It was a cookie-cutter house in a nice suburban neighbourhood, looking like a child had drawn it. The front garden was a neat square bounded by a low fence, a tarmac driveway on one side, manicured lawn on the other. With an oblong window on either side the front door was bright red and had a small lean-to roof to protect guests from rain. Above each of the ground floor windows was another and in the middle a smaller window that seemed like little more than an afterthought. It was made of bright red brick with white frames for the windows, each of which had net curtains for privacy.
The road was a cut-through in a crescent on the estate. We pulled up alongside the kerb and I wondered what was wrong with the drive.
“Out,” she ordered.
I looked at the house and then around at the street. Sat in the back of the Discovery I felt safe and protected, made anonymous by the darkened privacy glass. As I’d been ferried through the mid-morning traffic I’d enjoyed knowing no one knew I was here in the back bound and gagged. Even the vehicles that had stopped alongside us had no idea that I was there and that thrilled me.
That thrill had vanished completely, replaced by terror. Twenty metres of open ground was between me and that bright red door. Twenty metres to walk across in full view of the twitching middle class net curtains and inevitable mobile phone cameras.
She reached over awkwardly and popped by seatbelt. It wound back into its cradle, leaving me free to bend down and reach for the door release. The chains that held my wrist cuffs to the collar gave me little movement and I struggled for a moment until I got a firm grip and pulled. The door clicked open.
I looked at her, hoping there would be a last minute reprieve. Perhaps this was a joke, some sort of test to prove how submissive I was to her. At any moment she would tell me to stay there, get out, close the door and then drive us away.
“Out!” she commanded again.
There was to be no reprieve. Fighting back my fear I pushed the door open, squinting as the bright morning sun reached my unshielded eyes. I shivered when the spring breeze wrapped round me. My body twisted so I could place my feet on the pavement, supported on my toes and balanced by the tall heels of the patent ankle boots locked onto me. With practiced ease I lifted myself up, pausing for a moment to ensure I was steady before stepping round the door and pushing it shut with my bound hands.
And then I caught my reflection in the side of the Disco and felt a rush of excitement and shame.
I was a pastiche of a man. A doll. A walking rubber doll. My entire body was covered in shiny black latex that clung to me as tightly as a second skin could. It accentuated my lightly toned and well cared for shape. Around my waist was a small cincher that added a hint of feminine curve to my shape. The collar around my neck was thick and held my head up in a way that made me appear proud. The thick steel chain that ran through its D-ring was locked at either end to the leather cuffs around my wrists, a clip with their keys dangling down.
If there was any hope of anonymity offered by my doll-like appearance it was denied by the hood. It left my face open for inspection, although the thick rubber bit between my teeth obscured my features a little. Nor was that the only bare flesh visible as a small hole in the latex’s crotch allowed my genitals to poke through, freshly shaved that morning before they’d been locked in a black silicone cage that mimicked a small penis.
The engine of the Disco revved gently and it pulled away from the kerb, leaving me alone on the street. I looked round, wondering which curtains were twitched as I stood on the kerb. Deciding that I needed to get to cover quickly I turned and started walking up the driveway to the house.
We’d met them a week ago at a swinger’s party. They’d been fascinated by how I’d been led around on a leash all evening and how eager I was to clean Mistress’s pussy after one of them had taken her with a strap-on. As the party wound down we’d left with them and I’d spent the rest of the night in my room beneath the stairs as they made love on the bed I sometimes shared with her. In the morning, as I made breakfast, there had been a discussion about my submission, a display too as my meal had been poured onto the floor and I’d eagerly eaten it to please her. There was discussion too about my being leant to them.
There had been no further mention of it, at least not with me present. It wasn’t until that morning, when Mistress commanded me to shave and dress, that there was any hint that she’d decided to lend me to them. I was told nothing other than I was to show them the same respect as I showed to Mistress and obey them as if their instructions came from her.
Nor was there any suggestion I was simply going to be left at the kerb.
I walked quickly up the driveway, not entirely sure what I was going to do when I got there. I concentrated on the red door, trying to block out all thoughts of what might be going on around me. As long as the police didn’t show up I’d be fine.
There was movement from inside the house. I could sense it and I could hear the sound of the locks being unfastened on the door. It swung open and from inside emerged the two women. The taller was black, in her mid forties and wore a loose red dress that hinted at the full bosom and wide hips that I’d seen a week ago. A mass of curly black hair framed a face that was trying hard not to laugh. The other was half a foot shorter, slim, mixed and at least a decade younger. Around her slender neck was a thin leather collar with a brass heart dangling from the front. She wore a long grey jersey dress that clung to her figure.
“Look, mommy, a new toy to play with,” she said through a wide smile.
“Mommy” gestured with a finger for me to turn around. I wanted to get inside, out of the gaze of her neighbours, but was compelled to obey by my Mistress’s words.
“Shit, when your wife said your wife said you were into all this crazy dressing up in latex shit we didn’t believe her,” Mommy said as she looked me up and down. “But there you are, all dressed up in black rubber with just your pasty white face showing.”
Her voice carried such power it made me tremble. It demanded respect and obedience and in my submissive, vulnerable state I had no other option but to obey.
Now she moved, walking round me slowly as her partner leant against the door looking me in the face with her grin mocking me. I felt Mommy’s eyes looking over every detail of my body, perhaps weighing up whether to let me in or simply dismiss me and leave me to make my own way home.
“Jesus, do you know how fucking stupid you look?”
I felt the shame that comes when a fetish is rejected. I felt it every time I wore latex and Mistress took time to explain how ridiculous getting turned on by rubber was.
“He looks like a big black condom!” mocked her partner.
Mommy’s eyes dropped down to my groin. She laughed out loud, covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle some of the sound.
“Shit, Babygirl, you see that?”
Baby girl nodded, though quickly her gesture turned into a shaking of the head in disbelief.
“It’s certainly a little one.”
The two women came together before me, Mommy placing her arm around Babygirl’s waist, who lowered her head onto the older woman’s chest.
“Can we play with him, Mommy?”
She seemed to consider the request as if declining was a possibility. What would happen if she did? Would Mistress come and collect me immediately or would I be forced to find shelter? Would I be able to free myself and tuck my dick away so at least I wasn’t arrested for indecent exposure? If challenged how could I explain being five miles from home in a way that wouldn’t implicate Mistress?
“His Mistress did say we could borrow him for a few hours, so I suppose we better get his ass inside.”
Mommy released her partner, stepping back into the house. Babygirl paused for a few moments, her smirk making me feel about an inch tall. When she moved it was slowly and deliberately, her eyes fixed firmly on mine. She reached out and took hold of the chains, pulled them together.
“We don’t play with boys,” she told me softly. “Means I’ve had to do some research on the sort of things we can do to you. Found some real interesting ideas for how we can hurt and humiliate a gimp like you.”
She looked at me closely, narrowing her eyes and turning her head on its side slightly. That simple gesture made me feel more afraid and helpless than anything I’d experienced. It terrified me.
Mouthing each syllable clearly she demanded, “Does that excite you, slave?”
To her Mommy she was a submissive. To me she was my superior and I was more afraid of her than her older, more powerful owner. It was she who would control me, she who would dominate and control me. I was here for her enjoyment and I knew I was witnessing the birth of a Dominatrix who was seeking her own submissives to control.
I nodded. It did excite me.
“Come on, slave boy, let’s get you inside and see how this works out.”
Still holding the chain she turned and went into the house. I was powerless to do anything but follow.
Tagged: Femdom Erotica
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