Mrs Vandermeer’s Rules 4


A day went by, then two. Two became three, which in turn became four, then five. Days filled with longing while my nights were filled with dreams, dreams from which I’d wake up to find my pussy drenched and my nipples as hard as rocks. I’d lay there, face buried in my pillow, hands clenching the edges, desperate to finish the job that my dreams had started as I replayed the memory of me, laying naked on the floor, Mrs. Vandermeer looming over me as I let go a stream of golden liquid…Lick it up, you nasty little slut she’d order me, and God help me, I would, hands and knees on the floor, my hair trailing in the puddle of piss, lapping it up like a kitten would spilled milk, whimpering softly in the dark. If my parents only knew their daughter had become a raging nymphomaniac. I recalled her words, also wondering what my dad would think if he knew what I did, if he saw the pictures I kept hidden away on my lap top. It only made it worse, the image of me bent over his knee, my panties pulled halfway down my thighs, the imprint of his hand red on my pale ass, the sharp ring of his blow on my flesh as I…That’s when I usually shook myself out of my fantasy world, my cheeks hot with shame and sexual desire both and did my best to think of something else. My thoughts would return to Abby, her ice cold eyes, her cruel smile, the controlled heat in her voice. Eventually I’d throw the covers off and slink out of bed, my thin cotton nightshirt clinging to me, outlining my tits, my nipples tenting the material. My panties were, of course, so wet that I’d have to throw a towel down before sitting at my desk and firing up my laptop. Then, I’d sit there in the dark, my face illuminated by the small screen as my own personal porn show unfolded. I’d stare at the images, remembering every moment, unable to look away, my knees slowly parting under my desk, my cunt aching to be touched, my thighs trembling.I’d never thought of myself as particularly sexy, but seeing myself through Mrs. Vandermeer’s pictures, through her eyes, remembering all the times she’d called me her beautiful little slut, her sexy little fuck toy… it changed the way I saw myself. Me naked, my eyes full of longing, my lips slightly parted, my perfectly formed tits, my nipples pointing slightly upwards, my cunt already glistening. Me, tied to the bed, spread eagled, vulnerable and exposed. Me, arms pulled taut, suspended from the ceiling, clamps attached to my swollen nipples, my juices making shiny trails down my thighs, my mouth hanging open in apparent ecstasy. I’d find myself wishing that she’d taken more. I was hungry to see what I looked like when I was coming for her. I’d sit there, staring, shaking, unable to tear my eyes away, my heart fluttering out of control in my chest. Finally, I’d turn off my computer and crawl back under the covers, exhausted with unfulfilled need, eventually drifting off into blissful sleep.It had been almost a week since I’d heard from Mrs. Vandermeer. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wondered if I’d done something to displease her or if she’d tired of me and, perhaps, founds someone else to play with. The thought filled me with worry. I’d check my email obsessively; hoping to for one of her quick notes, but there was nothing. Just as I was about to reach my breaking point, a note arrived. My heart pounding in my chest, I opened it, my fingers literally shaking on my keyboard.Miss Spencer,Mr. Vandermeer and I have a function to attend this Saturday evening. I was hoping you’d be available to babysit. I’ll make it worth your while.I forgot to breath. I might have even moaned out loud. I quickly typed out a reply, pausing before I hit send, a playful little thought worming its way into my head. I was alone for the evening, my parents out with some friends for drinks or cards or something. I hadn’t really been paying attention. All I’d heard was that they’d be out late as plans to ‘research’ bondage porn on the internet began to crystalize in my dirty little brain.Leaning back in my desk, I lost myself in thought, planning out my evening in lurid detail. Even if I wasn’t allowed to touch my greedy little cunt, I could still have some fun and, hopefully, surprise Mistress Vandermeer, as I had begun to think of her, at least in private.I went through my underwear drawer, making a mental note that, if I could get up the courage, I should go shopping for something ‘skanky’. I had a few pair of lacy panties and bras, which I normally wore whenever I visited Mrs. Vandermeer, but that was about it. It was the same with my clothes. I owned some cute skirts and tops, but nothing really daring. I thought about some of the images I’d found on line; indecently short minis, leather tops, lacy corsets, skin-tight rubber outfits, and sheer underwear.Eventually, I had laid out my wardrobe for the evening on my bed; a matched set of emerald lace bra and panties, a pair of white pumps that I’d worn once when my cousin had gotten married, and my collar. Feeling somewhat giddy, the thought of what I was about to do filling my tummy with butterflies, I undressed, putting on my outfit for the evening, checking myself out in the mirror before continuing with my impromptu plans, adding a few touches, like a soft pink lipstick, a little blush, and a hint of mascara to bring the green in my eyes out a little. A few passes through my hair with a brush, and a couple of slow turns while I marveled at the girl in the reflection, Sarıyer escort and I was ready.I started out by taking some pictures of myself in what I thought were sexy poses, lining up the shots so that I could use the phone’s timer and then set in on my desk while I sat on the edge of my bed, cupping my bra and spreading my legs, my lips shaping a lurid kiss for one, laying sideways for another while sucking on my finger as I imagined I would a cock. For the final shot, I stood, pulling the damp crotch of my panties aside so that she’d get a glimpse of my dirty little pussy.I’d planned on stopping there, but I didn’t. I was getting into it. It was fun and, the more I thought about what I was doing, sending lewd pictures to the woman I was having an affair with, the more turned on I got. I took a few in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, pulling down one of my cups so that she could see my erect nipple in one, then taking my bra off entirely for another. Glancing at the clock, I figured I had a few hours to get creative. It felt so naughty to be wandering around my parent’s house, half naked so I took a few on the couch in the living room, peeling my panties down around my thighs, then around one ankle. In the last shot, I was naked except for my shoes and my collar, my noticeably damp underwear dangling from between my teeth.I had a sudden flash of my mom and dad coming home early and catching me in the act, their shocked faces. It only made me more determined to continue, this time posing on the dining room chair and then, beneath the table, sitting on my heels, my knees spread as I rubbed my cunt up and down against the table leg. It felt so good that I didn’t want to stop, at least not until I realized that I was on the verge of breaking her rules by playing with myself.Giggling, I crawled across the room, pretending I was on a leash and being led towards the bathroom. There I posed on the toilet, blushing hard, a funny feeling washing over me as I managed to catch myself in the act of pissing. Once I’d broken that barrier, nothing was sacred.In my parents room, I posed on the bed, rubbing my cunt against their pillows, imagining my mom and dad breathing in the fragrance of my overheated pussy as they slept. Closing my eyes, I imagined being tied to their bed, like I had been to Mrs. Vandermeer’s, limbs spread, blindfolded and helpless, waiting for them to come home and find me…My heart was pounding out of control. My skin felt too hot, and I had to remind myself to breath. One of the sites I’d recently discovered online had stories, as well as how to’s, on something called self-bondage. That is, the practice of tying yourself up. Just the thought of being discovered, at the mercy of… yeah, my mom and dad. Really bad idea. If only I could find a way to do it and have Mrs. Vadermeer find me…I lay on my parent’s bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining the scene. Her walking into her bedroom, finding me tied to her bed, gift wrapped in red ribbon and blindfolded. Perhaps it would be after one of her faculty parties and I’d be babysitting. The kids would be in bed and she and her husband would push open the door, a little drunk, and there I’d be, her nasty little fuck toy, my cunt leaving a dark stain on the quilt, struggling to escape, filled with the realization that I’d made a mistake, panic coursing through me. Of course, it would be too late. I’d hear her cruel laugh, feel her hands upon me and then… Mr. Vandermeer’s hands… He was her age and just as fit. Dark eyes, a full head of hair that he kept neatly groomed, a neat goatee that gave him a devilish look. I could hear her voice in my head, telling him that I was her nasty little love slave, and that I’d never been fucked by a man before, offering him first shot. He’d hold me down, pawing my breasts roughly, his belly pressed against mine as he drove his thick cock into my slick hole, fucking me slowly at first, and then faster, harder, both of them laughing while I twisted and turned, trying to escape the trap I’d set for myself, penetrating my tight hole while she watched, not stopping until he exploded inside of me, unloading gallons and gallons of hot cum inside of me…I moaned, my breath ragged, as I reeled my imagination in. I was dangerously close to disobeying Mrs. Vandermeer again, my hands stroking my belly, caressing my thighs, brushing my heaving mound. With great reluctance, I fled the room, ending up, once again, in my own bedroom where I downloaded the pictures I’d taken into my ‘collection’ file, attaching them to the reply I’d typed earlier, quickly sending them before I could change my mind, my heart in my throat when I realized what I’d done.This time, her reply was quick; perhaps half an hour or so.Tomorrow night. 7:45pm Sharp. Don’t be late. Thank you for the beautiful gift. I am very proud of you.That night, strangely enough, I slept like a baby, my dreams unremarkable. For once, I wasn’t up at the crack of dawn.o-O-oI’d arrived a little early, but not noticeably so. Mr. Vandermeer opened the door for me. I don’t think he noticed how hard I blushed, recalling my fantasy of the night before involving him fucking me while I was tied helplessly to his bed. As always, Abby left me instructions on the fridge, going over them quickly, business-like as usual. I should mention that I was wearing a pair of cargo pants, an old  Taylor Swift tour tee, Escort Silivri and a black hooded sweat shirt that didn’t completely hide the collar she’d told me to wear whenever in her presence. I was waiting for her to notice, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading though me at the quick smile she shared with me when she caught a glimpse of it.“Good girl,” was all she said, but it was enough. I spent the rest of the night mooning over her while playing Sorry with the her kids, watching Monsters Inc., then putting them to bed while I hung out in the living room and waited for them to return. From what Mr. V. had told me, they’d be gone until close to midnight. It was just after ten so I pulled out my laptop and kept myself busy surfing the web until they returned, shortly before twelve.“The monsters behave for you, Miss Spencer?”I wondered if she knew that, even in this setting, her voice sent thrills up and down my spine and made my knees weak.“Yes, Ma’am.” I nodded my head, my voice soft, my heart tripping like a jack hammer. “They’re always good.”“There’s a little something extra in there for you, honey. Thank you. Would you like a ride home?”I gazed into her eyes, wondering what would happen if I said yes. She gave me no indication of how she expected me to answer so, finally, I shrugged, and gave a little shake of my head.“No thank you. It’s a nice night out. I’m good.”I didn’t bother opening the envelope until I got home and had my bedroom door closed behind me. A little extra would have been, maybe, twenty dollars. She’d given me three hundred! That, and a handwritten note.A token of my appreciation, Shannon. Buy yourself something we’ll both enjoy. If you’d like, email me and I’ll be happy to pass on some suggestions. I will be expecting you on Wednesday at 5pm. Instructions are to follow.Abby Vandermeero-O-oI put the money she’d given me to good use. After sharing my thoughts on wanting to be able to dress up in something sexy, maybe even kinky, she’d suggested the name of a local store the specialized in such things, assuring me that the environment was both private and comfortable. I was nervous going in. I mean, I’d never even been in an adult bookstore before! When the store clerk, a woman about Abby’s age, greeted me I must have turned bright red. Thankfully, she took pity on me and guided me around, opening up an entirely new world of kinky possibilities. Some things I was at least familiar with from my visits to the world of online porn or from the time spent with Mrs. Vandermeer. There were all sorts of ways to tie or cuff people up and I’d at least seen pictures of most of the gags they had on display. Paddles, crops, floggers, whips (the sight of those made me shiver with fear, not at the thought of them being used on me, but at my how wet they made me). The case full of toys that Lillian, the name of my ‘sex sherpa’, referred to as electro-play however, was new to me. Tens units, violet wands, fuck machines… I lingered over them until I’d gathered enough courage to ask a few questions, my curiosity sparked. I wondered if Abby knew about them and made a mental note to discretely mention them to her. Off course they had butt plugs and dildos and vibrators of all shapes and sizes, as well as nipple clamps and cock rings and pretty much everything you’d expect and more. I felt like a kid in a toy store.We visited the clothing section next and, once more, I was a little overwhelmed at the variety. Shyly, I asked Lillian’s opinion about this, or that, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t totally turned on; every time I moved, my nipples rubbed against my top (daringly, I’d worn a thin white cotton tank and no bra. At one point, I caught my reflection in the mirror, blushing as I realized how obviously hard my nipples were, poking lewdly through the material. Thankfully, Lillian pretended not to notice).She told me that I was welcome to try on anything I’d like. I had a sudden vision of her helping me into one of the leather harnesses, the straps framing my tits and cunt. In my fantasy she offered to demonstrate one of the floggers on me, the cat o’ nine tails, leaving my back and ass striped red, ordering me to turn around so that she could do the same to my breasts and cunt, each flick of the knotted leather tails bringing me closer and closer to coming, until my screams alerted everyone in the shop that I was in the throes of an earth-shaking orgasm.Not for the first time, I wondered if I was turning into a nymphomaniac. It seemed that all I could thing about was sex. While my friends were busy talking about all the things girls my age usually talked about -clothes and boys -I thought about Mrs. Vandermeer and all the things I wanted her to do to me. I even dreamed about her, usually waking up at least once or twice in the middle of the night, feeling feverish, my panties soaking wet, wanting badly to finger fuck my dirty little cunt so I could come over and over and over. I’d lay there, trembling, silently reminding myself that I wasn’t allowed to, desperately gripping the sheets, afraid that my self-control wouldn’t be enough to stop me…“This would look on you.”Lillian had reached a section of rubber clothing; dresses, panties, bras, corsets, stockings, gloves, and cat-suits. There were even hoods. I reached out, running my fingers over the slick, shiny rubber, nodding in agreement. I remembered seeing pictures of women dressed Topkapı escort bayan in rubber in my surfing. I liked the way it clung to them, leaving little to the imagination. I wanted to look that good for my Mistress.“Which would she like best?” I wondered aloud, blushing shyly as her response.“Your girlfriend?”“My… Mistress.”She laughed, but it was a kind laugh, more of a warm chuckle, not the snicker I half expected.“She’s a lucky woman. If it was me, I’d want to see you in these…”By the time I left, I was the proud owner of a pair of open crotch red rubber panties and a matching bra with cutouts for my nipples. I was also dripping wet at the prospect of actually wearing them, almost wishing I’d taken Lillian up on her suggestion that I should take advantage of the full length mirror in the dressing room, recalling her soft murmur of disappointment when I declined. Again, the image of her demonstrating various toys on me reared crept into my head and played havoc with my emotions, not to mention my body.My other regret was leaving behind a white rubber mini-dress that zipped up the front. Yes, it had been a bit pricey but I couldn’t erase the image of being suspended by my wrists, my toes barely touching the hardwood floor, as my Mistress slowly unzipped me. Then, with a cruel smile, she’d rake her nails over my tits, my tummy, my mound, leaving bright crimson lines of pain in my flesh. I shook so much at the thought that I actually had to stop outside the shop and lean against the concrete wall until it passed.When I got home, I hid my new acquisitions in my closet, taking great pains to camouflage them, mortified that they might be discovered. Then, there was nothing else to do but wait. I did my best to keep busy by cleaning my room, my mind in turmoil as I constantly checked my computer, hoping she’d sent instructions for our upcoming meeting on Wednesday. When her reply finally came, three hours later, I almost wept with relief.o-O-oI arrived at the backdoor at 4:50, preferring to be a few minutes early rather than to risk her displeasure at being late. I’d spent the last two hours nervously getting ready, locked away in my bedroom. As far as my parents knew, I was going to go out with some friends for pizza and a movie, and I wouldn’t be home until later. Seeing as how I wasn’t prone to getting into trouble, they were pretty easy going about my comings and goings. If they only knew what I was really up to.I took my time dressing, putting on a modest black cotton skirt, the hem just above my knees, and a black and blue striped V-necked sweater, checking each button several times to make sure they were securely fastened. After all, what I wore beneath them was scandalous in the extreme. Black flats completed my ensemble and, of course, my collar. I put that on last. Not particularly sexy, I thought, appraising myself critically in the mirror. It had been a mistake, putting on my collar last. If I’d had that reminder, I’d have dressed to please her. If I showed up looking like this, she’d punish me. Strangely, it was the fear of disappointing her, rather than that of being disciplined, which motivated me. No one who thought they knew me would have never recognized the girl who snuck out the side door and drove over to Mrs. Vandermeer’s house in my ‘brand new’ lemon-yellow Yaris.This time, I was to come to the back door and wait, so I waited, planting my ass on one of two wooden benches on a cozy wooden deck, wringing my hands, my heart fluttering every time I thought I heard a noise from within, amazed at how ten minutes could seem like an hour. The backyard was typically suburban; manicured lawn, a wide variety of flowering bushes and plants lining a ten foot tall wood plank fence. A pair of young maple trees had been planted on opposite sides, casting shadows in the evening sun, a pair of lawn chairs and a small table beneath one of them.When she finally opened the door, I heaved an audible sigh of relief, followed by a soft gasp. She was magnificent, framed in the doorway, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes chips of sapphire. She was dressed in black from head to toe. Black knit pants that clung to her like a second skin and rode so low on her hips that I doubted they’d ever been worn in public, a familiar looking leash wrapped around her waist like a belt. A long sleeved, high necked top that likewise hugged her curves, leaving little to even my overactive imagination; I could see her nipples trying to poke through. Patent leather pumps with a three inch heel helped her to tower over me, not that she needed the extra height. Even barefooted she had several inches on me.“On time. That bodes well for you, Miss Spencer. On your feet, girl. I want to take a good look at you.”Before she’d even finished, I was on my feet, eager to obey her commands, fighting the urge to fidget as she swept me slowly with her gaze, lips pressed tightly together. I held my breath, unconsciously crossing my fingers behind my back.“Is this how you normally dress, young lady? You look like a slut.”Her voice was very business-like, reminding me of her vocation; a professor of political science at a prestigious university.“No, Ma’am,” I answered, biting my lower lip in chagrin, all too aware of what I looked like. After I’d shed the mundane skirt and sweater, I’d combed my closet, recalling the small cache of ‘going out clubbing’ clothes that I’d been bullied into buying by Heather, one of my closest friends. I felt a twinge of guilt, realizing I hadn’t talked to her for weeks now. Once, we had shared everything, but how could I even try to explain what had been going on in my life lately? I was at a loss. After all, I didn’t really understand it myself.

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