I drove my car down the long, winding drive driveway, thick trees reaching deep into the surrounding forest. I had missed the initial turn off into the driveway, the road well hidden. The driveway ended at the house, a set of stairs leading up to the front door. Parking the car I exited and walked up the stairs, stopping to knock on the oak door.

    A short woman answered the door. She stood five feet five inches. She was wearing a medium-length white skirt and matching blouse. Her long brown hair was curly, hung loosely, and was layered to the middle of her back. Her hazel eyes bored into me with a quizzical look, "Yes."

    "Mistress Shari…."

    "Oh!" she exclaimed, excitement leaping into her voice, "welcome, I am so glad you are here." Her words leapt from her throat, shaking with giddiness. "Come in."

    I stepped in behind her and she turned to lead me up four steps to enter into the living room. The room was elaborately furnished with a huge stone fireplace dominating the room. A large overstuffed couch rested in the room with two large chairs finishing the seating. An oak coffee table sat in front of the couch, with oak end tables straddling the couch. Mistress Shari took a seat on the couch to look at me.

    "I am so pleased that you are here. My husband is out with the kids and they won’t be home until later this evening. Wonderful timing." She was watching me, her eyes dancing in delight. "Now, what should we have you do?"

    The question was not directed at me, and I remained quiet. I listened as she hummed happily, pondering her own question. She looked at me, still humming, "Strip."

    I quickly complied, removing all my clothes, piling the garments on the floor. I glanced nervously around, staring at the walls, at the floor, never fixing my eyes on a single point for long.

    "Look at me," Mistress Shari told me.

    My eyes quit their dance and snapped to look into the lightly made up face of Mistress Shari. Her hazel eyes stared into mine, and I felt myself blush in uneasiness, as I was standing naked in front of a woman I had just met. My hands, struggling to cover myself, flexed and opened of their own accord. Her eyes were smiling at my discomfort, locked into mine.

    She stared at me for a few moments before excusing herself; "I must fetch some toys." She giggled as she left the room, her voice light. She bounded from the room, a spring in her step, obviously pleased.

    I waited there, my eyes once again drifting towards the floor, my cheeks still flush. When she returned she was carrying a small leather and steel contraption and another length of leather. "This is called a five ring gates of hell," she told me, approaching my standing form. She reached for my flaccid penis and began pushing my balls through the largest of the five rings. Tugging with great strength she popped my testicles through the ring before snaking my penis behind it, pulling me into each of the rings. Her ministrations caused my cock to begin swelling, the skin pressing into the unforgiving steel rings.

    She smiled as my hips twisted slightly in response to the flesh of my penis digging into the steel bands. She tugged on the toy, pulling and twisting my cock, arousing me further. I moaned slightly, a quick grunt of pain as I continued to try and swell within the confines of the bands.

    Mistress Shari released my cock and snapped the leash she had brought in to the D-ring at the end of the wicked little device. "I enjoy," she began, pulling away from me, the leash in her hand, "leading my slaves by their cocks." She pulled the leash taut and then walked towards the hallway she had exited by earlier. With the leash in her hands, I had no choice but to follow. She kept the leash pulled tight, leading me by my cock leash down the hallway. We passed a bathroom, the first door on the left, as we headed deeper into the house. She stopped when we reached the master bedroom.

    "Do you know what I like?" she asked me, keeping the leash pulled taut.

"No, mistress," I replied, my voice a squeak.

    With a smile, she pulled on the leash, pulling me as she walked to the large bed that dominated the room. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulling on the leash, she drug me to her side. She pulled the leash between her thighs, and I followed, being led by my trapped penis. She parted her legs slightly, and with her hands she pushed me down until I was lying atop her thighs, my legs flailing behind me, my arms pressing against the side of the bed. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping my steel encased cock between them.

    "Spankings." She answered her previous question with childlike glee.

    I swallowed hard, awaiting the first strike. She began slapping my ass with her hand, the blows amazingly hard from such a small woman. Each slap sounded like a thunderclap in the room, loud and strong.

    She dropped her left hand down under the waistband of her skirt and began rubbing herself as she spanked my ass with her right. Her hand pressed hard, fast circles on her aroused clit as she beat my ass into an ever-darkening mass of flesh.

    My ass danced with each strike, my hips bucking in its imprisonment. As the blows rained down my tears began flowing in slow rivulets. My breathing became subdued sobs, hitching sounds.

    Still the blows fell, as she continued rubbing herself into bliss, my discomfort arousing her further. Finally, my legs quit their subtle protests, and my hands and arms stopped twitching, I submitted. My body became limp, unprotesting, unmoving, I just lay there in quiet supplication.

    She stopped the spanking, pleased, sated, her hand snaking out of the panties. I felt her hand rub my ass, feeling the heat trapped there. "That was divine," she told me, her breathing coming hard and fast. Her exertions having caused her to tire slightly. "Stand up, please." She was polite, even in her commands.

    I struggled to my feet, my face wet with my tears, my breathing quiet sobs. I stood, the leash hanging from my flaccid cock. She stood up, a smile on her face, content. She pointed to the bed, and told me to lie down on it. I walked to the foot of the bed, the leash trailing behind me. I crawled up the bed and lied down on my back. I grimaced softly as my fiery ass touched the cool bed spread.

    Mistress Shari walked to the side of the bed and sat by my supine form. She grabbed the leash and disconnected it, dropping it on the floor by the bed. She pulled the gates of hell from my penis and dropped it on the floor as well. She rubbed my cheek, pulling back a wet hand.

    I watched as she lowered her head to take my penis in her mouth. I was surprised by the act, and sucked in a breath of pleasure. She played her tongue around my cock until I was firm and aroused. Still she sucked. Slowly she pulled me deeply into her mouth, and then lifting her head she allowed my penis to drift from the moist cavern of her mouth, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin.

    She repeated this act, listening to my moans. As I neared orgasm she stopped and pulled her mouth off my cock. She grabbed the base of my erection and squeezed, cutting off my impending orgasm. I moaned again, in frustration instead of pleasure. "No," I cried, a whimper, small, sounding almost lost.

    My eyes were peering into her face. She was smiling at my frustration, at the lazy circles my hips made.

    She reached down and began stroking my penis with her hand, pumping the hot flesh in strong jerks. She quickly brought me to the edge of orgasm again, and once again she stopped short. "Please," I moaned, "please." My voice was weak, child-like.

    "Can I fuck you with a strap-on?" She asked me, staring into my face, a strange grin on her lovely face.

    I hesitated, pondering her question.

    "Fine," she smiled, keeping her eyes locked on mine. She began pumping my erection in her hand again, fast, powerful strokes. The pleasure was distracting, and I closed my eyes to concentrate on it. I was nearing orgasm again, when suddenly the pleasure stopped.

    I opened my eyes to peer into Mistress Shari’s face. I opened my mouth, trying to find the words to express my desire, my frustration. "I…" I began, uncertain what to say. Before I could continue my sentence she began stroking my shaft again. Slowly this time, but just as arousing.

    Just before I ejaculated, my pleasure complete, she stopped again. I groaned loudly, sounds of frustration winding its way through the small room, bouncing off the walls.

    Her words startled me, snapping me from my world of frustrated pleasure. Her voice was soft, but the words were the same, "Can I fuck you with a strap-on?"

    "I…."

    "Fine."

    Once again she grabbed my erection and began her torturous stroking. She brought her face down to blow cool jets of air on my throbbing cock, teasing me with the added sensation. She rubbed me furiously, and again, just before I came she stopped. She sat staring at me for a couple of minutes, smiling at my twisting body, my moaning form. With a smile she once again grabbed my bouncing penis and stroked me to the brink of orgasm.

    "Can I fuck you…."

    I interrupted her this time, "Yes."

    She stopped her stroking, pleased with my answer. I lay there in frustration, my hips shaking, my cock bobbing. My arms were coated in a fine sheen of perspiration and my voice was raw from my groans. I could only watch with dread and desire as Mistress Shari rose from the bed to retrieve a menacing looking rubber phallus and accessories from the walk-in closet. She dropped her skirt to stand before me in her white blouse and black panties. She pulled on a harness and affixed the artificial penis to it, the blunt end rubbing against her panty covered mound. She dripped a generous amount of lubricant on the monster and then set the bottle aside. She approached the bed, the cock, larger than my own, leading her like a beacon in the dark.

    She crawled onto the bed at the foot end, snaking her body between my parted legs. She crept forward until the invader strapped to her hips nudged my balls. She grabbed my knees and pushed them up towards my head. She pressed the tip of the cock against my anus and pushed. The end slipped inside of me. Slowly, with care and patience she pushed forward until the entire length of the artificial penis was buried inside of me.

    She paused, watching my face wrinkle at the feeling of fullness, of discomfort, and of pleasure. The feeling that my body was undergoing danced across my face in an artistic wave. I groaned again as she pulled the phallus from my ass and plunged it in again. On the third stroke I ejaculated in a heated rush, spilling my semen over my chest and stomach. I was oblivious to the lovely woman thrusting the artificial cock in and out of my ass; I could only concentrate on the pleasure that coursed through my body as the thrusting continued.

    Mistress Shari pumped the cock in and out of my ass, receiving pleasure from the muted moans that escaped my slightly parted mouth, and from the look of distracted pleasure on my face. The flat end of the dildo pressed firmly against her panty encased pussy, rubbing her pleasurably with each forward thrust. She continued thrusting the penis deeply inside my ass, holding my legs widely in the air, until the pressure of the dildo on her snatch caused her to gasp as her own orgasm swept through her small framed body.

    She moaned in pleasure, the dildo fully buried in my ass. She shook slightly, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and rapid. She kept the dildo seated fully for a few moments, bringing her breathing under control. She opened her eyes to once again stare into mine. She smiled at my supplicant form, my legs still held wide, accepting. "See how easy that was?" she asked.

    "Yes, Mistress," I replied, looking at her in a warm, trusting way.

    Still smiling, she pulled the rubber penis from my ass. I felt empty when the end slipped past the ring of my anus, almost saddened by the fact. I watched as Mistress Shari walked into the master bathroom. I heard the sound of water running and after a few minutes she returned, the dildo and harness clutched in her hands. She looked at the alarm clock on the headboard. "Damn," she muttered noticing the time. "My husband and daughter will be home soon. I think you should clean up to go."

    "Yes, Mistress Shari," I nodded, getting up from the bed.

    Twenty minutes later, I thanked her kindly, and after kissing her tenderly on the forehead, I left her home, bounding down the stairs two at a time.

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