Framed By Desire

The plan had seemed simple when she devised it: get inside Master T’s house, pretend she wanted to be his slave, and locate the painting stolen from her mother’s gallery twenty years earlier. Then she would bring the charade to an end, get her phone back, and call for backup. If everything went according to plan, no one would ever need to know how she had gotten inside.

Now she was on her knees with her hands cuffed behind her back and Jennie’s panties pulled over her head. The man on the floor, Slave E, moaned above her. She had still seen no trace of The Lament of Vanishing Light. Nor had she managed to examine anything beyond the entrance hall and the room they were in.

The part of her mind that still functioned tried to catalog her surroundings methodically. The door to the hall. The large cabinet. Master T’s armchair. The position of the windows and the probable distance to the front door. 

She tried to turn her head for a better view, but the panties still covered one eye. All she could see through the other was Slave E’s crotch. She had made it all the way into the house and was somehow farther from her objective than when she had stood on the front steps.

After proposing her three-part contest, Jennie had needed time to plan, think, and prepare. The young woman had asked Master T for permission to go outside and smoke, which he had granted. Before leaving, she had ordered Veronica and the blond woman down onto their knees.

“I want you to kiss the cock of that disgusting thing on the floor until I tell you to stop. Don’t suck it. Kiss and lick.”

Only an hour earlier, Veronica would have refused. Now she had dropped to her knees and crawled toward Slave E, who looked both nervous and aroused.

It had been a long time since Veronica had had a cock in her mouth. In her youth, when she had still been trying to be the world’s best girlfriend, she had dated a man who demanded blowjobs several times a day. He had been a selfish bastard. Veronica had not had a single orgasm during the scant year they spent together. After coming on her face, he would return to his computer games. When Veronica enrolled at the police academy a few years later, boyfriends had been rationalized out of her life.

She kissed Slave E’s cock at the base and let her lips travel a little higher. She gave it a small nip, then continued upward. There she met the blond woman coming the other way. Both women did everything they could to keep their lips and tongues from touching, but they brushed against each other several times. When Veronica reached the glans, she ran her tongue along the rim. He seemed most sensitive there; he gave a sharp, breathless moan. She planted a wet, openmouthed kiss on the tip before mercilessly pressing her tongue as far as she could into the opening of his urethra. He flinched in pain.

Good.

Master T had given them additional instructions: the slave was under no circumstances allowed to come. Then Veronica worked her way down again, kissing, meeting the blond woman, licking. Up and down.

Jennie had returned from her cigarette break. Veronica smelled stale, acrid smoke as Jennie passed the slaves on her way to the cabinet, which appeared to be filled with equipment. Veronica had not yet had an opportunity to see what was inside.

Then she sensed someone behind her.

She had not heard him approach. Master T moved like a cat, silent and lethal. Yet she felt his presence like tiny electrical sparks in the air, a change in pressure that made every fine hair on her body stand on end. Her heart began to beat faster and harder, and she could hear her own blood rushing in her ears.

“Raise your asses.” His voice was low and curt, leaving no room for discussion.

The blond woman reacted at once, planting her elbows on the floor, arching her back, and thrusting her large, pale ass into the air. It was more difficult for Veronica because her hands were still cuffed behind her back. Keeping her balance was nearly impossible. She had to brace her cheek against Slave E’s thigh—the skin warm and damp with sweat against her face—to lift her ass and hold it there. The muscles in her thighs immediately began to tremble from the strain. She knelt with her face pressed into a stranger’s crotch and her dirty, exposed ass in the air. She must have looked utterly ridiculous, desperate, and helpless.

The thought only made her wetter.

She felt Master T’s hand begin to caress her again. Two fingers slid up and down between her labia. His touch was light, almost feather-soft, yet it seemed as though every nerve in her body had gathered at that single point. His fingers were warm and dry against her wet skin, gliding easily through her juices. He moved slowly and methodically, from her clitoris—barely brushing it, just enough to make her gasp—down to her opening, where he applied a gentle pressure that promised penetration but never delivered it, then farther back, across her perineum to the sensitive skin around her anus.

It felt insanely, impossibly good. She could not understand it. No man had ever made her feel pleasure like this before. Granted, she rarely let them try more than a few times before dumping them. She did not want a boyfriend; she wanted cock, and she was always disappointed. They fumbled, moved too quickly, failed to understand her body. Yet she had known Master T for an hour, and the lightest touch of his fingers had made her wetter than ever and brought her perilously close to coming.

How could that be? How could this humiliation—kneeling with her face in a stranger’s crotch and her ass in the air—arouse her more than anything she had ever experienced? Her mind tried to understand, to analyze, but her body did not care. Her body wanted only more.

The blond woman let out a loud, desperate whimper. Master T must be doing the same thing to her, Veronica had time to think before she felt his hand withdraw. Purely on instinct, she thrust her ass out, searching for the hand, for his touch, like a dog begging for attention.

Smack!

The sound came from beside her, and a second later he slapped her as well. His open palm struck her right cheek, hard and sharp. The pain was immediate and intense, a burning patch of heat spreading across her ass. She gasped, her body tensed, and tears sprang to her eyes. But then his hand was between her legs again, and the pain turned to pleasure. His two fingers slid deeper now, pushing inside her, curling upward until they found the spot that made stars explode behind her eyes.

Five seconds later, his hand disappeared. She waited, her entire body taut with anticipation.

Smack! Smack!

This time he struck her left cheek, two quick blows landing in precisely the same place. The pain was worse now, building on the first, and she could not suppress a sob.

Then his fingers returned. This time one slid farther back, circling her anus and pressing lightly against the tightly closed opening. No one had ever touched her there before. The sensation was so foreign, so taboo, that another wave of arousal swept through her.

And so it continued. Pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain. Each time he struck the same spot, it hurt a little more. She could feel her skin growing hot, knew it must be turning red, perhaps even beginning to bruise. Strangely, the pleasure intensified as the pain increased. The two sensations seemed to melt together into one overwhelming experience she could no longer separate. Her brain flooded with endorphins, dopamine, all the chemicals the body produced at the boundary between pain and ecstasy.

Her ass burned and throbbed; her pussy pulsed and clenched. Bright explosions flared against the darkness behind her eyelids. Her breathing had become a series of short, desperate gasps. Sweat ran down her spine, between her breasts, and along her hairline. Her muscles trembled, both from the effort of holding the position and from the intensity of her arousal.

It was wonderful. She felt her pussy begin to contract in small spasms. Her breathing quickened, and heat gathered in her stomach. It spread upward through her chest, out into her arms and legs, even into her face, which must now be red and slick with sweat. She was close to coming, so close that she could feel the orgasm rising like a wave, climbing higher and higher, ready to break.

She let go of the reins and surrendered to the pleasure. All control was gone. She was no longer Veronica, the perfect, composed police officer who never allowed anyone too close. She was only a body, a collection of nerves and sensations, a bitch in heat that wanted nothing but release.

Master T’s fingers moved faster now, harder. Two fingers inside her, curled upward, while his thumb pressed against her clitoris. Every movement seemed perfectly calibrated to drive her higher. Then the hand withdrew—left cheek, right cheek. The pain was now so intense it was almost numbing, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered except the wave that continued to build, and build, and build...

Somewhere above her, she heard a loud moan. Then something rained down across her face. Warm, sticky, salty. It took her a second to understand what it was. Both she and the blond woman had forgotten that the cock they were licking was absolutely forbidden to come. The harder Master T had driven them, the more intensely they had made out with the slave’s cock. Now he had been unable to hold back. His semen covered Veronica’s cheek and lips and dripped onto the floor.

Master T immediately pulled his hands away from their pussies, and then the blows came. Twenty slaps each in rapid succession, so fast that they merged into one long explosion of pain. Left, right, left, right, both, both, both. He struck harder now, much harder, and every blow tore a cry from her. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and mingled with the semen covering her face. The pleasure receded and was replaced almost entirely by pain.

Her ass burned like fire. She could feel that the skin was swollen and hot, surely deep red or even purple. Every small movement, every breath, made it ache. Worst of all, her pussy was still pulsing, still desperately close to orgasm, but with no way to reach it. She was trapped in a hell of unfulfilled desire and searing pain.

And somewhere deep inside her, she loved every second of it.

Master T seized Veronica by the hair and hauled her back onto her feet. The blond woman met the same fate and ended up beside her.

“You cock-hungry little sluts. You couldn’t help yourselves,” Jennie hissed after creeping closer. “You broke Master T’s order. Do you understand?”

“What does Jennie consider an appropriate punishment?” Master T asked.

Jennie fell silent. “What do you think, Master T?”

“Why not place the loser of the contest at the very bottom of the hierarchy and allow Slave E to command her for half an hour?” As always, his voice remained calm.

“A very good idea, Master T. Did you hear that, sluts?”

Truthfully, Veronica probably did not hear even half of what was said. She was trying to bring order to her body and mind. What she had just experienced—the humiliation of kneeling with her dirty ass in the air and licking a cock while she was finger-fucked and slapped—was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Something bubbled inside her. Her pussy throbbed. All she wanted was to come. The orgasm building inside her felt like a physical knot beneath her ribs.

Now she stood with pussy juice running down her legs, her ass covered in mud and semen trickling over her face, while someone scolded her. It felt wonderful. Veronica wanted more.

The Lament of Vanishing Light had almost disappeared from her mind.