Life Begins Again (at 52)

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Note 1: This is a work of complete fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Note 2: All sexual acts described in this story are consensual, and all participants are aged eighteen or over.

Note 3: Both complimentary comments and constructive criticisms are welcomed.

Note 4: I am indebted to Simon(e), a sissy acquaintance, whom I recently met up with again after many years, for suggesting the gist of this tale.


It was a cold December evening, and I was expecting to be summoned. So I was sitting beside the telephone, wearing my collar, black hold-up stockings and a pair of five inch heels. Nothing else. My hair was plaited into a long pony tail, just as Master James liked it, and I had painted my full lips with scarlet lip gloss. The long winter coat, which reached down almost to my ankles was draped over the chair, ready to be slipped on at a moment’s notice.

At seven o’clock precisely, the phone rang. I am required to answer immediately, but as I picked up the handset, I quickly scanned the caller display screen to reassure myself. It was him.

“Good evening, Master James,” I began. “Your slut Olwen awaits her instructions.”

“Get your fat arse in gear and present yourself here in ten minutes,” Master James instructed in his deep, authoritative voice. “Don’t be late, or you’ll be sorry. Leave now. My stopwatch is already ticking.”

Without any further communication, the connection was cut, and I found myself listening to the dialing tone. I needed to hurry, because although Master James lives less than a quarter of a mile from me, I am not built for speed.

I slipped on my winter coat and buttoned it up to the neck. I quickly checked that my collar couldn’t be seen, and set off for what I hoped would be an enjoyable session of pain and pleasure with my Master.

I hadn’t realised that it had begun to snow. The horrid, slippery white stuff was already settling on the pavements, making walking in high heels treacherous, and as I have already noted, being a BBW was never conducive to walking elegantly in high heels at any time, let alone when I was rushing through a raging blizzard.

By the time I reached Master James’ house, I was a bath of sweat, but my feet were freezing. Normally, when I pressed his doorbell, I would be full of anticipation of what was about to be done to me, and my cunt would be nicely moist, ready for whatever my Master decided to shove into it.

But tonight was far from normal. The external light that was usually shining brightly in the porch to welcome me was not illuminated. Having rung the bell with my identification code (one long, three short, one long) I was used to the door being opened by Master James in less than fifteen seconds. Not so this evening. I was just contemplating repeating my identification ring when the the light came on and the door opened.

“Good evening, Mas…”

I stopped. Trained to lower my eyes in my Master’s presence, it suddenly occurred to me that Master James has never answered the door in bare feet, and even when I have had the honour to be in Master’s presence when he is naked, I have never, ever seen him with bright scarlet nail varnish on his toenails. I risked a good slap in the face and raised my eyes to look at whoever it was that had opened the door. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

I was staring at an Amazon! She must have been at least six feet tall, even in bare feet. She was naked, and possessed a pair of shoulders that would not have disgraced a rugby front row forward. It was a good job they looked so strong, I thought to myself, because thy needed to support a pair of tits that made my 37C’s look like bee stings. Her nipples, which were ringed with what looked to me like industrial sized washers, were thick, dark brown and very long.

Her cunt was shaved, and her very prominent cunt lips were also ringed. These rings were linked by a rod which passed through each one in turn. One end of the rod ended in a large ball, the other had a small padlock through it. Thus, this contraption was effectively acting as a chastity device. I suspected that when the padlock was removed, the rod could be withdrawn, allowing both sets of cunt lip rings to part, and give access to this woman’s cunt.

I smiled at her nervously.

“Slut Olwen reporting, as instructed by Master James,” I said in what I thought of as a friendly tone. After all, if this woman was also one of Master James’ stable of submissives, the least I could do was to show her some solidarity, as a sister sub.

She stood aside and gestured for me to enter. There was no way she could have acknowledged my introduction. Her mouth was wedged open with an adjustable mouth spreader gag, held in place with a leather head harness.

The door to the cloakroom cupboard was open, so I undid my coat and removed it. I hung it up neatly in the cloakroom, as usual, and turned to face my open-mouthed companion.

“Master James is expecting me,” I informed asyalı escort her. “Are you to lead me in, or shall I make my own way?”

She shook her head and beckoned me to follow her. She walked quickly down the long corridor that runs from the front to the back of Master James’ house. When we’d passed all the closed doors that lined each side of the corridor, I realised that I was going to be seen to in the playroom, which stood at the very back of the house, away from inquisitive and prying eyes. I felt my clit beginning to stir in anticipation.

I imagined that my guide would open the door to the playroom, stand aside and allow me to enter first. Not a bit of it! She knocked the door respectfully, waited until she heard ‘Enter’, and went in, leaving me to follow in her footsteps.

I made to close the door behind me.

“Leave it open!” came curt command, and I did as I was told, and approached my Master.

He was siting, bare chested on the familiar leather arm chair, over which I had been bent on many occasions to be punished, or fucked, doggy style. Only this time, I couldn’t get near Master. The Amazon had sunk to her knees between his legs and had placed her wide open mouth over his exposed cock. As I watched, Master James grabbed a handful of her thick, curly hair and began to pull and push her head up and down on his cock.

I heard some gagging noises, and I saw drool, snot and what I took to be tears, pooling on the floor at Master’s feet. I had often been made to perform a similar task for Master, and I felt the green-eyed jealousy monster rise in my breast. This was my job, not this slut’s! But, of course, I said nothing. I am only allowed to speak when spoken to in Master’s presence.

Master didn’t miss a stroke. He continued to manipulate the woman whose mouth was on his cock whilst addressing me.

“You’re late, slut. I gave you ten minutes. It is now thirteen minutes and forty five.. forty six.. forty seven seconds since I gave you your instructions. Why do you disobey me?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Master raised his other hand palm outwards in the universally recognised signal for ‘Stop’.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Master continued. “I don’t give a fuck about you any more.”

He reached down and fiddled with the mouth spreader, all the while continuing to skull fuck the woman on her knees in front of him. There was a metallic ping, and he pulled the woman’s head off his cock and removed her gag. She immediately went back to sucking his cock, and he began to thrust his hips upwards.

“Here it comes, bitch,” he gasped. “Don’t waste any of my precious cum or I’ll thrash your arse until it bleeds.”

I found myself hoping that she would dribble some of Master’s cum. I could almost taste it from where I stood. I loved sucking Master’s cock, and receiving a mouthful of his lovely cum. I’d also had many loads deposited in my cunt too, and I wondered if this blow job Master was receiving was merely something to help him last longer when he fucked me later on, after having punished me.

Master grunted and then let out an ‘Aaahhh’ of pleasure as he emptied his load into the woman’s mouth. I felt as jealous as hell, and my earlier sisterly solidarity evaporated, and I hated the bitch.

She, of course, knew nothing of my feelings as she continued to suck Master’s cock clean. When she’d finished, it plopped out of her mouth, and lay, pink and shrivelled on his thigh.

Master patted her on the head, and smiled at her.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Go and get the nipple clamps that I showed you earlier.”

The woman got to her feet, and Master beckoned me forward. This was more like it! I knelt eagerly, my arms folded behind my back so that my tits thrust out. I also opened my legs, spreading my cunt lips, so that Master’s foot might have access should he require it. In my accustomed display position, I lowered my eyes and waited for instructions.

“Three, almost four minutes late, slut. Who the fuck do you think you are to keep me waiting?” he asked in his gorgeous, deep, rich voice. “Don’t bother trying to come up with excuses. I’m not fucking interested.”

“Ah, here they are. Thank you, Ruth.”

With my eyes firmly fixed on the floor, I could only assume that the cock sucking, cum swallowing bitch cunt was back. A tinkling of chains told me I was correct. So Master intended to clamp my nipples as the start of my punishment for being late. I felt my nipples begin to harden as I thought of the exquisite pain I would soon be experiencing. Next to a severe arse beating, my favourite punishment is tit and nipple torture. Master was speaking again.

“Get on with it, bitch,” he smiled. “Then we can proceed with the evening’s entertainment.”

Fucking hell! She was going to clamp my nipples, and join in my punishment, by the sound of it. I had been made to play with women before, for Master’s pleasure, and I did enjoy it. But my throbbing clit ached for cock, and judging by the ayaş escort state of Master’s still shrivelled cock, which I could see out of the corner of my lowered eyes, it was going to be a while before I had any chance of being fucked. But at least I had the bonus of having my nipples clamped. I hoped she’d brought the screw-on set, and that she’d squash my nipples flat.

I heard, rather than saw her move behind me. I stayed perfectly still, anticipating the cruel bite of the first nipple clamp. So I was somewhat surprised when I felt her hands on the back of my neck. My surprise turned into horror when she unbuckled my collar and took it off. I began to tremble. I felt no shame in appearing totally naked in front of Master or his bitch, but to be stripped of my beloved collar was utterly humiliating.

I was so shocked that I raised my head and looked at Master. Instead of getting a sharp slap across my cheeks, Master James smiled cruelly at me.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured me, “it wasn’t your lateness this evening that made my mind up. I’ve been tiring of you for weeks now. Your tits sag, your cunt gapes, and you’re just too fucking old. The last time I fucked you, I could have driven a bus up your cunt first, and there would still have been too much room for my cock.”

“Get on your feet, you fat, useless cunt.”

I was too shocked and upset to do anything but obey. To my dismay, cock sucking cunt shoved past me and knelt in front of Master James. He leaned forward and put my collar around her neck. He quickly buckled it tight, and leaned back in his chair.

“Perfect!” he grinned. “Now, some nipple play, don’t you think?”

“Yes, please, Master James,” she breathed throatily. “You are so masterful. It’s an honour to wear your collar and to be used and abused by you.”

Whist she was spewing out this sycophantic shit, Master James was attaching those deliciously cruel clamps that I’d imagined would be adorning my nipples, onto her huge pair. She bit her lip as they were screwed down until both her nipples were squashed almost flat. But to give her credit, she didn’t utter a sound.

Master James sat back in his armchair and surveyed his handiwork. He nodded to himself in satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he said softly, and I noticed that his cock was beginning to revive. It twitched a couple of times on his thigh and began to swell. I licked my lips, which had suddenly become very dry.

Master James looked at me.

“Are you still here?” he asked coldly. “You’re dismissed. Permanently. Fuck off and don’t bother coming back here. I never want to see you again. If I bump into you in the club, turn around and walk away. If you ever attempt to make contact with me, or speak to me those photos that I took of you being caned, together with the ones of you with my cock in your mouth will be sent to the Chair of the Governing Body of your school. Do I make myself clear.”

“Yes, Master,” I mumbled, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m not your Master,” he sneered. “I now own Ruth, so fuck off and close the door behind you. I have my new submissive slut to attend to. She’s going to be well punished before I fuck her.”

He stood up and pulled his new slut to her feet by the chain on her nipple clamps.

“Upstairs, slut,” he grinned. “All my toys are set out on my bed. This is going to be some initiation party!”

Left alone in the playroom, I walked back down the corridor and retrieved my coat. When I left Master James’ house for the last time, I felt numb. The snow had intensified, so that by the time I got home, I was freezing cold as well as having a huge empty void in the pit of my stomach. It was barely nine o’clock, but I went to bed anyway, and sobbed myself to sleep.

The rest of the weekend passed in a haze. I hardly ate, and I found some comfort by starting to smoke again. Before I met and was collared by Master James, I used to smoke a dainty lady pipe. I was forbidden to taste or smell of tobacco by my new Owner, and so I gave it up.

I found my pipe and some rather dry tobacco, but I smoked it anyway, and it helped pass the time until Monday morning, when school beckoned, and I could forget my miseries, at least until the weekend, and concentrate on educating the several year groups to whom I taught English Literature.

CHAPTER TWO: (Tabula Rasa)

Normally, I looked forward to Friday afternoons in school. My timetable meant that I had the ‘A’ stream GCSE class of sixteen year olds, to whom I was teaching Chaucer’s classic pilgrimage saga, The Canterbury Tales’. It was difficult, being written in Olde English, but they were an intelligent bunch, and I was enjoying teaching them as much as they were enjoying learning.

After mid-afternoon break, I had an ‘A’ level class of seventeen and eighteen year olds. There were only eight of them, and we were studying Shakespeare’s Hamlet, which is my favourite of all of the Bard of Avon’s plays. Then it would normally be home time, and a weekend of pain, pleasure aydınlıkevler escort and servitude with Master James. But not this weekend. I was dreading going home, and spending the whole weekend in miserable solitude.

I stayed behind in my classroom for as long as I could after the bell that signalled the end of the school day. My thoughts were interrupted when my classroom assistant, Janet, breezed in, obviously not expecting to see me still sat at my desk.

“Bloody hell, Olwen,” she smiled, (I was Miss Simpson when there were pupils present), “haven’t you got a home to go to? I’ve got a hot date tonight, and I left my handbag in the store room.” She retrieved her bag, and looked at me with a frown on her pretty face.

“I would have thought that you’d be on your way home to prepare yourself for a weekend with your Master,” she said with a smile.

I should explain at this point that Janet knew everything about me. We were both members of a local fetish club, and I had often seen her and her boyfriend there at weekends before Master James stopped taking me there. He said that as I was his property, he wasn’t about to share me with anyone.

Janet is a Hot Wife, and she owns her cuckold husband in very similar circumstances to how I used to be owned. Her mentioning Master James brought it all back to me, and I started to cry. Janet rushed over to me, and put her arms around me.

“What is it, Olwen?” she asked anxiously. “Has something dreadful happened?”

I ended up telling Janet everything. As I’ve said, she knew about my need to serve, and on occasions she’d seen me being caned and then fucked in the club on the nights that members were encouraged to take part in the regular monthly orgies were held.

“We need to get you owned again,” she said, and I nodded in agreement. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then she took her mobile phone out of her bag. She speed dialled a number, which was answered almost immediately. I heard the conversation, because Janet had put the speakerphone on.

“Hello, Janet dear, are you on your way home? I’ve laid your outfit out ready for you. Vince has phoned and is on his way here to pick you up. He wants a light supper before you go to the club this evening.”

“There’s been a change of plan,” Janet told her cuckold (for it was he who had answered the phone. Vince was her boyfriend.)

“Tell Vince that I’ll explain when I get home. You make sure you entertain him until I get there. If Vince wants a blow job, or if he fancies fucking you, then that’s fine by me. I’ll be home by six thirty at the latest.”

Janet ended the phone call and looked at me with a grin.

“It’s your lucky night,” she informed me. “The club has a show on tonight. It’ll be packed out, and you know there’s always someone seeking. I’m taking you there tonight to see what we can find. Don’t worry, Vince and the cuckold will be coming too, and once you’re settled, I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

“Now, come on, buck up. I’ll follow you home. You can leave your car there and come home with me. Vince ought to be there, and the cuckold can drive us all to the club later on.”

It seemed like a good plan. When I got home, I popped into the house to pick up my slut corset, which pulled in some of my belly whilst leaving my tits, cunt and arse exposed for groping or slapping.

Janet’s face lit up when she saw what I was carrying.

“I bet you a pound to a pinch of shit that you get picked up tonight,” she said as I got into the passenger seat of her car. “You look fab in that corset. Make sure you get up on stage tonight and volunteer for a good spanking. Anyone who is seeking will cream his pants when you do!”

It seemed very strange going into the club a few hours later. I was wearing an unfamiliar collar and being led by Vince, who had me on a lead. Janet was leading her cuckold on a similar lead.

We left our coats in the cloakroom, and entered the lounge bar. Normally, when I had been taken to the club by Master James, I was required to wear his soft leather gimp mask. This not only prevented my being recognised, it told everyone that I was an owned submissive. Tonight, I had no mask, and Vince made a very public show of removing my collar and immediately cuddling up to Janet.

“Good luck,” Janet said to me, squeezing my hand in hers. “We’ll be around for a good couple of hours. If you get lucky, then I’ll phone you tomorrow. If not, come and find us at the end of the night and we’ll drop you off home.”

I thanked her and wandered off in search of a staff member. I wanted to volunteer to be publicly punished up on the stage when the cabaret started.

I stood at the bar, waiting to be served. It was quite busy and there were a number of customers who were due to be served before me. I was deep in thought when I heard a voice from my left hand side.

“I’ve never seen you in here before. Do you come here often?”

I turned to see who had spoken to me, and got one hell of a shock. The woman who had addressed me was vaguely familiar. I smiled at her.

“I haven’t been in here for a few months,” I admitted. “My Master used to bring me here occasionally, but he felt that I was enjoying the public humiliation too much, and not paying sufficient attention to him, so he stopped bringing me.”

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