Ahegao

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Lorna finished tying the lace of her brand new white plimsoll and lovingly stroked the smooth and gleaming white canvas with the lightest touch of her perfectly manicured fingertips. Until Steve had turned her on to the very special pleasure of wearing white plimsolls with white ankle socks, she had not worn them since the days of gym lessons and tennis at her very traditional and very expensive ballet school. But now she loved the uniquely gorgeous feel of the snug fit of new plimsolls, a pair of which she was putting on for the first time, through the sensually soft cotton caress of her new ankle socks; which felt so wonderful when she slid her beautiful, small and slender feet into them and smoothed the turned-down tops around her exquisitely shapely ankles for the first time.

Her ankle socks had little pink satin bows stitched into them that showed on the backs of her ankles when she turned the tops down. She smiled as she remembered wearing them for the first time as a special treat for Steve. She had worn them with her red satin ballet slippers that he had bought specially for her as a Valentine gift and a little tutu skirt that had shown the outline and contours of her lovely little naked bottom through a soft puffball of diaphanous pink tulle. She had lain face down on their bed, wearing nothing more; her slim, gazelle-like legs tapering to her lovely, satin-pointed feet and her slender, graceful arms folded and nestled against her beautiful Audrey Hepburn-like ballerina body, waiting for his imminent return.

She shivered as she remembered his reaction when he had discovered her. Then, with a deep sigh of pleasure at with the memory and at the same time breathing in the mingled smell of pristinely new canvas and rubber from her plimsolls that excited them both so much, she stood up to admire herself in the full-length bathroom mirror.

She was proud that at the age of nearly 30 she could still fit perfectly into her gymslip that she had last worn, apart from fancy dress parties and school disco theme nights, when she was 16. Her glorious mane of soft, sweetly-perfumed black hair was temporarily tamed by a white Alice band. She wore her old school tie with a plain white cotton blouse bought specially for the purpose from a school uniform outfitter. For a moment, she was that teenage ballet school girl again. She remembered the uniform. During the Autumn and Spring Terms it was a grey gymslip with pleated skirt worn with a thin black leather belt, a dark maroon blazer, white blouse, the school tie – black with thin diagonal gold stripes – and black shoes (always well polished) with long white socks. The shoes had to be ‘sensible’ with flat soles: lace-ups, ‘T-bar’ or a single strap across the top. In summer it was a yellow gingham summer dress with short sleeves along with short white socks. In the sixth form she had worn a grey pleated skirt at a chaste length above the knee, with standard issue brown tights and low heeled court shoes.

She had put up with the uniform in order to pursue her passion for ballet and her dream to be a ballerina by being at one of the best ballet schools in the country. And then again she hadn’t spent so much time in her uniform because for much of each day she had been in ballet class. What had they worn in class? Ah yes: pink leotards and pink satin ballet slippers with white ankle socks for the youngest girls; sky blue leotards with white tights and white pointe shoes or ballet slippers for the older girls, changing to black leotards for the sixth-formers.

Lorna slipped out of her reverie as she remembered why she was dressed up as half her age and made a little skipping run to the bedroom, taking pleasure in the white flashing of her plimsolled feet and their uniquely soft slapping footfall on the wooden flooring of the connecting passageway. She knocked tentatively on the bedroom door. When she heard his instruction, just slightly theatrically stern, to enter, she slowly sidled into the room through the smallest possible crack in the doorway, making sure that he first got a good view of her exquisitely pointed plimsolled foot extended on her slender, coltish leading leg. Assuming her role, she stood before him, looking at him with a coyly knowing expression, her head on one side her hands behind her back with arms held rigidly, her daintily pointed white plimsolled foot tracing the arc of a circle from side to side. She fixed his gaze with her gorgeously dark and bewitching eyes. Her high soprano voice, with her perfect Oxford English accent and flawless diction, took on a not-quite innocent-sounding lisp of the teenage girl who knows more than she’s letting on.

“Did you want to see me, Sir?”

He was always brilliant at role play. Dressed in his headmaster costume, consisting of Lorna’s graduation gown and mortar board, and sitting at the dressing table on which were laid out the various accoutrements to be used mobilbahis güvenilir mi for their evening’s entertainment, the slightest trace of his desire for her that his eyes might have given away was certainly not betrayed by his voice, which was suitably authoritarian with just the right hint of menace,

“You know very well I want to see you, Miss MacAllister.”

Lorna continued to bait him with her coquettish body language and her irresistibly pretty plimsolled foot, and her expression shifted even further to the knowing end of coy,

“Have I been naughty again, Sir?”

She left a slight pause before the word ‘naughty’, emphasising it with a slightly raised note above the surrounding words. She felt her heart beginning to beat louder in the silence as he contemplated her. Then her heart skipped a beat when, after a moment that had seemed like an eternity of suspense, he solemnly delivered the verdict and the sentence she had been so looking forward to all evening,

“You have been very naughty and you must be punished. Now turn around and get undressed. Slowly.”

Turning her back to him, she removed her Alice band and with a languid roll of her head shook free the long, raven glory of her hair. She undid her belt and then reached behind her and slowly undid the zip of her gymslip. She eased the straps from her shoulders and as her gymslip parted and slid slowly down her body and legs it revealed the lovely form her back moulding her closely fitting white blouse as if she were a beautiful and delicate white butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon. She had chosen her blouse carefully for its length, which barely covered her beautifully rounded little bottom with her slim boyish hips and showed just enough of a glimpse to be exquisitely tantalising of her white cotton pants curving lovingly across her thighs to be lost in the wondrous void between her legs. With exaggerated care and deliberation she unfastened the buttons of her blouse and let if fall away slowly to reveal the lovely gamine form of her shoulders, her shoulder blades, her back and her wasp-slender waist.

Reaching behind her again, she unclasped her plain white cotton bra, which she had found unexpectedly pleasurable to be wearing again after the intervening years of wearing gorgeous and far more flattering underwear creations in eye-arresting shades of satin and lace. She let her bra drop from her arms to the floor and was about to continue to the next stage when his sudden command to turn around made her start with excitement. Facing him, she felt her knees almost melting as she saw his gaze contemplating her now all-too visible state of mounting excitement and anticipation. Her nipples were swollen like plump cherries standing proud of her small but beautifully rounded breasts that were pert and pouting and rising and falling like a pair of dolphins on the wave of her now much heavier breathing. The dark, spreading stain of her arousal was even then emerging from between her legs and advancing across the white cotton of her pants that stretched enticingly over her pelvis and were moulded by the form of her mound nestling within. Whatever he was feeling now, his voice did not yet falter,

“You have been thinking very naughty thoughts again. I will have to punish you very severely indeed. Take off your pants.”

She felt a wonderfully heady sense of release and freedom between her legs as she slid her pants down, stepped delicately out of them with her plimsolled feet beautifully pointed for his delight and stood up. She confronted him, daring him; her hands behind her back, elbows bent in an attitude now more of defiance than supplication. She stood with her legs slightly parted and her plimsolled feet turned out as a ballerina to better display her womanhood: shaved by him the previous night in a wonderfully erotic anticipation of tonight’s pleasure and still gorgeously smooth, gaping open ripe and luscious. She almost wanted him to have her right there and then but for the greater pleasures she knew were coming. His next command made her breath even harder with greater excitement still,

“Just as I thought; turn around, hands on head, legs apart.”

In her state of rapidly advancing arousal, she could barely stop herself giggling. Here she was: Lorna MacAllister, star pupil at her ballet school who, when on the threshold of a great career with the Royal Ballet, had turned her back on it to gain a First in Law at Cambridge and then become a leading corporate lawyer and a partner in a leading international law firm. She who had dominated and twisted around her finger more men than she could now remember, now naked in white plimsolls and ankle socks and being made to stand with her legs apart with a sopping wet fanny and her hands on her head in an act of total submission to the man she adored and who she knew adored her and would submit himself to her in his turn. Then her heart skipped a beat as she heard him approach mobilbahis her and she knew he was about to gag her.

“Swallow this,” he commanded her as he placed a tablet in her mouth.

“Open; close,” he continued as he placed a small rubber ball in her mouth and her heart pounded with excitement mixed with an instinctive frisson of fear as he smoothed a large white rectangle of thick strong sticking plaster over her lips and cheeks.

“You’re a very naughty girl aren’t you?”

“Mmmm!” She responded with a plaintive squeal of delight in her muffled high soprano treble.

“I can’t hear you.”

“MMMMMM!” She was really enjoying herself now.

“I still can’t hear you.”

“UUMMMMPH!” She responded the third time with considerable gusto.

Having satisfied himself as to the efficacy of her gag, he proceeded to fit upon her, while keeping her arms still on her head, an upper body harness of adjustable webbing straps that went around, between, above and below her breasts and fastened behind her. It had the effect of squeezing her breasts together and forward; transforming what he affectionately and gallantly referred to as her ripe grapefruit into something more like pointed melons and making them feel even more swollen and sensitive. She longed for him to stroke them and relieve and satisfy their throbbing longing for his sensitive touch. She suddenly thought how it was such a shame that she was allergic to cats. She would love to lie luxuriantly on her bed; her flawless skin warm and glowing in bright filtered sunlight bathing her naked body and turning the white satin sheen of her ballet shoes to shining gold; while she cuddled a cat warm and soft against her breasts and felt in her cleavage the vibrant throb of its contented purring. How she longed for him to cup and to taste her tender breasts. But she knew he would stay focussed on the job in hand. And then so it proved.

“Hands behind your back.”

Her heart was thumping inside her and she heard and felt in her ears the surge of her circulation around her body under the influence of her steadily increasing sexual tension and the tablet she had swallowed. It was a sort of female Viagra and it was already increasing the blood flow even more to her pudenda, to her breasts and to her anal ring. She always loved feeling that moment of exquisite anticipation surge through her whole body just before he began to tie her hands behind her back.

As she felt the cord begin to tighten on her wrists she thought back to her childhood days when her brothers used to tie her hands behind her back with string and gag her with a scarf before making her run into the woods around their house for them to track her down. ‘Playing fugitive” they had called it. It was the only game they let her join in and looking back she reckoned that she had learned to associate being tied up with getting some sort of worthwhile attention that had been in short supply from them and her parents. She remembered how she had enjoyed bondage games with Gary, her first real love, with her invariably on the receiving end. She recalled how, after he had betrayed her and broken her heart, she had suppressed her submissive desires and adopted a strategy of aggressive self-protection, dominating and then discarding a long string of boyfriends in a series of ultimately deeply unfulfilling relationships. A wave of happiness swept away those bitter memories as she remembered that, in desperation, she had at last given in to her desires, had agreed to take part in a bizarre fantasy kidnap and bondage role playing game and had thereby met Steve: the wonderful man who had won her heart, had given her his in return and who totally understood and shared her deepest sexual desires.

Waves of love, gratitude and erotic delight flowed through her as he bound her wrists behind her back with soft woven cord which gripped her tightly without crushing her flesh or restricting her blood flow. He encircled her upper body with more cord, firmly fixing her arms to her side.

“Lie face down on the bed; legs together.”

Lorna responded with alacrity to Steve’s command. She gave a little moan of pleasure through her gag as she felt the cool satin sheets soothe the throbbing heat spots glowing in her groin and her breasts as she pushed and nestled them down into the soft mattress. Then she took great deep breaths of intense satisfaction as he bound her legs together at her ankles and just above her knees. For a moment she moaned even more as he finally gave into his own desires for a moment and lovingly stroked the whole length of her prone body from her shoulders, down the sensuous curve of her back, the gorgeous curves of her buttocks, thighs and calves and finally his greatest delight, her exquisite ankles caressed by her white ankle socks with their tiny pink bows and her heels moulding the wondrous curves of the backs of her white plimsolls. Then he was back in character again and she felt a sudden mobilbahis giriş leak of anticipation between her legs as he proclaimed her doom,

‘First you must be spanked,’

She had wanted to discover the experience of being spanked since they had seen a website consisting of videos of (presumably) willing victims, mostly women but sometimes men also, being stripped naked, tied up and gagged and spanked in various configurations. He had needed some persuasion because it wasn’t really his thing and it was against his instincts to inflict pain on her. But she convinced him she only wanted a bit of gentle hand spanking and if he went a little too far to begin with she was made of strong enough stuff to cope.

She squealed through her gag at the suddenness of his first stinging smack on her bare bottom. The urgent note in her squeal and the shake of her head alerted him and the next smarting contact on the soft pink mounds of her tingling buttocks produced a moan of delight and another lovely slow leaking feeling deep inside her. After giving her the traditional Six of the Best, each of which producing the same result, he stopped and left her for a moment while she relished the burning tingle across the glowing pink contours of her pert bottom, to prepare the next pleasure on the night’s bill of fare.

Lorna felt completely relaxed, almost floating, in her naked, trussed-up and mouth-stopped state. She wondered how much more free she was when she was at liberty and fully dressed. She compared her heady feeling of her present nakedness with how restricted she could feel when dressed up: her legs sheathed in sheer silk stockings with lacy suspenders; her body moulded by satin bra and pants under a figure hugging little black cocktail dress and bedecked and pierced with expensive jewellery; her hair, now free to drape in dark, fragrant drifts around her face and shoulders, would be styled and bound up with floral decoration or with butterflies and bows; her face, now fresh and unadorned apart from that part obscured by her gag, would be powdered, rouged, lipsticked and mascara’d into almost a different identity; even her feet felt somehow freer in the cool clean crisp embrace of her white plimsolls and ankle socks than in her fashionable sharp pointed high heels in shiny black patent leather.

She was suddenly brought back again by the electrifying sensation of his finger pushing up into her buttocks to smear lubricating jelly around her tight little anal ring throbbing under the influence of the Femiviagra tablet – she couldn’t think of its proper name right now. Very ticklish, she squealed and giggled almost hysterically into her gag while she raised and slapped down her bound legs and feet on the mattress to release the tension of keeping her upper body still while he carried out his delicate operation on her. Her giggles turned to groans of delight as his finger penetrated and smoothed more lubrication around inside her. Then she gave a deep long moan as she first felt the head of the dildo begin to open up her pulsating sphincter and slowly advance into her fundament, sending shockwaves of delight as she relaxed her bound body and legs as much as she could. It felt fantastically tight inside her because of her tightly bound legs.

She smiled inwardly as, through the intense pleasure swirling in her brain, she remembered his reaction when she had presented him with the ‘Make Your Own Personalised Pleasure Toy Kit – so he’s always there to hand when you REALLY want him!’ He had laughed for a full five minutes before being able to gasp “Now I really am The Man Who Has Everything”. Making it was lots of fun too. First he had taken a Viagra to ensure maximum stiffness while the mould hardened around his member. Then he had stroked himself hard while she had stripped naked to her ballet shoes and then he had smeared a thin film of protective jelly over his erection so the completed mould would come away cleanly. She then kept his interest up as he waited for the mould to set by performing a naked pole dance en pointe, with lots of genital and mammary manipulation, using the pole she had recently installed in the spare room they used for their ballet and photography studio. Then into the mould he had poured a rubbery latex mixture matched to his flesh tone by mixing in the appropriate choice from a range of tiny bottles of dye. Into the mixture he had pushed a small sealed plastic capsule containing a miniature electric motor and a tiny ultra-long life battery.

The mould was finally removed to reveal a perfect reproduction of his erect manhood, with every dilated blood vessel and every fold of foreskin perfectly rendered and with just the right degree of malleability. ‘Now you really can fuck yourself’, she had quipped, darting him with her wicked smile. It was then fitted with a mounting enabling various other accessory fittings to be attached depending on usage. It could be fitted with a handle for customary employment; Lorna could use it as a strap-on to satisfy Steve’s anal proclivities and it could also be fitted with bracing straps that fitted around the waist and upper thighs to satisfy the requirement for hands-free anal pleasure after insertion. And it was in this mode that he was now using it on her.

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