Author's note: I wrote this story for a friend who then urged me to publish it. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did. As usual I am deeply indebted to Juicy Starchild for her excellent editing which has made this story more readable.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
"Hmm, not bad," she thought.
She was a size sixteen but the basque she was wearing made her look at least a dress size smaller and with the hour glass shape that men so desired. She had dressed exactly as he had told her. Black stockings, the basque he had supplied, black thong panties and black stiletto heeled shoes. The four inch heels made her calves tight and shapely. She took one last look. It was ten fifteen and he would arrive a ten thirty. She had butterflies in her stomach from her nervousness. Why was she actually doing this? Here she was, a respectable married woman with a wonderful husband, waiting for a man she'd only met online. She was wearing exactly what he had told her. God knows how he knew the correct size for the basque, but it was a perfect fit.
The curtains were closed as she walked around the house in what she thought of as her whore's outfit. While she waited for the doorbell to ring she peeped out through the curtains into her garden. The young man who tends the garden was out there working on the borders. The sun was already warm and the young man had his shirt off. She could see his chest glistening with sweat. Her pussy started to throb and she pushed her hand into her panties to massage it. She felt the slippery feeling of her own juices mixed with the lube he had told her to apply. This had been a new experience for her. She never would have believed that she could derive so much pleasure from massaging her little anus with a slippery lubricated finger, but then to slip that finger inside and wipe the lubricant over the walls almost gave her an orgasm immediately. Then to add the second finger stretching her anus was a painful ecstasy. The pain soon gave way to pleasure as she moved her slippery fingers around. If she had known it would be this good she would have let her husband do it to her. She watched as the young man moved on to a different flower bed.
Suddenly he was there. She hadn't heard the bell or gone to open the door, but as she turned from the window she found a figure dressed all in black wearing a Darth Vader helmet. The figure looked menacing and for the first time she began to doubt the wisdom of what she had done. She knew nothing about this man. All she had was a hotmail address for him. She had never met him before and now he stood there before her and the only description she could give would be a tall, well built man in a Darth Vader helmet. The voice of James Earl Jones came loudly from the helmet.
"Have you followed my instruction?"
She could hear his mechanical breathing as she answered. "Yes."
"Yes? Yes what?" he bellowed.
"Yes, I have followed your instruction."
"I am your lord and master. When you talk to me it is 'Yes, My Lord.' Do you understand?"
"Yes, My Lord."
She started to tremble as, for the first time, she felt real fear.
"Come here," the voice called out and obediently she went to him.
He produced a length of silk from his pocket.
"Put your hands behind your back," he demanded.
"Yes, My Lord," and she obediently put her hands behind her.
Using the silk, he tied them together. He placed a sleeping mask over her eyes. Now she could see nothing at all. Leading her by one arm he took her to the dining room table. In the heels she was wearing her arse was just above the top of the table. He tapped her feet with his so that she opened her legs then he knelt and tie each ankle to a table leg. She was now sitting on the edge of the table, her heart was racing. Yes, she craved excitement and satisfaction, but was this what she really wanted?
"My Lord, what are you going to do to me?"
"Silence," the voice came back. "You will speak only when spoken to, is that clear?"
"Yes, My Lord"
He untied her hands and pushed her back down onto the table. She could hear his breathing as he walked around the table. He used more silk strips to tie her wrists to the legs on the other side of the table. Her head was hanging over the edge of the table. She was totally powerless. He left her with her thoughts for some minutes, and what thoughts they were. By the time he returned she was on the verge of panic. As the breathing got closer she started to struggle.
"Relax, little one," the James Earl Jones voice boomed out. "No one is going to hurt you unless you want them to."
She felt strangely reassured by this and stopped struggling. She sensed him walking around the table. He stood with a leg either side of her head. That is when she smelled it - the unmistakeable smell of sex. He leaned forward to start unclipping the basque. As he reached for the bottom-most clip her pubic mound came up to meet him and his hard cock stroked her throat. She lifted her head and her lips made contact with his scrotum. Opening her mouth she took one of his testicles into it, sucking gently and probing it with her tongue. He stopped for a moment.
"Slave, did I ask you to do that?"
"No, My Lord. Sorry, My Lord."
"Still, shows initiative and I like it. You may continue."
"Thank you, My Lord."
He continued unclipping the front of the Basque and soon her breasts were free. Again he walked away from her. When he came back he started to pay attention to her pussy, then her anus. He ran his finger round her anus. Her hips immediately lifted and she let out a strong moan.
"I see you have followed instructions."
"I have, My Lord."
.... There is more of this story ...