Perverted Pleasures

with thanks to LadyP for the delectable was so yummy that I had to jump right in. (with apologies to those still waiting for chapters in the pregnant story…I promise things will quiet down next week to allow me to finish that one up!)

She was a powerhouse of a woman, one who had risen through the male-dominated ranks of business to build her own empire. She was hard-as-nails tough, capable of squeezing pounds out of pence, and had been known, on occasion, to make grown men weep.

Yet, it was true what they said, those ubiquitous fucking “they” people, whomever “they” were. It was lonely at the top. But all of that had changed. She was no longer “at the top” –a situation arrived at by her own choice. No more would there be that plethora of 5 a.m. wake up calls, fraught with millions of monies being lost or gained, nor doom or glory looming around every decision. Even better, there would be no more working in her penthouse condo until midnight, then trying to catch up on sleep before the first of the panic calls began.

She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort, or the edge of a frightening precipice of her own personal disaster. But there would be no going back, not now. The deal was done, the ink dry. The company was no longer hers to command, it was true; but she was hopeful that the dividends would more than compensate for any lingering bits of remorse.  A large wad of money was parked in a variety of investments, and now, at long last, she had the time to indulge that which she had set aside for so long. She had cravings that she’d had seldom occasion to indulge in, cravings that not one of the people with whom she had worked over the last decade had any clue about.

And now she waited. She was not overfond of waiting, being the impatient sort of woman that she was. Yet, tapping pale polished nails on her table would not make the invitation come any faster. She was sure that she’d done all in her power to glean acceptance to one of the most exclusive clubs around. Indeed, the application had been filed, the two questionnaires answered, and the phone interview concluded. She’d been told, and rather tersely upon her inquiring (again), that she would be contacted when her application was accepted.

She didn’t like waiting.


The knock on her door came two days later. Of course it was Coco’s day off, she recalled, as the bell chimed a second, then a third time. Well dammit. She popped the chocolate in her mouth and, with an eye-roll towards the ceiling, made her way to the front door.

He was tall, black, and incredibly muscular. His companion was shorter by a head, but just as burly. She was alone in her apartment, but decided to bluff her way through. Something about the two made her very nervous.

“Ms. Pomeroy?” The tall black man spoke first.


He took a step forward, proffering a gold-embossed envelope. When she took it, she realized it wasn’t an envelope at all, but a postcard, printed on heavy linen stock. Her heart leapt to her throat.

“I see you recognize it.”


“May we enter?”

Dear gods, she thought, had she made the wrong choice after all?

“Yes. Yes of course.” Stepping aside to allow them in, she remembered all the years of repressed sexuality. A tremendous surge of warmth grew between her thighs as the two men came quietly inside and shut the door. Was she making the right choice here?

The shorter of the pair stepped forward, hooking a finger in her blouse.

“Get naked. Now.”

Her heart set up a pounding so hard that she thought it must be audible. The dark man just stood there, arms crossed, watching. It was embarrassing to see her hands shaking as she reached, fumbled, for her buttons. The card with the strange golden symbol fell to the floor beside her, unnoticed.

Somehow the shirt was undone, left to fall in a silken pool at her feet. She stared at the men for a moment.

“Naked means no clothing. You have less that 60 seconds to finish…or I’ll help you.”

The man leered at her, and she was certain she could see a huge bulge in his pants. She unzipped the back of her slacks, then stepped out of them. It was foolish to feel that her bra and panties were of any sort of help here, but she was reluctant for this last shield to be breached. The left eyebrow of the black man rose fractionally. Correctly interpreting it as a sign of impatience, she made quick work of sliding her straps down, releasing her breasts, and sliding her panties to her ankles.

“Hold right there.”

Damn but his voice was deep. And erotic. A stranger, moving around her, his hands not touching as she’d assumed. She began to blush as they discussed her.

“Nice tits.”

“A great ass. That’s gonna look good with strap marks on it…”

“Look at that cunt. Looks like she’s wanting a nice hard cock right about now.”

Hands separated the globes of her ass.

“Pretty tight pucker there.”

“Stand up.”

She rose, her face flushed with a mixture of lust and humiliation.

“Hands behind your head.”

A blindfold slid over her eyes.

“Do not break position.  Do not speak. Understood?”

She nodded. Her breath came in short wisps. She was scared. She was excited. She was so turned on, and utterly terrified.

There was a sound, a loud whirring…something pressed to the juncture of her thighs. The first orgasm hit like a brick, a thundering wave that seemed to crest, and keep on cresting. Whining wasn’t speaking, she hoped, as she heard her own voice keening. It sounded like a far away call, as he kept the vibe pressed hard against her. It hurt, yet there was a quiet thrill to be used this way. Three orgasms in and she began to feel light-headed, her pussy throbbing from the unceasing pressure of the rumbling torment. How she held her hands there, kept herself from falling over, she didn’t know. Legs trembling, it was all she could do to keep erect.

The vibe snicked off.

“My what a messy cunt you have there.”

She could feel the sticky wetness on the insides of her thighs.

“Put your arms down.” Large hands untied the blindfold. Blinking against the glare of sunlight in her apartment, she was confused, befuddled by the the tremble that still shook inside her clit. Aftershocks, she realized. His hands stroked down her arms, whispering a soft ‘good girl’ against her ear. A tremendous feeling of relief swept through her. Her Master took her chin in his large hand, his eyes locking on hers. There was an intensity there that made her feel more than naked.

“You have been officially inducted into my club. You have a very long week ahead of you. You have agreed to all the terms and conditions. Are you prepared?”

Her lips moved, a soft ‘yes Master’.”

He looked into her.

“You’re not prepared, not even a little. But we’ll work on that. Your safeword is lipstick. You have been informed on the circumstances in which to use it, should there be a need. I have seen that you are capable of accepting pleasure. Before I allow you do dress so that we may leave, you will show me that you are capable of delivering it as well. Therefore, you will pleasure us both — with your mouth.”

She fell to her knees in a sexual bliss-haze. When they released their shafts, she took each of them in her finely manicured hands.  First a gentle kiss to each tip, before she began to lick the two cocks, one dark ebony, the other thick and white with a bulbous tip. Sucking and nibbling on their man-flesh only took her so far before the man, who she was to address as Sir,  grabbed her by her ears and shoved his rigid dick into her throat. He fucked her mouth as he would her pussy, despite her gags and choking coughs. He pulled back until just the tip hung between her lips, as Mr. Ebony, who would be her Master, pressed his cockhead between her lips. Two delicious cocks seeping into her mouth, their semen dripping from the slits. Both salty, both hot, both hers. 

When they came, filling her mouth with their salty dew, they drew their cocks across her cheeks.

“You will wear our essence as you leave here, for all to see that you are our slut now. Come, whore, let us find you something appropriate to wear as we take you home.”

She flushed as they walked through the lobby, as Pierre looked from the dry semen adorning her cheeks to the two men flanking her.

“You okay, Mz P?” He inquired cautiously.

Her smile was radiant.

“Better than I’ve been in years. See you in a week Pierre!”