Raised To Be A Slave - And Used By Many E-Book

Nancy Williams

• Herausgeber: Der Neue Morgen - UW2
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 67

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

I would describe myself as a tough career woman, buxom and athletic, forty-three years old. My skin was tight, well toned, my breasts large and heavy with very sensitive nipples and my thighs a real delight for men. I no longer wanted to be alone and searched for contacts on relevant sites. A man caught my interest who wanted to explore my limits with me. I quickly fell for him. His dominant manner turned me into a will-less slave. He paid attention to me, life together with him was intoxicating. I was ready to do anything for him that he asked me to do and that he liked. So it happened that I was also brought together with his friends and many strange men.... Attention! +18 The text contains explicit detailed descriptions of erotic (BDSM) situations.

Leseprobe

Raised To Be A Slave - And Used By Many

An Erotic BDSM Story

by

Nancy Williams

Imprint:

Title: Raised To Be A Slave - And Used By Many

Author: Nancy Williams

ISBN: 9783959248297

All rights reserved.

It is not allowed to reproduce or publish this work in whole or in part without prior written permission.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Raised To Be A Slave - And Used By Many

Raised To Be A Slave - And Used By Many

I would describe myself as a tough woman, buxom and athletic, of fortythree years. Skin tight, well trained, breasts large and heavy with very sensitive nipples and my thighs a real pleasure for men. I work professionally in a managerial position. Until recently I lived alone.

But that should change.

As so often, I sat in front of my computer and surfed the usual swinger sites. Since the separation from my husband I often visited swingers clubs. I experienced phases of special horniness lately. And finally, I did not want to give up extensive sex.

Now I was browsing through the personals. Always the same. Something interesting for me was not there. But suddenly I stumbled. The words of the advertisement pulled me formally in her spell.

'Middle-aged man seeks woman of the same age. If you like to surrender to your feelings, can let yourself fall, then get in touch. I would like to explore your limits together with you and, if necessary, exceed them.'

The ad made me curious. Fortunately, the anonymity of the Internet protected me for the time being. After a brief look at the profile of the writer, I found that he must live very close to me. So I wrote to him.

'I think I am the woman you are looking for. Indeed, I do not know my limits yet. But I would like to explore them with you.'

Already after a short time my mailbox reported a new message.

'If you believe, go to church. If you do, send me a photo so I can examine you.'

I quickly searched my image files for suitable photos. Finally I decided on a photo of me lying naked on the beach on my last vacation. Hopefully he had imagined something like that.

The file was quickly sent. It didn't take long before I got a reply. He wrote that my picture had appealed to him. For hours we wrote back and forth. I had not noticed at first that I had told him my whole life so far. I knew nothing about him.

Before we said goodbye, he wrote to me: 'If you are serious, don't wear pants from now on. Your clothes will consist only of skirts and dresses. You may still determine the length yourself. Good night.'

With that he was gone. I had no more possibility to express objections. What had I actually written to him? That I worked at a bank as a branch manager, yes, even in which branch. He also had a picture of me. The anonymity of the Internet was gone? I had completely exposed myself in my horniness. And also galloped?

Confused I went to bed and slept restlessly.

*

My alarm clock brought me out of a restless sleep. As usual, I got ready and chose a plain costume. Not because of him, but simply because I felt like it - I told myself. My day at the bank went on as usual. Customer meetings, appointments and the everyday small stuff. For lunch, I went with some colleagues to a small bistro on the corner, as I often do, and then it was finally closing time!

I quickly went home, had something to eat, and checked to see if there was a message waiting in my inbox. And sure enough, he was already online.

'You did a good job. From now on you don't wear panties anymore. You can still determine your own skirt length.'

And he was gone. What does this guy actually imagine. Of course I'll wear panties. He can't control that. Angry at the man and at myself for getting involved in such a thing, I went to bed.

The next morning, I dressed as usual. In a fancy pantsuit, with panties, I drove to the bank. As usual, I parked my car in my reserved parking space in the underground garage. The day flew by. When I got to my car after work, I saw a note under the windshield wiper.

'If this is already your limit I am not interested in you. Tomorrow dress as instructed! Your skirt must not end more than a hand's breadth above the knee.

Your Master.'

Furious, I threw the note next to the car. But picked it up again immediately. After all, I didn't want colleagues to read it. At home I made myself something to eat and lay down on the sofa with a book. Again and again my thoughts wandered to the note. Was it important for me to please him? What did it mean: …as commanded, …your Master? I did not let myself be ordered. After all, I was used to giving orders. But wasn't it also nice to be led? Didn't I always want to have a man to lean on? Who made decisions for me?

*

The next morning I dressed as requested. A strange feeling to leave the house without panties. Stealthily I looked around again and again. Did anyone notice that I was naked under my skirt? Nonsense, how could anyone notice - I encouraged myself and got into the car.

The knowledge of my nakedness excited me. With some customers a thought chased like a flash through my head: if you knew that I don't wear panties…. Several times I had to go to the toilet to dry myself. A colleague already asked if I had caught a cold.

I quickly said yes. I couldn't tell her why I was constantly wetting myself. When I got back home, I immediately turned on my laptop. There was a message in my inbox.

'Good! Keep up the good work. I'll be in touch again.'

What was that supposed to mean? When would he get back in touch?

*

The next few days passed and nothing happened. Slowly I got used to going without panties. When would he get in touch again? Was I longing for him? For a man I didn't even know?

Finally, a message. 'Saturday afternoon, 3 p.m. at the city café.'

Anxious about what to expect, the last two days went by. My colleagues were already watching me. I noticed how they started whispering. Then it was finally time.

I got ready. I chose a rather short skirt, a low-cut blouse and high-heeled shoes. Panties and bra I left in the closet. So I set off to be on time at the agreed, or should I say: commanded place.

Only when I entered the café I remembered that I did not know how he looked. He had received a picture of me, but I had none of him.

I chose a table with a good view of the entrance and ordered a cup of coffee. Suddenly, I heard a voice from behind me.

"Knees apart. You must never close your legs or even cross them again."

Puzzled and more mechanically, I opened my knees. A man, about 50, took a seat across from me, smiling. My first impression was good. I liked what I saw. A great appearance.

"So far you have done almost everything. But for your resistance to the dress code you will be punished. I will go one step further with you today. If you don't want to do that, get up now and leave. If you stay seated, it's a yes. Then only what I say will happen."

Wild thoughts shot through my head. Get up! Stay! I didn't know what to do. If I stayed I gave him carte blanche, if I left I might miss out on what I always wanted in my life?

I remained seated.

Smiling, he called the waiter, paid, and pulled me out into the street with him. I was far too confused to realize exactly what just happened to me.

*

"Come on! Let's go for a walk."

It was a command, not a request. He took me firmly by the arm and we went to the nearby park. Children were playing on a spacious lawn. Young people were lying on their blankets enjoying the sun. Some were walking their dogs, others were sitting on the park benches.

His hand slid down my back and finally landed on my butt. Firmly he held my butt cheek in his grip. Like this, he led me through the park. All the way to a bench that was somewhat hidden behind a hedge.