Pamela's first scene - part 3

She walked into the room but just far enough to be inside rather outside the room. The man, however, made himself comfortable on one of the expensive looking black leather couches in the middle of the large room. He looked over at her.

“Don’t be shy now. Come here to me.”

Pamela moved slowly across the room and stood in front of this intense and forbidding man. She folded her arms in front of her in a defensive, rebellious stance but the man scowled at her in such a disapproving way that she felt compelled to unfold them again, immediately. She placed her hands behind her back, one wrist above the other. She was torn between how she should react. He was a total stranger to her and it was not her style to submit to just any man. Her owner was her dominant; not this man, who had so far failed to even provide her with his name. When her owner asked her to do something, she did it, but to all other people, she was Pamela; proud, confident, capable; not some airhead who could be bossed about.

“Why are you here, Pamela?”

“My owner left me instructions that I would be sent for and the driver brought me here; to you.”

“So, you understand that you are here according to your owner’s wishes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you obey your owner?”

She felt a little indignant to even be asked such a question.

“Yes, I always obey him.”

“What instructions did he give you about me?”

“I was to obey you.”

He looked at her intensely and smiled. She could tell he was enjoying himself. She found him a most attractive man. He oozed masculinity and she found herself studying his hands that were resting on his thighs. He had the most enormous hands for such an average height, lean man, and the thickest of fingers. Perhaps, he worked outside usually, to have such large hands. Pamela enjoyed imagining what they could do. She was beginning to float into that erotic little world of hers. She willed herself to keep her wits about her.

“Take off your dress.”

“My dress?”

“Take it off.”

She studied his face, trying to get some clue there as to whether he really meant it. He just stared back at her. He waited, patiently; said nothing more.

She moved her hands up to the back of her neck and her beautiful, long French manicured nails found the top of her zip. She undid the zip as far as she could and then she brought her hands down further to undo the zip the rest of the way. She stepped out of the dress and held it in her right hand.

“Good bimbo. Give it to me.”

Reluctantly, Pamela handed her dress to the stranger, relieving herself of the only item that stood between her and her nudity. Now, all that she had left was a pair of heels, unless one counted the black plug in her ass cunt and the vaginal balls in her pussy cunt. Suddenly, she was intensely aware of them; that two of her three cunts were filled.

She expected the man to throw the dress over the vacant couch perhaps, but he took the dress to a cupboard and carefully hung it. Still standing in front of the cupboard door, he brought out from the cupboard, a hessian bag. Pamela watched as he moved over to a steel pole. She hadn’t noticed it before but now she could see that it went from floor to ceiling. She imagined a fire station and that the pole looked rather like the kind of pole a fireman might slide down. Did they really still do that, she wondered, or had the idea come to her from some children’s book, long ago?

He undid the bag and brought out from it copious amounts of rope. He began to handle the rope and to wind it around his arm as ranchers tend to do; at least, the ones in the movies she had seen. Perhaps, he was checking to see what lengths he had; long, short, medium lengths.

Satisfied now, he placed some ropes on the floor near to him. He was intent on his task and ignored her entirely as she looked on; mystified, horrified. What did this man intend and why was her owner wanting her there with this man? Pamela’s emotions were moving about all over the place: one moment confused, one moment excited, one moment agitated.

“Come here, l’il bimbo.”

“No! I’m not going to allow you to tie me up! You must be joking.”

The man strode towards her and in one movement held both of her hands in his huge paw of a hand. Pamela was powerless against him. With her hands pinned, she had little opportunity to move out of his way and when he pulled back with his right arm, his hand struck the target of her bottom with full force. As he wacked her several times, first one cheek and then the other, several times over, she howled in protest. His hand stung her skin like no paddle or piece of leather could. Her bottom was on fire.

“Are you going to behave?”

“Yes. Yes. Paaaaleeeeezze!’

“Are you sure, pammie, or do I have to keep spanking your bottom?”

“I’ll behave. I’ll behave!!”

“I thought you might.”

He held her left hand in his right hand but this time only to accompany her over to the pole. She was co-operative.

“Good bimbo. On your knees.”

Pamela knelt down.

“No. Not like that. One leg on either side of the pole.”

Pamela adjusted her position so that she was on her knees with one leg back behind the left side of the pole and one leg back behind the right.

“Good.”

She could feel the man holding her ankles now, and she soon realized that he was tying plenty of rope around them. He was clearly some sort of expert with rope, she figured, and she found herself impressed at how able he was. His movements were sure and competent and she began to drift smoothly into that ‘handled’ frame of mind of hers. She was being tended and she was enjoying herself, regardless of why the man might be tying her to a pole.

For a moment, she was frightened again, but now he was humming as he worked. He seemed rather a lovely sort of man. She could smell him as he worked; that lingering scent of vanilla soap and she could not deny that she was attracted to him. Perhaps he was a friend of her owner, she wondered.

Now, the man came around in front of her and looked down at her breasts.

“Such beautiful tits, pammi! Your owner is a lucky man!”

She said nothing but she quietly enjoyed the compliment. Her nipples were erect and it was clear she was aroused. It pleased her to think that he enjoyed the sight of her.

The man took both Pamela’s hands and placed them together and with his own hands he gestured to her how he wanted her to hold them. She did as he demonstrated and she watched, intrigued, as he wound the rope around her wrists many times before making a most skilled and impressive knot.

Finally, the man came right up to her and when he did she was aware that it was her mouth cunt that was at the same height now as the cock bulging in his pants. She gasped. Is this what he intended to do? Is this why her two other cunts had been filled?

Before she had an opportunity to dwell on the thought she felt the man take something from his pocket and a moment later she felt a penis gag fill up her mouth. He was securing it with a lock at the back of her head. It was firmly in place. She looked up at him pathetically.

“Just relax, dum dum. Suck away. You just let your silli dum dum mind drift away there.”

In spite of herself, Pamela found great comfort in the penis gag as she sucked away on it as a baby might suck on her dummy. She was entering that world of comfort that occurred when all her holes were filled; when her body was being well used. For a moment or two she closed her eyes and it was at this moment that the man covered her eyes with a blind fold. She dropped into an unknown space of erotic pleasure and found herself tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down.

She began to wonder if the man was still even there. She may have heard a door open; perhaps close. She had no real idea. Was she alone? What was to happen to her? She felt saliva begin to drip from her mouth and onto her chin. Her pussy cunt was dripping, too. She could feel moisture on the inside of her thigh. She had been reduced to the status of a fucktoy and she loved it.

She heard a sound; a door knob turning. Her body was in high alert. The door creaked. Oh my god...

(to be continued)

© Vesta 2009