Helen.Discovers.Boredom

Archive-name: Helen.Discovers.Boredom

From: jfriday@ada.stat.uga.edu (Paul Stacy)

Subject: ARCHIVE: Helen Discovers Boredom

Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.boredom

The previous poster of this apparently couldn't post it to alt.sex.boredom but I will now. I don't remember the story, so I can't say what happens in it.

Path: athena.cs.uga.edu!emory!swrinde!sdd.hp.com!think.com!minta- ka!silver!zonker From: zonker@silver.lcs.mit.edu ( Regis ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage Subject: Mistress Mutant Story #24 Summary: My machine won't post to alt.sex.boredom! Message-ID: <1991Jun1.042248.14379@mintaka.lcs.mit.edu> Date: 1 Jun 91 04:22:48 GMT Sender: news@mintaka.lcs.mit.edu Organization: fire and lighting

Auntie Zonker Presents:

by Mistress Toots Mutant

Helen was a cute young slave, and I had found her phone number on the wall of the Mistress' bathroom at my local Sex Club. The number came with a great testimonial as to her sluttish abili- ties, so I took it down and decided to call her later.

Later, I called her. She had a lush voice that resonated in the telephone. Hearing her voice made me want to pipe it through a $30,000 audiophile sound system to hear it with the midrange frequencies attenuated and amplified. I explained who I was and what I wanted, without telling her yet the precise plans I had for her. That could wait until I had her filthy white slut cunt within my grasp.

Helen came to my house that night and I had things all prepared. The large screen color television was ready and waiting in it's custom studded leather cabinet (simulated wood grain being too vanilla for my dungeon of Boredom). Beside it were several dildos (6.44445 inches, 9.31415926 inches, and 13.2315 inches in length) and a vibrating ass plug. The ass plug had a displace- ment volume of precisely eight cubic centimetres, and could operate up to a temperature of 120 degrees (F) in case my slave started to run a fever. The plug was also equipped with 1.5 volt AA Duracell batteries in a remote case wired to the ass plug with #20 AWG two conductor wire so it could keep going all night if need be (since these scenes just keep going and going and going).

The doorbell rang.

I answered it.

Helen came into my house.

She was wearing a neon orange shirt and neon green shorts that were appropriate for the weather, since it was 85 degrees during the day, but had fallen to 70 degrees by the time she arrived at my house. After she came into the house, I instructed her to strip off her short and panties. Under her shirt she was wearing a neon green bra (size 37D, just right to show off her lovely white slut slave tits that hung off her body like ripe watermel- ons) and under her shorts she was wearing neon orange panties that were cut high on her hip to show off her lovely hips and the crotch was thin so her lovely blonde pubic hair snuck around the edges.

"Very nice, my little slut. You *are* my little slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Mutant. I am your totally willing slave slut. Anything you say is my most sincere desire, Ma'am. I am you utter devoted slave with no will of my own, Ma'am," she cooed.

"Lie down on the Laz-E-Boy recliner there." I indicated the Laz- E-Boy recliner that was situated across the room from the televi- sion. It was in the extended position, elongated, waiting for her body to cover it's tacky upholstery job. Helen lay herself along it's extended body and waited for me to bind her to the tacky polyester covering.

I bound her to the tacky polyester covering and then stood and stretched. "Well, now my dear little slave. you are now mine to do with as I will. and do you know what I have in store for you?"

"No Ma'am, Mistress Mutant. I sincerely desire to know, Ma'am and I am sure you will tell me when you feel I should know this."

"I'm going to bore you, little slut." I could see the fear in her eyes grow as I told her that. The sight of her fear sent waves of pleasure through my genitals that were throbbing and pulsating and anticipated the soon-but-not-*too*-soon arriving orgasm with the eager anticipation of a reader who is eagerly anticipating the end of a run-on sentence, yet dreading the actual end of the sentence and most likely the paragraph because it would mean the end of the slow protracted agonizing and yet ultimately pleasurable ordeal.

Last modified (10/09/96 12:14:41) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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