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Warm welcome


All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: [email protected]
Subject: Story: Warm Welcome
Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 21:18:09 GMT

===========================
Hello, it's Isabel, with another story. Thanks to all of you who wrote to me
with such positive comments about my last story. *blush* I'm trying to
improve...

Please don't repost this story without giving me credit for writing it,
don't edit it, change it or hack it up.

This story contains: Sex. mf sub & mild dom. Lots of emotion (Ewwwww!)
===========================

Warm Welcome

by Isabel

She knelt with precision just inside the door of the house at
exactly 7:30. His plane would be landing at 7:35, and she planned
to be ready for him from the moment he set foot on the ground. She
imagined him getting off of the plane, worn out from an all-day
flight, flashing a parting smile at the flight attendant. He would
be carrying his briefcase with him, walking in that self-confident
way she admired so much. A stop at the luggage pickup terminal,
and he would be ready for the drive home.

Naked, of course, she was dressed only in her plans and
aspirations for the evening. He loved seeing her without any
clothes on, said it made him aware of just how much of a prize his
pet was. Her breathing grew short at the happiness those words
brought.

God, how she missed him. Her feelings of love and desire for
his presence grew stronger each time he left town on one of his
business trips. Though this was only the fourth time he had left
her like this, there was already a pattern. The first day she
would come home from work, and put on some rented movies and
masturbate to them, missing him. The second day, she would be
restless, roving about the kitchen, performing whatever tasks he
had given her thoughtlessly, needing to be touched by him. By the
third day, she would think of him constantly, aching for his
attention, the patience of his long, slow smiles.

This weekend was different from the other three. His
instructions for her when he left town were usually thorough, but
he had been in a rush this time. This weekend he hadn't given her
instructions to wait for him in bed, naked under the covers, or in
the bathroom in a freshly drawn tub of hot water, or on the sofa,
spread and eager...

When she realized this, she nervously decided to make some
plans of her own. This evening was the result of hours of planning
and scheming. She recounted all the preparations in her mind,
slowly, to fight off the growing excitement at his imminent return.

Would he be accept this gift from her, this gift of pleasing
him, she wondered. She had never swept him away before, never set
the scene. She wanted so much to make everything perfect, to
transport him as he had so often tranported her.

He would be driving on the highway now, self-assured. If she
were in the car, he would reach over and push her skirt up,
exposing her long legs and damp pussy (she never wore panties
during a drive with him), and begin to finger her... she stopped
that train of thought.

Was everything ready? He had trained her too well and too
recently for her to fidget when she was kneeling, or she would
have. Butterflies danced in her stomach. What had she forgotten?
What if he was mad at her for doing this without orders?

She forced her mind into tranquility, breathing long, deep
breaths. This night was for him, she reminded herself, for his
pleasure. She would allow nothing would interfere with it, not
even her own nervousness. Still, she couldn't help sneaking a peek
at the clock. 7:55... he would be home any minute.

Her heart pounded with the sound of every approaching car, and
thudded slower as the car would drive on.

Finally, she heard the car. It stopped in the driveway, and
her breath caught. She waited, and heard the car door slam. It
had to be him! Oh, to leap up and look out the window at him, run
to hug him. She stayed on her, quietly.

His steps slowed as he approached the house, and she counted
under her breath to keep still. She had deliberately left
the lights out, and left the newspaper in front of the door to make
everything look deserted. The screen door opened. Then the key
clicked in the lock. The doorknob turned, swung open, and suddenly
there was a flash of light as he turned the hall light on.

He blinked in the light, taking in the scene of her sitting
naked in the dark, waiting, in surprise. She watched him try and
figure out what she was up to, and fail.

"My pet.. what is the meaning of this?" he asked, in that no-
nonsense tone she knew and loved so well.

For once, she didn't respond to his question. Rather, she
stood up, and started to unbutton his coat, button by button.

"What the... what are you up to?" he demanded, before she put
her fingers to his lips, and looked into his eyes, in love and
tender adoration. He quieted then, and she saw him decide to go
along with whatever his pet had thought up, though the firmness of
his gaze told her she had better do this perfectlly or she was in
trouble.

She took his briefcase, and stowed it in the closet,
carefully. Then she slipped his coat off, and hung it up. He was
dressed in comfortable grey slacks and a white shirt. She bowed
very low, gestured for him to remain there, and padded off.

The laundry room was off the kitchen, chilly and unheated.
She barely noticed, so intent was she on making this homecoming
a gift of pleasure, as she pulled out a huge terry-cloth robe for
him, kept warm inside the dryer as planned. When she got back to
him, he gazed at her with an unreadable look. She prayed he wasn't
mad at her, she wanted to please him so badly.

She unbuttoned his shirt, each button undone carefully and
neatly. His gaze never wavered as she undid his belt, and slipped
off his shoes and socks. Slipping off his shirt and pants were the
work of a moment, leaving him in only his underwear. Almost, she
reached for his briefs. No, not yet. There were other pleasures
to see to first.

The warmed robe slipped on to his unresisting body, and she
tied it for him comfortably. A pair of slippers were waiting
inside the closet for him, and she set them out right next to his
feet for him to step into, which he did.

She summoned up the courage to look into his face, to see
whether she was pleasing him with her forward behavior. He was
smiling slightly, but his eyes were completely unreadable. In for
a penny, in for a pound, she reckoned, and took his hand, pulling
him silently into the living room.

He didn't comment on the preparations she had made there, as
she beckoned him onto a new, plush rug spread carefully in
front of the fireplace. A fire was going, of course, and she took
a moment to put a new log on the fire, hardly noticing when a spark
flew out and landed on her upper breast. He noticed though, and
reached out to brush it off.

New throw pillows, made while he was gone, rested all over the
floor. She had picked soft, soothing fabrics, in jewel-toned
colors, looking rich and exotic. She arranged the pillows for him,
relishing this service to him. He gazed at her once more, with
that impenetrable look of his, then lay back, relaxing.

She didn't want to break the silence with her own talking, so
she had planned carefully so she wouldn't have to ask him what he
wanted. She brought over a selection of his favorite CDs, arranged
in a basket and let him point one out. She popped it in the
player. An exotic, gut-wrenching Hungarian melody filled the
living room. He played this one whenever he was distraught or
tense, so she knew that it must have been a rotten trip. He would
be tired, and tense and needing to be relaxed. She smiled to
herself.

A quick trip to the kitchen, and she came back laden with
trays of small finger-nibble foods, a pre-opened bottle of wine,
and a single glass. She would not be drinking this evening, of
course. It was only for him.

Would he be hungry? Just want a few things to nibble on?
Sweets? Something salty? She had had no idea, so the trays had
a selection of his favorite foods. Putting them down out of
his reach, she poured him a glass of the white wine, cold and just
a bit dry. She held it to his mouth, and he sipped at it,
appreciating the taste and making no move to help her. She let him
sip again, and he did so. Then, he took the glass from her hand,
and continued to sip at it.

She held up the trays, letting him choose. When he merely
pointed at a cracker spread with smoked salmon and herbed cheese,
she beamed, and set the trays where he could see them. She picked
up the cracker, and fed it to him, bite by bite.

He picked, she fed. He must have been hungry, she realized.
Or perhaps he was just enjoying himself. The music crashed around
them as she fed him whatever he wanted, silently. Crackers with
tempting bits of meat and cheese, bits of fruit soaked in wine,
dark chocolate-covered strawberries. Feeding him, responding to
his every movement warmed her, body and soul. She could feel she
was getting damp, but she thrust it out of her mind, and
concentrated on his movements.

Finally, he motioned that he had eaten enough. She brought
the trays back to the kitchen, and came back with a small bottle,
the sight of which caused him to smile for the first time this
evening. Inwardly, she was elated. A bottle of massage oil,
heated in the small crock pot she had ready in the kitchen. She
slipped his robe off, and indicating he should lie on his stomach.
When he did so, she began the massage.

Soon, the smell of warm oil filled the living room, and
blended with the smell of the fire and the wine. The heels of her
hands kneaded his shoulders, his back, all the tense muscles along
his spine. Touching him like this, bringing him pleasure, was
almost more than she could bear, and again, she came close to
pulling off his briefs. She sternly reminded herself that
it was his pleasure that mattered, and he still needed to be
relaxed.

A long, long time later, he was completely limp and loose
under her touch. Smiling, she put away the bottle of oil. The CD
had ended, but she knew he was too relaxed to pick another one, so
she picked a gentle tone poem, full of rain and springtime, and the
sound washed over them.

He raised his head at the new music, his eyes softened from
pleasure and relaxation. She poured him another glass of wine, and
looked at him. Yes, it was time now.

She tugged at the waistband of his briefs, and soon he was
naked, warmed only by the fire and her touch. Reaching under the
sofa, she pulled out a square of silky fabric she had hidden away.
She looked him in the eyes, and he grinned, and nodded his
permission. She floated it down on top of his stomach, legs and
beginning-to-harden shaft, and started to caress him.

The sound of the music was soon broken by his moans, and she
concentrated on bringing him every ounce of pleasure possible. She
lost herself in the movement of the fabric, the music, the
straining of his hips against her hands. When he came, he cried
out once, then quieted. She pulled the fabric away, and covered
him with the robe while he rested a bit, kneeling at his feet if
he should need anything.

A very short time later, he gestured her to attend him, and
glancing into his mischievous eyes, she knew he was ready for
something more strenuous. This time she would have to let him do
what he willed.

He didn't want to break the beautiful silence either, and
gestured his hand to the bedroom, and mimed carrying a box. She
understood at once, and quickly rose to do his bidding. He wanted
the toybox, where their growing collection was stored safely away.
She wondered what he wanted from it. She began to tremble at the
thought, but by then she had brought the box back from the bedroom.

She set the box where he could easily reach it, and knelt at
his feet yet again. He opened the box, and smiled at her.
Reaching in, he brought out the pair of nipple clamps, and tossed
them at her.

She was supposed to put them on herself? she wondered. She
had never done that before, rather he always had, over her very
strenuous protests. She caught her breath and held the items
gingerly, disliking them. She looked in his eyes, and saw the
grin, and knew she had better not refuse. Besides, she reminded
herself, this was for his pleasure.

She put them on, timidly, not having any problems because her
nipples were quite hard already. She fastened them on loosely,
and looked up. He frowned a bit and pointed. She tightened them
a bit more and hissed her breath between her teeth as they caught
the flesh and dug in.

Next he handed her a butt plug, and her eyes grew very wide.
Could she even put it in herself? She took it though, and
lubricated it carefully with juice from her now very wet pussy. The
idea of wiggling it into place herself made her even hotter, and
she almost moaned as she pushed the tip in. She did make a small
sound as it pushed into her, deeper and deeper. It filled her,
pushing against her insides, making her achingly aware of the lack
in her pussy.

That sound must have been too much, though, because he handed
her the ball gag next. She looked at him pleadingly a moment, but
slipped it on, and even managed to buckle it in place. It tasted
bad, as it had the one other time he'd used it on her. Her mouth
was very small, too, so it made her jaws ache almost right away.

He reached into the box yet again. What was this? Was he
going to empty the box tonight? It seemed so, for he pulled out
a pair of garter belts and the D rings. She begged him not to with
her eyes, but his smile never wavered. So, she slipped the garters
on, and slid the gentle clamps into place on her outer lips, and
hooked them to the D rings, opening her up completely. Warm air
flowed over her inner lips, and she was glad to be able to moan
softly into the gag. When he gestured for her to sit with her legs
wider apart, she did so, feeling completely wanton under his gaze.

The multiple feelings on and in her body roused her to an
aching need. Her cunt was especially empty and she wanted to cry
out for him to fill it. He didn't seem to notice, though, and
pulled another item from the box. She was puzzled. A blindfold?
How could she tell what he wanted, then? She put it on,
obediently, though, feeling very nervous as it blacked out her
view. She heard him rise, and go to the hallway. She sighed. She
had wanted to do everything for him tonight. Ah, well, he must
have a reason. A long eternity passed until she heard him pad
quietly back into the room.

She felt something settle around her neck. A collar? It was
broad and the edges dug in just a bit, until he loosened it. It
was! He had thought of his pet while he was away and bought it for
her.

The other feelings in her body died away as she tried to smile
around the gag, unsuccessfully. He had never bought her one, and
she hadn't dared mention it... but to wear his collar... she wanted
to cry. She had pleased him, then. She knew he would never give
something like that lightly, and she knew she was now his, forever.

Something pulled gently at the collar, and she realized it
must have a leash attached. It pulled her forward, and she
crawled, reaching his toes, then carefully feeling her way around
his knees and thighs, until her wide-open pussy was poised just
above his full erection. Every nerve suddenly remembered what it
had been feeling and she moaned loudly into the gag, feeling a
droplet of pussy juice run down one leg. She wanted to beg for him
to take her, beg to be filled.

The collar pulled her forward, though, past the wonderful
erection. She trembled as her face reached his, and he kissed her
softly on the forehead. Suddenly the butt plug whirred into life
and she realized he must want to feel the vibrations through her
pussy walls. She moaned again, loudly, as the low throbbing
intensified her need.

The collar eased up a bit, and she backed towards his shaft.
It stopped her just as his tip tickled her inner lips, though, and
she whined softly, wishing she could beg him.

Suddenly his shaft plunged home roughly and deeply and she
screamed in pleasure and relief, and began meeting his thrusts as
much as the collar would allow.

He was rough and hard and she came almost immediately, as he
plunged again and again. The collar pulled against her neck hard
as she tried to throw her head back in pleasure, but she scarcely
noticed. Her whole body seemed a trembling mass of nerve endings,
and when he grabbed one of her nipple clamps and tugged, she
screamed at the pain, riding it to the top of yet another wave of
pleasure.

He came into her, cumming as she crested the wave, and the
tiny pain kept her from fainting, gave her something to cling onto
as he filled her. She heard him gasp once, loud and harshly, and
felt him push against her, slamming her hard.

Finally, she felt him begin to relax, and the sensation in her
nipples faded away, as she began to ebb. After a long moment, he
undid her blindfold, as she was still straddled over him. He was
smiling warmly, and hugged her. Then he leaned back again, and
gestured her to take out the gag, which she did, fumbling with the
straps.

He directed her piece by piece, to remove the toys she had
earlier put in. Her nipples screamed when sensation returned to
them, but she managed to keep quiet. The collar, he did not order
her to remove, though, and she knew it was not coming off again
that evening, and symbolically, never.

He looked sated, and extremely tired. She recalled her duty
to him, and slipped his robe on again. Tugging at him gently, she
pulled him to the bedroom.

The bed had been freshly made with clean sheets and warm
blankets, and was turned down invitingly for him. Candlelight
filled this room, soft and gentle. She slipped his robe off, and
slipped out the hot-water bottle that was keeping the sheets warm.
He crawled into the bed, and she blew out the candles, then slipped
in next to him, pulling the covers up.

He cuddled her close. "Very good, pet," he murmured sleepily.
"You'll be rewarded ... tomorrow..."

She hugged him back, and smiled into the darkness.
--
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
bi-monthly to a.s.s.d. And don't send me chain mail- I'll notify your sysadmin.


 
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