sir!  Yes, sir!" Heather sighed in relief as her stretched tits were
released and sprang back.  Her senses were heightened, her mind full of
larger-than-life images, as if watching all this happen to someone else.
The erotic sensation of being stripped.  Nipples tingling sensuously
after being handled.  The scent drifting up from between her quivering
thighs.  Her nudity.  His pulsating rigid nakedness in her mouth.
   She leaned forward, his thick manhood filling her vision.  Softly,
her lips brushed his cock, its texture surprised her so she repeated the
action several times.  His scent mingled with hers and surrounded both
of them.  Her heart leapt in sudden voluptuous passion for the man
making her behave this way.  She was delighted at how wide she opened
her mouth just to get the swollen cock tip in.  His meat tasted salty,
musky and wonderful when she first surrounded his turgid maleness with
her warm, wet, sweet mouth.  His breathing quickened whenever she
touched him.
   Heather wasn't entirely sure what to do with it.  She licked it up
and down several times then licked around the cockhead again because she
loved the way it felt in her mouth.  She wondered what it felt like to
have a cock inside her.  She sucked in, forcing her head down his shaft
to see how much of him she could take down her throat.  After that, she
just sucked hard while moving her head up and down it's rigid length.
Periodically, she paused to run a liquid tongue around the spongy tip -
the part she liked best; gently raked her teeth over it as she moved it
in and out of her mouth.
   "Mmmmmmmmm," moaned her former Judge.  Heather rolled her eyes up to
watch his enjoyment.  She decided to lubricate him with her saliva then
move her head up and down as fast as she could.  "Oh yes," Judge Roberto
intertwined his fingers in her long hair.  Such a sweet mouth, delicate
and innocent, surrounded his tool, delivering exquisite fellatio.  She
varied her technique, switching between different ways of stimulating
him, pausing then restarting just as his balls relaxed, slightly.  She
gauged her success by the noises he made and his panting encouragement.
   "Ooooo, that's good, sweet thing!"
   "Yes . . . Yyyeeessss!"
   "MMmmrrrpphhh, ooohhhh, I-I'mmm goonnaa cuummmmm!"
   Heather wasn't sure what "cumming" was but felt his body tense and
make twitching movements.  Suddenly, he grabbed her head, holding it
still.  She saw him arched his back slightly and stop breathing.
Without warning, his cock jerked violently then something hot shot from
his cock into her mouth.  It was strong, pungent, and salty.  Afraid and
unsure, she couldn't help swallowing a little but was surprised to find
that it wasn't unpleasant.  There was too much to hold in her mouth and
pressure built up until the rest spurted out between her full lips,
around his cock and down her chin.
   Roberto sagged back against the chair.  Heather wondered, was it all
over, now?
                                  * * *
   For Heather Cummings, it had been a totally new experience to kneel
in front of a man, wearing nothing but a pair of high heels and suck him
until a load of spunk creamed into her eager mouth.  She silently vowed
to swallow it all and not let so much as a drop spill from her lips.  He
then made her get a towel, clean him off and re-close his robe before he
allowed her to cleaned her own face.
  Then she had been ordered back to her "judgement spot" by the boxes on
the floor.  What next?  Heather wondered.  Silence filled the small room
as traffic lulled outside.  Night deepened, unspent sexual tension
filled the tiny, unlit apartment.
   "Now, YOU must be prepared, the box in front of you has items to help
with that.  I'll tell you what to find then you will do with it EXACTLY
what I tell you to," Roberto the Executioner paused, eyeing his captive,
"Do you understand?"
   "Yes, my lord!" Heather shivered slightly but answered quickly,
picking up the English accent she used during theatre weekends.
   "Begin by finding a large black leather strap with a buckle on one
end and a pink plug in the middle,"  Roberto watched as Heather bent
pawing through the box.  After a moment, she held it up looking
curiously at the plug which vaguely resembled a neon colored penis.
"Good.  Now, put the plug in your mouth," he waited as Heather slowly
pushed the thick, 5-inch plastic pecker into her mouth.  It wasn't as
big as Roberto, not by a long shot, nor as pleasant to have in her mouth
being too hard, smooth and inflexible.
   "Strap it around your head and make sure to cinch tight.  That's
right and pull your pretty hair out from beneath the strap."   As she
belted it around her head, Heather realized it was cunningly made just
big enough to prevent any noises from escaping her mouth.  All this was
becoming a bit scary: being naked, made to satisfy sexual needs then put
her own gag on.   What had she opened herself up to?
   "There are four padded leather cuffs in the box," the Executioner
continued, "Each has two straps and a large D-ring.  Place one cuff on
each wrist and ankle, being sure to position ring toward the outside of
your body."
   Heather's fear grew, bracing almost to panic.  She stood panting,
forced air whistled slightly around the gag.  She reached up clawing at
the device which suddenly seemed to choke her.  Gags?  Wrist and leg
cuffs?  When he spoke of punishment, she assumed he meant giving her a
spanking.  Childish, perhaps.  Even somewhat humiliating after parading
around naked and perform sex acts.  But all this went way beyond her
expectation.  Heather became aware of her Executioner's eyes watching
intently.  Her hands slowed as she became transfixed by the look in his
eyes.  Desperately, she sought something to tell her what to do.
   Roberto silently watched, making no attempt to change his expression.
He neither moved nor spoke nor blinked.  He was well aware his was the
power of command; he could force things to go the way he wanted.  But
this fantasy was orchestrated to meet her needs as much as his.  He also
knew, as a means of sexual expression, bondage requires trust.  A
special voluntary trust.  That moment of truth had arrived, which comes
to every relationship, where Heather must choose to trust or not.  A
decision she must make for herself alone.
   Moments were frozen in time.  In eon-long seconds, Heather recalled
the events of the evening.  Had he not parked his car where she would
obviously see it and left the curtains open?  Even though he played his
role from the beginning, he had not hidden who he was.  He had given her
not one, but two chances to end the game without fear.  Their entire
relationship passed through her mind in a flash as she waited for her
heart to stop pounding.  A cool clear-headedness returned.  In all the
time she had known him - he had never acted cruelly or with malice to
anyone, no matter how deserving.
   Heather bent over, picked up a cuff and strapped it to her ankle.
   After the cuffs were in place, Heather saw there were three more
objects in the box.  With only the street light available, they appeared
as two small metal objects and something else, bigger.  "Pick up the
silver objects," the Executioner commanded, reading her thoughts.
"Notice each is square with a moveable sliding bar and a small
thumbscrew."  Roberto let his curious captive turned the objects in her
hand, examining them.  "Place one directly over your left nipple," her
eyes grew wide as she understood their purpose, "turn the screw until
the nipple clamp is as tight as you can stand it."
   Fascinated, Heather watched herself apply the clamps to the buds atop
her own tiny titties.  She gradually turned the screw on each until the
sliding bar pinched the nipple into a bulging sensation of pleasure
mixed with a hint of pain.  After a bit, she found she adjusted to the
sensation, so she tightened each clamp a little more.   A small moan
escaped from the gag as she felt the pressure increased.
   "Good," praised her captor, "Very good."  Heather felt strangely
thrilled by the knowledge she had pleased her Executioner.  "Now, give
each screw one more complete turn!" he commanded with unexpected
intensity.  If the sensation was pleasurable before, Heather was amazed
at how erotically enticing it was to apply yet more pressure.
   "Two more steps," Roberto said with a wicked smile, "and you'll be
ready for your punishment.  The last object is a blindfold.  I want you
to put it on.  Tightly."   This time she fought back the sensation of
panic that rose at this new demand.  She had made her choice to trust
and trust she would.  Heather took it, untangled it and figured that the
two large, soft pads went over her eyes with a thin leather thong
reaching around her head.  She tied it into position.
   Heather heard things she had been unaware of, until now; noises all
around her, inside and out.  The alarm clock ticking by the bed.  The
refrigerator rumbling as it started up.  The dripping kitchen faucet;
gentle flapping of curtains in the breeze.  Distantly, someone's stereo
and the sounds of a party.  People walking down the stairs outside her
door.  A woman's heels clacking down the sidewalk towards the
University.  Far off, a siren wailed forlornly.
   She heard him moving towards her.  Warm hands caressed her breasts
testing the tightness of her nipple prisons then running tenderly over
her entire body checking the various preparations.   A silent kiss
touched her cheek above the gag-strap as he gently drew her arms behind
her body.  There was a small "snick" sound as her wrists locked
together.  With sudden clarity she knew she was was no longer free, no
longer able to resist him.  There was no turning back.
                                  * * *
   Heather Cummings found herself in a very unusual position, not at all
one she felt comfortable with.  A short while ago, she stood stark naked
except for high heeled shoes, the blindfold, the gag, and the cuffs in
front of someone who's stated intention was to mete out punishment for
her wanton attempts at seduction.  After binding and gagging herself,
she was led into her own bathroom.  The Executioner unlocked her wrists,
picked her up by her slender waist and hung her on the wall, arms
stretched to either side, using the D-rings in her wristcuffs.   Her
right ankle was pulled out high to her right side hooking its D-ring to
something.  Then the left leg on her left side.  Finally, something
strapped under each thigh held most of her weight.
   It had been a damn good thing Heather was a slender, supple dancer or
she'd have split in two.  She felt split wide open like a Thanksgiving
Turkey about to be stuffed.   Her dark pubic curls hid her slit from
view - not that she could see anything - but her legs were spread high
enough to feel her dark little asshole puckering and unpuckering in full
view of whoever cared to look.
   There was silence for awhile until Heather moaned softly.  She still
fought the fear of being completely at the mercy of her Executioner.
She also felt confused.  She loved a married man.  A married man, for
Pete's sake.  Punishing her attempts to seduce him in rather, well
frankly, erotic ways.  Her pussy had gotten very wet; while Heather was
inexperienced with men, her own fingers had dallied among the soft
swollen lips of her own feminine charms enough to know what that meant.
   She hung exposed and vulnerable; it wasn't long before Heather felt
fingers touching her, exploring beneath her nest of pubic hair.  She
tensed feeling her something pushing up, searching inside her.  She
squirmed, fighting against his hand as another surge of irrational fear
raced through her like a wind-swept grass fire.   Once again, she
realized that - like it or not -  she was helplessly hanging in her own
bathroom awaiting whatever was his pleasure to bestow.
 
   There was a soft "click" and a curious buzzing sound; something
burned her thigh!  Calming herself, Heather realized it was only cold
metal touching her.  The noise moved over her pubic area and she began
to feel tufts of hair fall away.  He worked the electric clipper with
methodical care from her puckered anus, up her ass-crack and all her
mound and inner thighs.  Finishing, he ran his fingers over the stubble
too fine for the clippers to remove.  She strained to hear telltale
signs of what was coming next as he moved around, running water in the
sink.  Items were put into something - a case of some kind - and the lid
closed.  Other things were taken out of something on the floor.   He
moved toward her, again.  Heather tensed.
   Roberto spread something cool and creamy all over her cunt bristle,
running his fingers up and down her labia slathering whatever-it-was
everywhere over her trimmed pussy.  One hand gently pulled her pussy
lips aside, the other made sure the cream reached into and around all
the folds of her vagina.  It tingled slightly.  Heather felt the touch
of his hand followed by the distinctive rasp of a razor across her
pubes.  She was having her genitals shaved while helplessly bound.
Still, the combination of trust, the voluptuousness of the restraint,
not to mention the attention her pussy was getting - considering it was
"punishment" - Heather decided to enjoy it. There wasn't much choice and
she was just glad he worked carefully.
   Finally finished, the Executioner ran his hand admiringly over his
Heather's hot, tight pink little pussy which had neither hair nor
stubble to mar the perfection of her tawny beauty.  He rubbed her cunt
then gently slapped it watching her jerk slightly with surprise.  Small
as they were, her tits jiggled wonderfully!  She quivered slightly and
goose-bumps covered her silken flesh.  Roberto turned on the bathtub
faucet letting the water warm up while admiring the petite body hanging
from metal hooks he'd installed earlier.  He was having a hard time not
skipping to the part where... No, he wouldn't spoil it, but his fingers
strayed to his rock-hard dick and stroked it.   He tested the water
temperature before turning on the hand-held shower attachment he'd also
installed earlier.  Roberto washed the remaining evidence of her
barbering away.
   Once clean, his fingers spread her pussy exposing her thick, thimble-
hard clit so the spray could hit it.  "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," a low moaned came
from the gagged figure, as the Executioner played water up and down the
length of her slit.  Lingering first on her clit, then on the opening of
her love tunnel, then near her anal opening.  Roberto continually rolled
her clit between his thumb and forefinger.
   "Unnnggghhnnnn," the captive tart groaned, rapidly rising passion due
to the erotic shower massage with the insistent probing of his fingers.
"Ugh, ugh, ungh, ugh, ughhnnnnghh," she panted, her hips writhing in
unfeigned rapture.  It WAS a bit like being punished, in a strange way.
Heather realized the shower head produced such intense stimulation that
she both wanted and avoided it at the same time.  Pleasure-Torture!
Roberto twisted the shower head increasing its power.  Slowly, he worked
the jet towards the top of Heather's slit, again.
   "Mmmrrrppggghhhh!!" Heather exclaimed as the water stream hit her
swollen clit.  She tried to move away, it was too much pleasure for her
virgin cunt to take on its first voyage into sexual passion at the hands
of someone else.
   "Meeeemm, meeeemmm, mmmmmrphhh," Heather squealed once pulsating
water found its mark, yet again.  The Executioner was extremely adept at
what he did.  Her nipples throbbed.  Her dripping love treasures ached.
Her newly shorn cunt thrilled at every touch.  Her hips jerked this way
and that when the tormenting shower was directed onto her tiny aroused
clitoris.    Without warning, the torturing massage disappeared.   A
hand gently stroked up and down her slit spreading her amble love juice
over her shaved snatch.  A thumb rested directly upon her super-charged
clit rotating, slowly, in tiny circles.  It responded by becoming
engorged and rigid.  The circles grew larger, running completely around
her clit - first one side, then the other.
   "Mmmmmmmmmm," she sighed pushing her pelvis playfully into his
fingers.  After a moment, Heather felt something new.  Something unlike
any feeling she'd had masturbating.  From deep inside, it started a
soft, warm glow.  "Ungh.  Mmrrmmm, mmmmmm," the glow became a small
smouldering pleasure center located above her cunt and below her
stomach.  "Mmrrpphh.  Mmmrrrphhhh, mmrrphh, mmmrrrphhh," Heather
struggled to control it.  She tensed her asshole but the slow smoulder
of pleasure quickly grew into a lovely fire of passion.
   Heather cried out, "Mrrgggghhhppphhh!" as her rapture swept passed
being a small fire straight to a raging forest fire of erotic desire
which threaten to consume her.  Her hips twitched each time his gentle
hand cupped her naked vulva and that exquisite thumb grazed across her
protruding clit.  Soon her forest fire desire grew to a firestorm; what
had been a glow was now an impeding explosion.
   Out of control and a little afraid of this over-powering feeling,
Heather jerked back and forth in voluptuous spasms of pleasure
punctuated with moans, groans and squeals of pleasure each pushing her,
headlong, towards a precipice.  Even with the blindfold, her eyes were
squeezed shut and she strained at every bond, fighting to retain one
last thread of control.  Suddenly, the pulsating jet of water was back,
its hot stream of water directed on her clit.  The thread snapped!
   "Grrraaaammmmppphhhhh - gughn, gughn, guuuurrrggghhhnnnn," Heather
convulsed in an orgasmic state, "URNNGHHHH, MMRRRRPPPPHHHHH!!!" Her
small breasts heaved, her taut stomach contorted, both in ecstasy.  Love
juice squirted from her denude pussy.  Her anus griped tightly closed
and her head lolled from side to side as the water massaged her into
repeated climaxes.  Somewhere nearby, fireworks exploded in wild colors
filling the night sky.  "URRMMMGGGPPPHHHH!!!" with one last gagged
shriek, Heather arched completely away from the wall.  Her body tensed,
trembled once and stopped.  Then a second time and a third.  Arched for
a few seconds longer - straining against restraints - she collapsed,head
bent forward, body limp and gasping for air.
   The Executioner shut off the shower and the room filled with the
sound of dripping water and heavy breathing.  After a moment, he
unfastened Heather's legs, lifted her arms free, stepped clear of the
tub and lowered her gently to the floor already covered with large,
fluffy bath towels.  He wrapped her up completely, lovingly drying her
body.  As her breathing returned to normal, he unwrapped her and
massaged the soreness from her limbs.   Heather knew she was being
pampered.  Was this the end?  Had this been his "punishment"?  She found
herself disappointed; she wanted more.
                                  * * *
   The diminutive, tawny form of Heather Cummings, breathing softly, lay
resting under the tender kneading of her captor's hands.  It had been
the most intense orgasm of her life.  Despite her training, she was
tired but it was a very good kind of tired.  Her repose hadn't lasted
long.  Just as she started to dose off, the heels were returned to her
feet.  Upright, wrists bound behind her, she was led out of the
bathroom.
   That's when started getting a bit peculiar.  Rather than turning
right to move where they had started their little play, her Executioner
had turned left.  But left was a closet!  She listened as the doors
opened.  He turned her and backed her into the opening.  Confused,
Heather tried not to stumble as she felt certain she was going to trip
over the junk she'd always kept piled in there.  But nothing was there.
   Something clicked on each ankle-cuff and her legs were tugged apart.
When she readjusted her balance, her ankles were pulled further apart
until she stood with her feet spread against the closet walls on either
side of her.  Hands paused to play with her elfin tits.  Reaching around
her body to undo her wrists, she felt his hot breath upon her sensitive
captive nipples.   Two more soft "snick" sounds and she felt additional
weight as her wrists were fastened to some sort of bar.  A tiny
squeaking sound above her head was followed by her arms being pulled
upward until they were pulled tightly above her head.
   Heather wondered what she must look like: a petite nude with with
long slightly damp, brunette hair; arms suspended from the ceiling,
widely spread legs perched atop high heels, bald pussy lips glistening
with anticipation.  And nipple clamps.  How could she forget her pink
areola and button nipples held in silver bondage.  So far, her biggest
disappointment was that he hadn't spent time on her sensitive tits.
   Roberto was still moving around her, tightening ropes and checking
straps.  Heather heard the sound of a light switch a felt the warmth of
a bulb coming on above her.  "I'm going to take your blindfold off," he
spoke for the first time since her pussy barbering, "Close your eyes
until I tell you to open them."  The leather thongs were untied and she
felt the blinders fell away.  He fluffed up her hair then stepped back.
"Okay, open them," he said, finally.
   Heather blinked her eyes.  Before her, opposite the closet doorway, a
full-length mirror was attached to the bed frame facing her.  She saw a
gorgeous young woman hanging nude, helplessly bound, a black strap
across her winsome face.  Doe-like eyes stared submissively back at her
spread-eagle form.  Her heart raced, excited by tied hands above her
head, sleek roped legs pulled wide and dainty feet encased in wickedly
sexy black stiletto shoes with open toes.  Metal encased nipples glinted
in the half-light coming from above whenever her delicious tits jiggled
with movement.  She stared at the delicately quivering, naked vulva with
its pink protruding labia, marveling at how incredible erotic it all
looked.  She closed her eyes.  And voluptuous it felt, too.
   She reopened her eyes.  A large man with coarse hair covering a
muscular chest stepped into view.  Two steel-grey eyes watched her
intently from behind an old fashioned Executioner's hood.  Naked
himself, his engorged penis stood at rigid attention with a slight
upward curl.  Silently, he held up a long white object for her to see
then stepped into the closet.  He tweaked her tormented nipples sending
pleasurable shockwaves surging through her bothered mammaries.  Roberto
looked toward the mirror and held up two small round balls each dangling
on a gold chain with a clip.  He turn back to clip one onto each of her
nipple clamps.  They were lead weights; they dropped down stretching her
poor tender, bud-like nipples toward the floor.  Surprise made her body
jerk and her titties swayed in a new, not unpleasant way.
   Her Executioner knelt beside her bondage-racked body and carefully
spread her pussy to revolve the white rod in her natural sex lubricant.
He turned, eyeing her reflection through his mask; their eyes met and
held; Heather tensed at feeling an object being forced into her tight
virgin cunt.  The mirror confirmed her impending petrochemical rape but
her own bound form hanging next to his handsome nakedness as captive and
captor rekindled the burning fire she felt earlier in the shower.
   Heather threw back her long brown hair arching her back, struggling
as her maidenhead was stretched beyond anything she thought possible.
Fighting, making her roped body struggle against the relentless
pleasure, magically heightened her own erotic urges.  A sex slave.  A
bondage sex slave - willingly a prisoner to whatever devises he thought
up - her tormented body writhing in ecstasy all the more since being
stretched out.  Only her hips could move.   Heather watched the obscure
object of her desire slowly work inside her, twisting, turning and
reaming her love tunnel until she took its entire length.
   With the dildo in, Roberto pulled up a long red, padded bench sliding
it between Heather's outstretched legs.  Keeping one hand on her stuffed
pussy, he rolled onto the bench with his head between her firm thighs
just below her naked cunt.  Like watching herself in a wonderful movie,
unlike anything she'd see before, Heather watched him slide beneath her
until the plug end rested upon his forehead.  Hugging her smooth
buttocks with both arms, he thrust his tongue in the tender folds of her
womanhood.  That wonderful burning sensation started building, again.
It rose much quicker - urged on by her voluntary bondage struggles -
than her first time.  Before long, she could no longer control the
bucking of her hips as wave after wave of rapture coursed through her
shaved pubes, enhanced by the movement of her tortured titties.
   Moans of pleasure accelerated into outright groans of voluptuous
passion before moving to cries of sexual delight.  Without the gag, the
whole building would have known her unbridled sexual energy.  The object
shoved inside her stimulated Heather.  What he did with his hands,
rubbing her ass-cheeks, exploring her sphincter, tugging on her tit-
weights all stimulated her.  The trips his tongue took up and down her
slick slit, lingering around her clit stimulated her.  She tried to
hurry her climax.
   Her view of his inflamed, erect rod standing in black waves of pubic
hair just below her own body stimulated her.  It looked SO big.  His
scrotum hung down and Heather could see his balls when she looked his
reflection.  She wanted desperately to touch them.   Suddenly, the
captive woman, naked and suspended, had an uncontrollable desire for
cock.  Cock everywhere - in her mouth, up her ass, in her pussy.
Hungrily, her tongue worked on the pink plastic pecker serving as her
gag.    "Mmmrppghhh," came a sound.  Was that her or did he say
something from between her legs?
   "Eeerrrrrmmmm," this time, Heather knew it was she that squealed.
   To her surprise, it was not the same as before.  The fire inside her
went well passed the point where her first orgasm had erupted.  Not an
explosion this time.  It was more like a volcano.   It would be a
wonderful orgasm.  But she could not reach it.  "Mmaarrggghhhmmm!"
Heather complained in frustration.  Each time her torrid little cunny
clenched in impending orgasm, the plastic object in her pussy thwarted
her effort.  Now, her smouldering volcano had bright red lava boiling
near the top.
   "Mmmm.  Mmmm.   Mmmmm.   Mmmmm.  MMMMMmmmmm," she panted as Roberto's
tongue kept its vigil, directly on or next to her aching clit.  God, she
wanted to cum badly.  Maybe it would help to squeeze her pucker hole
tightly, clenching her tight ass-cheeks together.  The volcano became
more potent with each passing second.  Her whole body ached with unspent
sexual desire.
   She fixed her eyes on his waving, rigid cock.  "Mmmmm.  Mmmmm.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.  Unnnghhh, unnghh, unnngghhh," her body balanced upon a
pinnacle of pleasure as her mind recalled images of her stripped down
sucking on his beautiful cock.  It was so delicious, so manly.  She
longed for his prick in her mouth again.  The more she thought of it,
the more her body squirmed and struggled, seeking to release the pent-up
volcano.   The room was silent except for the creaking of her bonds, of
him wetly liquid between her thighs and her own muffled sounds.
   "Nnnrrgghhhhh," she complained in defeated.  Each wave surged her
higher.  Again and again he took her to the summit.  Time and again, she
could not consummate her impending orgasm.  Moment by moment the
pleasure increased until Heather became a wondrous creature of endless
nerve-endings devoted to voluptuous, sensuousness passion; knowing even
the remotest of physical pleasure, feeling every electric ecstasy
shooting through her consciousness.
   "Uuummmmmmmmmm," she moaned.  How long she felt that way, how long
her Executioner patiently worked her labia, she did not know.  Nor did
she care.  Nothing in heaven or on earth could feel the way Heather felt
as the volcano inside her finally erupted.  With almost comical
slowness, she felt the beginnings of tiny shudder deep within her loins.
It built until her entire body shook uncontrollably.  Hands, arms, legs,
tits, ass, everything quivered.  "EEeeeerrrrhhhh!" Heather squealed in
excited pleasure.
   It happened, the tip of his tongue just grazed the end of her love
button but she jerked, arched, and stiffened, unable to move as a
rolling explosion of ecstasy overtook her.  She couldn't breathe.  She
couldn't see or think.  The volcano exploded directly up from her cunt,
through her body and must, she felt sure, have shot flames from her eyes
and ears.  "AAaaaaaaaaaa, EEEeeeeeeeee, AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"
Heather's scream forcing itself passed the gag.  A wild mare, newly
saddled, would not have bucked or writhed as hard as she did.  Her torso
convulsed and contorted, the lead balls flying about, pulling her tiny
tits this way and that.
   Ecstasy beyond the scope of human words, swept through her.  Heather
knew nothing except pleasure - voluptuous, sensuous, erotic, hedonistic,
rapturous pleasure.  She climaxed once, twice, then again and again as
her Executioner firmly held bucking hips to keep his magnificent tongue
on her naked, glistening vulva.  One great, huge, enormous climax
followed by a seemingly endless series of small ones.  He kept at it
until her athletic prowess ran its course.  Had it not been for the
bondage, she'd have collapsed in a spent heap upon the closet floor.
But, then, if it hadn't been for the bondage - would she have had such
numerous, intense orgasms?
   Later, and she had no idea of how much time passed, Heather blinked
the moisture from her eyes.  Slowly, the red haze obscuring her vision,
cleared.  The mirror image hung limply with perspiration dripping from
her abused body.  The floor below her looked soaked.  She looked like a
draggled rat; wisps of damp hair stuck to her shoulders, upper arms and
breasts.   Sweat trickled down between her stretched tits.  There was
even sweat soaking through the gag strap.   Without strength to stand,
Heather let herself hang from the bar above her head.  Occasionally, her
hips twitched uncontrollably.
   Roberto, dear sweet Roberto, reappeared with his erection still
waving proudly in front of him.  Heather liked the way it bounced and
wiggled with every move he made.  He untied her ankles before lowering
her arms.  She hadn't known such joy was possible.  She could not
remember ever feeling this exhausted before, her body just fell to the
bench beneath her.  she wasn't sure she could leave the room even if
anybody shouted, "fire".
                                  * * *
   He toweled her off, for a second time.  They rested longer; Roberto
sat behind her, his strong arms holding the towel tightly around her
nude form.  Eventually, he let the towel fall away and they both watched
the reflection of her nipples hardening in steel prisons.  His finger
traced lightly around her pink areola then down the tender underside to
follow where her breast met her chest.  Two hands cupped her young
boobs, squeezing them together, rubbing fondly the reddish-brown
protuberant buds before letting one hand slide down her sleek abdomen
until it touched her vulva.  Again, they both watched as his fingers
disappeared inside folds still slippery from her last "punishment".
   Heather could feel Roberto's savage erection pressing into the small
of her back.  When his hand delved into her sweet snatch, she was
surprised to find she wanted more sex; she had no idea she would desire
it so quickly after such an explosive orgasm.  He was clever, this
captor of her's, for her desire now focused on fondling him with her
fingers and feeling him inside her, pulsating to climax.  To fully
submit to this stallion of manliness.  He taught her more about her
sexuality in one night than she ever thought possible.  But, alas, her
wrists were still attached to the bar resting in front of her.
   Roberto arose and removed the mirror.  There, hanging from the bunk
frame, were strands of white rope and a large tan belt at least four
inches wide; it, too, had a D-ring.  He returned for his sweet prisoner,
undid the bar and bid her to rise.  They moved toward the bed, until she
was positioned facing the spot where the mirror had been.   Around her
slender waist he fastened the belt with the ring towards her back.  Her
wrists were tied behind her back with some of the waiting rope.
   "Bend over," Roberto said, speaking for the first time in some while.
He gently guided her head downwards until she was looking out between
her own legs toward the closet.  Again, had she not been supple, this
would have been uncomfortable.  Weighted nipple clamps now pulled in new
direction, lifting relative to dragging at her tits.  Heather's wrists
were tugged up and roped to the metal bed frame.  Rope tied to each
ankle cuff-ring was looped around the bed leg and pulled forcing her to
"walk" closer to the bed until her head was directly between shapely
spread legs.  More rope bound her knees to the frame.  Her tied arms
bore most of her weight but not for long.  Gentle tugging by her
Executioner caused her body to lift slightly with more weight taken by
the leather strap under her tummy.
   Meanwhile, Heather was trying to make sense of the evening.  Her
emotions were terribly jumbled: love, fear, excitement.  Intense desire.
Rapture. Erotic passion.  It befuddled her.  Why was being manhandled,
roped, "raped" and "punished" was such a sexually exciting thing for
her?  Heather wiggled against her bonds and felt her tit weights sway
deliciously.  She could feel wanton, sluttish desires building again.
She wanted to be taken.  She loved being used by this man in this way.
Something only for them, this one man who mastered her completely though
she was only just becoming aware of it.
   Unexpectedly, Roberto the Executioner squatted looking at her eyes.
He reached forward, "I think the time for this has passed," he said
feeling around for the buckle on her gag strap.
   It was a sinfully wonderful sensation to be held in such bondage, for
so long and then suddenly be free of part of it. "Oohhohohoo," Heather
swallowed, working her stiff jaws experimentally before licking her
lips.  Her eyes stayed upon his rigid prick still in front of her.
   "Now for the last punishment.  The final penitence, as it were," said
Roberto as he stepped back, placed the mirror on the floor and slid it
beneath her dangling pussy.
   Heather had a stunning view of her own shaved pussy even in the low
light coming from the open closet behind her.  It was so sexy!  Her own
hairless cunt with the tip of her pink love-button poking out her semi-
spread pouting labia parted ever so slightly just in front of her love
tunnel.  It was coyly invitational.  As she enjoyed the view, Heather
saw Roberto tie something around her hips.  It looked like a small, pink
butterfly-shaped object with a tiny white cord.  He snuggled it next to
her tender, overused clit.  Her excitement grew watching Roberto's
reflection then straddled the mirror, positioned his throbbing dick
behind her, its tip gently nudging her excited mound.  She watched as
the pinkish-purple cockhead almost disappear into her folds, yet she
could tell he had not pushed inside her cunt.
   "Tell me what you want...." The Executioner breathed, a slight tremor
in his deep masculine voice.
   "I want it.  I want it inside me!" begged Heather trying to thrust
herself upon his waiting phallic sword.
   "What do you want?" he said, slowly drawing his prick away from her.
   "NO!" she almost screamed, "No, don't go!  Stay inside me, PLEASE...
I want YOU.  I WANT YOU INSIDE ME!" Heather pleaded, never desiring
anything as much in her life.  It was as if her life depended on his
cock getting inside her now.  Right now.  "Please, Master, please let me
feel your wonderful thing buried in my tingly cunny," she pleaded,
suddenly inspired.  This wasn't play-acting, anymore.
   "You want me?  Inside that tight, little cunt of yours, you tiny-
titted vixen?" the Executioner teased unmercifully, seeming to know all
her emotional weaknesses.  His tool slipped passed her eager hole using
her lubricant-soaked pussy lips to stroke his rod, its tip just
caressing her clit under the pink butterfly before withdrawing back
towards her Venus Canal.  "You're a slut, do you know that?  A regular
slut.  A Trollop.  A jiggle-titted strumpet who needs a good fucking on
to keep you in line, don't you think?" he mocked her.
   "Yes, sir.  Oh, yes sir, I'm a whore.  I haven't got the tits of a
real woman but my virgin cunt needs a proper fucking to keep me in
line," she whimpered, following his lead.  Her tit size had always been
a point of insecurity - had he known?.  "I'm a slut, too.  I just dream
and dream about sex with you.  All the time...all I live for is having
your rock-hard cock jammed inside me until I can't take anymore," she
moaned as he continued to slide his prick up and down her slick cunt.  A
different desire from her two previous orgasms stoked itself inside her.
Something more than just thrilling an intense climax.
   Suddenly, his rigid maleness pushed its way passed her labia and
plunged inside her.  Panic flooded her as she realized, unexpectedly,
she wasn't be a virgin any longer and her cunt muscles contracted,
involuntarily.  Briefly, she wondered if she was, indeed, being raped.
But her erotic passion, only briefly ebbed, quickly flowed back.  It
surged, cresting in a fiery tide of wantonness as Heather wholly gave
way to his lust and impaled herself upon his member.
   "Oh my god, it's soooo big!" she lamented loudly.  The mirror
provided a private viewing screen.  Heather not only felt her first true
intercourse, but enjoyed watching his balls slap against her slick
pussy, his piston rod plunge in and out of her glistening slit and her
tortured tit weights swing in time to each stroke.  "Yes, oh yyeesss,"
Heather grunted as Roberto jacked his cock in and out.  Nothing ever
felt like this, he filled her completely, stretching her virgin pussy,
using her tight cunt for his pleasure.  She loved it!   Even tied as she
was, her own hip thrusts drove his hot tool deeper inside herself.
   "Uh huh, uh huh . . . uh huh, uh huh, uh huh," panting, lost in a web
of titillating feelings making her ass, thighs, legs, back, even her
hair charged with renewed sexual energy powered by his cock ramming in
and out of her tight slit.  She strained against her rope prison,
longing for the fullness of her newly discovered passion.  He continued
stroking with his prick, back and forth - in and out.  Something tickled
her clit.  Yet, Heather felt both her master's hands riding her ass.
Remembering the pink butterfly, Heather realized it was some kind of
vibrator.  "Eeeeeeeeee," she cried as it intensified.  "Oh . . . oh,
yes!" she cried, "More, I-I want more of your cock in my cunt, master,
please.  Oh yes, please, oh . . . oh, oh . . . oh, please, PLEASE!!!"
   Roberto waited a long time for this moment; now, he wasn't sure he
could cum as quickly as he had thought.  He boosted the hand held
vibrator control while kneading Heather's shapely bum.   He pushed in as
far as he could go, pressing his cockhead tightly against her distended
cervix then slowly withdrew until it almost fell from her slippery
snatch.  He paused a fraction of a second for Heather's cunt muscles to
convulsed tightly before thrusting himself deep inside her again,
working her body like virtuoso treats a violin.
   "Oooohhhhhhhh, I - I can't t-t-take much more of this, Master," she
wiggled under his incoming thrust.  "Make me c-c-cum, Master, please
make mmmeee ccccuuummmm!" Heather begged frantically.
   Truth was, he could no longer wait, himself.  "Unnggghh,  uhh . . .
unhh, unhh, unngghhh!" were the first overtly sexual sounds from his
mouth since Heather's earlier fellatio.
   His noises with the vibrator on her clit drove Heather's erotic
fervor towards a sexual peak.  "Please, pl-please, fuck me, fuck me,
fuck me . . . pleasseeeee fuck my pussy!!!" she pleaded, knowing it was
driving her captor over the edge towards his own orgasm.
   "Urrrgghhh," Roberto fought for control, "Urrrmmmmmmppppgghhh!" Air
burst from his lungs, he arched his back and stood rigidly thrust inside
her as if suddenly frozen in place.  His thumb must have hit the
vibrator's control, jamming it to full on.  A soft buzz could be heard
as Heather stiffened at the unexpected but not unwelcomed excitation.
   This time her own orgasm blind-sided her, "aaaaaaa, aaaaeee,
aaahhheeeEeEeEEeEEE!" She screamed like a runaway freight train,
rounding an unseen curve.  It barrelled down on top of her.  "EEEEEEE,
EEEEEEEEE!" Heather delighted passion train ran straight over both of
them.  She plunging into an orgasmic abyss with one long, unbroken
squeal, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
   The Master Executioner was lost in his own sexual climax.  He
remained motionless until his whole body convulsed in one giant orgasm.
"AAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!" his own cry joined hers in
crescendo.  He felt his sperm spew inside her waiting cunt.  His balls
tightened then he thrust rapidly, stroking to prolong the sensation.
Another, smaller orgasmic spasm followed by a few more thrusts and a few
more contortions of erotic joy before he felt himself fully spent.
                                  * * *
   Heather's climax had coincided with his, perfectly.  She felt his cum
shoot into her with tremors of pleasure and delight.  When he finally
relaxed, weakness washed over her tawny body so completely, she drooped
her weight on the belt.  She could see cum oozing from her still stuffed
pussy, the mirror beneath her smeared with white drops of cum and clear
drips of their combined juices.  Heather was totally spent, helpless and
more than a little sleepy.  She felt her Master pull his prick from her
and more cum dribble out.  He pushed the mirror away, retrieved the
abandoned towel, and lovingly wiped her down before untying her arms,
removing the belt and unroping her legs.  Unable to stand, she fell into
his waiting arms.
   Roberto swept her up with his strong arms and laid her gently upon
the bed.  He tenderly examined her wrists and ankles, touching the
softly to make sure no damage had been done.  He covered her with a
blanket, then drew it back exposing her breasts.  Reaching forward, he
removed the lead weights and started to undo the tit clamps.
   "No.  Wait," Heather whispered, her hand touching his.  Lowering her
eyes, she said shyly, "I like them.  Could I leave them on for a bit
longer, please?"
   "You punishment is over, you don't have to leave them on unless you
really want to," Roberto responded quietly, tracing little circles
around her nipples with his finger.
   "I know.  But," she cuddled near his naked thigh, "I like the way
they feel."  Roberto seemed pleased.  Smiling, he pulled the covers up
and lovingly tucked Heather into bed.  Kissing her softly, he rose and
moved about quietly cleaning up the apartment by the soft glow from the
street lights and the still open closet.
   For a while, Heather watched his every move, feeling all warm and
wonderfully content.  It must be love.  It had to be love.  She felt
secure and comfortable.  Cared for.  He moved with such grace - hardly
making a sound for one so large.  Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of
his now flaccid penis and wondered how something like that could impart
such pure pleasure.   Sighing, Heather pulled her pillow up under her
head and decided to think about it later.
   She must have fallen asleep.  She awoke with a start and the memory
of the evening came flooding back into her consciousness.  Was it a
dream?  Heather looked under the covers and smiled.  No, not a dream!
But how long they made love or how long since they stopped were complete
mysteries to her.  The curtains were closed now and the closet light
off.  Candles were lit upon the table and a bottle of wine stood open.
Wonderful smells of toast and eggs and bacon wafted towards her.
   Heather stretched, catlike.  The covers fell from her pleasing body
as she swung her legs out of bed.  Just then Roberto appeared from the
kitchen wearing nothing but her flowered apron; ladened with food,
glasses and plates.  He flashed a smile at her then swiftly set the
table.  She started to rise but stopped as soon as she realized how
stiff and sore she had become.
   "What time is it?" she asked Roberto.
   "After midnight.  Hungry?"
   "Oh, yes.  Starved.  It smells good, can we eat now?" she asked.
   "Yep, it's ready," he walked over and held out his hand.
   She rose with his help and glided over to the kitchen table.  Only
one chair was there waiting for them.  Before Heather could ask where
the other was, Roberto whipped off the apron and sat, naked, upon the
sole available chair.   He guided her onto his lap.  Her naked cunt, now
rather tender, nestled comfortably upon his semi-rigid member.
   Naked, they ate together.  Roberto fed to her food and wine
intermixed with a variety of hugs.  Little teasing hugs, great bear
hugs, lover to lover hugs.  Heather fed him kisses and snuggled, giggled
and cuddled with his great bear-like body.  Often their lips met,
sometimes sharing bits of food and other times sharing unspoken
feelings.  They touched.  They caressed.  They cared for each other.
When the meal was over, they stood naked shoulder to naked shoulder
doing dishes together.  The kitchen clean, they returned to bed where
they made love again, tenderly, slowly and in total equality.  She gave
all the pleasure she knew how to give - willingly.  And he, to her.  At
the height of their intercourse, he removed the nipple clips and her
squealing orgasm created his own.  In the end, she kissed him deeply,
passionately and they fell asleep in each other's arms.
 
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