Chapter 14

Two days after my... penalty ... Harvey called and told me that Kristi had sent the recording she’d made to him via email. “I made a copy for Johnny on a flash drive and met him yesterday to deliver it, and now he and Amy want to meet with us.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously. “Do you know why they want to meet with us?”

“Not for sure,” he replied, “but my guess is they’ve watched the video and they either have some things to say about it or they have questions for us.”

“I suppose one or both of those are possibilities; when and where do they want to meet?”

Tonight, after dinner, at their house. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll be ready.”

I had no idea what might happen that evening, so I decided to be prepared for anything. After having dinner with my husband, Curt, and cleaning up the kitchen I did my routine enema prep, shaved the places that needed it, showered, dried my hair, lubed my ass, and went into my walk-in closet to figure out what to wear. Since I didn’t expect to be in any public places, I decided to keep things simple and be sure Harvey would have easy access: a tank top, a flip skirt over a little thong, and four-inch stiletto pumps.

Harvey was on time as usual and he drove us the short distance to Amy’s house. He rang the bell and Johnny opened the door to admit us. He looked me up and down and gave an approving nod and smile, and we followed him to their family room. Amy was kneeling at one end of their couch waiting for us, and as I went to kneel at the other end I took a closer look at what she was wearing. It seemed like a strange outfit and I was curious, but I didn’t ask about it; I figured I’d get some explanation before the evening was over.

The two men sat down and Harvey turned expectantly to Johnny. “Okay, Johnny, we’re here; what’s on your mind?”

“We want to know about Nat’s reactions to her experience with Buddy. We could tell from the video that she seemed to really get into it after a while, but we want to know what she was thinking, then and afterwards.”

Harvey looked down at me and I spoke to Johnny and Amy. “It was a very strange situation,” I began. “I had sort of prepared myself for it to be humiliating, and it was, at least at the beginning, but it was also erotic in ways I didn’t expect. Part of that was because Harvey was, in effect, making me do it; as you know, being told what to do is always arousing for me. Then, as things progressed, another part was that he was watching. I knew from previous experiences with Harvey that seeing me... perform ... turned him on, but this was an unusually... taboo ... thing I was doing. So when I realized this was not only not disgusting him but was turning him on it almost automatically aroused me even more.”

Amy was looking at me with an admiring expression. “What about afterwards? How did you feel after it was over?”

“Initially I still wasn’t sure how Harvey was feeling and I was concerned that he might have lost respect for me because of how I responded to Buddy. But his aftercare and then his obvious desire made it clear that he was very pleased with me, and that just enhanced my own response to his lusty actions. Besides,” I added with a grin, “in addition to everything else he gave me another new experience.”

Amy arched her eyebrow. “And that was?”

“He fisted me,” I answered smugly, “and it was amazing.”

“That’s something I’ve never experienced,” she said with a shrug.

Johnny didn’t say anything, but his little smile told me he was filing that away in his memory for future reference. Then he said, “This... experience ... you had with a dog was only you doing oral on him; have you thought about doing anything more?”

I felt myself start to blush. “Actually, Kristi asked if I wanted to fuck another of her dogs. I was obviously sexually aroused and she offered me the opportunity.”

“But you didn’t take it?” he pursued.

“No, I was too overwhelmed by what I’d already done. But under other circumstances, I ... might consider it.”

“Really?” Amy asked. “You would fuck a dog?”

“Hey!” I retorted. “I already blew one, and in a way that was more ... demeaning, more ... psychologically humiliating ... than fucking one would be, and I found myself embracing those feelings, being turned on by them.” I paused, then added, “Besides ... maybe it’s part of my submissive nature, but I think ... if Harvey told me to do it ... I would more than just consider it. He knows my limits, and at this point I don’t think I would refuse to do anything he wanted.”

“Wow,” Amy whispered. “I don’t know whether I could be that brave ... or that depraved.” But then she looked up at Johnny. “On the other hand...”

Harvey jumped into the conversation. “Sounds to me like there’s a limit that’s just asking to be pushed.”

Amy blushed and Johnny looked startled ... but then a smile slowly spread across his lips. “I think you may be right about that.”

Now Amy looked like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. “I don’t know...”

It was Harvey’s and my turn to smile. “I think we should leave the two of you alone; it seems like you have some things to talk about.”

I nodded in agreement. Then Harvey took my hand and helped me up. We quietly left Amy and Johnny and went back to my house.

The following Saturday afternoon I was standing in my basement dungeon, naked except for heels and with my wrists attached to the trapeze bar over my head. My sweat-soaked hair hung limply against my cheeks, and Harvey was sitting in front of me on the end of the bed admiring the welts he’d put on my thighs with his belt and one of his crops. My ass and the backs of my thighs were equally sore, and the parts of my body that weren’t red from the beating were flushed from the combined effects of endorphins and orgasms.

I was in a deeply submissive mind-state. At the beginning of our scene Harvey had, for the first time, put a collar on me. Its two leather straps were attached to a metal ring at the base of my throat, and like some of his wrist and ankle cuffs the collar was made to be locked in place. The symbolism of the collar, together with the knowledge that Harvey held the key and I couldn’t remove it, was extremely powerful.

The heels I was wearing were amazing; Harvey had brought them with him and put them on me at the start of the scene. What matters with high heels isn’t the height of the heel per se; the two relevant factors are the rise, the difference between the height of the heel ands the thickness of the shoe’s sole, and the length of the wearer’s foot. A lightweight-plastic stripper mule might have a five-inch heel and a two-inch platform sole, making the net rise only three inches, a comfortable amount for most women. A shorter dancer might wear such shoes to make her appear taller and less vulnerable to her customers.

Harvey didn’t care for the look of platform shoes; he thought they looked heavy and clunky. The ones he liked had four- or five-inch heels and no platforms. In addition to being a taller woman my feet were also above average in size; I wore size-nine shoes and could wear the heels he preferred with a minimum of discomfort. But these shoes were something else. They were taller than any I’d ever worn or even seen; the black pumps had five-and-a-half inch stiletto heels, and the bottom half of each heel was a silver-colored metal spike that looked like a twenty-penny nail.

Harvey stood and released my wrists, and I let my arms rest on his shoulders. He pulled me gently with him as he returned to his place, and I knelt before him and turned my head so my cheek rested on his knee. I ran my hands lightly up and down his calves and then I lifted my head far enough to lick his bare thigh. The taste of his skin was like an aphrodisiac; despite being tired and having had more orgasms than I could count I was instantly horny.

“Please, Sir, may I pleasure you?” I whispered.

He lifted his hips and I tugged his shorts down around his ankles. I started to bend forward and he said, “Slowly, Nat, I have something to tell you.”

“But I want to taste you,” I replied. “Can’t you tell me while I ... you know...”

“I know what you want, and I want to watch you want it. I want to watch your want, your need, play across your face because you can’t have what you want until I permit it.”

He knew how much it turned me on to bring him into my mouth, to take him down my throat and then back off to taste and swallow his cum, and he was using that against me, denying me my pleasure to enhance his own, and that was even more arousing. “Please, Sir,” I whimpered.

“Just your hands, Nat, show me how you can please me with your fingers.”

Oh, God, being controlled this way is such sweet torment, I thought. He knows how to make me melt down into a complete puddle of desire. “Yes, Sir,” I submitted, and I began stroking his cock with both hands as it rose to full stiffness. “What do you have to tell me?”

“I’ve been talking with a young man whose profile I found on FetLife,” he began.

As I continued to stroke him I asked, “FetLife? What’s that?”

“FetLife is an abbreviation for Fetish Life, and people who know about it describe it as the kinky Facebook.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“He and his wife live not far from here, on a multi-acre property near Stagecoach, out in the Dayton Valley, and they have, to use your word, some intriguing interests.”

“Really? What does that mean?” I asked cautiously.

“It means we’re going to visit them tomorrow, and that’s all I’m going to say. Now get me off; make a fountain.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said obediently, and I tightened my fingers around his erection and sped up my strokes. I didn’t know what Harvey was thinking, but the idea of visiting this mystery couple must have had him really turned on, because after only about 30 seconds his cock erupted, sending a burst of semen several inches into the air. I continued my motions and he continued to spurt, coating my hands and his belly with his warm spend.

“Now you may have your taste; clean up the mess you made,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied with a grin that showed how delighted I was to receive that permission, and I eagerly licked his cum from his cock, kissing and lightly sucking on the head and swallowing I went along.

I continued to use my mouth to remove his copious spend from his cock, his, belly, and my fingers. When I finished cleaning him he was still hard; he opened out the hide-a-bed, put me down on my belly and elbows, and entered me from behind. While he usually took me from behind in the doggy position with me up on my knees, what was totally new, and scary, was that after he put a long piece of inch-wide black cloth on the bed next to us he wrapped his right arm around my neck and started choking me. I was making little sounds, both from his sexual thrusts and the difficulty I was having in breathing. After maybe 40 seconds I bent my left elbow and reached up to touch his arm, but by then I was so weak that my hand just fell away.

He pounded me harder and harder, and despite my gasping I was climbing toward an orgasm. Then he took his arm away, but before I could fully catch my breath he put that length of black cloth around my neck and pulled its ends tight in his fist. I’d been gasping before, but now I was seriously struggling to breathe, and all I could do was make more sounds to signal my distress. He was pulling harder on the cloth and I was on the brink of passing out when he suddenly released it and plunged his hand under me to rub my clit. I exploded in a climax that was intensified by the combination of my relief from the fear of the choking, the additional stimulation of his fingers, and the sensation of his semen flooding into the depth of my pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and I sighed contentedly as my breathing slowly returned to normal.

When Harvey picked me up just before noon the next day I was wearing what he’d specified in an email earlier that morning: a tank top, a flip skirt over a skimpy thong, and four-inch closed-toe pumps. He had on a typical Harvey outfit: a golf shirt, Dockers, socks, and loafers, all black. I couldn’t tell whether he was wearing underwear, but I figured I’d find out if he wanted me to.

On the way to wherever we were going Harvey started with a follow-up to our conversation with Johnny and Amy. “Fucking a dog would be different from fucking a human, you know.”

“Well, actually, I don’t know, not really. Kristi’s dog’s cock was thinner than a typical man’s cock, but that could have been because of his breed and overall size.”

“That’s probably true. If you were to fuck a dog, do you think his size would matter to you?”

Where is he going with this? “Not as much as the whole idea of doing it and you watching me,” I answered. “Aside from the novelty and my curiosity about what it might be like, the humiliation, the depravity, of doing something like that because you ordered me to and wanted to see me do it is what would really get to me, just like how blowing Kristi’s dog turned me on.”

“Okay, I understand that. However, based on what I know of you and what we’ve done together, you usually prefer a bigger cock, right?”

“If you’re asking whether I think you’re big enough for me you know my answer.”

He chuckled. “No, that’s not where I’m coming from; you’ve made it very clear many times that my size isn’t a problem for you. But you told me at the end of the last competition with Amy that you were willing to take that guy’s huge cock in your pussy; were you serious about that?”

Now I’m really curious. “Yes, I was serious. I had men of all sizes when I was escorting. I’m not a size queen, but all other things being equal I do prefer a cock that’s big enough for me to feel it, really feel it.”

“That’s good,” he said with a smile. “I think you’ll have a chance to do that today.”

Oh, God, what does he have planned for me this time? Does this husband have a huge cock, or does he have something else set up? I was suddenly nervous, but at the same time I felt the first stirring of sexual arousal.

Harvey drove us out of Carson City on William Street, which turned into US 50 when we passed under the freeway, through Mound House, where I saw signs for four brothels in the only place in Lyon County where they are permitted, and then past Old Town Dayton and on into the valley. He turned off the highway onto a narrow road in the vicinity of Stagecoach, a rural area with properties that looked residential rather than farm- or ranch-like despite their large sizes and assorted auxiliary structures. Soon thereafter he pulled into a long driveway that led to a house with two sheds and a barn adjacent to it.

As we approached the front of the house an attractive young couple came out the front door, followed by a large black Labrador Retriever. The tall, handsome man was wearing jeans, a denim shirt, and cowboy boots; the pretty, short, shapely woman was in a tight polo that showed her nipples poking into the fabric, brief cotton running shorts, and leather sandals. The obviously-male dog was wagging his tail, and I was surprised to see that instead of being at the man’s heel the dog was staying close to the woman, occasionally brushing his head against the outside of her leg.