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My reddened rump was a constant distraction throughout the day; every time I shifted in my seat I felt the abrasive fabric of my boxer shorts braise my tender flesh. Natasha and Faye both sent smiley emojis to me as messages; my girlfriend had manipulated the two teenagers into disciplining me and I couldn’t have loved the nefarious, unpredictable woman any more. It was gloriously evil.

Monika messaged me mid-morning to ask how raw my posterior was and sent a further message as my working day neared its end. “Setting off from London now. Will be back around 7pm. I want a naked boy, a three course meal with wine and a fresh strawberry milkshake ready for me. M.”

I frantically hurried to the supermarket and bought the ingredients I needed for our tea. I chose a prawn cocktail to start, followed by a rump steak and vegetables and then a cheesecake. It was a little gluttonous, and the drink more so. I made her shake with double cream, ice cream, strawberries and milk in the blender, and the creamy concoction was a heavy and luxurious drink.

I disrobed five minutes before Monika was due home and donned a black apron. She strode into the house a few moments later, and stroked my exposed bare buttocks. “Bum’s still red. We did a decent job on you. And dinner smells nice,” she muttered. “Good boy!”

She changed from her street clothes into her loungewear, washed her hands and sat down at the dining table, watching me as I brought in our starter. She sipped from the milkshake, garnished with fresh strawberries, as she wrapped her fork around the rocket and shredded carrot in her bowl. “Good day?” I asked.

“Yeah. Bohdana wanted to spend lots on Oxford Street, but we stopped her. We agreed she could go shopping on Friday with the money that we had left. London Zoo was cool. Especially the Tigers. We read all about their conservation. It’s amazing.” She beamed. “Especially their fundraising events. They get volunteers to run naked around their zoo. It’s A Streak For Tigers. You should do that!”

I smiled, and we engaged in light conversation as we ate our starter and our main. “I want to ask,” I said. “What is your experience with BDSM? You definitely aren’t a beginner.”

She laughed. “That’s really kind of you to say.” She gulped and sighed. “No, I’m not. I had to help my aunt with her computer and I saw she had tons of femdom and BDSM porn. I was intrigued, and I noticed she was the domme in the videos. When my boyfriend wanted to experiment with fetishes and kinky play, I asked her and she coached me. I had Jeff wrapped around my little finger in days with her guidance, but we’d never got as far as golden showers. Kink always interested me. I enjoy the power and had plenty of experience with the whip and paddles. Aunty guided me through a few practice sessions with her sub. Or one of them. We did a bit of pegging too.”

“You’re a great credit to her teaching. You had me wrapped around your little finger in no time.”

She chuckled and blushed; cuteness pervaded her expression as she coyly looked away, but she was a wolf in kitten’s clothing. She had the presence of a shy, innocent teenager, but she could bend any man to her will.

“Natasha told me how to bend you too!” she admitted. “She knows you very well.”

“I know she does!”

After our cheesecake, ice-cream and wine, we sat down and played with cards as our dinner settled with mugs of coffee. She highlighted my nudity. My bare, exposed state against her clothed attire made me more vulnerable, and she reminded me with subtle gestures and verbal taunts.

Monika easily bested me in three games of cribbage and smiled as I scowled in annoyance at the scoreboard. “Ah, never mind,” she teased, and rose from her chair. She said nothing as she curled her finger and made a come hither movement as she walked towards the door. I behaved like a lost puppy and eagerly followed her to my bedroom and then the en-suite. The moment she kicked off her high-cut shorts, I knew what was coming when she pointed towards the shower. She had drunk two glasses of wine, a large mug of coffee and half-a-pint of milkshake, and I lay in the shower cubicle as she squatted over me. “What does Nat’s little piss boy want?”

“Your pee, Monika.” Those words punched my dignity as they left my mouth. I had debased myself to a degree that I begged this sultry eighteen-year-old to urinate over my face and my body, and yet, as I stared at her hairless, waxed snatch, I knew that was exactly what I needed from her.

I laid on the cold tiles of my shower and she squatted, resting her backside on my forehead. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please, piss on me?” My nose, buried in her slit, inhaled her wonderful scent. Ten hours, walking around the hot inner city London had imprinted her feminine aroma deep into her pores and my tongue licked the smooth skin to taste her salty exertion.

Her nectar was more delicious than ever. A sweet, glorious honey that warmed the back of my throat and burnt my nostrils. I smelt of a cheap public toilet as her warm nastiness splashed onto my face. Malodorous and noxious to some, this batıkent escort outrageous act was a fine wine of exquisite beauty. The foul flavour, squalid scent and disgusting defilement of her pee raining over me was celebrated in my loins with my arousal.

Her flow had barely dropped to a trickle when my lips closed around her slit, enjoying the warmth of her aroused cunt on my tongue. I buried my wet face in her sopping pussy, relishing the tastes and smells of her horniness.

She groaned and mewed, cried and squealed as my mouth danced over her slit and gently sucked her button. Her hands held onto the walls and the glass screen for balance as she approached her peak with increasing speed. Her thighs quivered and her cries echoed around the minimalist bathroom during her first orgasm. She was far louder during her second. But I lost count of her climaxes.

I kept giving that gorgeous, wonderful woman oral servitude until she could take no more. Until my tongue tired and she fell limp through exhaustion. I wanted more. She sat up, pushing her hips forward to put her pussy out of my reach.

I buried my face in her butt crack, probing her asshole for the first time. I wrapped my mouth across her whorl. She squealed. “Ooh, stop that!” My lips closed over her hole, gently kissing and caressing her tightly wound opening. It puckered as my tongue rolled around her delicate ring.

She stopped me before I could do any more and we washed the exertions of the previous half-hour from our body. The teenager patted herself dry with a towel and reached into her bag. She passed me a bottle of pink lotion. “I want a massage,” she demanded and threw herself on her bed. “Special attention to thighs and feet.”

It had been years since I had given a massage, and Monika put some instrumental, calming woodwind music on her phone as I silently worked the moisturising lotion into her.

A tranquil softness as my hands glided over her shiny flesh, rubbing the pink cream into her skin with firm, gentle strokes that left her purring and content.

I lost track of time. It could have been twenty minutes or two hours, but the delicate music and tender actions were a world away from our earlier play. It felt like it was a different pace, as Monika fell into a relaxed state and I enjoyed running my hands over her nubile flesh.

We shared a shower once more, and kissed under the spray. She held me against the cold tiles and played with my erect prick, teasing me mercilessly. “Does little John really want to empty his balls?” She cried as her hand rubbed the tip of my cock. I groaned and begged, but her taunting was a trick that left me with aching horniness. “Maybe tomorrow.” The soubrette giggled as she left the steamy bathroom and sauntered into my bedroom.

She woke on Wednesday, spanked me hard on my abused buttocks until I squealed and then strode out of the bedroom stark naked. I made breakfast for her, and she returned, dressed and with a wide grin. “You have a barbecue out there in the garden. Does it work?”

“I think so. It did last summer. I have some gas in the shed behind the annexe.”

“Good,” she snapped.

“Do you want a barby tonight? The weather is supposed to be lovely.”

“Yes, for all of us. We’ll be back at six. You will have a clean butt, be naked except for an apron. Stephen drinks Bud, Boh and I like rose wine.” She smiled and walked over to the annexe as I stared at her cute teenage derriere, leaving my bedroom nude.

In between my work, I found time to drive to the supermarket and buy a small spread of food, as well as a box of pink wine and a 12-pack of Budweiser Lager. I sent her a picture of my shopping and got a thumbs up emoji in return. At five o’clock, I emptied my bowels and used the douching kit to ensure I was spotlessly clean inside, and then set up the outside grill.

By the time Monika and her friends entered my garden, I was naked except for my black apron in front of a full barbecue, cooking an array of food. Their chilled drinks were in a bucket beside the table, and my teenage dominant rubbed her hands over my bare buttocks. “Almost perfect,” she whispered into my ear as her hand gripped my waist. She slunk into the house and returned holding a cotton garment. “What’s this?”

She held out a vintage-style frilly pink and white gingham check apron with a lacy trim. “Oh, that’s Samantha’s. She got it from her work in the Secret Santa years ago.”

“Take that off,” Monika demanded, and my eyes widened. Cross-dressing had never appealed to me and I screwed up my face.

“But…” I argued. “I like this one and…”

“Now!” she interrupted, and reluctantly I unfastened the black smock and begrudgingly stood in my garden, naked, swapping the item with Monika. She smiled as I slipped the overly feminine garment over my head, and she bound it around my waist from behind. “Go get everyone a drink and put the salad and crisps out,” she ordered, as she replaced her clothing with the dark apron. As I left, she picked up a spatula to tend to the cooking meat and oversee beşevler escort the barbecue.

Stephen and Bohdana giggled when they saw us; the two teenagers teased as I waited on them and Monika dished up a small feast of burgers, sausages, kebabs, and skewers. We sat on the grass, and my teenage dominant mocked me about the actions of the last few days until my cheeks matched my pink apron. Her friends knew everything anyway, but it was degrading as she openly aired my kinks.

After the food, Monika slipped inside when I went to get the cake from the fridge, and she returned from the bedroom with a glint in her eye. My eyes noticed the bulge in the front of her apron, and she giggled. And then, in the presence of her friends, she pushed me to the ground. “Kneel,” she demanded, pushing the back of my head so my face touched my grass.

I looked like I prayed to the East, but Monika took the lubricant from the apron pocket and squeezed the bottle over my hole. I groaned as the coldness sent a shiver down my spine.

The blunt head of the dildo pressed against my ring as Bohdana and Stephen sat eating cake, watching Monika prepare to sodomise me in the pink apron.

I stopped caring how I looked, as I desperately wanted the teenage minx to plunge that sex toy deep into me. I craved it, needed it, and would have humiliatingly begged for it. My body ached as the first inch poked my ring, slowly opening me up to receive her dildo.

My mind swam in horniness. I closed my eyes and grunted, pushing back on her dong to take more of the rubber toy. I loved the feeling of my arse being stretched and adored the feel of Monika’s hands on my waist, gaining leverage as she rocked the cock further and further into me.

I groaned in delight as I felt her thighs bump against mine and her prick rubbed against my prostate. “Someone likes that,” Bohdana said. “What does he like more? Piss or pegging?”

Monika chuckled and slapped my buttocks. “What d’ya think?”

“Both,” I muttered.

I was swimming; the ferocious ramming of her dick into me had sent my mind floating through a wonderful word of excitement and horniness. I grunted with every thrust, loving the deep penetrations of Monika’s strap-on against my prostate. “He’s quite a filthy slut!” Natasha’s cousin teased. “Can I do that to you?” She asked her boyfriend.

Stephen spluttered. “You ain’t touching me back there. I’m not gay.” Bohdana chuckled. “Or kinky.”

But I was kinky, and I revelled in the perversion. Monika ground her hips against me, rubbing the strap-on dildo against my prostate. The delicious pressure and anticipation felt immense, and a wave of pleasure swept across my body and pre-cum poured from my cock.

And then it was no more. Monika unfastened the harness and discarded the glistening toy in the grass. I yelped as she kicked my sides, and I fell to the floor. Moments later, I stared at her sparkling cunt as she released her golden rain over my face. I lapped at her trickling pussy, tasting and gulping her acidic deliciousness as she recycled her drink over me.

“That’s fucking nasty!” Stephen cried.

He was right; my sex life was degraded, perverted and filthy, but I loved every minute. I adored the endless golden showers, fevered pegging and non-stop domination. I lived for the humiliation and degradation, and would gleefully accept anything Natasha and her troop of female dominants demanded from me.

Monika’s flow stopped, and she walked away from me. I wiped my face on the bottom of my soaking wet pink apron. “This is your cake. Stay there, I’ll bring it to you.” She cut off a slice of the gateau, put it on a plate and while staring at me, she placed it on the chair and sat on it.

Cream, chocolate and sponge became smeared and wedged in her arse crack as her backside looked an ominous shade of brown. Her friends laughed as the young woman elegantly walked over to me and squatted over my piss soaked face. “Eat up!” Bohdana called.

My tongue swept over Monika’s chocolate-smeared buttocks. She lowered her butt further to force my lips between her buttcheeks and smear my cheeks in gateau. Lumps of sponge fell from her backside as I eagerly cleaned her skin, wrapping my tongue over her anus and her flesh.

She purred as my lips massaged her hole. She groaned as I lapped at her rosebud, swirling my mouth and tongue over the cake. It was a moment of complete humiliation and intense sensuality. A delicate sweetness and the product of a gentle, sensual domination.

She stood up, and held out her hand to me, gesturing me to stand. We glanced at Bohdana and Stephen, kissing on the grass. Natasha’s cousin looked over her shoulder, put her legs over her boyfriend, and giggled as she released a stream of piss through her underwear that soaked his T-shirt.

The young man screeched as the wet spot grew on his green shirt, darkening it. “You filthy… get off me. Boh, get off.” Bohdana held his scrabbling hands by the wrists. “This isn’t funny.”

“Stop it!” She warned. “Or I’ll piss in your face!”

“Boh. This beypazarı escort really isn’t funny!” He cried, and we left them in the garden to argue. Monika held my hand as we entered my en-suite, cuddling as we stepped under the warm water of the shower cascading over us. I washed her buttocks, and I held the nubile teen tight as we relaxed under the stream. And then, in just our dressing gowns, we tidied the lounge and slipped into bed to watch a film and have an early night.

As dawn broke, waking Bohdana and Stephen at 6:30am proved to be harder than Monika imagined. She made a picnic for them all and then had to drag her friend out of the double bed. It was only when they both threatened to give Stephen another unwanted golden shower did he move from his slumber.

I drove into the centre of London with the holidaying trio; the hour and a half journey through rush hour traffic was slow and boring, and I parked in the underground car park of my employer. Monika was keen to show off the view from my office, and all three teenagers gasped as they looked out over the capital city from the window in the high-rise skyscraper.

“See you at five?” Monika asked, with her hand lingering on my waist. I nodded, and she kissed me on the cheek before leaving. The senior developer ogled the wonderful teenagers walk away from us, dressed in short summer dresses.

“They’re too young for you,” I teased.

“They’re too young for you, too!” He replied, and I nodded.

“I know,” I muttered. He hummed, and I sensed a judgement about my relationship with the young dominatrix, but before he could voice them, I entered my private office, shut the door, lowered the blinds and started my work. The three teenagers had a good afternoon in the city, and at five, the receptionist showed Monika to my desk. I warned her that my colleagues had commented on her attractiveness and I am sure she hitched her skirt higher. She lent over the back of the chair, as she talked to me, displaying her derriere to the development team through my glass walls.

“Stephen and Boh wanted to do the Dungeon and so they asked if we could stay in London for another couple of hours.”

“I could take you shopping and have some tea?” Monika shook her head. “C’mon, my treat!”

“Can we go to Soho?” the coquettish soubrette begged, a little loudly. I smiled as my senior developer’s eyebrows rose a few notches as I left my office with the excitable teenager. The rush hour squeezed Monika’s body against me on the Central Line as we travelled to Oxford Street station. The trendy Carnaby Street ensnared the teenager’s attention, and she skipped through the amazing shops, enchanted by the garish, bright wares.

I bought her a pair of psychedelic metallic rainbow high heels from an infamously eccentric retailer, and when we walked past Agent Provocateur on a neighbouring street, I gleefully took my lover into the upmarket lingerie store. Over the course of our relationship, I had gifted Samantha several garments from the shop, and I knew how much my ex loved the classy, intimate clothing. Monika gasped when she looked at the prices, but her reticence evaporated when she held up the exclusive underwear, and I made her try on some of their sets.

She emerged from the changing room wearing a lacy white design that accentuated her breasts and hid very little. She twirled in front of me and changed into another pair. Monika tried several items from their collection and I loved her in the black lingerie – minimalistic, yet devastatingly sexy. The style was translucent fine mesh panels with ornate lacy borders, and she wore the bra, briefs, stockings and garter belt in the shop. She walked the length of the store, and she grinned at me. “You like this one, don’t you?”

“Very much so. You look fantastic!” She did, and I felt for my wallet. “Can I treat you?” She turned back to the mirror, tracing her hands over her flanks. I didn’t wait for her to answer, and spoke to the cashier. “I’ll take them please, and an extra pair of stockings.” I paid before Monika returned from the changing room, and she looped her arm around my waist.

“Thanks! You’ve spoilt me so much!” She tapped her phone as we left the retail store. “There’s one last place I want to see.”

“Sure,” I muttered, and we walked, hand-in-hand, as she navigated us to a seedier part of Soho. I had never been to the gay fetish store before, and she prodded me inside. I got a suspicious look from two men as I self-consciously looked away from the biggest dildos and outrageous clothing on mannequins.

Monika made a bee-line for the clothes. She held up a red lycra shirt and hummed. Before I could say a word, the teenager passed me a couple of underwear sets. “Go try them on.”

“I know my size.”

“I want to see you in them,” she demanded. The black-and-white “Tuxedo” style jockstrap with a collar and cuffs hid nothing, although I put them on over my boxers, and Monika called me to her on the other side of the store. “The black matches my new keks!” She teased. “And with a jockstrap, you can still get ass-fucked with your pants on. Makes sure you cum in your briefs and not on the bed.” I blushed, and she sent me back to try on a red cycling skinsuit with a rear access zipper, and then some wet-look skin-tight boxers. Each time, she forced me to walk out of the changing room so any of the shopping patrons could watch.

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