Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 02

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Aunty Caroline and I lay back on her luxurious black satin sheets and cuddled. The lovely former model stroked my hair and smiled, before planting a lingering kiss on my mouth.

“Oh, I do so love the taste of pussy on the mouth of a person who’s just given me an orgasm,” said my aunt. “Thank-you so much, Sam. Was that your first time my darling?”

I nodded, shyly, although why I don’t really know – what was there to be shy about after I’d just muff-dived my divine aunty?

“Yes, with all my other girl friends I’ve just played finger fuck games,” I told her. “But I prefer going down!”

Aunt Caroline laughed. “Exactly – and did I taste nice?”

Once again I nodded. “Simply delicious aunty,” I told her, with conviction. “But tell me, how did you get to become a dominatrix?”

Aunty Caroline ran her mouth across my boobs, nibbling at each nipple before replying. “Well, I guess you could say I was a victim of my own success,” she answered.

“After my centrespread for Penthouse, I became hugely in demand as a lingerie model. My agent had to fight them off with a stick. It seemed that every firm in Europe that made quarter-cup bras or crotchless panties wanted me in their catalogues.”

I raised myself on one elbow and stroked one of her lovely large breasts. “What’s the problem with that?” I asked.

“Well,” smiled Aunty Caroline, “after a while I was appearing in every catalogue that was going – a case of being over exposed, if you’ll pardon the pun!

“It was then that the work started to dry up – I must have been almost 30, I suppose, and the lingerie catalogues started to look for new faces. So it was time to move on.”

I kissed her lovely erect nipple. “So it was domination, then aunty?”

Caroline lay back and stroked my pussy with a cool, long-nailed finger. “My agent received an offer for me just after the Penthouse appearance, but hadn’t shown it to me. Then, when the lingerie work started to dry up, she showed me the letter.

“It was from a lady who ran what they used to call ‘a house of perversion’ and she said I could make thousands if I put myself out as a dominatrix.

“Soon I was getting hundreds of clients and I was rolling in the money – it bought this house, a nice new Mercedes each year, and after a while I found I could pick and choose. So the first thing I did was specialise – in female clients.”

I pricked my ears up. “Being a student of sexuality, I wasn’t aware there was much in the way of female business,” I said.

Caroline smiled at my naivety. “Believe me it’s so much more satisfying than men,” she said. “Men always have dirty, dripping erections. Their ‘pre-come’ as they call it – which they spell ‘cum’ for some strange reason – gets onto your stockings, or boots. They’re always wanting to lick pussy, but basically most of them want to fuck. Yukk – no thanks.”

“So you make money by only having women clients, aunty?” I asked.

She continued my education. “Most of my money is made from the internet now, darling,” she said. “I’ve got this website with, even if I say so myself, some stunning pictures. It makes me thousands!”

I laughed. “Can I see it?”

Caroline nodded: “Course, darling. I call myself Caroline, the Brighton Bitch, and it’s a hugely popular site. And it’s so successful that I can now afford to take only hand-picked clients, which means they casino oyna pay premium rates. I’ve got a superb dungeon down in the basement, I’ll give you a conducted tour – if you’ve been naughty!”

Again I laughed. “Aunty, I’ve been very, very naughty.”

Caroline climbed from the bed and ordered: “Put those ridiculously high platform shoes while I get into something more appropriate for a dungeon visit.”

As I did, aunty stepped into her walk-in wardrobe and emerged wearing a pair of stunning fuck-me boots. Made from obviously hugely expensive leather, they were black and gleamed dully on her lovely legs. They came half-way up her thighs.

Aunty Caroline then threw me a black leather bra and told me to put it on her. She turned so her back was to me, and I fitted the garment around her lower boobs – it had to be lower boobs because it was a quarter-cup creation.

When she had adjusted it, Aunty Caroline turned to face me. She was a picture of punishment! The boots gleamed, coming not too far below her pussy lips, her breasts thrust up into succulent uplift, the nipples erect and kissable.

She grinned as I drank in her beauty. “Let’s go!” and she took me by the hand and led me downstairs, then to a door at the back of the house.

A narrow iron spiral staircase led down to a timber-lined corridor which went the length of the house. Half-way down was a door. Aunty opened it and stepped back to allow me to enter.

The room took my breath away. The walls were lined with lush red velvet drapes. The floor was lushly carpeted. Dotted around were what I took to be pieces of torture furniture – a flogging bench, a pillory, a bondage bench.

A large leather couch was on one wall, comfortable leather easy chairs stood in two corners. There were racks of equipment, holding floggers, whips, canes, nipples clamps, other clamps for what I guessed were another sexual target.

But my attention was caught by two posts in the middle of the room, set about five or six feet apart. About the size of goal posts, they went from floor to ceiling. At the bottom of each post were straps attached to some sort of pulley arrangements. Similar straps were set about six feet above the lower ones.

After I had walked around, wide-eyed, on a tour of inspection, Aunty Caroline stood beside me and ran a hand over my naked buttocks. “Time for a warm-up, I think, my darling,” she whispered, kissing me gently on one cheek.

She then took me to the posts, made me stand between them, then knelt to fasten the straps around my ankles. When she had completed this task, Aunt Caroline pulled on the pulleys, a act which served to place tension in the straps and drag my legs and thighs wide in a completely open stance.

Next, Aunty Caroline fitted my wrists into the upper straps and then the pulleys were brought into play to stretch my arms out tautly. I was now completely at her mercy!

Aunty stepped back to admire her bondage work. “You look absolutely wonderful, Sam,” she informed me. “Now we can have some fun – and trust me, you’ll enjoy it!”

I looked at her stunning figure and sexy outfit. “I know, aunty,” I almost whispered, feeling helpless yet calm, “I do trust you.”

Caroline looked serious. “Good, my dear, because that’s the most important thing about femdom – trust. It’s what the whole scene is based on. Now, enough chat, let canlı casino me find one of my favourite paddles for that naughty bottom of yours!”

As I semi-stood, semi-hung in between the poles, aunty walked behind my position, then I heard her return. Suddenly I felt a “Thwaaaack” as a paddle smacked onto my helpless posterior.

The blow had been placed flush across both buttock cheeks. Then aunty set to work, sometimes flogging just one cheek, sometimes both, as she worked slowly, but steadily, in heating up my backside once more.

After, I don’t know how many strokes – 15, 20 25? – I heard the paddle drop to the floor, then felt aunty’s lovely bare bum rub itself across my burning backside.

Then I felt a tongue working across my arse, licking and laving its way over my cheeks, then up and down.

But aunty saved the best part of my second punishment session for last! From the corner of my vision, I saw her pick up a small stool and bring it in front of my bondage position. She placed it on the carpet in front of me and sat down.

I hardly dared breath as I felt her finger invade my prised open pussy. I writhed slowly on her hand as she tested my readiness, then pulled her hand back and licked sensually on her fingers, drinking down my juice.

“I think you’re ready, you naughty, naughty little girl,” said Aunty Caroline, and then I felt the ineffable excitement of a mature woman’s mouth on my minge for the very first time in my life!

I let out a small cry as her mouth, lips and tongue worked on my pussy. Excitement coursed through me and for one awful moment I thought I was going to wet myself – urine, not sex juice.

Had I known then what I know now, it would, of course, not have been a mistake, but in those early days of love with aunty I didn’t know that she was a piss freak. Somehow, I fought back to pressure to release a golden stream, and then settled down to enjoy the delights being inflicted on my pussy.

Aunty had moved her hands to my burning buttocks, clasping the cheeks, pulling them apart, before placing a forefinger against my anus, then driving it firmly but gently into my rear orifice.

“Relax, darling,” I heard her call, as she pulled away from my steaming snatch for a moment, “just a little finger, relax!”

I did and aunty drove her digit up to the knuckle, producing a wonderful feeling in my groin, then her lips and tongue went back to work, sucking, nibbling and licking at my sex.

Quite how long all this took, I can’t say, all I know is that I totally abandoned myself to the pleasure I was receiving from my aunty-dominatrix!

Eventually, of course, aunty’s lapping and laving at my quim was simply too much and as she switched her attentions from my cunt and piss flaps to my throbbing clit I gave up any thought of holding out and bellowed my relief as the relief of orgasm smashed through me.

I swung in my bonds, sobbing and heaving from the sheer delight of such magnificent oral domination, when aunty rose from the stool, running her tongue over my mons, up by belly, then tracing it across my heaving breasts to suck on my erect nipples.

A kiss on the mouth brought home how wet my pussy must have been on her face! The aroma of my snatch was still fresh as our lips locked in a sweet conclusion to the session.

Released from my bondage, aunty and I then went into a sort kaçak casino of conservatory, looking out from her hilltop home high over the town of Brighton. Against the large bay window, was a spa pool.

“Hop into the pool, Sam,” she ordered, “while I fetch us a bottle of bubbly.”
I hesitated, looking at the vast expanse of glass and then down at my nudity. Caroline laughed: “Don’t worry, pet, it’s like a two-way mirror. We can see out, but no one out there can see in!”

I slipped off my shoes and sank into the wonderful warm jets of the spa pool. Aunty returned naked, bearing a tray with two flutes and a champagne bucket holding a bottle of vintage Krug.

“See, female domination pays!” she laughed, passing me a flute of the glorious bubbly.

After a few sips of champagne, Aunty Caroline snuggled up to me in the spa and stroked my cheek.

“Now, darling Sam,” she began, “I’ve got a proposition to make to you. It’s entirely up to you to refuse, but hear me out and if the idea is to your liking, then we’ll go ahead.”

It appeared that one of Aunty Caroline’s small but select band of clients had been pestering her some time for a “double domme” session.

“She’s a lovely lady – 45-years-old, big boobs, nice legs, very whippable arse and very generous, as she should be, she’s made millions in the porno business,” said aunty.

“She runs several femdom magazines and I’ve appeared in a few spreads for her,” she added.

“What would I have to do?” I asked, curious, since today had been my first experience of not only bondage and femdom, but also performing cunnilingus and having it performed on me!

Aunty sipped her Krug. “Just a bit of mild flagellation, let her lick you a bit – she’s got a good mouth – and maybe give her a golden shower. Depends what she’s in the mood for.”

I appeared to ponder – in fact, I’d already made up my mind – but aunty quickly added: “Of course, you’ll be paid. I usually charge her 300 pounds for a two-hours visit, but I’ll put it up to 400 for the pair of us and we’ll split the fee – how’s that sound?”

It sounded very good, I thought, being an on-the-bones-of-my-bum university student!

“Count me in, aunty!” I replied keenly.

Aunty Caroline beamed broadly, then reached over the side of the spa for a mobile phone. She punched a button on the machine’s memory and then had a conversation.

“Hi, Theresa, it’s me Caroline.” There was some animated chatter from the other end, then aunty spoke again.

“Remember how you’ve been going on about being double dommed? Well, I think I may have come up with someone.”

More animated conversation from the other end, before aunty resumed: “I’ve got my young niece, Samantha down here on a break from ‘varsity. She’s 20, lovely figure, very lickable down there, lovely boobs. I think you’ll like her.”

The other end was full of questions, which aunty then answered: “She’s a brunette, large nipples, shaves her pubic hair back into a sort of crew cut thatch, is very tasty and has a mouth eats like a tiger!”

Theresa then asked about the financial arrangements, obviously. Caroline laughed: “It’ll cost you 400 and promise me, it’ll be the best 400 you’ve ever spent!”

The conversation concluded with Aunty Caroline listening to Theresa’s latest problems getting her current femdom magazine out, then put the phone down.

“Settled,” said Aunty Caroline, “she’s coming round tomorrow at 2. Now, I’d better make sure you’re ready. It’s time for some lessons in domination!”

I couldn’t wait for class to start!

To be continued.

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