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Pusscats Adventure.

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Requested Story For A Good friend...

She wanted ME in it, crazy girl, but I was pleased that she loved it :)


It was the stinging sweat running into her eyes that finally brought her back into the real world. She blinked rapidly, taking long, deep breaths, and tried to get her mind into focus. She ached all over, her skin was stinging in too many places to count, and, as she tried to flex her arms, the anal hook attached by chain to her wrists made her yelp. Fuck. She looked around her, taking in the opulent décor, but it was the eager eyes of the people sat watching her that made her tremble. She locked gazes with a woman directly opposite who licked her lips theatrically and mouthed “Good Girl”. Fuck. Reality was starting to return with her memory, and she looked for the one person who had caused it. He was sat on the arm of a chair chatting to a couple, the glass of vodka in his hand tinkling with ice as he gesticulated. He must have sensed her look, and after giving a brief nod to the couple he came across and crouched down in front of her. His hand smoothed her sodden curls away from her face as he smiled.
“Back with us, pusscat? You had zoned out completely, spaced deeply, so I stopped to let you rest. I didn’t want you to miss the finale after all!”
Her throat was dry, but she managed to croak a few words.
“Are you trying to break me?”
He shook his head and leaned to place a kiss on her forehead.
“Not at all, pusscat. I promised you an experience you wouldn’t forget, and I have yet to enjoy you for myself.”
The easy smile, the deep English accent, caused the last two days to come rushing back into her consciousness with a thump.

“Come to England” he had said, “It will be fun” he had said, “I can show you my favourite club!” So she had. He had met her at the airport, wrapping her in a hug that smelled of cigars and Givenchy aftershave. She was tired after the 12 hour flight, but he bustled her out to the waiting cab and gave the driver the name of her hotel.
“Its a nice little place, very comfortable, and you can take a couple of hours out to freshen up or take a nap. I have an exciting evening planned, pusscat, something very special, so we need you on top form!”
She had smiled and nodded, the thought of that nap large in her immediate plans. He had fussed over her, helped her put away her luggage, and somehow a large vodka with ice had appeared in her hand. She sipped it slowly while he went through the outfits she had chosen to bring with her. She was pleased when he held up the short leather skirt and white shirt.
“These will be perfect. Simple, accessible and, with those heels over there, will look chic. Wear your hair down please, there is no point having those flaming curls if you don’t show them off, eh?”
She chuckled, and then raised an eyebrow.
“What about underwear? Have you seen something you like?”
He crossed to her and patted her cheek, his thumb gently drawing across her lips.
“No-one said anything about underwear, pusscat.”
With that, he turned on his heel and, after giving her a grin, headed for the door.
“I shall be back at 8 pm, pusscat, and your adventure will begin!”
She shook her head in exasperation and gazed longingly at the large bed. At least she had a couple of hours.

He arrived as promised, giving her the once over and nodding in approval. She has fluffed her hair so that it framed her face in curls, and added some sheer stockings to the outfit chosen. His smile was more feral than she had noticed before, and, when he sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned her over, she had a little tremble start in her stomach. He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim leather case. He popped the top, and withdrew a cigar, holding it up for her to see.
“I have five of these for tonight, and they must be prepared before we leave. Do you remember how?”
She wracked her brain for an answer, but nothing came. She shrugged, causing him to tut and reach out to pull her hips closer. His left hand tapped at her knees, indicating she was to part them a little. Satisfied, his hand slid up the inside of her thigh and found her pussy, his fingers deftly parting the soft lips. She gave a little shudder as his fingertip circled her opening, and she glanced at his face when he chuckled.
“She is lovely and warm, pusscat, just what I need.”
He took a cigar and gently inserted it into her about half an inch, giving it a little twist before removing it and surveying the results. She could see the end was dark and damp with her juices. He repeated the process with all five, by the end of which the last had come out extremely wet! He replaced them in the case, and, to her surprise, lifted her skirt and leaned forward to place a kiss on her freshly-shaven mound.
“Thank you, pusscat, I will be able to taste you all night now.”
She was still twitchy, and not a little bemused, when they climbed into a cab. It was dark now, and she could make out very little of the city as they weaved in and out of traffic. After a surprisingly short journey they stopped outside what to her looked like an old Victorian house set among shops and offices. The only thing that gave a little away was the large, neon sign. It was an ornate “S” in a very deep purple. She looked at him and nodded her head towards the building as if to say “Is this it?” He laughed and opened the cab doors.
“Welcome to Severines, pusscat, my most favourite club in the country! It is not what it appears on the outside, my girl, and I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”
He took her arm and led her to the door, where a very large Doorman in a tux nodded at Scribe and opened the door for them. The smells that hit her would be forever in her memory. It was pure decadence wrapped in cigar smoke and perfume. It was sex, raw and primal, with undertones of hot bodies and alcohol. It was exactly as it should be, given that the interior décor was pure Bordello Chic. A tall. willowy woman in a sheath-like black dress approached and gave Scribe a peck on the cheek before turning to look at her with hunger in her eyes.
“So THIS is the lovely creature you have brought for us tonight, you bad man?”
She extended a hand for her to take.
“I am Severine, and welcome to my pleasure palace.”
A small blonde girl wearing nothing but a bow tie and cuffs appeared at her side with a tray of drinks. Severine selected a tall flute of Champagne and passed it to her.
“Drink up, my lovely, tonight is going to be delightful!”
She took the Champagne with a sigh. Champagne did things to her, made her horny and a little reckless, and she wasn’t sure that this was the right place for that to happen. She caught Scribe watching her, and took a very small sip before smiling at him.
“So you brought me here for them?”
He grinned and bowed, his hand reaching out to stroke her cheek.
“And for me, pusscat, and for me.”
The ***istic way his eyes devoured her made her drain the flute and look for another.
There were lots to choose from. The next hour passed in a blur of Champagne and new faces being introduced. All of them were sleek and attractive, ***ed, and without exception they all gazed at her as though she was their next meal and they were starving. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

Without really being aware of it, she found herself in a circular room. There were chairs set around the perimeter, and in the centre, lit by a single spotlight, was a low bench. She felt a tingling in her neck as Scribe spoke quietly from behind her.
“Do you trust me, pusscat?”
She knew it was her own building excitement, and the Champagne, that made her give a little nod. His voice now had a growling edge to it.
“Good girl.”
He took her hand and led her towards the bench. He stood with her as the chairs around the outside were quickly filled by eager-looking guests. She could feel the tension building in the room, she could almost taste it, and she knew that it was ALL focussed on her. She jumped a little when Scribes deep voice addressed the audience.
“This lovely lady has come here to experience something new. We will make that happen for her.”
There were murmurings of “Yes!” and “Thank you Scribe” that rippled around the room before silence descended again. Scribe spoke again.
“If at any point she says stop then it all stops. No exceptions. Immediately.”
He paused waiting for the nods of agreement before continuing.
“Thank you. Now, ladies, if you could make my little pusscat ready?”
She gave a little squeak as suddenly there was a clattering of chairs and a dozen of the women descended on her. Her skirt was off in seconds, and eager fingers had undone her shirt faster than she ever could have herself. She was lifted, bent at the waist, and placed over the bench so that her stomach rested on the padded surface. There was the sharp cold of steel on her ankles, and she twisted her head just in time to see the shackles close and fix her to the “O” rings protruding from the floor. Her wrists followed seconds later, and, now she was fixed in place, the women stood back admiring their work. Scribe stepped into her field of vision and gave each of the women a kiss on their cheeks.
“Beautifully done, ladies, thank you.”
He had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He also had a very ornate crop in his right hand. She gave a little moan. This was going to get stingy! He started to circle her, the crop flicking out and just catching her with little sharp cracks on her thighs and ass cheeks, enough to make her squirm anticipating the next. On his second circuit he stopped directly behind her, and she couldn’t twist her head far enough around to see him clearly. But she soon felt what he was doing. The tip of the crop started to tap lightly over her pussy, each tap slightly harder than the last, until the sound of the leather hitting her fast-swelling lips was loud in the room. She had been biting her lower lip, but the last contact made her yelp and squirm loudly despite herself. That stung. He then came around and crouched in front of her, letting her see that the crop was sliding under her chest towards her exposed breasts. Fascinated, she saw it start to vibrate in his hand as the tip moved ever closer to one distended nipple. She knew it was going to hurt, but it still took her breath when it made contact. He switched to the other nipple before she had time to settle again, and she squealed and shook as he swapped from one to the other. Her nipples felt as though they would explode, they has swollen and distended, and yet when he reached out and stroked them with his hand the ache felt worth it. Until he twisted the one between his fingers sharply to make her cry out again. Bastard! He chuckled and moved away again, flicking the crop over her again and again, creating a rhythm of sharp stings and her body swaying as she tried to move away from where she though the next one would land. This time, when he stopped behind her, it was his hand on her pussy that took her breath. His thumb slipped inside her as his fingers ground her clit, and she bucked when he found her most sensitive spot inside. He worked her on his hand, her hips pushing back at him as the heat inside built to crashing point. He knew, and his hand was replaced by the sharp leather of the crop to make her cry out again. Her pussy was as swollen as her nipples, but still he flicked and swatted her most tender parts. She was moaning, twitching, shaking, and then his mouth was on her clit. He sucked the swollen bud into his mouth and lashed at it with his tongue. It was so unexpected, so raw and sudden, that she came immediately. She arched and pushed her hips into his face, moaning loudly as his teeth grazed her. As quickly as it had started it was over, and he was back circling her, the crop making her jump and moan. She started to zone out, that fuzzy warm place of bliss clouding her vision as she slipped out of time.
And that was where she was now.

She was in the room, the faces watching her, her body on fire, and Scribe was stroking her cheeks. He was looking at her closely, gauging her state of mind, and she tried to give him a little smile.
“I’m still here, and I thought you wanted something for yourself?”
He growled in his chest and stood, unzipping his pants and releasing a very hard cock. He moved closer, and she opened her mouth to take him in but, again to her surprise, he ran the end of his cock over her cheeks. Then she knew. He was using her tears to make him slippery, knowing the salt in them would sting. He gathered her hair in his hands as he moved behind her, pulling her head back so she arched and the anal hook (when did THAT happen?) made her hips shake. She was aware the audience had moved closer, their eyes intent on her hips as he nestled the tip of his cock against her swollen pussy. Then she heard it. There was a low chant starting...a quiet growl...
“Good girl, take him in...good girl, take him in...”
She bit her poor, ***d lower lip again and eased backwards. His cock felt huge against her bloated pussy, and she mewled as she ***d herself back onto him. His grip on her hair made her keep moving back, until he hit deep inside and made her moan out loud. The chant was louder now, more insistent.
“Good girl, fuck him...good girl, fuck him...”
She started to move despite the burning, despite the ***, because the trembling in her stomach told her she was going to cum like a train despite it all. She ***d herself onto him again and again, his grunts matching hers, and the chant was louder than ever.
When the crop started to flick across her back again she knew she was finished. She melted inside, her pussy leaking like a sieve as she screamed in orgasm. She was vaguely aware of the burst of heat from him as he emptied into her, but that was in another time and place. Her world was ALL about her exploding pussy.
She was limp across the bench, soft hands releasing her wrists and ankles, someone else placing a blanket across her shivering frame, and the voice of Scribe was in her ear...soothing...praising...
“Good girl, pusscat, that was out of this world.....”

Aug 12, 2020

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