A Bit Of Dessert

Despite the rules to the contrary, Pamela could not stop herself from looking up into the man’s face.

“Now, now, now,” the man, whom she knew only as ‘The Baron’, said, wagging his finger like a metronome, “You know better than that.”

Pamela dropped her head in shame, her long dark hair hanging around her face like curtains. As the man walked closer, she mentally chided herself for her lack of discipline.

“I was sitting in the library this afternoon when you were sweeping the main hall,” he commented, referring to the smallish, book-lined room on the first floor. His English grammar was impeccable, as was his vocabulary. Yet, if one were to listen closely, very closely, one could discern the hint, just the merest suggestion, of an accent.

By now, he was standing directly in front of her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Keeping her eyes diverted from his face as the rules of the Chateau required, she focused her gaze on his waist. Well, on his waist and groin, actually. His fingers were busy unbuckling his belt. He had on a gleaming white long-sleeve shirt, opened at the collar with a red ascot around his neck and tucked into the shirt. His immaculate gray slacks were probably from Savile Row. Unbuttoning the top of his fly, he slid down the tab of his zipper. The metal-on-metal sound seemed deafening to Pamela, who found that she was holding her breath in anticipation.

With one quick, fluid motion, the man shoved his trousers down to mid-thigh and gravity did the rest. His white boxers joined the pants, puddled up around his ankles.

Pamela did not have to wait to be told what to do. She opened her mouth wide, ready for the semi-hard cock. As soon as the fleshy spear was laid upon her tongue, she closed her lips around the shaft and started to move her head back and forth. Milking it with her mouth.

As she sucked on it, the penis swelled and grew. Increasing in both length and width until her mouth was filled with stiff man-meat. The Baron grabbed hold of the upper section of pipe with both hands, while the imprisoned woman fellated him.

It did not take long before the man was rocking back and forth on his heels, his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, and a smile of contentment on his face. Opening his eyes, he smiled down at the woman sucking him off.

“I had almost forgotten how good your mouth feels.”

A blowjob is more than just a willing mouth. In involves the hands. The fingers and palms. Stroking, squeezing, cupping, and caressing. Pamela was unable to do any of those things. Added to that, the two lengths of pipe, one on the back of her head, the other under her throat, severely limited her freedom of movement. Only by craning her neck was she able to move her head back and forth a few inches. If she leaned too far forward, the pipe under her throat choked her. Several times, she had to cough and gag from that pipe pressing against her larynx. Only by twisting her head to the side was she able to remove her mouth from the cock she was servicing. If the Baron chose to press all the way, his hands gripping the upper pipe, she could not even do that, as he would be pinning her head back against that pipe.

Adding to all of that was the uncomfortable position she was in. All throughout the knob slobbing, she was constantly shifting her feet and raising and lowering her rump, trying to find a tolerable stance. The small of her back was starting to ache and her nylon-clad legs were shaking from the strain.

Of course, the Baron was delighted by the way the forty-six-year-old dark-haired woman was retrained. It was easy to thrust his hard dick completely down her throat and leave it there for however long he desired. Several times, as her eyes teared, she made loud, desperate, guttural groans and stamped her feet as her lungs were aflame from the lack of oxygen.

As their “dance” continued, Pamela drooled more and more saliva down his shaft. His pubic hair and balls were coated with her with and gooey spit.

And then his orgasm started to peak. Gripping the pipe even tighter, so tight that his knuckles became white, he slammed his hips into her face. Humping into her mouth like a rabbit in heat. His jabs were so vicious that even the piping protested with a squeaking noise. She rolled her brown eyes upward, a look of fear in them as the man pummelled her face.

The basement was filled with the strange, almost inhuman gurgling sounds she was making. An attraction that giving head had for her was the sense of power it bestowed on her. Here, she was totally powerless. The Baron had complete control over her and her mouth was nothing more than a receptacle for his sperm.

“Arrrgh!” he cried out as his ejaculation started. With his head thrown back, the sinews of his neck stood out as he gritted his teeth. “Ughn. Ughn. Ughn,” he repeated as each shot burst forth and he tried to shove himself even deeper into her throat. Which was not possible since his spit-coated balls were already nestled against her chin.

When at last he had finished emptying his heavy load down Pamela’s throat, he slowly released his grip on the pipe and staggered back a step or two.

“Whew,” he sighed, stepping further back and pulling his pants and boxers up. “I will send a valet down to release you.”

Pamela nodded weakly, her head hanging down, spittle dangling from her lips. Her whole body was shuddering, spasming as she struggled to catch her breath. Only vaguely was she aware that her pussy, neglected and ignored through all of this, was soaking wet. Her juices glazed the insides of her trembling thighs.