Over those three weeks in hospital, Mistress visited me twice daily, religiously, frequently carrying presents. In all fairness, for the first week I was out of my tree on Morphine, so I didn’t really notice anyway! I was surprised to receive visits from a few of Mistress’ relatively recent friends, too. Apparently, they liked me for what I had done for Mistress; for the way I made her feel loved and happy. They visited when Mistress wasn’t with me, and they talked to me as if I was their social equal, and that was very surprising. I didn’t think I had any friends due to being what I was, yet I discovered that I did have, after all. Mistress’ neighbors visited me and insisted that they were my neighbors, too.
I had everything a patient confined to her bed could imagine a need for, for those three weeks. Mistress supplied me with a portable DVD player, earphones, and more than a hundred films per week on disc. I didn’t get bored, I can assure you. Mistress had walked into the nearest HMV store, grabbed a basket and literally filled it with every movie she could find, that she thought we didn’t have. When that basket was full, she dumped it by the cash desk and grabbed a second one. That got us more than five hundred movies to watch, and it took a long time to get even half of them watched
If you had seen the two of us at home, when I was released from hospital, and the way Mistress looked after me for the five weeks I was in that chair, you’d have thought that I was the owner, and Mistress was my slave. She nursed me, dressed me and washed me; providing all my meals on trays. For five weeks I did virtually nothing for Mistress, with one noticeable example; I ate her pussy as religiously as she visited me in hospital; once in the morning and once at night, and Mistress loved me all the more for it!
By that time, we’d moved into a new home; a lovely three-bedroomed town-house, despite what it cost Mistress to buy it. I was glad that we had the new home, because our old one was on the second floor of a two story building, and it had no elevator. The house had no elevator either, but it did have a downstairs bathroom. The day I got out of hospital, I got home to discover that the big dining room had been completely re-fitted as a bedroom. The king-size double we slept in had been placed in the middle of the room, with wardrobes to each side. What caught my attention most though, was a big, gift-wrapped box, lying on top of the bed. That was my dress for the following week’s party, and I could guess quite easily. What I didn’t guess about was the other, smaller box, inside the larger one. That was a set of matched jewelry, custom made for me. The theme was dolphins, because I loved dolphins. I was a little surprised, though, that Mistress wasn’t calling off our attendance at the party due to my condition. The trouble was getting me into my outfit in my condition, and it took us almost thirty minutes just to get me dressed. The dress itself was pure silk, in blood red, and festooned with sequins, and it was gorgeous. We attended the party, anyway, regardless off my being limited to a wheelchair, and although it was awkward, we stayed all the way through until the end. All the way through the party, I noticed that no one treated me any different to the free women who were there, although many of them didn’t know that I wasn’t. I had been introduced, quite brazenly, by Mistress, as her girlfriend. She’d described me as her ‘big, beautiful, blonde babe.’ Then again, Mistress wouldn’t have tolerated me being treated as anything less than an equal. The party finally wound down by about two in the morning, and by then, Mistress was considerably tipsy; almost drunk when she got into the cab outside the party hall.
We wanted to make love, the way we had become accustomed to doing, but we knew we couldn’t, and it was so frustrating. There was yours truly, in her wheelchair, Mistress’ pussy in her face, listening to the whimpers, and feeling her panties getting wetter and wetter with her own juices, desperately wanting to be put on her knees and have her brains fucked out, and not being able to have that done to her. My legs were both in plaster casts and pressure on my pelvis from lovemaking would have been far too painful for me. However, Mistress could still vigorously plunder my bald pussy with a big rubber prick, as she sat on my face and ground her own pussy into my mouth; and that was exactly what she did! She didn’t even take off my expensive kinky boots before pulling the gusset of my panties aside and plunging a big rubber prick exactly where I wanted it. With the casts on my legs, I could only effectively sleep on my back, and I fell asleep with my pussy full of Mistress’ fingers, although I didn’t wake up that way, which was a pity. I woke up the following morning to the feeling of a large vibrator buzzing away at maximum speed in my pussy, and Mistress caressing my tits. Is there a better feeling for a woman to wake up to?
Probably not, but I was glad that I didn’t have the feelings that Mistress woke up to; her rather large hangover. I tucked in to a hearty breakfast, whereas Mistress managed one slice of toast and a few mouthfuls of coffee, and then promptly legged it into the bathroom and spewed it all back up again! My position was sufficiently secure by then, that I was able to take the piss, and tell Mistress that if she couldn’t handle the drink she should leave it alone, until she became more accustomed to its effects. If she drank in quantity for a couple of years, then she’d be a qualified little piss-artist, like some of the other women at the party, and might suffer less for it afterwards. Despite feeling as if she was dying, Mistress did manage to laugh, and then told me that if I ever got drunk, I’d better not expect sympathy with that attitude.
When I was able to walk again, Mistress took me shopping for an ‘engagement ring’ and a replacement car. Obviously we couldn’t get married, and therefore couldn’t get engaged, but the ring was purely symbolic. As with my previous car, I got a classic; in this case from the sixties; a fifty nine Plymouth Fury, in red and white, with two doors; the same model as the famous book and movie car ‘Christine.’ It wasn’t until we got home that Mistress handed me the book, and suggested that I read it. The insurance company paid out fifty-eight thousand for the wrecked Caddy, and Mistress supplied the other thirty nine thousand, and I drove home in the Plymouth. What I found humorous was that we paid more for my car than we did for Mistress’ last SUV; that only cost eighty-one thousand, and it was new!
I had recognized the fact that I was putting on excess weight, so Mistress suggested that I exercise at the local gym. I went there in my blood red Plymouth, and I drew attention all the way there, and all the way back. I wasn’t there more than five minutes, because as a slave, I had no bank account to pay the fees from, and therefore I was denied membership. That didn’t last long, though! I went back with Mistress, and she agreed to pay all my fees, after tearing a strip off the gym employees for not asking for my credit card, which would have acceptable for my membership. To be fair though, why would the staff have asked a mere slave if she had a credit card?
While attending that gym, on my own, I drew attention, and another gym patron asked me out on a date! Of course I had to refuse because of my relationship with Mistress. Not to mention the fact that she owned me, and would almost certainly punish me for being unfaithful! He was quite attractive and if I’d been single and free, I’d have been his date for the evening, and maybe for much longer, if that had been an option. It wasn’t an option, and when I thought about it, I recognized the fact that by then I was a woman’s woman; when I thought about how Mistress treated me, I decided that I would prefer to continue to sleep with women, rather than with men. Old traditions of slave training include the ‘stick’ and the ‘carrot’. Previous Masters tended to prefer the stick, whereas Mistress definitely preferred to use the carrot on me. With her attitude, she could get things from me with a kind word, a promise of an orgasm, and a passionate kiss, that other owners had to threaten me with beatings to get from me. On a couple of occasions they actually had to act on those threats to get what they wanted.
My first bondage session with my first owner was a good example. He wanted to securely tie me up, and I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t trust the bully enough, and made the mistake of protesting. A large fist into my belly knocked the wind out of me, and while I was lying on the bed gasping for breath, he fastened my wrists together above my head, and then to the bed frame and then roughly fucked me for a couple of hours. I compared that to my first equivalent session with Mistress, and remembered that after she’d been fingering my pussy on the bed, she asked me if I minded having my hands fastened behind my back. I immediately consented to that, mainly because I trusted Mistress not to hurt me. The following night, the rest of the bondage kit came out of the bedside cupboard, and there was a lot more of it. I wound up face down on the bed with my ass sticking up in the air and my head sideways on a pillow. My hands were cuffed behind my back, my legs held open with a spreader bar separating at my knees, a blindfold over my eyes and a ball-gag in my mouth, and I came like never before in my life! Mistress recorded the session on her digital video camera and one of the stills we converted into a photograph shows Mistress with drawing her big faux prick from my pussy, and it looks as if pussy cream is running off it. The cream is mine after the most intense orgasm of my life. At first, I didn’t believe Mistress when she commented on the amount of noise I’d been making, despite the gag, but when she played me the recording, I couldn’t deny it. Not even the most highly experienced porn queen equaled the amount of moaning and squealing that I made during that fantastic bondage fuck. After that, whenever Mistress wanted to put me in the bondage kit, all she had to do was wave any part of it in my direction, and I headed straight for the bedroom and got on my knees on the bed.
There’s one specially taken photograph set that I tend to get wet just looking at! Mistress bought me an expensive set of dress clothes, and told me that I’d only ever get to wear it once; she was intending to shred it in the bedroom that night. The picture set shows me in my ruined expensive clothes, and in the full bondage kit. My favorite is one showing me on my back. My blouse has been ripped open and tied behind my back, with the exception of the collar button, which is still fastened. Mistress cut the front and back of my skirt and pinned the two parts out of the way, to give her easy access to my dildo sockets after she tore the gusset out of my panties. My bra is still mainly intact, but the cups have been torn down the centre so that Mistress could get at my tits. I’m wearing the blindfold, the cuffs and the spreader bar, but not the gag, and I look for all the world like I’m at the end of a long session of gang-rape. Mistress used wallpaper paste in a hollow dildo, and she sprayed it all over me. It’s on my thighs, belly and pussy. There’s more of it in my hair, on my face, (especially around my mouth and cheeks,) my neck and tits, and it looks just like spunk. In fact if I didn’t know what it was, I’d assume that I’d been given a date rape drug and I simply didn’t remember any of it. As it happens I remember the way Mistress vigorously plowed me with the big double-ender until I was screaming, and then sprayed the paste where she wanted it, so I know I was willing enough, and I know that there were no men involved.
I surprised myself by wondering how it might feel to have sex with a man who genuinely wanted to give me pleasure. With the exception of my last owner, and he didn’t do it for altruistic reasons, I’d never had a man want to genuinely please me. I surprised myself even more by finding the courage to ask Mistress if she’d let me do that on my next birthday. I didn’t expect for one second that permission would be forthcoming.
The response was more surprising even than my finding the nerve to ask. "I’ll consider it, Princess, but I’ll probably have conditions that you must agree to follow."
"I’m sure I’ll agree to any conditions you set, Mistress!" I promised on the spot.
My thirty seventh birthday was still several weeks away, so I didn’t press Mistress for what I wanted; I just waited to see if permission was forthcoming on the night, or close to it. Permission duly arrived on the Saturday before my birthday, as Mistress handed me a new outfit, as she put it, "for pulling in!" Looking at the outfit that Mistress had provided, I could see that it was expensive, but I knew that it would make me look cheap. That was probably what Mistress wanted, though, and if it got me a fuck from a caring man, I’d make myself look as cheap as Mistress wanted me to look.
Once I got dressed up in my ‘cheap tart’ outfit, Mistress dressed in a similar fashion, and she took me out on the pull for a couple of men to fuck. Once we got there I was ordered to circulate, and look for what I wanted. It didn’t take that long until I found what I was looking for. There were two men on their own, looking at virtually anything in a skirt that walked past, and they looked intently at me. There we were, and I had found my men. After I’d been into the toilet to remove my bra and open another couple of buttons on my blouse, to the point where my tits were almost falling out of it, I walked up to their table, quite boldly swaying my hips and watching their eyes. They were staring at me like a starving man might stare at a banquet table. When I reached the table, I leaned down to rest a hand on it, bending over a little in the process and giving them an improved view down between my tits. "Well then boys, like what you see?" I asked them, although I knew it was a rhetorical question.
"Sure do sweetheart, why don’t you join us?" the older of the two asked."
"While I’d like to, I’ve got a companion at another table, and I think that you should join us." I countered.
"If she’s as pretty as you, then you lead the way, darling, and we’ll follow."
"Ours is an unusual situation, and before you agree to anything, you must listen."
We walked over to Mistress, at her table, and I sat beside her and Jim and Mike sat opposite us. "Will these specimens suffice Mistress?" I asked cautiously.
"Yes, Princess, it looks like they will."
Both smiled, held out their hands and introduced themselves. "Mistress shook both hands and said, "Pleased to meet you, Jim and Mike. My name is Jennie, and as I’m sure you’ve been told, I’ve never been with a man before."
"Yes, Mistress," replied Jim, "Yvonne has told us that you’re curious, and we intend to satisfy your curiosity. We’ll have to go back to your place, though, because we don’t live around here."
"Don’t push your luck, boys," replied Mistress. "I have no intention of talking you to my apartment; we’ll have to go to your hotel tonight, assuming that either of your rooms is big enough for four of us, because I don’t want us to be separated."
"The hotel clerk might not want to let us in with you; he might think that you’re streetwalkers, because you’re certainly dressed like them."
"Damn the clerk!" replied Mistress, thrusting her considerable chest forward. "If you want to get these out of my dress, along with the rest of me, you’ll think of something. Try a bribe to get him to look the other way. I don’t suppose that desk clerks earn a great deal, so a few twenties should persuade him to fail to observe the two whores you arrived with."
After a few more drinks, we piled into a cab and headed for the guys’ hotel. My stomach was doing backflips, and I suspected that Mistress’ stomach would be doing exactly the same. She was genuinely trembling with nerves, yet I could tell from her flushed face that she was excited; perhaps as excited as I had ever seen her.
As we walked into the hotel lobby, we split up. I went into the bar with Jim, and having won the coin toss, Mike took Mistress into the elevator, and from there up into his room. Jim was jealous because Mike was going to get first crack at spunking in Mistress, and I was worried about what might happen to Mistress when I wasn’t there. We’d discussed our plan in the car park, and from the way our men talked about Mistress, you could have been forgiven for thinking that she wasn’t there. They talked about her as if she was a prize they’d won, rather than a nervous woman, but in her less than sober condition, she wasn’t overly bothered about it. By then, Mistress had consumed a considerable quantity of liquid courage to build her up; she must have had at least half a dozen double whiskies plus a couple of not so potent drinks, and I knew she was planning on hitting the mini-bar when she got into the room. Mike won the coin-toss to decide who got to take Mistress to the room in peace, and Jim stared daggers at him for it, while he led me into the bar.
Jim and I sat in the bar for nearly twenty minutes, as agreed, so as not to draw too much attention, and then we headed for Mike’s room, and I was sure that Jim was pissed off at imagining that Mike would already have fucked Mistress, and spunked in her pussy by the time he got there. They’d agreed that whoever won the coin toss got first attempt to fuck Mistress, but if he failed to get inside her, then the loser would get first go.
The sight that greeted us was quite welcoming. Mistress was sitting on an armchair, devoid of her dress, bra and panties. Her legs were as far apart as they would go, with her ass on just the edge of the cushion and a large drink was in her right hand. All she was wearing by then were her boots, stockings and suspenders. Her head was tipped right back and Mike was kneeling between her legs and lapping away at her pussy as she moaned with pleasure. It wasn’t until I got closer that I could see the spunk that Mike had squirted onto her face and tits. It would appear that Mistress had given a blowjob and had spunk splattered on her face for the very first time. I promptly walked over to her and began licking it all off. I managed one lap before being pulled back my Jim. "No you don’t Yvonne; leave Mike’s spunk where it is. If Mistress wants it licking off her skin, I’m sure she’ll ask." I stopped licking, and just looked at Mistress as she thrust her crotch off the chair cushion, and up towards Mike’s face.
Jim and I stripped off as we watched Mike eat Mistress’ pussy, and listened to the pleasured moans escaping from Mistress’ mouth. While that was happening, Jim stood behind me and slipped a hand between my thighs to begin to play with my pussy. After a while, Jim put his hands onto my shoulders and pressed me to my knees. Then he moved around me and placed the tip of his prick at my lips and pushed it into my mouth. It had been a while since I’d had a real prick to suck, but I hadn’t lost any of my hard-earned skills. As I bobbed my head up and down, I heard a strangled cry escape from Mistress’ lips as she came. With my mouth still full of prick, I couldn’t look, and just concentrated on my sucking until I found myself with a mouth full to overflowing with spunk, which I quickly swallowed.
When I’d freed myself from the prick in my mouth, I looked at Mistress. Mike was sitting on an arm of the chair beside her, vigorously fingering her pussy while he sucked on one of her freshly wiped tits. Jim joined him by sitting on the other arm, wiped Mistress’ face clean and began kissing her, while playing with her other tit. I guess I wasn’t interesting enough to concentrate on, and to resort to fingering my own pussy, while the two men played with the lovely body that Mistress had been blessed with. They played until she came again and then all three looked down at me, kneeling on the floor. "Looks like someone’s being ignored, and may be in need of some entertainment," commented Mistress in a rather slurred voice. I figured that she’d overdone it with the liquid courage. Mistress got out of the chair and tottered, rather unsteadily, over to where I was kneeling and reached a hand down to me. "Come on Princess, time for you to go into the bedroom and show me what it’s like to be fucked by men."
"As you command Mistress, but do yourself a favor and take off your boots. You’ll fall over and break your neck if you don’t."
Mistress giggled drunkenly, and sat down on the floor beside me to pull off her kinky boots. She needed help in removing them, so I gave it. While I was pulling off her boots, I had a good look at the state of Mistress’ pussy, and it was very, very wet. Drunk she might have been, but she was also considerably turned on.
I helped her to her feet, once she’d taken off her boots, and led her into the bedroom, where our temporary partners were waiting. Almost as soon as I walked into the bedroom, Mike grabbed me, and began kissing me, before pushing me down onto the bed. I noticed that Mistress was leaning heavily on Jim in her need for support. Mike continued kissing me, as his hands began to wander over my body, and eventually found their way to my pussy. A couple of fingers found their way inside and probed around. Shortly afterwards, they were replaced with my first real prick in almost five years, and the feeling was little different to that of Mistress’ fake prick. Still, Mistress contentedly watched me being fucked with wide eyes, even if they did show her state of drunkenness; I got the impression that they weren’t focusing all that well. I felt the prick sliding back and forth within my pussy as Mike squeezed my tits and encouraged me to rub my clitoris. I came first, and the feeling of my pussy muscles contracting and squeezing his prick caused Mike to come, too, spraying his spunk into my still spasming pussy as he thrust deep inside me one last time.
Mike climbed off me and left me open to Mistress’ eyes as I played with my sloppy pussy. Mistress released her grip on Jim and clambered onto the bed to taste my spunk filled pussy. As she was lapping away at the new taste, Mistress gasped as Jim got onto the bed behind her, slapped her ass and very easily entered her wet pussy, doggy-style. He squeezed Mistress’ tits as he fucked her hard, slapping his thighs onto hers, and slapping his balls into the lower part of her pussy with each deep thrust of his prick. She came quite quickly and Jim kept on thrusting. Mistress had come for a second time before Jim stiffened up, and spunked in her pussy. By that time, Mistress had stopped licking me and was just resting her forehead on my pussy, and when Jim announced that he was coming, I just had to grab Mistress’ head and lift it up so that I could see her expression when she received the first ever load of spunk in her sweet, soaking pussy. I can’t even describe the expression, it was so unique.
Almost as soon as Jim stood up, Mike took his place, sloppy seconds or not, and drove straight in. He didn’t have that much spunk left to give Mistress, but due to having come twice so far, it took a long time until he did give her what he had left. After which, he got off Mistress, and I got her rolled over onto her back, to judge her state of inebriation. She was virtually out of it by then due to the excessive quantity of alcohol she’d consumed, and I knew I was going to have serious trouble getting her home in that state if we had to leave the hotel before the morning.
The men focused on my body after that, but probably only because Mistress was in no state to be of any interest to them. While many men would have wanted to continue having sex with the prettier woman, regardless of her state, the two with us were intent only on having sex with me, hopefully because I was capable of responding to them, and Mistress wasn’t. Jim went to bed and left Mike still inside me. We were lucky and Mike allowed Mistress and I to share his bed, while he slept on his couch. His logic was that sleeping on an uncomfortable couch for one night was an acceptable price to pay for the sex that took place before it; he even said so. Mike and I placed Mistress face down on the bed, and watched her to make sure she was going to be ok to sleep. I even told Mike that in her state, Mistress wouldn’t object to being fucked once more before he went to sleep. Personally, I didn’t sleep particularly well in my worry over Mistress’ condition, so I spent the rest of the night watching Mistress to make sure she was ok. My worry was that she would vomit in her sleep, and choke on it, the way other drunks had occasionally done so. By morning Mistress was feeling like death warmed up, but after she puked up twice, she was in sufficient a state to be able to go home in a cab even though she wasn’t exactly sober.
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