Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2012 01:38:08 +0000
From: tina foster <tinafosteruk@gmail.com>
Subject: Mistress Lash and the willing teen tv/teen authoiity

By Reading this, you acknowledge that it's intended for adults only, like
the rest of the work of tinafosteruk@gmail.com

If you're not old enough to read this, "why are you here?? Go away..."

To those who enjoy reading these, thank you for your attention. It's
appreciated.


It was about eleven thirty or so when the phone rang. Thankfully I heard
the phone and, not my Dad `coz it'd been Norman.

Now, let me tell you a little of Norman; retired after taking early
redundancy, he lived a very sexual life-style, behind the white-painted
façade of his nine-thirties built house, just off the junction that could
take you to town, if you turned right, at the roundabout. I recall he liked
fishing; and he was separated from his wife, when I'd known him. In his
fifties, he had scant hair, but a libido that could outdo many a younger
man. And, it had often and, to my knowledge, once a woman. Aye, he was a tv
Mistress. And, I think doing the curvaceous secretary type, with all those
curves and, holding her in bondage for hours, was just as a favour to a
friend. I think.

Although looking back, I can well imagine how he must've of looked so-good,
towering over her bound body, clad only in black heels, lipstick and
ball-gag and he used his whip, to lash her body, as he had been paid. In
scotch and coke, I believe.

Anyways, I met Norman through an ad on Craigslist and, liking what I saw
and, knowing he was local, I'd phoned. Well, there I'd been, in the home of
a proper old weirdo, who like to dress in allsorts, like rubber skirts and
suspenders and would dominate men, well people. And, once I met one of his
customers, erm... clients. I'd liked him. Hell, I'd liked the way he knelt
before me, in this blue pvc number, with lots of frillies on show, kneeling
there between my legs with those red lip-stick painted lips, around my
throbbing, hard erection, all ready to pop. And, all the time, I'd been
talking with Norman, who I could see in the kitchen from where I'd sat, as
he poured himself another drink.

Aye, Norman had a drinking problem. But boy was he a good fuck. Sheesh, am
getting ahead of myself again. I'd phoned and, we'd arranged to meet at a
pub near Tranmere Rovers football club and, near where he lived, he told
me, watching as I'd finished a second whiskey.

"You can have another at mine," he'd told me, then placed his right hand
meaningfully on the back of my left hand. And, he'd smile.

And, in less than ten minutes, we'd walked to his, where his open the white
gate with the ships sterring wheel at its centre and, we'd passed down the
path toward the front door. He'd opened the door and, ushered me inside,
into a whole `nother world.

Oh don't get me wrong, I'm no virgin. I've known a few. And, I'd been
known, in the biblical sense, by quite a few. The thing is, I'm adaptable;
that much I know.

I'd followed Norman through the hall, the stairs to the right, the front
room to the immediate left. We'd gone in the kitchen and, looking at one
another, we had drunk some more. It was obvious where it was going and,
when he'd taken me through to the back room and shown to the couch, I'd
thought it'd been happening there and then. I'd been so-wrong. You see,
he'd sat me there and, kissing me briefly the fellow had stood and, made
his way to the system before us. Swear down, it was massive and could do
everything; but what he had it do was play porn and, some good porn at
that: two big brawny black guy's, just slamming it into a white wimp, in a
locker room, the steam parting to reveal a black white, watching, his eyes
wide, his hand busy.

And, I'd continued to watch, as Norman stepped into view; well, his legs
did, encased in stocking and with high-heels on his feet.

"You coming upstairs?" He had asked and, I had stood, my left hand slid
straight up his short red pvc skirt. He was hard, and the piercing that
he'd mentioned, was evident to my touch. I'd wanted to know more. But,
Norman had slapped my hand away, teasingly, "Upstairs."

He had led the way, my hand in his... well hers, as Norman led me upstairs
and I'll swear down, I'd been entranced by those nylon-encased legs as I
followed that swaying arse in red.

And, I'd been led inside a bed with a wardrobe at the end, which were all
mirrors. Norman had kissed me, with eager tongue, undressing me hurriedly.

Then kneeling before me, I'd been given the blow-job to end all, before I
was led to the middle of the bed by my hard self; and it had hurt, though
I'd liked it; and I'd been lain face down, then tied, to all four corner of
the bed.

And, even hard, I had panicked a little, as I watched my tv Mistress open
one of the wardrobe doors and bring out some that was black and had several
tales and, it was a black leather cat-of-nine-tails... destined for my
body; and I'd been aroused as hell.

He'd laid into me good-style, for several minutes, then sighing, he'd sat
on the bed, to my right.

Running well-lubed fingers over my buttocks, I'd eased my hole open, then
produced a second toy, a large black shiny monster of a cock, replete with
balls, to matching, all moulded as if from a giant. And, I realised quickly
what he'd intended, as he hissed, "Do you want some poppers first?"

"Yes please... Mistress," I'd answered, leaking pre-cum on his old-style
quilt --top bedspread-thing. And, from a locker by the bed head he produced
the small brown bottle, taking the top of and, presenting it to my nose,
for me to inhale. And, as I'd held my breath, to increase the buzz, Norman
had calmly screwed the top back on the bottle, then picked up that black
monster once again.

And yes, with quite some initial pain, I'd taken it; although I had worried
at first that he'd done me some damage. Yet, when he had finished and
undone my bonds, Norman had then taken me in his arms, to comfort me,
unaware that I was still hard.

He'd stroked my hair tenderly and, saying things like, "You'll be good for
Mistress? Won't you?" And then, something went, in me; just as I'd been
caressing his nylon-clad thigh.

I'd whirled him, onto the bed, face down, the lower part of my right arm
pressed against the back of of this slut's body. Is how I'd thought.

I'd slid my hand up the back of that short skirt, pushing it high and, over
those shaven kinda flabby, buttocks, that waited to be... slapped. So, I
had slapped them, again and again, turning the flesh red, to match the
panties, that I wrenched apart.

I had positioned myself, so that I lay between those stocking-clad legs,
then just eased myself into Norman willing ass-pussy, `coz boy, had it felt
as good as any hot cunt I've ever had.

I'd pounded away for quite awhile, getting quite a sweat up, as I pistoned
in and out of the cunt's hole, enjoying having tuned this dome into a sub.

 And, for a year or so, whenever I wanted good hard raunchy sex, Norman was
there. Then, one day the estranged wife was back and, boy had been a
strange meeting. So I'd just walked down the path and out the closed the
gate with the ships steering wheel onnit.

Then, just before, the phone had rung: "Do come over," he'd slurred, "I've
got some good Charlie and... I'll do anything you want... anything."

Now, `anything' did sound good. But, what about the wife? Was she gone? Was
she just away awhile? Pass. But, he had said `anything' and, I do have an
active imagination, or so I've been told.

"You pay for a taxi Norman for me, if you want it as much as that..." I'd
teased and, I'll swear down, I could picture his disappointment over the
phone.

Finally after a long pause, he'd said, "Yes."

"And back...?" I'd been pushing and knew it. But, why not?

"Yes," he conceded. "I'll get a taxi sent round.

And, that's what happened. Now? Well, I'm waiting for the taxi's light to
be seen through the drapes. After all, he can't use hishorn at this time of
night, now can he?