So once upon a time I ushered this one particular blonde down a long. bending flight of stairs. To my basement where I’d grown very accustomed to orchestrating the submission of females who otherwise might remain worthless. You know, in the World at large.
As I say this particular subject was blonde, taller than some and cuter than most. She was in the tight blue jeans that had been selected expressly for her body as well as a simple pale blue cotton bra that brilliantly matched her eyes. Denim and brassiere. Nothing more, nothing less.
Just like all the other girls.
I absolutely have to mention how enthralling it was (is, has been, always is) to escort a leggy woman to the cellar. The narrow walls closing in on both sides. The shrouded light of naked 60-watt bulbs that cast a sickly yet sensual glow over the exposed skin of my latest subject. And the sound of her bare feet plop plopping down downwards along the stone steps of my lair.
I probably should also mention that Cate was crying. This afforded her blue eyes a sheen of humiliation (not fear) that expressed the level of my dominance over her whorish self. Yes. Cate was sobbing.
And her hands were tied up behind her back at the wrist with old fashioned clothesline.
I’d warned my blonde that there was a lot to look forward to at the bottom of the stairs. I reminded her that it was going to take time (a good deal of it) to accomplish all that was necessary to make Cate worthy in my own eyes. The blonde was aware of my short temper, my impatience with her delusion of self esteem and (most of all) with the brand of fun n’ games that took place out of sight, out of earshot, from the World above.
I kissed Cate’s naked left shoulder and complimented her on her ability to trod the stairwell with her arms encumbered so.
My blonde wasn’t aware that on special occasions there’d be another female waiting for the pair of us to arrive at our destination. Within the basement. Wasn’t aware that on those occasions this secondary subject would necessarily be restrained much more stringently than merely having her arms tied up behind her back.
But although Cate was (is, has been, will forever be) wholly unique this occasion was not that special. No coed, no housewife, no waitress awaited our descent with tears in her own eyes that might match Cate’s. No. It would be just the pair of us. Myself and Cate.
Enfolded within a place that crueler Men refer to as Belowstairs.
Once I got my subject all the way to the foot of the long, winding stairwell the pitter patter of Cate’s bare feet ceased. And - I can tell you! - it was a joy to see her bosom heave as my new friend took in the full impact of the manner in which my play area was equipped. Yes. That baby blue cotton bra was PERFECT for these modest yet alluring breasts. It was good to be beneath street level.
I took that opportunity to inform Cate The Whore of which actress she physically resembled most in my eyes. Casually mentioning that I felt disrespected that said actress had NEVER displayed herself in a nude scene onscreen, I made it obvious to my guest what her primary role would be ‘moving forward’. As well as for…‘the duration’. Then I shouted at the bitch to kneel down and open her filthy mouth.
Prior to our travels to my basement Cate had assured me upstairs that she was more than willing (and - in fact - craved) to perform oral sex upon my person. With her hands tied up behind her back. With her beautiful blue eyes wide open. And with no guarantee that I’d condescend to allow her to return upstairs once she’d swallowed a full load of my ejaculate.
So that’s how a man only as sadistic as myself could engage in what he called consensual sex with Cate for the very first time. That’s how I instructed this particular blonde to keep her gaze fixed upon my own eyes…and her jaws more than sufficiently set apart so that I could fuck the back of her throat and feel only the bedrock of Cate’s submissive tongue caressing the underside of my erection. For like an hour.
It was good that Cate was kneeling. And it was splendid how her bra brimmed with meat. Once Cate’s hips and lower back began to ache…and her exertions lent a pathetic, comic quality to her helpless body. Sixty minutes is quite a long time to administer a blowjob from one’s kneecaps to a creep as detail-orientated as myself. But discipline must be earned.
I eventually found Cate to be suitable, usable and handy. The blue jeans ended up in the laundry (for like months!) and that blue cotton bra spent as much time inside the blonde’s filthy mouth as my cock. I rarely unbound her arms. And instead began to insist that Cate would be in a much better position to placate me if her bare ankles, calves and hamstrings were similarly roped up in clothesline.
For each and every blow job.
I admit I grew quite fond of gagging Cate - half suffocating her - during oral sex. Okies…I’ll call it like for real…‘whenever I raped her mouth’! Satisfied? (smiley face) The lucky lady only rarely had to extend the effort in returning upstairs after some fun in the basement. Most times Cate could chill in her room downstairs and wait for me to return with a brunette or a slut from the Pacific Rim. Those were good times. Cate was willing.
Cate was born to be a fucking victim.
Best girlfriend EVER!