All Change for Amy

While Amy was groaning and fighting against her bonds in the stark room upstairs, Geraldine was in her study, the soft glow of her laptop screen illuminating her face. The live feed from the camera showed Amy's gleaming, contorted form, but Geraldine's focus was on the corner of the screen. A counter was ticking upwards, each number representing a new viewer, a new client who had paid to witness the breaking of this particular toy. The numbers were climbing faster than usual. Amy was a hit.

Two strong, masculine hands came from behind her chair, sliding around her shoulders to cup and squeeze her large breasts through the silk of her blouse. Geraldine leaned her head back, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. Her lover bent down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck. She moaned softly before playfully pushing him away.

"How is she?" He asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Just like I said, a natural," Geraldine replied, her eyes never leaving the screen. "We should make a pretty penny out of this one."

He kissed her again, a brief, possessive peck. "Clever girl. Talking of pretty pennies, I'd better get to the office, then home to wifey." The word 'wifey' was said with a casual disdain that was part of their shared game.

Geraldine stood up and went to him, her body pressing against his. He leaned down and kissed her hard, a kiss that was both a promise and a dismissal. "I wish you didn't have to leave," she whispered, her voice thick with genuine need.

He pulled her head back by a handful of her hair, his grip firm and controlling. "Be good," he commanded, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yes, sir," she whimpered, the submission in her voice a stark contrast to the authority she wielded moments before.

When he had left, the click of the front door echoing in the quiet house, her hand went instinctively to her throat. She imagined her collar, the heavy leather, and the cool weight of the steel padlock. She imagined the click of it closing, the definitive sound of her surrender. She imagined his strong hands and body as he took her, used her, owned her. She sighed, a wave of arousal washing over her. She knew the collar would be back on soon. But in the meantime, she was in for a lot of fun with their new toy.

Upstairs, Amy had lost all track of time. The world had shrunk to the size of the buzzing wand between her legs and the relentless, overwhelming waves of pleasure it forced upon her. Her body was slick with sweat inside the rubber prison, her thighs soaked with the evidence of her forced orgasms. Her muscles, held in the unnatural position, were screaming in protest, cramping and spasming. Just when she thought she would either pass out or shatter into a million pieces, the assault stopped. The wand was pulled away. The tension on the chain holding her head up was released, and her chin dropped to her chest. She felt the bonds being undone, slowly and with purpose.

First, the strap around her head, then the sleeve pinioning her arms. When her arms were finally released, blood rushed back into them with a pins-and-needles agony, and she collapsed onto the floor, the strength in her muscles temporarily abandoning her. The gag was pulled from her aching jaw, and finally, mercifully, the hood was lifted away. The room's dim light was painful to her eyes. She felt strong arms lifting her, holding her. A soft, wool blanket was wrapped around her trembling body. She was pulled against a solid frame, her cheek coming to rest against the soft fabric of a dress, feeling the unmistakable press of large breasts beneath it. Her head felt so nice nestled there. She was rocked gently, her soaking, tangled hair smoothed down, all the while Geraldine's soft voice murmured in her ear.

"You're a good girl. Mummy is so pleased that her slut was so well behaved." The words, so demeaning and yet so comforting, were a balm to Amy's frayed soul. She was shepherded to the bathroom, where a warm, lavender-scented bath awaited. Geraldine's hands were all over her, washing her with a breathtaking tenderness. She cleaned every inch of her, her touch firm yet gentle, but she carefully avoided Amy's sore, over-sensitive pussy, not touching it, even though Amy craved it, craved a final, gentle touch to soothe the lingering ache.