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From: "Louis Nessus" <nessus29@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Nessus RP:Wicked Game7 (FD Mast CB Magic)
Date: Fri,  5 Jan 2001 01:10:07 -0500
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This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or 
whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy 
scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, 
or if you will be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read 
no further - delete the file.  Otherwise ....enjoy!


The Wicked Game Chronicles:
Book 1.
The Devil and Mr Brownlow.
(Part 7.)

by Nessus

FemDom Mast Humil CB Magic


I never knew there were so many beautiful sexy women in New York City. 
Everywhere I went, the sight of beautiful women in short skirts and nylon 
covered legs caused my cock to ache in my chastity belt.

After a uncomfortable night, I had managed to get to the office and sipped a 
steaming black coffee at my desk. A blonde woman dressed in a black business 
suit and black nylons appeared next to my desk. She had a wide perfect 
smile, her long red hair touching her shoulders and the whiteness of her 
fair skin accentuated by the black of her business dress. I couldn't resist 
slyly examining her legs and my cock twinged.

"Hi," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Sandra Wallace, the project leader. 
Welcome aboard."

"Thank you. It's very nice to meet you."

"Oh, English," she smiled. "You know, you look a little like Hugh Grant."

"Some people do say that." Unfortunately, I thought, I can't avail myself of 
the pleasures that he did whilst visiting the United States. Perhaps, he's 
had a chastity belt installed as well after his divine madness.

"We have a work space on the seventeenth and our preliminary meeting is in 
half an hour. Bring your things." With that, she swept away and I busied 
myself packing my few belongings into a cardboard box.

The elevator was full of sweet smelling exciting women and my poor cock 
groaned all the way to the seventeenth level. I found the work space and 
immediately found myself surrounded by Sandra and two other women I took to 
be Thelma and Rebecca. After the initial greetings we sat around a small 
table, drinking coffee.

"Ok," Sandra announced. "First things first. As you have probably heard, Tom 
has quit the company."

"Caught himself a job at you know who." Thelma volunteered. I must have 
looked blank. "Our competitor." She explained. "We're not supposed to 
mention their name." She winked.

"Oh, I see," I said, conscious of the mixture of perfume that was 
circulating around me and of the three sets of legs in short skirts and 
nylon. My cock ached.

"Yeah, he's gone," Sandra continued. "So we are it. Christopher, you get to 
be our token male." She smiled, the other two giggled and I smiled weakly at 
them. "No more resources so we have to get on with. Let's get started."

At the conclusion of the day, I begged off their invitation to join them for 
a drink and rushed home, hoping the mobile phone would ring. I desperately 
ached for relief but I spent the night in restless solitude.

I spent the weekend aimlessly wandering the city, clutching the mobile phone 
and hoping for a call that never came. At night, I tossed and turned in 
frustration. The mere sight of female legs in nylon, a glimpse of cleavage 
or a tight ass in jeans made my cock surge into painful constriction within 
the chastity device. What's more, my groin was incredibly itchy as the 
public hair started to return.

Monday was agony and the three women unconsciously drove me to the edge of 
insanity with the sound of their legs crossing and uncrossing, their perfume 
and their touch. When I entered my apartment that night, I was on the verge 
of sobbing with frustration.

I sat slumped on the sofa staring at a blank television screen when the 
mobile phone chimed. Leaping up, I fumbled with it and held it to my ear 
with a trembling hand. "Hello?"

"Be upstairs in ten minutes. You know the rules." Click.

I scrambled for the key and rushed upstairs to the apartment. Once inside, I 
stripped my clothes off, prepared the champagne and wandered 
self-consciously through the apartment until I heard the key in the lock.

Ms Duivel was dressed in a black jacket and skirt, black hose and a pale 
green blouse. Her blonde hair was hanging free and a glittering gold chain 
glimmered around her neck.  Silently, I handed her a bubbling glass of 
champagne. Her hard eyes examined me over the rim of the glass as she sipped 
and, then, walked into the bedroom.

I waited until I heard her voice. "Come here, Christopher." She was naked 
except for her black lace bra, black lace garter belt and sheer black 
stockings, her pussy exposed as she calmly lay on the bed, her head propped 
up on pillows and her legs spread. A sip of champagne and then she placed 
the glass down, a cold smile on her lovely face as my cock squirmed 
fruitlessly. "You know what to do," she said firmly. "It shouldn't take 
long, kid. I'm like a firecracker from some other fun I've been having."

She was right. I bent to my task, my tongue performing tirelessly while my 
squashed cock strained and ached. Her juices were slick on my face as I 
finally rocked back on my heels after she had released my head from the grip 
of her thighs as her orgasm passed.

Ms Duivel sensuously smiled down at me. "Not bad, kid. You're getting 
better. Does it still hurt?"

I nodded. "Please, Ms Duivel," I pleaded softly. She knew I wanted the 
chastity device removed.

"No," she said calmly, reaching draining her champagne glass.

My eyes pricked with tears. "Please," I begged. "I need relief. Please."

She shook her head. "Not until the project's over, kid. Now, get me some 
champagne."

Mentally numb with a pain filled cock, I slowly walked to the kitchen where 
I filled her glass. Ms Duivel was getting dressed when I returned and I 
watched her full breasts wobble in her bra as she bent to pull her black 
lace panties on.

"You know," she said conversationally. "The clitoris is the only organ whose 
one function is sexual pleasure? We girls are the sensual and sexual 
machines, aren't we."

I couldn't tear myself way from watching her dress and I know she knew that 
as she took her time straightening her stockings, adjusting her skirt and 
blouse. Finally, she stood dressed except for her heels. "Put them on," she 
said, gesturing at the shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed. I knelt and 
slipped her shiny black heels on her nylon covered feet, my hands shaking as 
my fingers touched her warm flesh and nylon. My cock throbbed and my groin 
itched.

Ms Duivel stood and smiled down at me. "A deal's a deal," she said. "Unless, 
you want out?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she tucked her handbag under 
arm. I thought about it, I must admit, for an instant. The idea of being 
able to jerk off tantalised me but I knew the moment I had cum I would 
regret my decision in my quest for the thirty-seventh floor.

"Time for me to raise the ante. Here," she said, tossing an envelope on the 
bed. "Look at that before you decide. If you call the deal off, maybe I 
should post them on the web?" She walked to the door. "Look at them and try 
to remember what it felt like." Laughing loudly, she walked out of the 
bedroom and out of the apartment.

Scrambling to my feet, I ripped open the envelope and four photographs fell 
out. To my horror, they were photographs of me at the beauty salon when I 
was urgently jerking off. The camera, hidden as it was, must have been 
behind Anita and Lucy Duivel and showed me in explicit detail. In one 
photograph, I appeared to be looking directly at the camera as cum spurted 
from my cock.

Anita's words came back to haunt me, `She's really got you now, man.' She 
had known the camera was there!

Sinking to my knees in desolation, I realised Ms Duivel had, indeed, raised 
the ante.  Prompted by my greed, I had put myself in her control but now, my 
stupidity had propelled me further into her clutches.

I glared down at the silver metal gripping my genitals and a lone salty tear 
ran down my nose.
End Part 7.


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