Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 4
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
Hal shuddered.
Just knowing the big naked woman was behind him made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
How had he ended up here?
He’d been doing Ms Armstrong’s apartment for nearly a year. The contract was for two hours housekeeping, weekly. He generally spent more like three or four. She just seemed to need it, with her busy sporty life involving multiple changes of clothes and a tendency to litter the place with pizza boxes and wine bottles.
Ms Armstrong could surely afford the extra time - she was some kind of high-flying executive, after all. However, her shoes were like canoes, her fashionable boots more like chic waste paper baskets. For all she had a happy grin in the various group photos she had pinned up around the place, she’d seemed like an ungainly ginger giantess compared to her fashionably petite friends. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by speaking to the agency and asking for more hours. Instead, he’d decided that looking after her would be his little secret.
Then she’d appeared before him, a real woman, bare skin dripping from her shower, and she slapped him and that slap had flipped his world.
Ms Armstrong wasn’t big, she was scaled up, like those larger-than-life statues that got him embarrassingly turned on during his gap year trip to Rome...
Worse, she was a dead-ringer for a certain sculpture of a bare-breasted Amazon that he had... remembered when his graduate research uncovered literary evidence for an ancient ritual site on the banks of Loch Lomond... a place where a cult of Celtic Amazons kept male temple slaves in silver penis cages.
All that and there she was, towering over him, pubic hair like a flame, so much marble-flesh and curved muscle and his cheek still smarted and he could refuse her nothing.
And that was how he’d ended up stripping down to his chastity cage.
“Come here and lick my cunt,” she repeated.
Hal’s hips twitched. The chastity device seemed to tighten until it prickled around his penis. He shuffled around and gasped.
The statuesque red-haired woman lay sprawled across her bed, round breasts lolling on her chest, big white feet planted on the floor. Between her muscular thighs flourished red pubic curls. Fleshy inner folds had forced open the outer lips of her vulva. They glistened in the daylight.
He stood there, transfixed.
Her thighs were probably only slightly narrower than Tabitha’s waist, and he knew from doing her laundry that Ms Armstrong’s waist size was the kind that feature in the “before” pictures of slimming adverts.
However, Ms Armstrong wasn’t fat.
Her hourglass figure flowed from ribcage to proportionally narrow waist, then flared into wide hips.
She raised her head. Her green eyes twinkled. “Do as you’re told.”
Groin throbbing and twitching, Hal shuffled over to where her feet were planted on the deep pile carpet.
“Lick my cunt,” she repeated once more, this time tilting her hips so that her wide pubic triangle reared up like a forest fire that could consume him.
Fear jolted into his caged groin, made him fold forward. He ducked between her thighs, opened his mouth. He buried his face in her fiery curls, got his lips around her whole vulva and sucked.
Wet fur filled his mouth, bringing with it a bath-fresh taste. He dragged his tongue up over her inner lips. They were dry from the bath, but a second stroke opened them to his probing.
His tongued trawled through her juicy crevice. An animal musk burned through him, searing his caged dick.
“Ten out of ten for enthusiasm,” she said. “But I said lick.”
He pulled back. “Yes, mistress,” he said, then realised what he’d said.
Her red eyebrows steepled. She sat up, big breasts lolling, capturing his gaze.
He didn’t see the slap coming.
His cheek exploded. Red speckles flashed across his vision. It wasn’t as hard as last time, but it still hurt and made his cock heave in its cage.
“I didn’t say you could call me that.” Her green eyes blazed. “This isn’t a game you fucking pervert.”
Hal’s cock pulsed painfully against its bars.
He had never been so turned on, but he should call a halt.
They hadn’t negotiated this, hadn’t talked safe words, she was really a stranger. She’d slapped him twice. This was crossing every kinky boundary he’d learned about.
Ms Armstrong slapped him a third time. “Get on with it.”
“Yes, mistress,” he blurted. “Oh Christ I said it again please don’t hit me again.”
She laughed at him.
He dove back into her crotch and she lay back to receive him. Her pubic hair tickled his face and his tongue flickered into motion.
What was he doing?
It was as if she really were Amazon and slave. That thought made his device clench around his penis.
The heat from her pussy warmed his smarting cheeks. The musky scent enveloped him like a sauna. He extended his tongue, trawled it between her lips and found her clitoris --- a thick fleshy button. He flicked it experimentally.
“Mmmmm,” she purred, her voice softer now. “It’s so nice to be able to just give orders.”
He flicked again. She shifted and wrapped her massive thighs over his shoulders. He bowed under the weight. Then her muscles flexed, crushing him into her hungry pussy.
Hal opened wide so that her furry outer lips filled his mouth. However, this time he kept his tongue in motion, prodding and flicking the nub.
Ms Armstrong groaned. Her thighs clenched around his ears.
Hals hips twitched. He wanted to tear off his chastity device and mount the red-haired Amazon, plunge his cock into her vagina...
She groaned again. The back of his throat filled with her juices until he was drowning in her musk.
His penis simply spasmed inside its cage. Hot semen spurted his ankles. No hint of orgasm, just a numb release.
Hal’s face burned. However, Ms Armstrong just lay there enjoying his tongue, groans waxing louder, then waning, then waxing again. He could never hope to satisfy a magnificent woman like this with his penis, but right now that didn’t matter because --- as she had said --- it was not an option.
At length his mouth started to cramp. The flap under his tongue blazed. He slowed down.
She pushed him away. “If you want something done.”
He knelt back back and stared at her pussy that had to be the width and breadth of his spread hand. His tonguing had slicked a furrow through her rusty red hair, exposing her fleshy inner lips.
“I’ve never done this in front of a man before,” she said, “but I suppose you don’t count.”
She reached between her legs. With exquisite precision, she extended her index finger and rubbed her clitoris. With her free hand, she captured a big breast and squeezed her nipple until it looked painful. Her breathing quickened. The flick of finger on clit became an audible squelching.
Hal’s cock awoke in its chastity device.
“You can watch...” she said, interrupting herself to groan... “But you can’t do anything about it.”
Her legs tensed. Her ropey thigh tendons tautened. Her buttocks lifted off the bed. “Can’t even jerk off... Oh fuck!” She groaned. The groan turned to a screech. Then she flopped back into the mattress, spent.
Hal just knelt there on the carpeted floor, cock throbbing forlornly, legs starting to ache.
At length she stretched languidly, sat up and leaned forward. Every inch of her was glowing. “How was that for you?”
Hall grinned. “Mind blowing.”
She pointed a toe. “You blew all over my deep pile carpet.”
“Sorry... mistress,” he said.
“Mistress?” she said. She treated him to a catlike smile. “I’ve changed my mind. I do like the sound of that.” Her eyes narrowed. “But when did it happen?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “A while back.”
“Aye, and you kept going? Even after you’d gotten off?”
Her Scottish accent was less harsh now, but still had a witchy crackle to it. And she sounded surprised.
Hal frowned, not sure what to say. Even without the kink, he couldn’t imagine the kind of man who would actually lose interest before she was satisfied. “Well, of course, mistress,” he said.
The naked woman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re as posh as Victor.”
“Who?”
“My ex. Only I wasn’t stupid enough to give him the keys to my chastity belt. Where did you go to University?”
“What?” Hal flushed. “Um. Ancient History at Cambridge. Then my doctorate at Oxford.”
“Oh my. We’re Doctor Posh Pervert, are we now?”
“Um...”
“So how come you’re cleaning houses, Doctor?” She sat back so now it was as if he were kneeling before a goddess for judgement. “What exactly was your PhD in?”
Hal’s cheeks burned. “Um, The Origins and Uses of the Roman Theca.”
“What’s a theca?”
“Roman male chastity cage,” mumbled Hal.
Ms Armstrong laughed. “Talk about a one-track mind. What a waste of time and money!”
Her scorn made Hal’s penis twitch into a new hardness. Hal hunched over, not sure if he was ashamed of his life, or ashamed of being turned on by her scorn.
She rose so that now he was looking at her big shins and wide feet.
“Which,” she said, “brings us back to you spraying all over my floor like an incontinent puppy and me being in a really bad mood with entitled posh boys.”