Chapter 1

Caution: This True Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult, Drunk/Drugged, BiSexual, True Story, Slut Wife, BDSM, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Humiliation, Swinging, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Fisting, Sex Toys, Spitting, BBW, .

Desc: True Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Another true tale of a kinky weekend in the company of a pair of perverts. Sex and drugs and. more sex, ensue. Enjoy:)


"Are you ready yet, slut?"

"Who the fuck are you talkin' to?" Tracy demanded without turning, briefly looking at my reflection in her mirror as she applied a blush of colour to her cheek.

"The biggest, juiciest slut I've ever had the pleasure of loving." I replied, hugging her waist and nibbling the fragrant skin behind her ear. "And you're all mine tonight."

"Not until I put my collar on," she said, "and finish my make-up."

"We're due there at nine." I reminded her, sliding my hands up to squeeze her breasts, fondling them lecherously within the lace cups of her black corset.

"It's only quarter to eight," she said, gently moving my hands, "and we'll never get there if you don't let me finish getting ready."

I kissed the back of her neck then sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the way she brushed her long, red hair with graceful strokes, twisted it into a pony tail and fixed it in place with a bronze clasp wrought as a stylised cat; her favourite animal.

"How do I look?" Tracy asked, flicking the pony tail over her left shoulder.

"Beautiful, as always, light-of-my-heart." I offered, blowing her a kiss.

Tracy opened the top drawer of her dressing-table and picked out her collar, a thick leather band with a large silver ring for the leash dangling from my belt. Offering it to me, she knelt at my feet and looked up, exposing her throat in a gesture of submission and utter trust.

I placed the collar around her neck saying; "whom do you serve?"

"You, sir." Tracy replied, folding her hands demurely in front of her crotch.

"Will you do as I bade you to do willingly?"

"With all my heart."

"I accept your service in love and faith."

"As it always shall be."

"It is so." I said, completing the ritual with a gentle tug on the leash, pulling her to my lips.

The transformation in her never failed to arouse my passion. Gone was the feisty woman I knew and loved; in her place knelt a pliant mannequin, waiting for my will to motivate her into doing whatever she was told without question, trusting absolutely in my judgement to manipulate her mind and body, knowing she would come to no harm. It was a part of our relationship that required a great leap of faith on her part - and made me love her all the more for it.

I stood up, pulling her gently behind me. "Put your coat on. I don't want the neighbours to see what a slut you are."

"Yes sir."

"Step lively now, let's not keep our friends waiting."

Our friends, Brian and Rita, are a hedonistic couple in their forties who we met on a week-end break in Amsterdam where she had performed an outrageous live-sex show on stage involving Brain and another very well endowed male as her attendant slaves, an enormous double-dildo which Rita used to the limit on an extremely supple woman.

After swapping correspondence and phone calls, we'd taken them up on an offer to visit their luxurious home to indulge ourselves in their kinky hospitality.

It was a little after nine when I parked up in the wide driveway behind Brian's Jag'. I pulled Tracy's head from my lap, ordered her get out, and wait by the car until I make my way round to lead her up to the front door. Brian opened it, ushered us into the hall where Rita stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

She looked magnificent, and knew it: Standing a head shorter than my 6' with her body clad in a black leather corset which bulged and strained to contain the sumptuous curves of her body that rippled with untold depths of power. Black latex stockings stretched along her legs, but revealed a creamy expanse of thigh before fading into the dark shadow between them. Most of her tattoo's remained out of sight but for the intricate Celtic spiral which spread across her d├ęcolletage, down to her voluptuous breasts spilling over the cups like fresh cream, pendulous nipples pierced with silver rings, a silver chain swinging between them as they rocked in the motion of her strident approach. She was about four inches taller than her usual 5' 2" due to the spiked heels on her ankle boots; fishnet stockings criss-crossed her legs, rustling provocatively between her thick thighs as she walked up to Tracy and cupped her chin in a firm grip.

"You are late," she purred, tracing a blood-red fingernail along Tracy's jaw-line. "Brian, she said, turning to her husband, standing attentively at the required four paces behind, "see that our guest is refreshed while I give this tardy slut a lesson in punctuality."

Rita took the leash from my hand, winked, and turned on her heel to lead Tracy away while Brian and I sauntered amiably into the kitchen.

"She'll let us know when they're ready," he said, handing me a glass of wine, "how's business, good? I like your waistcoat."

"Thanks, Tracy bought it for me. Business is good, still keepin' my hand in, y'know?"

"I'll bet that's not all," he grinned, sitting at the table. "Rita tells me you give good extras with your massage."

"I do my best." I said modestly, sitting opposite him. "Rita's a very demanding woman."

"You're telling me? I'm on extra vitamins trying to keep up with her!"

"If you fancy extra protein too, let me know."

"I'll do that. How's your drink?"

"It's fine, I always prefer white to red."

We were on our second glass when a bell rang. I thought someone was at the front door and was surprised when Brian announced that Rita was ready for us.

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