Sally becomes one of eight university students hand-picked to participate in a financially rewarding social psychology experiment. At a secluded mansion, she meets the imperious “Director”, Jane, who is to subject them to a series of challenges, more sexual than social.
She realises she must hide some details of her recent history from Jane, but can she do this in the face of the increasingly perverted violations which rob her of will, as she succumbs more with each deliciously inventive pleasure, increasingly in thrall to the dominant older woman and her well versed staff?
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About the Author
Leigh Turner is a new erotic writing talent. Having enjoyed a debauched life during the Eighties, she has built up a wealth of personal experience to inform her erotic writing. She now lives quietly in a suburban street with her spouse and cat. She is currently putting the finishing touches to her second novel.
Leigh Turner is an author who only recently decided to turn her hand to the production of erotica.
Having the desire to become a writer early in life, she realised that it might be a good idea to accumulate some experience, in order to have something to write about. Embarking on a rather debauched life during the eighties, this is what she did. So absorbing and enjoyable was this experience, that it supplanted the urgent need to write about it, and now she finds, when asked to provide biographical details, that she must plead the fifth amendment, so to speak, in respect of the multifarious activities in which she indulged, or indeed even remembers, during those heady and racy days.
Since that dissolute period, she has achieved a measure of respectability, and now lives quietly in a suburban street with a suburban cat, and a caring suburban spouse. And this, to her mind, idyllic setting, has provided the time in which to reflect, and to express herself at last…
She is currently putting the finishing touches to her second novel, along with some shorter pieces. She finds that typing and editing is best done at home in the provinces, whilst the inspiration tends to come during her annual sojourns in France, lazing in the sun, most usually naked.
Read an Excerpt
‘Silence, bitch! Who is your mistress?’
A perceptible pause.
‘At once this time! Who?’ With this, the director administered two more hard slaps.
‘You, madam!’ This time without pause. Sally bit down her resentment; she could not take too much more of this bullying after the day she had had.
‘All right.’ The shrew seemed appeased. ‘Lie on the bed. Your bottom on the edge.’
Sally did as she was told, occupying the centre line of the large bed. She felt Peter’s hands on her ankles as he unclasped the hobble chain. Jane moved across and pulled two pillows down, placing them under the head of the captive. She crossed again to her dressing table, where, within Sally’s sight, she stripped herself of blouse and skirt. Sally recalled her defeat in the ring and her subjugation by the matronly figure in the bra, panty-girdle, and suspenders.
Jane now rolled down her girdle, unashamed. She let out a lascivious sigh of pleasure as the flesh of her nether parts was freed. She carefully took off her black shoes and then walked round the bed before clambering slowly onto it.
Sally looked up at Jane’s smiling face. As she hitched her leg over Sally’s head, the young woman realised what was about to happen. She found herself gazing at Jane’s large rump, which assumed huge proportions in her perception and consciousness as it descended toward her.
Sally felt horrified yet fascinated. Her instinct to resist was nullified, her arms bound as they were. Jane reached behind her and parted her pussy lips as she pulled at each buttock. The pink vulva was revealed in its full glory. Then, the arse descended fully.
Jane wriggled into a position she found comfortable. Her arms now rested on her hips. Sally’s nose found itself nestled in the opening of Jane’s vagina. The plump arse effectively blindfolded her. She was aware that Jane was not quite bearing down on her with her full weight; nevertheless, she might be in some considerable peril should this heavy woman show a little less care.
‘Submit now, to the queening from your mistress. Tell me, what are you?’ asked the dominatrix.
‘Mmmf,’ was all Sally could muster.
Jane laughed. ‘This is a privilege for you. Being allowed to nuzzle and worship your mistress’s cunt. Be sure, slave, that your true punishment is yet to come. I merely wish to toy with you now.’
At this, Sally felt a touch on her hairy mound just above her clitoris. Was it Jane? No, her mistress still had both hands on her hips. A moist protrusion lapped at her, softly probing toward the folds that protected the clitty. Too soft for a finger, it must be a tongue.
Was she now to be pleasured by the hapless Peter? Or was it, indeed, the pleasure of the transvestite, a little treat for him? Her conjecture dissolved into focused delight as the tongue moved down.
Almost unconsciously, she had spread her legs wider. She now felt the unknown head between her upper thighs as the tongue gained access to her hole. Alternating between this area and her now more exposed clitoris, it began to weave an expert spell. Enthusiastically, it devoted itself to her, responding to her movements, detecting her proclivities, teasing and recommencing until she was again lost in a heavenly absence of will.
Just when she had been coaxed to the foothills of satisfaction, the tongue ceased and withdrew. Sally was by now well versed in the necessities of begging for further ministration, and attempted to do so, but the fulsome cunt and buttocks above her acted as gag as well as blindfold, and her pleas were muffled and unintelligible. Still, she continued to bleat in desperation, feeling it would please her mistress to witness the slave’s despair, and perhaps somehow provoke a show of mercy.
For whatever reason, her frustration was short-lived as she felt the firm helmet of a cock push into her. Thick and firm, it was somehow not what she had expected of Peter. Giving herself up to it, she raised her legs high. Strong hands pushed them further up and back, and the penis slid to the hilt, penetrating her deeply. It began to have its way, moving relentlessly in and out.
Now she bleated as loudly as she could. Suddenly Jane eased forward, supporting her weight on her hands, thus freeing Sally’s face of pressure. Staring up at the full bottom which could subjugate her at will, Sally voiced her hunger.
‘Fuck me! Fuck me hard, fuck me hard!’
No sooner begged than done as the cock hammered rapidly in her wet and willing hole. The floods of orgasm soon swept through her and all tension left her body.