Alien Games (10 page)

“Not a bad rack for a whore, Jenna Walsh, but I think your
nipples should be harder. Start rubbing them!”

Hesitantly she lowered her arms and began delicately
massaging her nipples with her thumb and forefinger. This irritated him.

“That’s not how good whores do it, Jenna Walsh. Get your
fingers wet and rub harder. I want to see your nipples swollen and puckered,
and I want great big goose bumps right around your aureolae.”

To demonstrate he licked his own fingers and began rolling
one of Jenna’s nipples roughly backwards and forwards, she squealed at the
slippery pressure and tried to pull away without success. Bruce let go and
admired his handiwork—the nipple was certainly much more enlarged than it had
been.

“See what I mean? Now get them both big and hard or I’ll do
it myself.”

While he watched critically, Jenna set about massaging the
points of her breasts firmly. At first she licked her fingers, but it wasn’t
making them slippery quickly enough, so with a little look to make sure he
didn’t disapprove, Jenna cupped each breast in turn and raised it to her mouth.
By straining her neck downwards she was able to lick each nipple until both
breasts were wet and slippery with saliva.

“Good,” said Bruce approvingly. “You’re already acting more
like a whore. Now get rubbing, and rub hard, until I say stop!”

Under his stern eye Jenna rubbed, pulled and pinched at her
nipples until they were red, swollen and very tender.

“That’s enough,” he finally conceded. “But they have to stay
like that, so every time I say ‘nipples’ you’d better get rubbing. Understand
whore?”

“Yes, master.”

“Nipples!”

Bruce smiled at how quickly she complied, despite the
obvious discomfort it was causing her.

“A good whore is more than a good rack though, Jenna Walsh.
As the British would say, we’re interested in “tits “n bums”. Turn around and
let me see your arse.”

Obediently Jenna turned to stand with her back to him. Bruce
admired her curvaceous buttocks, split by the tiny thong of the bikini briefs.

“You’ve got all the equipment to be a good whore, but it
depends how you move it. Let me see you walk.”

Jenna set off down the beach at a brisk walk, but halted at
Bruce’s command.

“I’m not after the notorious ‘I’m Jenna Walsh and I’m the
greatest’ stride, I want you to walk like a whore! Sashay that arse, let me see
those hips sway.”

Jenna set off again, emphasizing the movement of her bottom
by wriggling her hips at the end of each stride. Bruce followed appreciatively,
admiring the way her fine derriere seemed to take on a swaying, shimmying life
of its own.

“Stop now!” he finally commanded. “I want to see what else
you’ve got.”

Jenna stood passively waiting for his next order.

“Nipples.”

She rubbed vigorously, whimpering a little at the renewed
pressure on her tender points.

“Now, put your hands behind your head, arch your back, legs
straight, stance a little wider, and bend at the waist.”

Jenna did so, aware that this displayed her buttocks to
Bruce’s maximum advantage. He was clearly happy with the view, because he sat
down in the sand and leaned on one elbow to enjoy it from a comfortable vantage
point. With her legs apart and her back arched, each buttock was a firm globe.
Between them, Jenna’s inviting cleft was just barely covered by the thin
strands of her g-string. From his vantage point on the sand Bruce could also
see between Jenna’s parted legs to where her swollen nipples and bared breasts
were pulled downwards by gravity into generous handfuls.

Bruce wasn’t in a hurry to release her, and Jenna was
finding the position harder and harder to hold. Bruce could tell this from the
way her body began to quiver a little and her shoulders to sag.

“Hold that position!” he commanded. She straightened up with
a small moan.

Bruce moved closer until he was at eye level with Jenna’s
vulnerable behind.

“Pull your thong to one side.”

She reached back with her right hand and fumblingly slid her
finger underneath the thong, drawing it sideways across her right buttock.
Bruce’s view was now completely unobstructed.

“Tell me how much you enjoy having me look at your arse,
Jenna Walsh.”

“I love having you look at my arse, Master. It’s yours to do
what you want with.”

“Very good. You are learning. Nipples!”

From his vantage point looking between her legs, Bruce could
enjoy the way Jenna once again was forced to massage the tender nubs, which
were now pointing deliciously downwards. They must have been more sensitive
than he realized, because he noticed her buttocks, and the delicate puckered
opening to her back passage, clenching in sympathy with the pain.

Very lightly Bruce placed one finger against her puckered
ring. He felt it contract under his finger, and Jenna flinched and gasped with
surprise.

“Hold still!” he ordered. Gently but firmly he massaged
around this opening, without actually inserting his finger. After a moment he
felt her begin to relax and press back against his digit.

It was then that he stopped. He wanted her aroused, but not
too aroused yet. He sat back on his haunches in the sand and gave her another
command.

“Let me see you play with your pussy, Jenna Walsh.”

Her right hand crept between her legs and she began to rub
her vulva in a circular motion with the flats of all four fingers. As she
rubbed, her fingers aroused the lips so that they began to part and open like
the petals of an exotic flower. The moistening caused by her rubbing lubricated
her fingers, and soon they were dipping in and out of her hot slit. Her middle
finger was particularly active, sliding up and down the tender furrow, circling
the clitoris, before returning to the other end and disappearing into her hot
shaft as far as the second joint.

Jenna was becoming increasingly aroused. She found it very
erotic to be at Bruce’s command, to reveal her most private places at his
order, for his enjoyment. The sensitive tips of her breasts were beginning to
feel more pleasure than pain. She breathed deeply and moaned softly as her
fingers moved with increasing rapidity. This was exactly what Bruce had been
waiting for.

“Stop!” he ordered.

With a small mew of frustration, Jenna stopped.

“Stand up and face me.”

She did, her bare breasts heaving, the tips engorged peaks.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So what does that make you?”

“A whore, Master.”

“Exactly, and now that we are agreed on that, grab hold of
your thong and pull it up between the lips of your pussy.”

Quickly Jenna obeyed, grasping the front of the garment and
pulling firmly, all the while wriggling her hips so that the thin cords became
deeply wedged between her aroused vaginal lips. Bruce smiled to see the thongs
magically appearing from between the moist folds that encompassed them. As a
final test, to ensure they were well wedged, he grasped the garment himself and
pulled it, making Jenna rise up onto her toes with a small squeal—one part pain
and two parts desire.

“Do you feel so important now, Jenna Walsh?”

“No Master!”

“Good. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl up to
those palm trees.”

Bruce walked behind her, admiring the beautiful woman who
was crawling up the sand at his command. Her bare breasts and buttocks swayed
deliciously with each crawl, and he enjoyed the way the tight thong alternately
appeared and disappeared between her moist cleft.

Jenna knew what he was looking at and she put as much effort
as she could into making her progress as erotic as possible. She arched her
back downward to make her buttocks more prominent, wriggling them as she went,
and making sure that her heavy breasts swayed rhythmically.

Finally they reached the shade of a small grove of palm
trees. Bruce didn’t seem surprised to find a rope hammock hanging between two
of them, and somewhere in the back of her mind Jenna wasn’t surprised either—
Given
that this is my fantasy
.

But fantasy felt more like reality, and Jenna turned her
attention back to what Bruce was doing. He had untied the hammock and was
unraveling it, until he had a number of long strands of rope neatly coiled at
his feet.

“Come and stand here,” he ordered.

Obediently Jenna did as she was told, remaining still while
Bruce deftly and expertly fastened long cords to her wrists and ankles. The
other ends of each cord he secured firmly to two well-spaced palm trees, so
that in very short time she was tightly spread-eagled between them.

“You look like Fay Wray in
King Kong
,” he remarked
with satisfaction. He stood back to admire her beautiful curves, smooth skin,
and straining muscles. Then he stepped up to her and with two swift, brutal
movements ripped the two parts of her bikini from her body. Jenna cried out as
the thin cords of each garment dug deeply into her soft flesh before tearing
free. She gazed at Bruce with wide eyes, both shocked and aroused by the
suddenness, and strength, of his action.

He was unrepentant. “Isn’t the beautiful Jenna Walsh used to
being on the receiving end? My apologies, I’d forgotten how you like to call
the tune. Let me see if I can help you sing a little.”

He picked up a shorter length of rope, doubled it in half,
and then doubled it again. Jenna eyed him nervously as he walked behind her.
She was too tightly bound to see exactly what he was doing, even by straining,
but she could make a good guess.

Her worst suspicions were confirmed when the loops of the
rope whistled through the air and connected with the sensitive skin of her
buttocks. She yelped loudly.

“That’s not what I want to hear,” corrected Bruce. “You need
to count for me, until we get to ten. But every time you cry out, I’m starting
the count back at zero. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Swish. The rope whistled through the air and met her bottom
with a solid thwack.

“One!”

Thwack!

“Two!”

Thwack

“Three…Four…Five…Owww!”

The sixth stroke had angled down her buttocks and one strand
had curled under, just a little, stinging her on the pussy.

“Wrong!” said Bruce. “Start back at one.” Cheerfully he
resumed his work, using sufficient force to make Jenna’s delectable body
writhe, and her muscles spasm, but not enough to cause real pain, or leave
enduring marks.

With a sob, Jenna went back to counting, determined this
time to focus on not missing a stroke. Finally the count of ten was reached,
and Bruce came around to stand in front of her.

A chastened Jenna looked up at him.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you Master.”

“And what are you?”

“I’m a whore, Master.”

“Very good! Nipples!”

Jenna started, and looked round wildly, as if someone else
would be miraculously standing there to free her hands so that she could obey
him. Bruce chuckled at her alarm.

“I don’t want to have to punish you for disobeying orders,
so I’ll try to help.” She tensed for the pain as his hands reached for her
delicate buds. But instead of gripping them forcefully, he cushioned each breast
with the gentlest of touches.

“They seem to me to be suffering from over-stimulation.
Perhaps I can alleviate their distress.” He lowered his head slowly so that the
warmth of his mouth pressed softly against each sensitive point in turn.

Jenna moaned at the pleasure of this gentle touch, the
quality of which was only enhanced by her expectation of moments earlier that
she was about to experience yet more pain. She lowered her head also and buried
her face in Bruce’s sandy hair, inhaling the sweet man-scent of him as his head
moved tenderly from one breast to the other. Finally he straightened up and
embraced her, drawing her tightly bound body against his. She tipped her head
back, questing for his mouth, and obligingly he lowered his head until their
lips met. But he broke off the kiss before she was ready to, and once more she
whimpered with frustration.

Bruce only smiled. “I do believe you’re serious about me,
Jenna Walsh. Which may or may not mean that this is the last time I’ll have you
as my whore. But in case I don’t get to repeat this, I’m not going to waste my
opportunity. If you beg nicely, I may consent to a little cunnilingus, which in
case you don’t know is an offer to eat you.”

Jenna ignored this mild sarcasm.

“Oh yes, please, Master. I am a whore, I want to stay your
whore. Please eat me like a whore!”

Needing no further invitation Bruce sank to his knees and
buried his face in her sweet snatch. She spread her thighs and arched her hips
against the restraints as hard as she could, so that he had greater access to
her pussy. He responded by pressing his closed mouth firmly against her
clitoris and rubbing his face from side to side, before opening his lips,
extending his tongue, and running it deeply between her dripping labia. For a
long time he knelt there, savoring every part of her pussy, probing every depth
and crevice with his tongue, while above him Jenna moaned and shook, pulling
desperately against her bonds in increasingly frantic attempts to press herself
more forcefully against his face. In a very short time she felt a climax
approaching and began thrusting her hips with increasing urgency.

Bruce again broke the contact, and this time Jenna almost
cried with disappointment.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled unrepentantly, as he climbed to
his feet. “But I’m in charge here, and you don’t come before your Master.”

As he said this, he took a pace back and, with Jenna
watching, stepped out of his bathing costume, liberating his massively erect
penis, its tip already moist with pre-cum.

“What do you think of this?” he asked, running his hand up
and down his shaft, then reaching under to stroke his swollen balls.