Her Throne

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It had been four months since their encounter and no words had passed between them concerning that late night work session. For the first week, he averted his eyes when talking to her, his body trembled when he was in her office, and he answered weakly when speaking with her. Nights weren’t spent with his friends anymore. Instead, they were spent replaying the scene in his head as he rubbed the memory into his cock. He had become secluded and obsessed.

She was currently out of town, meeting with a new client, but would be returning this evening. He had received an email from her, on his personal email account, asking him to retrieve a package from her office and to meet her later, this evening, at her house. In the email she had said she hoped he would be ready to work late tonight. His obsessive brain began calculating possibilities.

Swallowing hard, he turned the handle and entered her empty office. Even though she wasn’t there, the office was still filled with her presence. His eyes closed momentarily so he could focus on the scent of her skin. A slight lotion, and light citrus perfume. His cock began to swell as he took it in. Swaying on his feet, he became lost in a memory.

The walls of her office were decorated with what appeared, at first glance, to be safe, corporate art. A lakeside scene. A dinner party. Busy urban landscapes. Closer inspection brought out subtle questionable details. Horrified and horrific faces painted into city crowds. Impish tails appearing from around the back of well-dressed gentlemen. What appeared to be S&M gear in the hands of strolling couples. The impressionist style of the paintings hid the perversions well, but when studied there was no doubting their existence.

His hand unconsciously found his nipple and began twisting and pinching it. The other hand squeezed his cock through his pants. “I fucking love this woman.” His voice broke the quiet of the office and brought his attention out of the paintings. He picked up the bulky package, let his cock soften a bit, then left the office.


She had told him to come by that evening at 9. He arrived in the neighborhood before that, but didn’t go to her house until 9 sharp. Being early would be rude. Being late? That was just out of the question.

The Victorian was painted dark red with purple trim. The spire of the turret thrust itself above the rest of the affluent neighborhood. Heavy bulbous spikes topped the wrought iron fence, that framed an immaculate garden spilling with rich jewel colors and a curving path. The cobblestone path led to an impressive stairway ending at the heavy, iron clad, ancient front door.

He drifted on a euphoric cloud as he approached the dark wooden door. Setting the package down, he lifted the heavy black iron knocker, and brought it down onto the thick base plate, letting loose a resounding thud. He waited a few moments. Then a few more. A short while passed before he let the iron ball drop again. He waited longer.

Finally, solid clinks came from within the door, as the lock was released. Alice inched open the door, standing partially behind it. Barefoot, she was dressed only in a black silk robe. She made no effort to clutch it closed, instead relying solely on the belt of the robe to do the hard work. It contained her waist, but did nothing to close her unrestrained cleavage. Her nipples were hard against the shiny slick fabric. He caught himself staring again.

“Would you like to come in?” She asked. Giving her eyebrows a raise when he finally tore his gaze away from her chest, to her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.” Slipping into the submissive role, he lifted the box, and brought it inside.

The house was just as he expected. The walls ısparta escort were painted dark with distressed highlights. Heavy velvet hung on elaborate rails to conceal the windows. Paintings depicting music, film, and the strange, hung on the walls in thick wood frames. Some he recognized. Others were from eras before him. Animal skeletons in glass domes adorned the shelves. Thick tomes filled dark heavy bookcases. Hypnotic beats laid under ethereal vocals that contained no words played from a hidden source. Leather and cannabis tinted the air.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked as she brushed softly past him.

“Yes, please. Beer.”

“Well.” Her voice sounded disappointed, as she corrected him. “In this house we drink whiskey, so I will ask again. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. Whiskey.”

She crossed over to a small bar in the corner of the room. With her back to him she took a decanter, two glasses, two ice cubes, and began pouring the whiskey. He watched as the silk robe clung softly to her curvy waist and full hips, creeping its way up her soft thighs to reach the edge of her…she suddenly turned with the two glasses in hand.

Forcing eye contact, she carried the drinks over to him. It took all his will to hold her gaze as she wiggled and bounced her way to him. The belt of the robe was straining harder to contain her soft voluptuous figure.

She handed him the drink and said, “I need you to take that package downstairs. There is an open room. That is where you should unpack the contents, assemble them, and prepare for me. I expect you to be ready in 30 minutes. Do not keep me waiting.” She turned and exited down a hallway towards the rear of the house.


Balancing his drink and the package, he made his way down the stairs. At the bottom was a long dark hallway. A faint light spilled out of a doorway up ahead on the right. As he approached, he could hear the same droning music that was playing in the living room.

His mouth went slack, as he crossed the threshold into the room. Walls painted a deep dark red held large framed fetish prints that filled the gaps between racks of sex toys and utensils. There was a cage in one corner with restraints bolted into the wall, including a collar on a chain. In the opposite corner was a Saint Andrew’s Cross. It’s straps hung slack, begging for a new victim. A large four poster bed, made of black wood, sat in the middle of the far wall. Plants and bodies locked in an eternal orgy were beautifully carved into the dark wood. It’s perverted elegance matched the beautiful depravity of the rest of the room. At the foot of it was a large dog bed. There was no mistaking. This was her den.

It took him a minute to take it all in. He wandered the dungeon, sipping the smooth whiskey while studying some of the instruments. Dildos of varying sizes and shapes filled four shelves on a rack. Gags and masks for BDSM play were displayed in an open cabinet. A variety of whips and other floggers hung from wooden pegs in the wall. Strange sexual medical equipment was stored in a sterile glass display case.

Finishing his tour, he swallowed the last of his whiskey, and started work on his task. Inside the inconspicuous Amazon box, was a smaller box that had a picture of a device consisting of metal tubing bent into a hollow rectangle. Black rubber strapping ran across the top of it. There was a smaller metal tubing shape, inside the larger one, that had a realistic dildo coming out of the top of it. The box displayed smaller photos showing it in use, with and without the dildo attachment, including one that was of particular interest. It showed a man’s head under the rubber strap seat, instead of istanbul escort the dildo holder. A woman was seated over the man, smothering his face with her pussy, riding him like a thoroughbred.

He started work on building the seat, assembling the frame first, then stretching the stiff rubber strips across the top. As he finished, his watch showed one minute until her imposed deadline. She had said to prepare for her. Glancing down at his creation, he started removing his clothes.


Soft footfalls were coming down the stairs as he positioned his head under the seat. He placed his arms at his sides and waited for her entrance. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard.

“Perfect.” she said as she crossed the floor to her new contraption. “It even came with it’s own flesh and blood dildo.” She purred, rubbing her naked foot across his expanding cock.

Her feet were the only thing visible from his restrictive vantage point. They were beautiful feet, adorned with a tattoo that wrapped its way around the ankle of her right foot. Toe rings glinted behind her blood red painted toenails. Shuddering, he watched those painted toes slide across his hard cock.

Stepping over his body with one leg, she came into view. The black robe parted slightly at her thighs revealing the shine of vinyl underneath. Winking at him, she took a drag off the vape she held. A sweet cloud of vaporized hash oil poured slowly from her luscious lips.

As she loomed over him, he suddenly had the feeling of minuteness in the pit of his stomach. The feeling that comes when you realize you are a thin hair being pinched through the monstrous cogs of the Universe. He meant nothing. She meant everything.

“I’ve been thinking about you Trent.” His heart faltered, as his obsession grew, “I think you and I could create a partnership that would benefit both of us. When I’m done with you tonight, I have something I want you to look at. You can let me know if you would like to pursue it.”

Bending over to peer at him through the rubber straps, she smiled devilishly, “I do hope you aren’t claustrophobic.”

Turning and facing away from him she dropped her robe. Her pale tattooed skin was interrupted only by jet black panties. Vinyl clung to her glorious round ass, like a second skin. Her hands ran up her thighs and across her wide ass, spreading it slightly. The crotch of the panties was missing, allowing him a glance of her soft pussy.

“You better make me cum.” she said laughing, as she lowered herself slowly. He watched without blinking, searing the vision into his mind. Her thighs spread further as she descended, exposing her entire sexual being to him. This time she was completely smooth from her puckered asshole to the top of her puffy wet pussy. Her engorged clit beaconed him. She settled into the seat and his light dimmed. The smell of her engulfed him. Instinctively, his tongue slithered out to lap at her spread cunt. The warm, sweet salty taste of her flooded his mouth. He ran his tongue across her hairless pubic mound, enjoying the soft smoothness of it.

Pinning his hands to his side, she ground her ass into his face. His tongue traced from her tight ass to her stiff clit. She covered his slippery face with her hungry pussy. Occasional gasps of air were allowed before she would mash her ass into his face with no concern for his wellbeing. Just her pleasure. This was all for her. He was suffocating in the heavenly pillows of her ass, and he wanted more.

She let go of his wrists, and used her legs to keep his arms in place. Leaning forward she forced his attention on her clit, while she grabbed his stiff cock, tugging it violently as she started her ride up towards izmir escort orgasm. He could hear the sound of swearing and gibberish as she closed in on her goal. The finish line was ahead, and she was going to break him getting there. The rough friction on his cock made him wince with the pleasure of pain. He thought she would tear it off in orgasmic rage if she didn’t come soon. He buried his nose into her open pussy while sucking her clit, trying to push her over the edge.

Finally she gripped the base of his cock and let out a howl as she pushed down on him, attempting to grind his head to dust. Her soft body shook. She bounced off his face as she resumed the rough handjob. His vision began to swim. The world greyed out as his cock finally started spurting release all over her hand and his stomach. She continued tugging as her orgasm subsided. Staying on top of him until the last contraction ended, she restricting his breath as she caught hers.

Standing and straightening her robe, while trying to maintain a sense of flushed composure, she said, “I will meet you in the living room when you have recovered” She left the room, as he tried to gather his senses.


She was waiting for him in the living room when he finally made his way up. She was seated sideways on the black leather love seat. Her legs slightly spread exposing the hint of her soft pussy. Two glasses of whiskey were set on the table in front of her along with a small pile of papers.

“Have a seat, Trent.” She said softly and patted the cushion next to her. “I want you to look at this, read it over, and enjoy your drink. Then, I want you to leave, and think over what you have read. The papers can’t go with you, so try and absorb as much of what you read. Normally, it would be some time before I approached you with this, but I see something special in you. I want to take advantage of that as soon as possible.” She said, handing him the stack of papers.

It was a contract. A contract for him. He reached for his drink as he started to read. The stipulations were that he would leave his life behind. His job, his home, his friends and family. He would move into her house, and assume the role of her personal servant. She would provide room and board, erase his current debt, and he would be responsible for the household and be at her beck and call for whatever needs would arise. It was a guarantee of three years, with a possible extension, if both parties agreed. At the termination of the contract, he would receive a year’s salary equivalent to his current position. He would be set up with enough money to start a new life.

He set the paperwork down, and swallowed the last of his drink. His stomach was knotted up. His mind racing. It was a lot to ask of him, and he got the feeling that it might be a hard life here at Alice’s house. Everything he knew about her pointed to a domineering cold woman, that could have a flair for the dramatic, and possibly violent, judging by the way she had just handled his dick. On the other hand, he had been obsessed with her for so long, and so infatuated with her, that the prospect sounded like a desirable break from his hum drum routine that his life had become.

Leaning to his ear, she whispered, “I promise you a signing bonus that you will never forget.” Shivers traveled down his spine. He closed his eyes, falling under her spell again.

He sat up straight, to pull himself out of the hypnosis. “I need time to think about it.” Was all he could say.

“Of course.” She smiled. “It’s a lot to think about. You can have a few days.” Rising, she said, “Morning comes early. We should call it a night.” The hint not so subtle. He got to his feet and made his way to the door with her leading the way.

Passing her on the way out the door, she reached out and roughly grabbed his arm. “Trent,” she said firmly, “No cumming until you come back. Do you understand? No cumming.”

He nodded in agreement as she closed the door behind him.

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