Return to Scheherazade Part Four


Author: Salamanda
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimer: Oh the usual: They ain't mine, none of, not a one of 'em - still wishin' tho'. They belong to a whole mess of other folk, too numerous (and lucky) to mention. There's not a bean o' profit in it - ain't that the truth! I'm a just doin' it for the love o' the smut.
Dana Scully belongs to Chris Carter and 20th Century Fox.
Notes: I've done my usual trick of playing around with the continuity of scenes. Hope it doesn't confuse too much!
Pairings: W/T, a little X/A, a mention of F/B and f/D.

Tara bit her lip resisting the moan that threatened to burst from her.

She pulled herself upright in her seat, trying to re-focus her attention on the class. Unfortunately repositioning herself had the regrettable effect of making matters worse and she gave a low gasp of pleasure; her head jerking back slightly as she closed her eyes.

"Ahhmmm..." came her soft, involuntary sigh, color flushing her cheeks as a shiver, a delicious thrill of arousal ran through her, raising goose-bumps along her spine, making her toes curl slightly in her sandals and her nipples tighten, stiffening inside her blouse.

She dipped her head in embarrassed chagrin as heads turned towards her.

"Excuse me Ms... Maclay? Did you have something to contribute?"

Tara blushed again.

The visiting speaker was an undeniably attractive woman. Her tumbling mane of red hair and piercing blue eyes demanded attention and with her low, huskily seductive tones above fifty percent of the class were enraptured; more so, it has to be said, than by the subject matter. Tara herself would normally have been quite fascinated by the subject material - "Occurrence of Unexplained and Supernatural Phenomena, Pagan Ritual and Witchcraft; a Jungian response?" But the small, shapely, immaculately presented speaker, with flashing eyes and breasts that almost made her mouth water, provided a maddeningly attractive vision. Something about her serious, studious appearance reminded the young witch of Willow. And then there was the red hair. Tara was always a sucker for red-heads.

'Mind you, Willow, doesn't have breasts like that' she mused before quickly suppressing the thought.

Too late, she forced the lecherously disloyal thought aside. The 'device' between her legs seemed to spring to life, tightening insidiously where it clung around her clitoris.

Tara was sure Willow had been fully aware of what her likely reaction to the red haired guest lecturer would be.

The device was a small metal ring, enchanted to exist in sympathy with its wearer. When it 'detected' what the spell described as 'impure' thoughts it came to life. Initially merely, creating a pleasant but distracting sense of stimulation tightened on the wearer. However the real, ingeniously, subtle cruelty of the device was the way that by causing that stimulation it worked to increase the tendency of the wearer's thoughts to wander. Each time she found her thoughts drifting towards matters sexual the wearer found it tightening another fraction around her clitoris; until it became an extravagant source of exquisite sexual agony.

Developed as a means of torment to ensure sexual compliance amongst Harem slaves it was an elegantly secret means of keeping girls and woman in a tortured state of arousal over long periods of time; loosening periodically by a fraction to maintain blood flow it was brilliantly a simple use of witchcraft. Willow had bee entranced by it, overjoyed by its discovery and success.

"This will keep you nicely on edge until tonight... maybe provide you with a little... inspiration for your little story later..."

The blonde witch had just begun to experience the early stages of its effects. Every movement seemed to enhance her awareness of its presence.

And if the visiting red head looked at her again like that she knew that was very likely to start mentally undressing her.

"Mmmm... oh-oh n-nothing Ms Scully..." she managed to pant as the ring tightened again making her hips jerk in a spasms of stimulation.

A murmur of amusement seemed to circle the room at her apparent discomfiture.

The red haired agent's eyes narrowed briefly as if to assess the blonde witch and Tara shivered somewhat under the other woman's scrutiny, wondering whose eyes were undressing who. There was something almost predatory, rapacious in that stare. Tara felt naked before it. A frisson of arousal shivered through her.

The ring tightened again.

Agent Scully turned away returning to her subject. Tara watched the sway of her hips, the taut swell of her buttocks inside the smart business skirt, with growing interest.

She stifled a moan of growing need and growing discomfort as the ring seemed to shrink on her bud. It was going to be a very difficult afternoon and she had yet to begin writing her fantasy for her lover. Mind you, she was not short of ideas.

The music fades as the song comes to a close. Out on the dance floor the heaving mass of bodies slows, adjusting to the new rhythm of the next track. I watch as Buffy and Faith bump and grind; sinuous and sexual. Faith's hand is possessive on the smaller Slayer's butt, holding her close as she rides the blonde up and down on the thigh that intrudes between her lover's legs. Buffy's face is fixed, adoring, suffused with a desperate need, her eyes locked, pleading, needy, limpid with the extremity of her arousal, on her dark haired lover's face.

Looks like the blonde Slayer is sooo gonna get fucked tonight... and the rest. Faith's right hand releases her girlfriend's ass to rise and fall with a sharp smack on the pert swell of the mini-skirted butt.

Buffy's mouth forms that familiar moan as her eyes water and she writhes against Faith's leg, a different liquid weeping from another part of her body.

Nearby, Anya and Xander dance as well. Not so sensuous, more... vigorous. Xander's hand pushes the blonde former demon forwards, bending her at the waist while he thrusts his pelvis and, no doubt, his erection against the generous swell of her buttocks. As she bends, her stocking tops are visible where her tight 'little black dress' rides up her thighs. His hand is wrapped in her hair holding her tight against his crotch as he simulates taking her from behind. She wriggles against him, jerking as his free hand lands heavy, twice, on her flanks.

It's hard to tell which pair's display is the more lewd, or which blonde looks more desperately in need of a spanking and fucking.

Of course, there's a third blonde who desperately needs her ass warming until she screams... before she screams for another reason.

It's gonna be a noisy night in Sunnydale.

Your hands are all over my clothes. Your tongue is insistent, potent, questing, demanding in my mouth. It slides over mine, subduing it as you subdue me. Between my legs my cunt boils, hot, wet, needy. I cling to you desperately as you touch my breasts, teasing my nipples; palm my belly, fondle my ass, knead my thighs, press against my center.

My blushes have been un-spared all evening. Dressed in the sluttiest outfit you could find, I teeter a little in my high heels. My top is a diaphanous, translucent, red gauze. It plunges down between my breasts to reveal wide, pale slices of cleavage. Tied off with a knot, it gathers under the soft mounds of my breasts, emphasizing their swell. The almost translucent material leaves little to the imagination. Without a bra its gauzy appearance exposes my breasts to the hungry eyes of everyone in the club. My skirt is shiny, black leather. So short as to be almost a belt it shows the tops of my stockings and the clasps of my garters.

My black lace thong is a damp scrap of much displayed satin. Attracting hungry, lustful glances whenever I bend, or stretch, or sit as instructed with my legs parted. My face is still hot, flushed from my latest humiliation, my latest exhibition.

It's pretty clear which display is the most lewd. You always know how to guarantee that it is ours as you hitch my tiny, skintight, leather mini up to allow your hand to roam up the flushed naked flesh above my stocking-tops, to my core.

I writhe against you as we watch the dance floor, your breath hot in my ear, your words guttural, lust-filled, demanding. Your fingers probe into the damp crotch of my underwear, stroking urgently over the lips of my split.

Across the 'floor Dawnie dances close, oh so close to her friend... Janice I think her name is... their bodies struggling against each other as they strive to express emotions only recently discovered. I wonder absently which one of them will be the top and which the bottom.

"Huh... you mean you need to think about it..." You chuckle into my ear. I hadn't realized that I'd spoken aloud.

Of course it is obvious that the skinny girl with the punky pink hair will be the one bending Buffy's slender, soft brunette sister over to spank and love her in the Sunnydale way of things.

A shiver passes through me.

"Mmmmm... Dawnie bent over..." You purr in my ear. It's almost as if you can read my mind.

"That's right Tara isn't it? Oh such a bad girl Tara..." Your fingers burrow their hypnotic way into me. "Such a bad girl... thinking thoughts like that about little Dawnie... getting you all hot isn't it?"

I whimper softly against you, squirming as your fingers explore deep, searching profoundly inside my aching need.

My sex tightens, around you.

"That's it baby... you want it dontcha baby... you're desperate... need me to fuck you hon... oh yea... you're such a slut ain't ya baby?"

"Mmm-hmm..." I moan in reply as your hands wander over my body.

"OK then my little slut..."

Drawing me aside you lead me, limp, unresisting, compliant towards the restrooms, your eyes shadowed in the dim lights of the Bronze.

Once through the door and into the stern harshly sterile light of the women's room you crush me up against he wall. Your body is hard against mine. Thrusting, demanding, I feel the bulge in your jeans as your lips claim mine. Your tongue is forceful, muscular as it quests its way into my mouth. I can taste the liquor on your breath, spicy, heady.

Your hands roam my back, grasping, pawing at the fullness of my ass, as you kick my legs apart to thrust your hips and the solid rigidity of your faux-cock against my center.

I gasp and you reach for my leg hitching it up and around your waist, opening me, presenting my core, vulnerable even through my clothes, to the hardness behind your button fly.

My breasts, fuller, heavier than yours are crushed against you. The taut buds of my nipples ache at the pressure of your slim, hard body.

Your voice is husky now as you grate into my mouth.

"In the stall pet..." I shiver at your voice and at that word.

Pet; it signifies so much. It indicates ownership, possession, dominance, love. Pet, Slave, Toy; all names that denote your claim and my submission... Oh Goddess how my heart beats faster when I hear them. How my center pulses, hot and hungry. How my juices ooze, boiling, flooding from inside me.

I shiver and almost miss your instruction.

"In the stall..." You growl again, releasing me, to turn me, and with a smack, sharp and heavy on my ass, that ignites sparks in the depths of my body, you propel me to the middle of the bathroom stalls.

"Get down pet... down on your knees Tara..." Your hand is heavy on my shoulder as you press down. I subside to my knees on the bathroom floor.

"Good girl..." You purr. "Now pet... tell me... what are you?"

I blink up at you as you step past me to take a seat leaving the door behind me open wide.

I know this game. I know the refrain you want to hear from me.

"I'm y-yours..." My voice breaks, uncertain, nervous, hot, breathless with arousal. "Y-your slave Mistress..."

Not a game, not make believe; the absolute truth of my reality.

"That's right baby... my slave..." Your lips form around the words, satisfaction dripping from them. "And what's that mean pet?"

"Ohh..." I groan slightly as you lift a foot underneath my skirt to nudge the leather of your boot against sodden crotch of my panties. My hips buck.

"Mmmmm baby? What's that mean Tara?"

Your foot is a torment between my legs. It strokes, not too hard, just enough over the wet, distended, swollen lips of my cunt.


"Ohhh..." I moan. "Ohhh... it... it... ahhh... it means... I-I'm yours... ahhh..." I finally manage to repeat myself. "Th... that I... ohhh... I'll d-d-do whatever... you... ahhhh... want... ohhh... whatever you... say..."

"That's right girl... what ever I say... So if I tell you to polish my boots Tar?"

My hips jerk at the increase in pressure at the junction of my legs.

"Unnhhh..." I groan. "Unhhh... I polish your boots Mistress."

And I rock my hips back and forth against your foot, polishing the black leather of your spiked boots with my crotch, painting it with my liquor, buffing it as I grind myself gasping onto it.

You smile is cool, cruel as you watch my abasement.

"Thing is babe... you can't clean my boots properly with your panties on can you?"

"N-n-n-no..." I gasp, groaning as I rock myself on your foot. I know what is expected of me. "P-please Mistress... may I remove my... ahhh... panties so I can clean... ohhh... clean your boots properly?"

"Of course you can baby." Your reply is cool, even, calm, reasonable, oh so reasonable.

My hands scrabble with my underwear pulling them to my knees. Your foot remains between my legs, slipping back up and against my sex as my panties fall down my thighs where I kneel before you.

"Leave them there Tara!" You instruct as the pointed toe of your boot probes between my labia before dragging down my cunt to nestle firmly against me.

My panties are stretched between my knees as I spread my legs against their restraining elasticity to accommodate your foot.

I need no further instruction and begin to rock myself against the top of your foot. I moan as my lips kiss the boot. Your toe nestles wickedly behind my cunt against the tight knot of my rose hole, stimulating my hidden mouth.

My clit catches on the laces, sending a shuddering, explosion of ecstasy through me, setting my body jerking, jolting as my head snaps back, my breasts heaving and my stomach contracting, rippling with the intensity of that pleasure.

Unwilling to let me come yet you relieve the pressure of your foot, removing it, shiny, glistening with my essence to replace it with the other one.

I shudder again as it presses into me.

"Now baby... slowly..."

I begin again to rock against you, painting your other boot with my sap, greasing it until it shines. I writhe, gasping but obedient as I hold back the burning urging of my body as it demands the blissful release of orgasm.

"I want to see you pet..." Your voice seems strained as lust fills you. Your breath is heavier. Your eyes, hooded. "... lift your skirt baby..."

I reach for the hem of my skirt to draw the tight leather up my thighs to the swell of my hips. I struggle to pull it over my ass, my hips, exposing my naked sex to you. Your foot nestles against pouting, full lips of my cunt as I ooze no gush onto your boot.

I freeze as the door of the restroom swings back. Chatter spills in. Two voices, three all female, what else? They head for the cubicles, separating into three stalls still gossiping happily as they pee

None of them come as far as our cubicle, where I kneel half naked on the floor in the open stall, with your foot in my cunt.

You grin happily at my discomfort and your foot presses harder, deeper into me, again my clit scrapes against the laces and I can't hold the moan any louder.

"Ahhhhh... .ohhhhh..." I gasp, as you work me, setting me rocking, shaking again.

Now your foot is merciless. It pushes deep into me and you nod at me as I look up pleading at you. My eyes fill with tears; tears of frustration, of need, of embarrassment.

The girlie chatter has stopped from the other stalls.

They can hear your one word command.


My body, desperate, needful, a heaving mass of lust, obeys instinctively. Splashing my essence onto your boot I thrust against you and, jerking, quaking, spasming I climax. My cunt seems to try to swallow your foot as I saw against it crying out as I climax.

"Ohhhhh... ohhhh... ohhh... yuh-yuh-yuh... ohhhhh... I... I'm cu-u... cu... coming... ohhh yuhh... ohhh... fuhck... fuck... fuck... yes... ohhhhhh..."

"Oh my God!"... "That's just..."... "Ewww..."... "What are they? Like uber dykes?"... "Come on let's get out of here"... "Fuckin' freaks..."

My face is flushed with embarrassed chagrin as I recover from my orgasm.

You simply smile that quiet smile.

And the door crashes open again.

This time the voices are familiar.

"Oh please... no Xander... not here... no... I promise I'll be very good... please take me home... you can tie me up and... and whip my pussy just... please... not here!"

The reformed vengeance demon pleads with her much changed human lover to no avail.

"Yes here!" He hisses in return. The sound of the stall door next to us, slamming back, echoes around the restroom. "Now on your knees An..."

"But it's... it's a public... bathroom Xander..." She wails pitifully, desperate to avoid finding herself, like me, on the floor, her dignity ripped away.

But I found out long ago that resistance was not an option. It seems that Anya is only just learning that lesson.

With a sob she subsides as he hisses a renewed instruction to her.

From my position I can see her knees under the partition as she sinks onto them.

His zipper hisses and a moment later the muffled sound of Anya's mouth sucking on his cock reaches us.

Your eyes are bright as you stand up. Your buttons come undone in a rush as you pull open the black leather of your jeans. I recognize the light in your eyes as you proffer the false erection to my mouth. That familiar, wry sense of humor sparkles in your dark green orbs. You quirk an eyebrow as I open my mouth to impersonate the ex demon and suckle on your 'cock'.

Next door Xander is gasping, encouraging Anya on as she 'blows' him.

"That's it baby... oh yeah... that's my good little demon bitch... that's right suck me good... oh yeah... that's good baby... ohh yeah... so gonna whup your ass for you later... oh yeah... take me deep baby... in your throat... ahhh... sooo good...'n' then I am gonna whip your pussy anyway... ahhh... yeah... that's right An... suck it... ohh... ...shit... gonna... ohh yeah... gonna... come baby... ohh... ohhh... ohhhh... yeahhhh... ...ahhhhhhhhhhhh..."

My head bobs on the hard neutral silicone of your strap-on. I know you love the sight of me sucking you off.

The tiled floor is uncomfortable, hard against my stocking covered knees part of me retreats back to this afternoon; remembering how this game started...

..."Here!" You say, your voice quiet, hushed, almost a whisper of steely authority and my eyes widen in surprise even as I shiver at the husky tones, the murmur of lust, of demanding desire in your voice, the harsh, imperious instruction.

"H-Here?" I stammer as I answer your solitary word of command with an echo.

"Mmmhm... here..." You murmur in my ear. Your hand firm at my elbow. Your body, quivering imperceptibly with lust by my side, but hard, remorseless in your slender, slight frame is a burning presence that dominates my senses, demanding my attention, almost blocking out my awareness of my surroundings. Almost...

I hesitate; briefly uncertain. My head seems to spin in confusion as I wonder how I got here; to this point, this place.

But you leave me little time to deliberate, to reflect. Your voice is still soft, hushed but insistent, oh so insistently demanding as you call me back.

"Now Tara..."

'Ohhh Goddess' I sigh inwardly. 'So commanding my mistress...'

A sliver of ice slides down my spine, making me arch, my nipples spiking and my stomach lurching as my center tightens, that deep itching heat flaring in the humidity of my core.

"Ohhh Goddess..." I breathe as I turn to you. I look one last time, wishing for relief in your eyes, for you to relent, to change your mind taking me home, to our bed where I can serve you in the intimacy the privacy of our bedroom.

I should know better by now. There is no softening the resolve in the bright jade of your eyes.

"Yes Tara... I am... your Goddess... your mistress... your lover... your Goddess... and you will do it... because I ask..."

I sigh again; a rushing release of breath. You are right, of course you are... I will do it because you ask... as I will do anything because you ask... like I would submit to Xander... like I would love Buffy and Dawn for you... like I have given you my body, my flesh to enjoy in all those ways you love... regardless of my pain, my pleasure...

My cunt spasms, tightening again at the thought, memories assail me: your hand on my bottom, spanking me; the leather on my flanks as you whip me; your gloved fingers on my clit, your little fist inside me, my rose-hole filled with one of your many faux-cocks as you pound me to yet another tear-filled orgasm. I flush with the heat of my arousal and your eyebrow quirks with amusement as you watch my reactions.

The sun slants down between the buildings. The grass is bright and green. Around us the SDC campus bustles; students and members of faculty hurry from place to place, spill from lectures, head for the library. Some stroll to lunch. Some sit in the sun. Around us they all proceed unaware of our private drama as they are unaware of so much that we do...

"So?... Now show yourself Tara..."

Your voice draws me back from my reverie.

My head bowed I reach for the straps of my dress, drawing them off my shoulders onto my arms.

"Look up Tara." Your voice is calmly demanding. "I want to see your face, your eyes."

I look up from beneath the heavy hoods of my eyelids to meet again the dark, ebon orbs of your eyes and I shiver again at their diamond hardness.

"Show me Tara." Your murmured instruction is weighted, irresistible, pressing as steel, hot and molten with your passion. "Show me yourself... now..."

Shuddering still, my sex hot and liquid now, I feel my labia purse, swelling, splitting to ooze with my arousal as I respond to you as I always do. I draw my arms from the slender straps of my dress as your eyes hold my gaze.

With a slight shake of my shoulders I let the top of my dress fall, tumbling past the fullness of my breasts to expose them to the air. Despite the warmth of the day my nipples stiffen again, spiking harder drawing your gaze, your eyes narrowing as you watch my display begin.

"Lift your skirts Tara..."

My mouth dry, arid I reach, hands shaking as campus eyes turn to watch my exhibition, to raise the hem of my dress hitching it up, drawing it up to gather it to my waist, exposing my cunt; bare, shaved this morning for your pleasure. My lips pout, full and flushed as I sense people stop around us to stare at my near nakedness, but I have eyes only for you. I watch with a shudder as you drink in my exposure, your gaze crawling over me. I feel it, real, substantial; like a prickle, a faint tickling itch; a skein of fire; a tracing, crawling, subtle spider-web; a maze of near torment on my heated skin.

My face blushes bright, a delicate pink that spreads rapidly to my breasts, to my belly. Soon my body is glowing with embarrassment, as rose red, it seems, as after the severest spankings. I shake, my core spasming as I long for the punishment I know will come soon. As soon as you have had your fill of my public humiliation.

Your tongue flickers over your lips to brighten their bright scarlet and I shiver aching for it, longing to feel it claim me, dominant in my mouth where it conquers mine or inside me where my cunt sucks on it, clenching on it like a cock, milking it as you fuck me.

So lost in my lust am I that I hardly hear your command.

"Turn around girl... show me that ass... mmmm... very pretty Tara... it's gonna look so good all pink and sore..."

Slowly, as if wading in treacle, I turn to offer you my derriere that blushes, as yet unbeaten, for you and still I feel your gaze, hot; a physical presence.

Unheld by your gaze now with my back turned I become aware of the faces, the crowd who watch me. There are faces turned away in shock, in distaste; some inquisitive, puzzled, amused; others, the letches, male and female whose faces leer and lust, enjoying my naked shameful nudity; the jocks who laugh and joke as they drink in my mortification.

"Drop your dress Tara," your voice comes from behind me. "And put your hands on your head."

My dress is a rustle of cotton as I release it to fall to my ankles before raising my hands to my head.

I stand now, a statue of flesh quivering, restrained only by your will, from a vain attempt to cover myself with my hands and a dash for privacy.

My liquor seeps from my sex to paint my thighs with the essence of my need, my arousal, my submission.

I gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as I feel your hand light, soft, gentle on the curve of my bottom.

"Mmmm..." you purr. "Such a pretty ass! Do you like your audience Tara? I think you're certainly the big news on campus today."

Your fingers trace my body; rising lightly to trace a tender, sensitive trail of fire over the curve of my hip as you begin to circle me. Standing now before me your hand roams my trembling belly, stroking it, sending little shock of energy through me so the muscles of my abdomen twitch and my breath comes faster. Your hand skates over my flesh cool and teasing as it dips lower to smooth over the bare silk of my mons, skittering lightly over my hungry nether mouth, brushing my lips to slide down my thigh.

"Pick up your dress Tara."

Your breath is hot, your words breathless in my ear as your hand returns briefly to my center, sampling the damp heat at the apex of my thighs, before you release me.

"Back to the dorm room..."

Your hand is firm, threatening on my bottom as I bend to recover my dress. I flinch as I straighten when you pinch my cheek.

Naked, burning with shame before the multitude of watching eyes; shame at my nakedness, shame at the effect my humiliation has on me; the heated, moisture that forms at the apex of my legs to seep, trickling onto my thighs I cross the campus to our room. I feel your eyes on me from behind as you follow. Your presence is palpable, a pressure on me that refuses to let me run for safety.

The heat builds inside me. I feel myself filling with lust, need, desire. My nipples ache, jutting and proud. My core itches with longing. Goddess, it threatens to overwhelm me.

"Sway your hips Tara... show everyone what a slut you are baby..."

Your voice is coolly commanding behind me. I can feel your eyes on my flanks as I obey, swinging my hips as seductively as I can contrive.

The walk back to our room is a torment of embarrassment. We have acquired a following that grows as ever more students gape and gawp as we pass. I cry out inside in my chagrin but I hold my head up and flaunt myself as you command as my body betrays me and the tense, liquid arousal burgeons, tightening inside me despite my horror.

It lasts an eternity it seems before the door is closed behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. And I am alone, quivering and clenching with passion and need before you.

Unbidden I sink to my knees before you, compliant, begging.

"Oh please mistress," I begin, sighing and pleading as my desire threatens to overwhelm me. "Please... I can't stand anymore mistress ... please... take me now..."

A smile, cruel and satisfied curls your lips at my words.

"Ahh... Tara... you enjoyed your exposure... being made to show yourself didn't you slave?"

"Oh mistress... yesss..." I sob in response to this truth, my body betraying me again as my nipples thrust even harder and my cunt contracts again making me drip.

Crouching beside me your hand reaches between my thighs to slip into me and I squirm, moaning as my legs strain wider to bear down on you.

"Have you been a good wench?" You ask as slowly, too slowly, you begin to fuck me.

"Ohhhhh..." I moan again. "Ohhhhmmmm... yuh... oh yuh... oh yess..."

"Mmmm... so wet... I think you did enjoy it Tara... you're such a slut aren't you girl?"

"Oh-oh-oh y-yess mistress..."

"Yes a perfect little whore."

Your other hand rises to my breasts to palm them before you take my nipple between grasping, pinching, severe fingers, making me moan and cry at this new attention.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh... ."

"That's right... you like to show yourself don't you my obedient little slut?"

"Mmmmmmm... ohhhhh..."

"I said don't you slut?"

Your fingers pinch harder on my nipple as you plunge deeper into me and I cry out in an agony of arousal.

"Ohhhhhhh... ahhhhh... .y-y-y-yes mistress..."

"Well next time perhaps..." Your voice is cool, impossibly cool and calm as you continue to stroke deep into my innermost passage, the slicked velvet heat of my sex grasping at your fingers. "We'll conduct your punishment in public... I'll just have to take you outside and spank you... display you and then spank you. I know how much you'd hate it if I took your panties down in public to give you a nice hard spanking. Mind you, you'd tell me you hate it but despite your tears you know you'd have a wet pussy afterwards wouldn't you baby? I think you'd like me to punish you outside really. Would you like me to fuck you outside too? Would you like me to spank you then open you up and put my fist in your cunt? Fist you until you scream your orgasm for everyone to hear hmmm? Well maybe later..."

Whilst you talk, your hand works mercilessly inside me. I arch against you, squirming as you work my nipple ever harder and when your thumb taps on my aching clitoris I can hold it back no longer.

It has been building in me, a coiling, twining probe of erotic need, thrusting deep into me, stimulating my inner being, stirring me as it threatens to consume me, since you stopped me. Since you chose where I would show myself to you, to all. Every moment, every word, every fleeting contact and every humiliation has fed it, made it grow until it is ready now to possess me, to be unleashed in a welter of cascading ecstasy.

My orgasm is irresistible.

I cry out as you fuck me, your words pushing me over the edge as you know they will.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh... yessss... mistresss... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... ." I cry as I climax, cresting. My core tightens around you, clasping, gripping your fingers as my essence, the sticky, sweet musk laden come floods from me to spill onto you. My hips buck against you as I jerk and twitch and thrust and scream my release.

All is momentarily black, then white. No sound, no sight penetrates the shell of my mind for hours - or moments and then your voice draws me back.

As always your voice, your soft, beautiful, commanding voice. Even my subconscious dares not refuse the demand of my mistress' voice.

"Oh Tara..." you are sighing. "...did you come without my permission? Such a shame..."

A shiver of fear and a spiking shaft of renewed arousal, thin and icy slides though me.

I know that my disobedience, my inability to wait for your permission will cost me dear.

"I was going to be nice to you Tara... to reward your obedience but now... your punishment will be so much more severe..."

Curt commands send me to the floor, to squatting now, on all fours, my legs spread wide my face lowered to the floor between arms held out parallel before me. My pose emphasizes the swell of my hips, spreads my bottom. My breasts hang below me, heavy and full, accentuating my vulnerability. I pant, breathless with desire. My nipples throb, my clitoris burns, they ache dully in the magical clamps that have attached themselves to me like tiny metal spiders, their jaws harsh and severe. The pain of their application has subsided now as the numbness grows. I know only too well how they will burn when they are removed, making me tremble and quiver, crying out in agony as the blood rushes back into my sensitive nubs. Inside me the throbbing phallus pulses, pumping; alive, animated; plunging deep, huge, inside me; filling me massively making my stomach quake and spasm; attached to me by the prehensile tendrils that bind it to my groin, binds that wrap around my hips, between my thighs to insinuate their slender, unforgiving twinings into my anus, holding my sphincter open, stretched to tease the sensitive flesh within.

I realize that the days of research and spell casting that went into producing the clamps and the animated cock and harness were well spent even as I writhe in an ocean of intensity.

Even lost in a torment of sensation as I am a part of me still has enough strength to take in the sight of you; a vision that makes my shiver with desire, clenching and magnifying the myriad sensations that possess me.

You stand beside me, stripped now to your underwear. Your tight black bustier emphasising the narrowness of your waist, presses up, lifting the small, pert mounds of your breasts. Over its top, your areolas can be seen, your nipples almost visible. I long to be allowed to worship them, suckling them, mouthing the perfect, thrusting hardness of their caps. Such pleasures are denied me for now. The black satin thong is tight. It hugs the sculpted flawlessness of your sex. Tight over the folds of your cunt, the shape of your labia calls me to kiss, lapping hungrily at your honeyed flesh. But that also is a pleasure I am denied. Garterless stockings are shear and black on the tapering columns of your legs. I may not even worship your feet, your toes in the black patent leather boots that complete your outfit.

Complete your outfit? No.

There is one other item. From your hand trail the many tails of the leather flogger. Heavy, red like your hair, your draw it gently through your fingers.

"I thought you had learned Tara... that you will not climax until I am ready... until I give you permission... no matter what the stimulation... I understood that you I had trained you better than that slave..."

I sob as you continue, a shivering erotic charge running through my body.

"So we will see how much stimulation your body can tolerate... without release... yes Tara?"

I shudder as I groan my acquiescence.

"Yuh-yess M-mistress..."

"Count the strokes then..."

The flogger falls lightly at first across my proffered flanks and I sigh as I count the first strokes.

"Ahhh... one thank you mistress... mmmm... two thank you mistress... ohhh... .three thank you mistress..."

My hips twitch at the soft caress of the leather, rotating and thrusting gently, intensifying the sensations within me.

"Ahhh... four thank you mistress... ohhhhhh... five thank you mistress... mmmm... six thank you mistress... oooohh... s-seven thank you mistress... ahhmmmm... eight... oh eight thank you mistress..."

Falling more heavily now it makes me buck harder torturing me with my arousal as my essence boils within me and my hushed breathless moans gain strength.

"Nnnahhh... n-n-nine thank you m-mistress... ahhhh... ohhhh... ten thank you mistress... Ahhhhhnnnnn... eleven thank you mistress..."

My flanks burn, twitching under the stinging rain of fire that traces a network of pain and ecstasy across my flesh. Each stoke sets off a chain of quakes in my body as the crux of my being that is my clitoris seems to swell agonizingly in the tiny insect-like jaw that bites it.

Your arm falls ever harder, heavier, cutting into my flesh, branding me as I begin to sob.

"Oh-oh-ohh... ohhh... twelve... oh thank you mistress... ohhhh... thirteen... th-thank you m-mistress... ahhhhh... ohhh... f-fourteen mistress... hahhhh... f-fift... ohhh... fifteen thank you mistress..."

My buttocks burn and throb, their flushed heat, angry and red seems to feed your fury, your determination and you wield the scourge with still growing vigor as you torment me further with your words.

"That's good slave... arch your back slut... push up your buttocks... that's good Tara... feel the whip as it possesses you... good... your bottom Tara... higher Tara..."

My only reply is my obedience, my steady repetition of my agony and my gratitude. It is all that hold me back from the abyss of orgasm that calls me; louder, more pressing with each stroke.

"Ahhhhh... ye-yes mistress... ohhh... sixteen thank you mistress... ooooooohhhh... s-se-seventeen... ohhh... thank you mistress... nnnnahhhhh... eighteen thank you mistress..."

And still the whip falls. Still you upbraid me, cautioning my obedience, my restraint.

"That's right girl... you want to come don't you slut... but you know don't you Tara... you will resist... restrain yourself... until I release you... won't you my harlot?"

"Oh yes... oh yes!" I pant; my agreement heartfelt in my torment.

"Ohhhhh..." I wail. "Ohhhhhhh... nineteen thank you mistress... Aiiyyyyyy... ohhh... ...twenty... ohhhh... thank you mistress..."

My tears spill, staining my cheeks, wetting the carpet as I cry and weep, sobbing in the ecstasy and misery of my pain, of my heated, unforgiving arousal as that other moisture oozes past the shaft that impales me, painting my inner thighs with my heated musk, to moisten the tongues of the whip as they flay the tenderness of my flesh.

The backs of my legs burn as you paint them with flaming stripes of agony. The steady thwack, thwack of the whip punctuating my cries my sobbing gratitude.

"Ohhh-ohh-ohhhh... twenty-one thank you mistress... ahggghhhh... t-twenty-t-two thank you mistress... hahhhhhh... ohh... t-twenty three th-th-thank y-you mistress..."

The magical phallus surges inside my core, seeming to open my cervix, coring its way into my womb. I count; tearfully, pitiful as you chastise me, bringing the flogger down on my poor tormented nether parts time and again until I am ready to burst with the climax that I hold at bay, filling me, consuming me, seizing me.

I gasp and pant as I cry out at the fiftieth stroke. My buttocks, my legs, my back are aflame, scorched by your ire as I quiver inside.

"Oh... please... oh please mistress... I-I need it so... so much... oh mistress... please make me... make me come..."

You sink to the floor beside me. Your hands are cool, soothing on my tortured flanks.

"Make you come slut?" Your tone is quizzical, confused almost. "Are you ready? Have you learnt? Have you earned your pleasure slave?"

I sob. I plead.

"Oh please mistress... please I have learned... my pleasure is yours... only for you... please mistress... I will do anything... anything mistress..."

But you are not so easily swayed.

"Hmmm... I think we need to test you first my harlot..."

I wail again inside as I acquiesce

"Of course..." I sigh. "Of course mistress..."

Crouching now beside me, your hand is gentle again on my heated flanks. Tender, soft, kindly you soothe my aching body, stroking, massaging easing my torment. You gentle ministrations are a sham though. I know only too well, from hard learned experience that this tenderness is merely a precursor to a renewal of my torment, a lulling of my body, a deception of my senses. Though it is clear in my mind my body refuses to remain tense, it falls, as susceptible to your touch as my higher functions are to your cruel mastery, into a looser more relaxed mode. I sigh again, low and gentle, a soft, pleading moan of need and acceptance.

My center lurches and a jolt passes through me as the clamp on my clit tightens again. The agony is exquisite. My body jerks. My hips thrust and buck. Oh goddess I am a slave to my need. Body and soul, I crave release; the release you still deny me.

Beside me your smile shines with love and cruelty. Your hand is still kind on the crucible of my body as your other hand reaches below me to find the slippery flesh of my cunt. It skates over the heated liquid flesh; sampling, touching, teasing the tip of my crux where it peaks from its restraint; probing at the pulsing cock's point of entry into my sex; testing me, trying to provoke a reaction.

"That's right baby... mmmm... so wet Tara... you want it don't you... hmmm? You want to come but you won't will you? Not until I free you my little harlot. Not until I let you... hmmm?"

Your mouth murmuring the words of magic, your fingers spread my labia wider and I feel the cock grow inside me; stretching the resistant wall of my womanhood as it reaches like a searching tentacle, a feeler, into my depths, seeking out my womb, exploring me. It is agonizing, terrifying, like a living entity that grows, moving within me.

The tendrils squirm inside my bottom and I cry out in anguish, begging, pleading.

"Ooooooohhhhhhh... nooooooo... .p-p-please mistress... n-no more... owwwwwahhhhhh... ."

But no matter how I plead, how I beseech; you remain implacable, unmoving in your dominance.

Your hand, so gentle moments before, is savage now as it strikes my bottom, escalating the burning flames of my flogged behind. My words are transformed from my earlier imploring cries to scream of sweet agony as the spanks fall on my oh-so-sensitive flesh.

You spank me rapidly, hard, swiftly covering my flanks with the imprint of your palm. The blows serve to distract me from the finger that now works on the nub of my clitoris.

"Now Tara." I hear you say firmly through my tears. "Now you will come for me... come like the pretty slut you are..."

As you continue to punish you murmur a new smattering of wiccan to release the biting constriction on my nubbin, on my nipples. White heat coruscates through me, as blood surges burning, excruciating back into my three sensitive, tormented buds. My head snaps back. A howl of agony tears my throat as I come. My inner walls clamp hard on the impaling magical cock, my ass seems to spasm around the tendrils which stretch it, probing, fucking me. My body thrashes, writhing as your hand beats the rhythm of my orgasm on my upturned rump. Inside I quake as all semblance of control is lost and I am wracked by the shuddering spasm that tears through me, leaving me oblivious to anything but the anguished heat of my flanks, and the answering fires between my legs.

I crash into the abyss once more and I am lost.

Stirring, rising out of the abyss of my nothingness, the after shocks still roll through me, I feel your hand gentle again on my flanks. You voice soothes in my ear; gentling me now; comforting encouraging, easing my sobbing, wracked body.

I shake groaning again as the magic leaves the devices that have tortured me. The potent phallus shrinks, withdrawing from me as the coiling tentacles ease from my anus.

"Hush now... that's my baby... my good girl... shhh... oh Tara... so perfect... mmmm... so sweet... mmm... want you now baby... want your tongue... your mouth... want you Tara."

I turn, languid and exhausted now, towards your flaring lust. My head turns up towards you as you rise to your feet. Your eyes are dark, ebon pools of desire, your features porcelain perfect, fine and elegant. Your hair falls crimson, silken; a waterfall of flowing scarlet flame.

I feel my pulse quicken again as I gaze upon your beauty. My heart skips at the heat of passion you exude. My nostrils flare as I sense the aroma of your heat, the musky arousal that moistens the silk of your underwear.

Your hand cups my cheek, gently brushing, softly.

I nuzzle against you, kissing your palm, your fingers.

My eyes, wide and pleading fasten silently on yours as I wait.

"Mmmm... Tara... so pretty... what does my pretty slave want now?"

"To pleasure you mistress... to taste you... drink from you... to adore you... worship you my Goddess... to serve your need... may I mistress... may I feast on you..."

My words are breathless, my chest tightening with love, as I kneel before your glory.

"Ah my love," you murmur, purring almost with delight. "So beautiful, so obedient, so perfect..."

Your hand beneath my chin you draw me to my feet. In your heels you seem to tower above me, though in reality there is little difference between our heights.

Your eyes burn and I moan softly as you raise my lips to yours. The kiss is gentle, the tender meeting of soft mouths.

"You may undress me slave." You breathe as your lips trace a path to my ear. Your breath is hot against me. "You may undress me before you pleasure me."

You turn, lifting your hair to present the fastenings down your back. My hands shake as I raise them to the clasps. I long to kiss the milky smoothness of your back as I expose it.

You sigh as my lips brush your shoulder blades and I let your bustier fall away.

My hands are light, daring on your ribs as they reach around you to slide up the wall of your stomach toward your breasts. You nipples are hard, pointing, distended, jutting against my palms as I smooth over your slender mounds. You hiss; a sharp intake of breath at the contact.

"Not yet Tara!"

Your voice is strained as you warn me. A shiver of submission quivers through me and my hands release your breasts to slip down your belly again to your panties. Crouching behind you, I luxuriate in the smooth silk of your panties against my cheek before I draw the waistband over the swell of your buttocks to your thighs. My lips paint your perfect skin with kisses and you moan again as I slide your panties down your legs.

As they hit the floor you turn stepping out of them.

The heady aroma of your musk assails my senses as your core pouts, flushed and wet before me. My hands slide up the back of your nylon clad legs to the curve of your bottom where I grasp them gently reverent to bring my mouth towards you.

My tongue snakes out, curving into the lush, hot liquidity of your womanhood. Hot and spicy, but utterly feminine your flavor fills my mouth. You moan as I kiss your sex, my lips crushing against the torrid heat of your core, seeking out the protruding nubbin of your clitoris to suckle on you, fellating the miniature erection reverently.

Again though, you stop me, raising my chin in your hand, drawing me away from the epicenter of your being; the spot where I wish only to worship.

Drawing me now you lead me towards your throne - the large armchair in which you sprawl for me to kneel before.

Drawing me up into your lap your kisses threaten to overwhelm me briefly as I arch in your embrace, your hands seeking out the aching, tormented flesh of my buttocks and thighs before finding the renewed hunger of my core. But you are ready to make other demands of me than for my orgasm and the pressure on my head directs me to your breasts and their pink tips.

"Now love... now you may suckle my breasts."

Childlike I bow to your nipples, taking first one then the other between my lips.

You sigh, moaning gently as I feast on your flesh.

"Ahhhh... yesssss... Tara..."

You grasp my head close to you pressing your silken, stiffly capped mound to me urging me to nip and to suck harder at your bud.

"Mmmm... good Tara... that's it suck..."

Drawing the stubbornly taut nubbin into my mouth I tighten my lips increasing the pressure of my cheeks and your grasp tightens in my hair in response. Behind my lips its firm resilience seems to thrust against my tongue almost like a tiny cock in my mouth.

My other hand rises up your other breast to cup it searching for your nipple to fondle it as you continue to feed me. Your moans are stronger now, more urgent and wordlessly you press me down from your breast, easing me from your lap to the floor between you legs. You hand is heavy again on my head as you draw me forwards to the apex of your thighs. Your sex is dark, pink and flushed. Glistening wetly it demands my attention, my worship. The aroma of your essence is strong; heady with your musk; rich in my nostrils.

The pressure on my head is remorseless, drawing me into you. My nostrils flare as the scent intensifies, washing over me seducing me utterly, possessing me. My mouth waters in response and my tongue flickers out to taste you.

Rich, spiced, sweet-but-bitter; the flavor of you fills my mouth assailing my senses. I close my eyes giving myself over to other senses as I begin my service in earnest.

As you moan at the contact, my tongue slides over the slick heat of your womanhood. Flattening it I lap upwards, feeling the heat of your lush femininity I stroke upwards again; over the honeyed depression of your core, unwilling to enter you unbidden; trailing upwards, collecting your liquor on my tongue I press gently on the burning bud of your clitoris.

With a hiss your hand tightens in my hair, I shiver at the imperious command of your grasp, my juices oozing from my still needful sex, to sheen my thighs. As if in reflection my face is painted now with your arousal as it inundates me, filling my mouth with your flavor.

Your hand rocks me against your center as my tongue flicks over your hypersensitive button and you moan as I lave it and you gasp moaning at the loving attentions.

"Ahhhmmmmm... now Tara... inside me now..." You gasp, pressing my head downwards to the entrance to your innermost flesh. My tongue is obedient as it curls to probe inside you. My mouth is wide now, receptive, your sap flooding into me. My upper lip presses on your kernel as my tongue begins to probe deeper into you. Reaching ever deeper, my jaw raises to gain deeper entrance as my tongue fucks the clasping, liquid, velvet walls.

"Ahhh... that's it girl... deeper..." Your moans strengthen to accompany the grip of your hand in my hair and I feel you tighten around my tongue.

Your orgasm approaches rapidly as you groan louder, grunting almost, raising your hips to thrust yourself at me. I am like a rag doll in your grasp as you go rigid, your core clamping on my tongue, holding it tight in the now vice-like glove of your womanhood and my lip depresses the sweet pearl of your clit as your fuck my mouth forcefully now with your cunt.

With a cry you lurch finally over the edge and my mouth is filled once more with the slick, scalding, perfumed liquor of your release. Swallowing hungrily, obedient, I lap it up knowing only too well than to let any spill. Not that I would. Your flavor captivates me. A love potion it enslaves me. I crave it, longing to consume your essence swallowing it. It paints my face and as your crisis ebbs, fading, and your breathing slows. You release me. Licking my lips, I clean my face with my fingers before catlike cleaning them of your remaining essence.

You smile at me as you recover, beckoning me to you.

"C'mere kitty," you purr and I rise to settle again in your lap. "Such a skilful little whore's tongue you have kitten."

I shiver in your arms at your praise. Your mouth grazes the pulse-point on my neck.

"Mmmm... I think we'll make you show yourself more often kitten... mmmm?"

"I-i-if you w-wish mistress..." I stammer in reply.

"Oh I do pet... I do..."

"Tonight mistress?" I ask half in hope half in fear.

"No not tonight pet... tonight we'll dress you like the harlot you are to show you off at The Bronze..."

...So here I am: dressed like a slut, your slut; on my knees in the stall sucking on the shaft of your silicone cock. My liquor dries on your boots, but there is plenty more at the source. My hips rotate gently with my need. In the next stall the former vengeance demon whimpers now as Xander sinks himself into her bottom, her moans grow telling of her pleasure and her pain as he sodomizes her, thrusting ever harder into the tight ring of her ass.

I know only too well what will be next. My anus tightens in anticipation.

I wince again as the restroom door bangs behind me. The sound of music floods in.

"Hey! Guys!" comes Faith's voice from the doorway. "Me 'n' my baby gonna blaze... she needs her fanny warming dontcha babe..."

Buffy's tones are subdued but languid heavy with arousal as she signals her acquiescence.

"Mmmm... yes... oh please Faith." She seems to groan.

"Don't worry about Dawn... she an' her girl already left... n' she is sooo gonna get hers tonight!" Faith finishes turning to draw the petite blonde Slayer with her.

And I moan wetly around the strap-on as it slides deep into my throat.

All is quiet on the demon front (save the increasingly loud Anyanka) and everything, it seems, is right in Sunnydale tonight.

"Mmmm... that's very nice Tara," Willow purred as she set aside the neatly scribed manuscript. "I like that one but I think you've left something out again haven't you baby?"

Tara looked up at her red haired Mistress from her kneeling position, her eyes wide with concern.


"You've not explained to me where your idea came from..."

Tara's eyes widened her heartbeat quickening as she watched her lover. A picture of grace, Willow stood to reach for the snaking leather coil of the short whip and the stubby, fat plug of resin.

"And since we've discussed before, your inability to tell me the whole truth about your fantasies I think we'll have to remind you of the penalties for disobedience in this relationship..."

Tara's moan as, the plug, anointed with the honeyed seepings that the redhead's skilled tongue had brought gushing from her core, sank into her bottom; thick and hard, filling her, plugging her, stretching the crinkled flesh of her sensitive ass-mouth became a gasping cry, a yelp of agony as the whip curled around the spread of her bottom, caressing her flanks with a lick of flame.

Her head snapped up from between her hands as her back arched and her shoulders tensed shuddering. She cried out in sweet agony, her body reacting in the only way it knew to her lover's tenderly cruel mastery.

Willow's hand was heavy on the back of her head, pressing her face back to the floor.

"Your will keep you face lowered slave..."

The red haired witch's words were gently firm, commanding. Tara shivered as she obeyed and the whip sketched yet another line of fire across her nether cheeks. Her anus seemed to tighten around the intruding plug and her hips rolled in agony and lust as she sobbed into the carpet, her sex aching for the touch, the penetration that Willow denied her, intensifying for the present, her state of torment.

She sobbed dumbly in agreement.

The whip fell again...

Return to Mistress/Kitten Fantastico Story Archive
Return to Mistress/Kitten Fantastico Main Page