Chloe's Contract

  Title Page

  CHLOE’S CONTRACT

  By

  David James

  Publisher Information

  Chloe’s Contract first published in 2010 by Chimera Books Ltd. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

  Digital Edition Converted and Published by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  New authors are always welcome, or if you’re already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

  This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright David James. The right of David James to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Introduction

  This is the first of a series of books centred on The Abbey, a private centre for regendering and the personal study and practice of all aspects of sex and sexual behaviour. The books are not sequential so incidents in Chloe’s Contract are likely to appear in other books - but from another perspective. The objective is to examine the whole range of the complex world of sexual reality, psychology and fantasy through a series of novels that remain, I hope, intensely erotic.

  DJ

  Chapter One

  Excitement and terror in equal measure contributed to his shivering tension as he felt the lubricated nose of the phallus press against his anus. She had welcomed him to an apartment that seemed to take up the whole of the top floor of a converted warehouse, not as a stranger but warmly, and not knowing what to expect he enjoyed her light kiss on his cheek and the touch of her hand between his legs.

  She was dressed much as he had imagined she would be. He was transfixed by the leather, four inch heeled boots rising almost to her thighs, the sheer black stockings that strained the suspenders of her snugly fitting basque, tight laced around her waist and pushing up her breasts that were, even without its support, obviously beautifully full and rounded. Her raven-black hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders and the deep red of her lips and the dark eye-shadow with the thick leather collar around her neck provided every indication that she was indeed, in both awe and beauty, the Mistress of his dreams.

  At forty-five years old, it had taken him years to pluck up the courage to ring a mobile telephone number that appeared in the adult section of his local paper, and he was understandably nervous. Beautiful tall and commanding lady prepared to take on suitable trainees, followed by an 07 telephone number. She was charming on the phone and he was immediately attracted by the soft, slightly husky voice that betrayed a southern European origin.

  ‘Will this be your first visit to a Mistress?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘And you realise that you will be required to provide a Tribute?’

  ‘Of course, Mistress.’

  ‘You do realise that your training will be very strict. Some new candidates take some time to understand their role. It may be necessary to treat you harshly.’

  There was an immediate physical response from his cock and his voice shook slightly as he replied. ‘I do.’

  ‘I do, Mistress,’ she demanded. She had hardly raised her voice but the sharp threat of punishment was clearly indicated in her tone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mistress,’ he said quickly.

  ‘That’s better.’ Her voice softened. ‘I think you should come suitably dressed for this important occasion.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Mistress.’

  ‘Do you have suspenders, stockings and knickers? French knickers, not panties.’

  Although he would not have described himself as a transvestite or homosexual, he had always taken pleasure in dressing up in women’s underwear and had a collection of sexy suspender belts, stockings, panties and even corsets and shoes. ‘I do, Mistress.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  She gave him the address and time he should arrive.

  He had wanted to be controlled and, he had to admit, abused by women for as long as he could remember. He knew instinctively he had been moving towards this moment for many years. Now he had finally taken what was to become an irrevocable step, he was going to leave nothing to chance. For this, his very first time in the real world of Mistress and submissive, he had taken out his favourite black, shiny plastic corselet that had three suspenders for each stocking, and a series of straps, had he breasts, would have framed them. He had dressed carefully for this special occasion - silk seamed stockings, the corselet itself and the black thong panties that matched. He knew the panties could not in any sense be described as French knickers, but he enjoyed the way his cock and balls nestled comfortably in the pouch, and almost wanted her to be angry with him. Over this outfit he wore his normal clothes, and carried his high-heeled shoes in an opaque plastic bag. The whisper of his trousers as they brushed against his silk clad thighs as he walked to the address he’d been given heightened his excitement.

  As she began to caress him he hardened quickly and naturally made no objection to the unzipping of his fly, and the cool, expert entrance of her hand into the pouch of the thong. She levered the tight elastic waistband down and freed his cock and balls.

  Her first words, bitingly sharp, were, ‘Take these off and throw them away. You might like it but I don’t and you are here to please me. Come with me.’

  She led him to a darkened room with long mirrors on two adjacent walls, and hung with numerous stomach churning paddles, straps, canes, and belts and collars on racks. There were hooks in the ceiling and various stools and chairs on the floor. She left, saying, ‘Get changed now. I will return in a few minutes.’

  He undressed and took off the panties, allowing his cock, stiff and hard, to spring free. He put on his black patent leather high-heeled shoes, carefully tightening the straps and ensuring that the ends went neatly through the buckles.

  He stood up and looked at himself in the mirrors, both from the front and from the sides. He had good slim legs, which looked even better in the four-inch heels.

  She returned. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  She walked around him, examining him from every angle. ‘You look very good,’ she admitted, ‘but you are just a slut.’

  He nodded in agreement.

  ‘When did you last masturbate?’

  He felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and whispered, ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Then you are a dirty slut.’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Answer properly, slut.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘You should have got it right first time. You will have to be punished.’

  ‘If it pleases you, Mistress.’

  ‘Oh, it does, it certainly does.’

  She reached into a drawer and took out a single black stocking. Taking his aching cock and scrotum in her cool hands she expertly knotted the stocking agonisingly tightly around his balls, and with a single movement dragged him to his knees, passing one end through a concealed ring in
the floor and tying it tightly. He could keep his back straight, but only just. He certainly could not get up. She moved what looked like a low, sloping jumping horse without the handles and forced his torso along it. As she slid the stool underneath him his pelvis was raised so that the sack of his balls was stretched, trapping his balls frighteningly tight.

  She moved his arms down along the legs at the far end and secured his wrists close to the floor with straps. Then she secured his thighs to the legs at the other end. He was helpless, but despite the pain from his stretched balls his cock remained rigid, hanging heavily beneath the stool, and he could feel the blood pumping through it.

  She knelt down beside him and, almost tenderly, caressed his trapped balls. ‘Is this the sort of treatment you had expected?’

  He nodded. She squeezed and he gasped. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘That’s better.’

  She stood at the end of the stool so that by raising his head he could see her smooth, milky flesh between the tops of her stockings and the basque. She turned, drew aside the thin strip of the thong that parted the cheeks of the rounded globes of her bottom and sat astride a chair, with the chair-back facing away from him so that she could comfortably hold the dark ring of her anus against his mouth. She moved slightly lower. He wanted to lick her there.

  ‘Clean me.’

  It did not seem possible for his cock to swell further, but he felt a surge between his legs as his tongue began to lick along the crack she offered him. She twisted slightly. ‘Not just the outside. Get that tongue of yours inside too.’

  He desperately strained towards her so that he pushed into her secret and forbidden orifice. He pressed the tip of his tongue against the softness within the tight muscular ring, and suddenly she relaxed her sphincter and he felt it slip in - just a little way but enough to taste the sour sweetness of her. But all too soon she allowed the ring of her anus to contract and he was forced out to finish sucking and cleaning the crack with its delicious centre of forbidden fruit.

  She rose and began to fit a leather harness around her waist, that buckled neatly and firmly between her legs. Into the metal ring that fitted snugly against the smooth mound beneath her thong she slipped the phallus. His eyes widened. It was too big - he knew it was much too big. Nine inches long and broad in proportion he feared it would tear him open.

  Of course he had experimented with a variety of small, suitably shaped implements, and his doctor had occasionally inserted a probing finger to check for swelling during his regular physical check-ups, but otherwise he was a virgin - an incredible thought and one that appealed to him.

  He was to suck her first; cover the phallus with saliva to provide a suitable lubricant. She pushed it against his mouth, which he opened gratefully, pleased to be doing what she wanted. He had almost forgotten the pain of his stretched balls and he sucked hard, licking the phallus, wetting it. She forced herself deeper.

  ‘Now you have some idea what men expect women to put up with.’ She laughed, pressing deeper into him. He gagged, but was surprised to find that he could take virtually all of it into his mouth and down his throat, so that his lips were against the firm pink plastic of the phallus’s balls.

  She drew the plastic column out slowly, and he tried to hold on to it. He did not know why he found it so satisfying but there was no doubt he did. He wanted to suck it, lick and hold it between his stretched lips, feel the solidity of it filling his mouth.

  She moved beside him and lifted his torso from the stool. A chain appeared and she deftly pinched a clip to his right nipple. He yelped with pain. His experiments with clothes pegs and the like had not prepared him for such a level of agony.

  ‘These usually have little pads inserted just behind the teeth, acting as cushions so that they don’t bite too deeply,’ she explained. ‘But I take them out.’

  She passed the chain underneath the stool and clipped the other end to his left nipple. He screamed. He instinctively knew he should not have done so, but couldn’t help it.

  ‘I expect you to suffer for me in silence. You must be punished. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress.’

  She told him she was pleased that he understood how he should behave, but punishment was still necessary. Just then the phone rang, and without saying anything more she left the room to answer it.

  He waited patiently. He could hear murmurs of her conversation, but she seemed to be in no hurry. He became increasingly conscious of the agony of his three points of pain. If he raised his torso slightly the tear-wrenching grip of the tiny metal teeth at his nipples was slightly lessened, but the drag on his balls made it impossible to hold the position for very long. And as he collapsed the clips bit further into the tender nipples as they were crushed between his front and the stool. His cock stayed achingly hard, rigid and throbbing, and he began to feel a deep-seated ache in his balls and wanted to thrust his pelvis as his spunk rose, but any movement increased the agony.

  At last she returned and he heard her lift something off one of the racks on the wall. She did not speak, but he heard the hiss of the cane as is descended and cut deep into the flesh of his bottom. He screamed.

  ‘I thought I explained you must suffer in silence. I will continue to cane you until you can take three strokes in succession without making a sound.’

  The cane cut through the air again, and by biting his lip he managed to stay silent. Then again.

  ‘Good girl. You obviously have considerable capacity for enjoying pain. And as it is a pleasure for you, I will be pleased to give you another stroke.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.’

  The agony was beyond anything he had ever experienced, but he wanted to please her. She moved around to the front of the stool so he could see her again, and rubbed the phallus gently against his lips.

  ‘Now we will see what you are made of. Are you ready for this, little slut?’

  ‘Please, Mistress.’

  She moved behind him and gently parted the globes of his bottom, pulling them apart so the tightly closed hole was fully exposed. She lubricated the phallus and pressed the tip against his anus, watching the hole spread as she increased the pressure. Suddenly he felt the phallus come to life as she switched on its vibrator. She moved her hips forward and the length began to force the ring of muscle open. He remembered its size and girth and almost panicked. But suddenly he knew instinctively that she would not ask any more of him than he was capable of giving. She had not offered a safeword. She had accepted his worship of her, because he trusted her.

  The pressure on his sphincter increased. He felt the muscle of his anus grudgingly expand as the knob of the phallus pressed. His anal orifice stretched agonisingly, then suddenly and surprisingly smoothly he felt the phallus slide into his secret tunnel. He was being deflowered. He was still locked between the pinching agony of his nipples and the unbelievable pressure on his balls because of his stretched scrotal sac, but the pain began to fade as he realised his cock was bursting. He could sense the warmth of pre-cum as Mistress Amanda began to sink the phallus deeper inside him, sliding it back so that its tip just allowed his sphincter muscles to contract before thrusting again, hard and long and deep inside him.

  As far as he was able he raised his bottom up and back towards her as she ploughed the phallus back and forth, in and out of his tunnel of pain and pleasure. Then he could feel the rim of the metal ring of her harness slamming against his anus and the fat solidity of the phallus’s hard testicles colliding with his balls, stretched beneath him.

  He wanted her to enjoy him, and through the deep red veil of pain and pleasure he wondered how she could get satisfaction from the thrust of a prosthesis. He could feel her fingers digging into his hips, and then her long nails raking his sides. Perhaps the pain she was giving him was her pleasure. But his cock stayed rigid, its thickness and swelling adding t
o the pressure on his balls as Mistress Amanda forced the phallus deep inside him.

  For a moment he began to think the pain was fading, and then understood he was mentally separating from his body and was seeing himself detached - as if viewing his torture from a distance. He watched as his physical self was ravaged, and a warm glow of contentment he had never before experienced surrounded and enveloped him in a wrap of deep and extraordinary pleasure, before he was wrenched agonisingly back to reality as his Mistress slowed her thrusts and reached underneath him to tightly grip his cock.

  She did not need to do anything more. He felt the white hot sperm well up from deep inside his pressurised balls and course along the tightly stretched passages of his urethra to pump into her hand, and she released him, exploding his thick and sticky cream onto the floor beneath. He collapsed, almost passing out from the intense waves of deep-seated exertion, pain and pleasure that flowed through his body, ending in a series of incredible thrusts as the last drop of sperm jetted from him.

  She lay on him and he could feel the swell of her breasts for a moment, naked against his back. It was a reward, he realised.

  But he knew he should not have allowed himself to come, and knew he should have waited for permission. ‘I’m sorry, Mistress.’

  ‘So you should be,’ she said. ‘But I will be generous, as this is your first time. Next time you will have to clean your filthy spunk from the floor, but for now my hand needs cleaning. Open your eyes.’

  As he did so he saw his viscous seed covering her palm and the back of her hand. He began to lick, tentatively at first and then, realising that this was something she really wanted, joyfully and with genuine pleasure. She twisted and turned her wrist, spreading and bending her fingers so he could reach into every crease and joint.

  Then with several tissues she quickly wiped up the sperm from the floor and stuffed the wad into his mouth, before releasing his wrists from the stool and quickly pulling his arms behind his back, locking them together so he remained trapped. She unclipped his right nipple, the relief almost as agonising as when it was first attached, and he screamed. So she lifted the cane and struck him hard across the tender area at the top of his thighs. He screamed again so she repeated the stroke, and this time he bunched up in agony but made no sound.