This morning, despite the unseasonable heavy downpour, Fifth Avenue milled with a larger than average number of miserable faces. New Yorkers
rushed, even more than usual. Collars turned up. Heads turned down. Furrowed eyes remained steadfastly focussed, seeing nothing. Tingling
hands held coats, barely able to withstand the inexorable abuse, tightly around necks. Everywhere people cowered, their screwed up faces
despaired at this unexpected torturous ordeal. Unable to hide their obvious distain, they battled against a wind that seemed to propel
small, icy, needle-like projectiles. The mood on the street was heavier than the merciless rainfall. In the world of dog-eat-dog,
competition for a rare available taxi made sure in true Darwinian style, only the fittest would survive. Today, as always on days like this
in the city of concreted profligacy, common courtesy surrendered to the immiscible power of the greenback God.
Armed with a steaming, freshly brewed vanilla flavoured Latte; Cassandra breathed-in its richly refreshing aroma. Nothing could alter her
state of mind. Surrendered to the moment, today was special. Always obedient, she waited patiently at the corner of Twenty-Seventh and
Fifth. The demanding red sign had barked its clear order. ‘Don’t Walk!’ Although many did, Cassandra didn’t. In part, it was her
unconditional willingness to obey, even outrageous commands, which landed her a new job. Unlike the unforgiving throng, her smile was
immovable. Today, Cassandra starts a new career as ‘The’ Mr Vincent Drago’s personal assistant. If the interview was anything to go by, this
will be the most interesting and satisfying job imaginable. Free, unrestricted access to ‘Peepers’ was an invaluable perk. Most people could
only dream of becoming an exclusive member of Drago’s Dungeon.
The club, which only accepts American Express Platinum, is a rather discreet Nineteenth century warehouse, converted to cater for the
highest tastes, and situated just off Twenty-Seventh. This is where the city’s financial elite converge night after night to relieve their
shattered nerves with unbridled sexual depravity. Some took note that the rate of suicide amongst the city’s stockbrokers had declined
appreciatively since Peepers opened a mere five years ago.
Adhering strictly to her new masters’ dictate, Cassandra wore nothing except a dark, almost blackened raincoat. Buttoned-up tightly from
mid-thigh to her neck, it did little to protect her from the elements. Knee length black high-heeled boots made her look much taller than
her natural slim five foot ten. Lashing rain washed over her hairless scalp, another decree from the master ensured she lost her long, shiny
black hair. It was a new look for her. She liked it. It made her stand out. It made her different and made others stop to take a lingered
look of wanton, almost craving desire.
Warmed by her flushed, excited skin, the water seeped inside the collar and swarmed over her shoulders, dripping endlessly down her naked
body in a tummy tingling orgy of erotic sensations that felt like a hundred wet insatiable tongues licking her flesh both front and back.
The steady trickle that formed on the inside of her thighs felt much warmer, definitely more sticky.
Ignited by early morning temperatures that struggled to break seven degrees, Cassandra’s nipples pinched tight, protruding and pulsing as
they rubbed directly against the course, soaking wet material of her coat. The delicate, one-inch diameter silver rings that pierced each
nipple, failed to hold any warmth. Ambient coldness made sure each abused nipple throbbed with delicious pain. Pleased with her choice, it
took Cassandra most of last Thursday to find a matching set. With legs firmly together, Cassandra shook slightly as she secretly rubbed one
fleshy thigh against the other. She was sure she would get used to the three quarter-inch diameter silver rings that sank deeply into her
labia. If she had known about the exquisite highlighting effect these simple pieces of jewellery would have, she would have had her nipples
and pussy pierced long ago. Thanks to Mr Drago and his unending search for complete customer satisfaction, Cassandra now found it hard to
imagine a life without her piercings.
When Vincent Drago gave Cassandra a tour of Peepers during her interview, she remembered particularly the Pendulum Room. At the time, the
room made her feel weak. Much larger than most other rooms, it looked as if it would house a hundred people comfortably. Quite Spartan, it
was painted in black throughout. Red lights gave it an underworld feel. Purple, dark blue and mauve cushions lay, strewn about on an endless
bed of red silk around the floor, pushed tight to the four walls. This place had slowness about it. An unhurried pace ensured its users
settled in a timeless world of gorged upon pain, blended with a sea of naked flesh that writhed in an orgy of perpetual orgasm. When
Cassandra first saw this room, she determined that this would be her first nights relaxation at Peepers. One thing disturbed her. In the
middle of the room, dominantly displayed was what looked to Cassandra like a hang mans gallows? Then, she didn’t know what it was for. Now,
at the hands of the Mistress, she was about to find out.
Removing her lead, the Mistress barked an order, refusal not an option. Cassandra, despite pain sheering through every joint sprang into
action. Even though she didn’t understand, the need to obey surpassed any requirement for knowledge. Lying squarely on what appeared to be a
cross between an ancient door and an old wooden bed, Cassandra looked upward, gulping hard. Two nooses hung disturbingly from the gallows
arm. Unable to move her head to see what the Mistress was doing, it was enough to feel the coldness of leather straps wrap around each ankle
and pulled so tightly, her toes pricked straight away with pins and needles. Cassandra clenched her hands in uncertainty. The whirl of an
electric motor jerked both nooses into life. Mesmerised, Cassandra watched the rope between noose and arm get longer and longer, until the
thick rope settled and coiled like a long, lazy snake around her breasts. For a horrifying moment, Cassandra thought the nooses would be
tied, one each to her breasts and then hoisted by nothing than her tits, left, suspended in mid-air.
To her relief, she felt the Mistress wrestle with the thick rope. Movement once again around her ankles suggested that both strap and noose
were now joined as one. The motor whirled. Cassandra watched petrified as the ropes slack disappeared inside the gallows arm. Ankles,
independent of each other, but both at the same time rose up. The pull on her legs wasn’t jerky, but even, relentless, unstoppable. With
legs at Ninety-degrees to her body, she realised that her hips were not aligned centrally to the ropes. The rod-like, inflexible dildo
pressed hard against soft tissue. Relentlessly, it vibrated, keeping Cassandra on the verge of orgasm, but never quite enough to release the
pressure she felt inside.
Suddenly, her reddened backside rose up, her tummy, her chest. The choker bit deeply into her breastbone and throat, strangling her,
preventing any and all movement of air between mouth and lungs. Shoulders remained stubbornly on the uncaring table as Cassandra’s body
twisted, doubled over, almost in half. Out of nowhere, what was left of her shot down the table and was instantly catapulted into the air.
Each second, the winch pulled her higher, until with a jolt the motor stopped, leaving Cassandra swinging back and fore like a pendulum.
Created by the weight of her body and the sudden backward propulsion, inertia was maintained, keeping her swaying upside down on the end of
No longer able to look up or down, Cassandra gasped at the sudden headlong rush of blood to her brain. She felt dizzy, disoriented. She was
convinced that they had drugged her again. When she heard the sound of the motor pull her legs wide apart and felt the full impact of a
merciless cane crash down hard onto her open, unguarded pussy, she was glad they hadn’t.
The boardroom was at the far end of the corridor. Cassandra shuffled behind the Master like a lost puppy and watched in awe as he shook
hands, one after the other with a long procession of New York’s money people. Wealth oozed from them. Each suit, she estimated cost as much
as a years’ rent on her apartment. She was a little surprised to see there were no women, only men. She wasn’t surprised, when each of them
broke their smile and took a moment to look at Cassandra. She learned what that sparkle in a man’s eyes meant long ago. Within seconds, each
asked themselves a simple question about Cassandra and each made the same instant decision. They would!
Instantly following the sparkle, a suggestive smile communicated unspoken resolve.
‘I will fuck you later!’
Cassandra wondered how many of them already had. Two weeks ago, when the Master drugged her and suspended her body from the ceiling, she
still has no recollection of how many took part in the gang-bang that followed. Faces became a complete blur that night, when she found
herself fucked repeatedly in every orifice at the same time.
The boardroom was generous with space and decor. Erotic paintings adorned every wall. It spared no expense, boasting the largest oak table
Cassandra had ever seen. It wasn’t round or oblong. It was pear shaped, with the Master sat at the narrowest point and the Mistress to his
right. Vincent suggested to Cassandra that she sit to his left. Cassandra’s heart raced. She felt so out of depth.
As the conversation started, it was clear that this was an initial meeting to introduce a few potential backers. Cassandra scribbled
furiously, until the Master gently placed a hand on hers.
“Not needed!” He whispered.
As Vincent Drago outlined his plans to franchise ‘The Peepers Concept’ across the Atlantic sea board, Cassandra noticed one of the guests
remained unseated, just staring seemingly out of one of the windows. Every few seconds he took a long look at Cassandra, before staring back
into space. He made her feel uneasy. She knew that look. He wanted her.
“Is she ready?” The man interrupted, just as Vincent was getting into full flow about something called ROCI.
Vincent drew a deep breath and leaning back into his chair tossed his pen, which had previously scribbled all sorts of eight digit numbers,
onto his notepad. Clearly irritated by the question, Vincent managed to maintain his composure. Cassandra guessed that in a room full of
important people, whoever this man was, they considered him V.I.P.
“Jack Smijer!” Vincent broke into a smile. “How good of you to finally join us. Please, why don’t you sit down?”
Cassandra wrote in shorthand, Jack Smijer. Despite his chiselled chin and sixties movie star looks, she instantly decided she didn’t like
him. Later, she would find out that this man, with piercing blue eyes, was fast tracked through the company’s talent pool. The brightest
rising star, he became Chairman of a leading Wall Street Commercial Bank at just thirty-five. Very wealthy and very influential, he was a
man to both admire and distrust. Most people simply feared him.
“Well! Is she?”
“Look Jack, I understand you have been waiting for some time now, but honestly she will be worth the wait.”
Cassandra noticed the Master look at her quickly before continuing.
“She is a natural. This one will cost top dollar and you, like everyone else, will have to bid. You know the process. There are no short
Churning upside down, Cassandra thought she might be sick. She was sure they were talking about her, but didn’t have a clue what they
“I want a preview!” It was clear that Jack Smijer wasn’t accustomed to waiting.
The room went deadly quiet. Everyone knew that Vincent Drago kept his dealing’s strictly in line with defined processes. Anyone who didn’t
like it was welcome to do their business elsewhere. Jack Smijer however, believed himself to be above rules.
Like frontier, gun-toting cowboys, the two men, with pierced steely-eyes, faced each other with fierce determination. Neither wanted to
back down, but both knew that a wrong move would cost them dearly. Vincent wanted Jack Smijer’s credit lines. Jack Smijer knew that Vincent
Drago kept a lot of shit about a lot of people and Jack, just like every other big shot in town was up to his neck with video evidence of
his depraved sexual appetites. Including more than one occasion when he nearly throttled a Peepers member of staff to the point of
All eyes fell on Vincent Drago. It appeared that he had backed down.
Smugly, Jack Smijer sat at his place around the table.
Cassandra nearly passed out at the sound of her name.
“Cassandra, I want you to go under the table and choosing any gentleman in this room, pull down his zip, take out his cock and using only
your mouth, make him cum!”
Gulping hard, Cassandra recalled the Dragon Lady’s words.
‘You will learn to accept what is given to you without comment!’
Pushing back her chair, Cassandra stood and looked at each of the men straight in the eye. There were nine plus the Master. Some were old
and fat. Too many years of the easy life had made them saggy, but two looked quite young and energetic. All pleaded with her through their
eyes. Cassandra knew exactly who her target would be.
Getting down on all fours, she shuffled forward a little until she was fully under the table. Turning to her right, she pushed the Masters
legs open and pulled at his zip. After undoing his belt, she gently yanked at his pants until they were around his knees and smiled when she
heard him groan as her warm, moistened mouth wrapped eagerly around his rapidly stiffening prick.
The younger men couldn’t help but look under the table. Having not yet aspired to membership, they had only heard rumours of what went on
here. The older ones got it. Vincent Drago knew that his new protÃ©gÃ©e would choose him, thereby snubbing Jack Smijer and his unprompted
demand for a preview. At the same time, he would prove his comments correct. She was a natural born submissive, one who would obey the
Masters commands without hesitating.
Jack Smijer fumed in his chair. He knew he had lost and lost big time. The assembled bigwigs smiled, some even chuckled at the contrast
between the two combatants. Jack looked as if he was trying to suck a lemon dry, on the other hand Vincent Drago looked as if he were being
lunged into never-never land as his eyes rolled and he grunted under the onslaught of Cassandra’s amazing moistened lips gently rubbing over
the rim of his bell-end. Cassandra’s blowjobs were even better than her shorthand.
Having proved his point, Vincent decided he should throw his potential backer a lifeline. Jack looked decidedly embarrassed, even his
stature had shrivelled, making him look like a scolded teenager.
“Thank you Cassandra, you can stop now.”
Suddenly stopping in disbelief, Cassandra held the Masters’ dick in her hand and looked at it with a deep sense of yearning. She couldn’t
believe that he wasn’t going to let her make him cum. With a long sigh, she wrapped her lips around him once more and rolled her tongue
around his hot, blood-gorged end. Vincent unexpectantly moaned aloud. His face contorted. His hands clenched tightly. Those that watched,
secretly wished he would order her to go around the room, and one by one make her do to them what she was doing to him right now? Cassandra
secretly wished that the Master would let her finish what she had started.
Emerging from beneath the table, Cassandra sat in her chair. She knew they were all looking at her. She couldn’t help it. Like a cat,
satisfied after drinking cream, she slowly ran her tongue all around the edges of her glossy and slightly smudged lips. She then serenely
sat with hands resting on her lap and head bowed slightly toward the floor.
Stunned silence consumed the room. Then all the guests seemed to speak at the same time, all that is except Jack Smijer. Their interest
levels had shot through the roof. They excitedly asked about the expansion program, projections, cash flow forecasts; debt to equity ratio’s
and how often could Peepers produce gemstones like Cassandra. They wanted to know what the operating profit predictions were, when taking
into account training costs. They asked what the turnaround period was and how quickly could they take a raw recruit and put her in the
market place as a fully merchantable commodity.
Completely lost by the technical jargon, Cassandra, just like before, felt consumed, overawed by the thought that they were not only
talking about her, but referring to her as a unit of production.
“Basic direct costs, such as initial salary, training facilities, time on job etc are covered by Peepers. Indirect overheads such as
medical expenses and we must remember that each unit will have different training requirements to reach the strict and highest standards of
subservience, will vary from project to project. Some customers may require attributes and personality traits that vary from one training
program to another. However, we are looking at an estimated net profit per unit of somewhere between two hundred and fifty thousand and one
Vincent tried hard not to smile. He had them in the palm of his hand. He knew it! All he needed to do now was satisfy the twitches they all
had itching away at their semi-erections. Cassandra’s polished performance had them juiced up. Profit, the promise of a lot of profit, had
them almost cumming in their pants. Now all he had to do is actually make them cum. After lunch, the ‘Dipping Tank’ will be ready for
testing, but first, he had to get Jack back on his side.
“Cassandra, I want you to stand in front of the table in front of Jack Smijer, bend over and place your hands firmly on the desk. You will
not move until Jack has finished fucking you.”
Although she disliked him immensely, Cassandra’s face didn’t even twitch.
Taking a deep breath, Cassandra walked around the large, pear shaped boardroom table, toward a somewhat stunned Jack Smijer. In complete
silence, jaws dropped and every eye watched every footstep. Each step caused her already filled to capacity pencil skirt to bulge, first her
left buttock, then her right. Becoming impatient, they all felt she took too long, especially when she removed her matching jacket and with
cool confidence, swung it over a shoulder. Generous, unsupported breasts wobbled just slightly, but so seductively. A slinky, silky, almost
see through blouse teased, highlighting two excited erect nipples, the rings clearly visible. She knew they were watching, stunned into
silence by both her appearance and brazen willingness to obey her Master without hesitation or question. She was determined to milk every
succulent second. Jack Smijer looked in awe, a little anxious. Vincent Drago had called his bluff. There was no way he could back down, not
Bending over, as ordered, Cassandra extended out her arms and placed both hands and elbows on the table. That full, rounded ass lifted high
into the air. She turned her head, staring at the Master. She got it now. He was using her to get the businessmen around the table excited,
eager to agree to his plans. Cassandra’s polished performance would help and if appearing calm, confident and willing to do absolutely
anything the Master commanded made this possible, then she would do it. Besides, she knew that just like when he commanded her to suck any
dick under the table and then stopped her, he would do the same now. He would stop it before it went too far. She was confident that her new
Master and Mistress would not allow this complete stranger to fuck her in front of all these people. Nothing would be more degrading.
Even when Cassandra’s muscles clenched tight at the feel of Jack Smijer raising her pencil skirt, first up passed her thighs and then leave
it wrapped around her waist, displaying her completely naked backside, she still believed that any second now the Master would stop him.
After all, she belonged to the Master. It was the Master that she obeyed, shaking at the knees and feebly hanging on to his every word. It
was he, the Master, for which she would do anything. She so desperately wanted to feel him inside her, moving his thick erection inside her
excited pussy. Vincent Drago now replaced her old headmaster in her fantasies and just like her old headmaster, she still awaits Vincent
Drago to fuck her. Cassandra’s eyes drilled into Vincent’s face, waiting for him to stop Jack Smijer’s hands that now touched, stroking her
naked, elevated bum.
Taking a step back, Jack took a long lingering look of admiration. Cassandra’s perfectly rounded ass, accentuated by a shaven clam shaped
pussy that showed a loose, shiny flap of labia on one side, caused an irreversible surge of blood to his penis. In his mind, he could
already taste that loose piece of skin between his teeth, biting down on it hard before sucking it into his mouth. Jack looked long and hard
at the battered and blue skin before him. He was impressed.
“I see you take your training seriously!” His smirk was for the benefit of the watching crowd. The question however, he directed at the
Still fully expecting the Master to stop Jack Smijer, Cassandra jumped a little. Several fingers suddenly appeared, rubbing in long, slow
strokes along the entire length of her pussy. They probed and pushed, pinching slippery flesh between finger and thumb. Eyes closed, partly
in shock, partly in embarrassment, but mostly in relief.
Three fingers penetrated sharply, forcefully. It was hard to tell who grunted the loudest, Cassandra at the sudden aggressive infiltration
or Jack Smijer from his belligerent, almost hostile thrust. Either way, nearly two hours of vibrating dildo in Cassandra’s pussy this
morning made sure her folds of slippery skin remained placid, flexible, willing to engulf and envelope anything that might satisfy her need
to orgasm. Instantly, lubricated, willing flesh wrapped, almost grabbing around his fingers, quickly ensnarling like a black widow spider
inexorably pouncing on its next victim.
“Mr Smijer.” The Mistress’s less than impressed tone broke everyone’s mesmerised stare.
“We take our craft very seriously. The purpose of this meeting is to show you just how serious we are and that you will see generous
returns on your investment. May I suggest that when you have finished...” The Mistress hesitated, looking for the right words. “Sampling the
merchandise, we might adjourn to the Medieval Room, where all of you gentlemen can share in the Peepers experience. I believe the workmen
may have finished installing our latest attraction. I’m sure you will find it interesting”
Cassandra’s eyes shot wide open. Was she the merchandise? Looking at the Master for answers, his cold steely eyes told her that he was not
only going to allow Jack Smijer to fuck her here and now over the boardroom table, but was going to invite all the others to do the same in
the Medieval Room. This room, filled with the most horrendous contraptions would stretch her body to the point of breaking and all the while
give them unrestricted access to any part of her they wanted to fuck.
Jack Smijer’s fingers moved slowly out from Cassandra’s pussy before thrusting back inside. The exertion caused her to open her hands,
desperately looking and failing to find something to hold tightly. Mid gasp, she opened her eyes and met the Masters uncaring coldness.
Mentally she pleaded with him. A sorrowful single tear dribbled pathetically down her cheek, begging him to make it stop. The more he
ignored her silent plea, the more Cassandra fell for him. How could he make her feel this way? What binding hold did he have over her that
made her obey his every word, even to the point of allowing a complete stranger to do this to her in front of enthusiastic people who
clearly willed him to go further. Every grunt she made caused some to titter, their nervous laughter hiding their own uncertainty and
embarrassment, but all wanted Jack Smijer to do more. They wanted to see Cassandra’s face as she orgasmed.
Fear, guilt, shame and bewildered excitement surged through her body. If this was, what it took to please him, to be sufficiently impressed
to keep her, then so be it. Cassandra’s forehead touched the coldness of the hard-woodened table. She winced. His fingers had become more
urgent, more violent and joined by a forth that pushed her pussy so wide open she was in pain. She didn’t want to cum, not at the hands of
this man. Her hairless head suddenly shot upward. All could see the spread of unstoppable emotions across her face. She fought it, tried so
desperately not to allow it to happen. It was no use, her body was no longer her own. It ignored every order she gave. Contorting, her body
shook, jerking awkwardly. Her bum rose higher into the air. Jacks fingers rammed in short stubby thrusts. Cassandra’s unsupported tits
wobbled ferociously inside her thin blouse. Acutely erect nibbles rubbed on the material, sending waves of intense tingles into her stomach.
Every muscle tensed. She screamed.
Suddenly the fingers stopped. Cassandra’s pussy burned. Sharp irresistible, almost painful stabs of tingling throbs consumed every thought.
Suspended right at the edge, she looked again at the Masters face. How could he sit there so impassively, so distant and detached, watching
every move, while she endured the ignominy and undignified way in which this man humiliated her. The others looked so excited, enthralled by
this open display of debauchery. The Master remained unmoved, devoid of expression or feeling.
Bulbous, hot flesh rubbed teasingly against slippery, willing labia. With one hand, Jack Smijer moved his erection up and down Cassandra’s
pussy lips until his eager bell-end pushed inside a little. She braced herself for the inevitable. Her tear-filled eyes once more pleaded
with the Master. What she feared the most wasn’t having him fuck her in this way, in front of these people, but rather that she wanted it
and once done, would always hunger for more.
Fat, stubby fingers grappled, they fumbled until they found their way behind her dog collar. Violently, he yanked at the leather strap.
Instantly, Cassandra’s head jerked backward. Almost in a snarl, Cassandra pushed back, forcing herself against his embedded erection. The
relentless friction of his oversized bell-end slid, scraping, touching every elevated nerve ending inside her pussy, sending Cassandra into
a cascading explosion of spasm and into a world from which she would never escape.
Cassandra’s hips jerked awkwardly up and down and from side to side as she rode mind-numbing bursts of tingles and throbs that shot through
her pussy, into her stomach and to her mind that darkened, for the moment blocking out her surroundings. This orgasm was different. This
orgasm was so much stronger. This orgasm was the one the old headmaster should have given her, the one she hoped and prayed that Vincent
Drago, her new Master would give her, but neither did.
As her mind began to clear, becoming once again familiar with the present, she found Jack Smijer riding her pussy in long, slow easy
strokes. Cassandra’s face went bright red. Most thought it was from the leather strap pulled tight to her neck, restricting her breath,
choking her as he fucked her from behind. It wasn’t. What caused her sudden flush was the look on the Mistress’s face, it plunged Cassandra
into deep embarrassment. Her secret was out. It was as if she knew, as if she understood what had just happened. A mixture of Motherly pride
and a hint of jealousy suggested the Mistress was acknowledging that Cassandra was experiencing something she had prayed so long for. The
Mistress knew her secret. Was this something that the Mistress harboured also? Cassandra suddenly felt affinity with the Mistress. The same
kindred spirit, only a generation apart. Cassandra could learn so much from her. Thanks to the Mistress and the Master, Cassandra was now
able to feel what she had longed for, degradation, humiliation and disgrace. Only by submitting completely to their will was she able to
transcend, to become the thing she feared. Cassandra had known them both for only a short time, but for what they had done to her, she was
grateful. It was more than gratitude, she loved them both, they had freed her and she would obey every word they uttered.
Cassandra no longer felt afraid.
Large hands appeared over both shoulders, grabbing at the flimsy blouse. They yanked, ripping off three buttons. Another tore a hole down
one side. Jack Smijer seemed possessed, determined to rip Cassandra’s clothes from her body. He snorted as he pulled again, this time her
shredded blouse slipped away behind her. Arms strained at the ferocity, almost dislocating her shoulders, as he held her wrists tightly
together behind her back and used the material to bind them together.
Cassandra’s sudden full frontal display of nakedness in view of the spellbound, animated audience made her gasp. Her skin tingled as their
eyes bored into her fleshy breasts. She thought her nipples would explode, they felt so hard and taught. He pinned her head tight to the
tabletop and thrusting hard, quickened his pace, fucking her pussy with sheer contempt. He fucked her so hard and fast, Cassandra struggled
to breathe. She gasped and grunted. His prick was so large; it seemed to make her tingle from head to toe. Cassandra’s ears pricked.
Suddenly open to his every word. The Master had spoken and without question, she would obey.
“You will not orgasm again unless I say you can!”
Just the sound of the Masters voice sent her into raptures. Waves of exquisite tingles pricked at her skin. She bit her lip. It didn’t
matter what Jack Smijer would do to her now, she was not going to cum.
In agitated response, Jack fucked Cassandra harder. Faster, he kept ramming his prick into her pussy, determined to win a point over
Cassandra’s body wanted to orgasm again, she could feel it. It was so strong inside her that at any other time she would have allowed
herself to submit to it, but the need inside to submit to the Master was so much stronger. It became a battle of wills. Jack determined to
make Cassandra cum and Cassandra determined that he wouldn’t.
Jack’s grunts became louder, stronger. Sweat poured from his face. Cassandra ground her teeth together. She had never been fucked this hard
for so long. Her mind drifted to the Medieval Room and to the faces around the table. After lunch, she knew that the Master would order her
to let the others fuck her too. It would become a long afternoon of a never-ending gangbang.
The mere thought of them all fucking her made Cassandra’s pussy muscles tighten around Jack Smijer’s thrusting erection. The sudden
increase in friction was unexpected. It threw him completely. He shouted.
She felt his prick explode inside her. His gushes of sperm felt wicked, warm and so soothing. As ordered, she did not cum. Cassandra
The Master will be pleased.