Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 SELLING POINT (MF, MDom, bd)

   By Thomas Roche -- http://www.skidroche.com -- skidroche@hotmail.com



   PLEASE NOTE: The following story contains explicit sexuality.  By

   continuing to read, you certify that you are not offended by explicit

   descriptions of sex, and that you do not reside in a country, state,

   province or municipality that makes it illegal to possess or consume
such content.



   This story appears in Good Vibes Magazine, http://www.goodvibes.com.



   If you like this story, email the author at skidroche@hotmail.com or
visit his website for more stories at http://www.skidroche.com.





   SELLING POINT



   By Thomas Roche



   "And of course," said Michelle, "there's plenty of storage in the
basement."

   I looked at her, so prim and proper in her navy suit, the knee-length
skirt shrouding her seamed nude-colored stockings, the jacket revealing
just a hint of the lace at the top of her camisole.  She was slim, but
buxom, the jacket buttoned just a little too tight, showing the curves of
her upper body.  I wondered what those tits would look like out of that
jacket, out of that camisole.  I wondered what those hips would look like
stripped of the conservative skirt.  I wanted to know what those legs would
look like spread around my hips as I fucked her.

   "I would like to see the basement," I told her.  "Would that be a
problem?"

   "Oh, no, of course not," she said, her pretty face lit up by a smile. 
"I'll take you right down there.  It might be a little chilly," she said.
"The heat's been off."

   "I'm sure it'll warm right up," I said.

   "I'm sure." Michelle was flirting with me, trying to secure the deal on
the half-million-dollar house.  "The basement would make an excellent gym,"
she said.  "Once you get the heat on, of course."

   "Of course," I said, following her toward the door to the basement.

   "Do you and your wife work out?" she asked, just a little too quickly,
her voice shaking slightly as she asked the forbidden question hidden by a
casual real-estate agent's query.

   "I'm unmarried," I said.  "And I would be using the basement for other
pursuits."

   "Of course," she said, her face flushing as she realized that her veiled
inquiry hadn't escaped the prospective buyer.  She opened the basement door
and flipped on the light, leading me down the long flight of wooden stairs.

   "It's a thousand square feet down here," she said.  "Quite useful."

   The basement was empty except for the water heater and a built-in work
bench.  I looked at the far wall and saw the wooden panel with its single
latch.  Michelle stood nervously, well aware of the way my eyes were
undressing her.

   "What's behind the panel?" I asked.

   "The panel?"

   "That's a false wall," I said.  "It's plywood.  There must be something
beyond."

   She reddened, obviously embarassed that she didn't know the answer to my
question.

   "I don't know, really," she said.  "I never noticed it before."

   "A good real estate agent should know everything about the house,
shouldn't she?"

   She covered her embarassment with a girlish giggle.  "I suppose so," she
said.  "Well," she added.  "Not everything."

   "Mind if I open it?"

   "Be my guest," said Michelle.

   I walked to the panel and flipped the latch.  I slid the panel out of
the way and revealed the darkness beyond.

   "Gee," said Michelle.  "I didn't even know that was there."

   I reached inside the doorway and hit the button that turned on the
light. Michelle walked up tentatively and peered in.

   She stifled a gasp.

   "My goodness," she said.  "I...  I guess they didn't empty it before
they left.  I'm...  I'm really sorry, Mr.  Simmons." She was getting
flustered, shifting uncomfortably and shivering slightly in the chill of
the basement.  "I had no idea.  I'm...  we'll have these...  these... 
these things removed right away."

   I walked into the hidden room and twisted the dial of the tiny electric
heater.  It hummed to life, warm air blowing out.  Michelle's medium-length
chestnut-brown hair swayed in the hot breeze.

   "I'm sorry," she repeated weakly.

   "Amazing," I said, surveying the room.  "Would you ever have imagined?"

   "No," she said.  "I...  they seemed totally normal."

   "Just imagine," I said.  "You've a business relationship with someone,
and suddenly you discover they're...  what they are."

   "Yes, Mr.  Simmons," said Michelle.  "It's...  this is really
embarassing."

   "Would you have ever imagined your clients were so perverted?"

   "Not at all," she said.  "They seemed...  they seem normal."

   I walked deeper into the room, running my hand over the smooth-sanded
St. Andrew's Cross, touching the manacles that hung from the top of the
arms.

   "Excellent construction," I said.  "They spent a pretty penny having
this built."

   "I...  I can't imagine why they didn't remove this in preparation for
selling the house," said Michelle, groping for explanations.  Her face was
now very red.

   I continued past the St.  Andrew's Cross and ran my hand over the
leather-covered mattress.  It was very hard.  I touched the tie-downs of
the four-poster bed built out of four-by-fours.  I reached up and tugged at
the pulley with its waist strap.

   "They put a lot of time and trouble into this place," I said.

   I walked to the smaller panel in the wall near the cross and slid it
aside, revealing a recessed cabinet.

   "Good Lord," I said.  "They've left quite a collection."

   "I...  I'm really sorry, Mr.  Simmons.  I'll have it removed."

   I ran my fingers over the array of floggers, canes and paddles.  I
rattled the chains of the nipple clamps and caressed the straps of the
harnesses.  I tested the weight of the ball gags.

   "They must have known it would be a selling point," I said.

   Michelle stared at me nervously, then covered her embarassment with a
giggle.

   "I guess so," she said.

   "What do you suppose this is?" I asked, taking a harness off its peg and
holding it up.

   "It looks...  It looks like...  well, um..." She cleared her throat.  "I
don't know, Mr.  Simmons.  I'll have it removed." I saw in her flashing
blue eyes that she did, in fact, know exactly what it was.

   "I'd like to try it out," I said.

   Her eyes burned.  She was short of breath.  "Mr.  Simmons?"

   I gestured toward the St.  Andrew's Cross.

   "It's a selling point, isn't it?"

   "I...  I suppose so," said Michelle.  Then, quickly, she added: "If
you...  if you happened to be into that sort of thing." She nervously
summoned another giggle, trying hard to imply that she wasn't, that she
would never be into that sort of awful, terrible thing.

   "Yes," I said.  "If you happened to be into that sort of thing.  I'd
like to try it out."

   Michelle was so embarassed now that she couldn't look me in the eye. 
She stared at the ground.  "I...  I can leave you...  um..."

   I shook my head.  "Please, Michelle.  I need some help in trying it
out."

   Michelle wrestled with her professional scruples.  "I...  I have another
showing nearby in an hour."

   "Then I imagine you'll be late," I said.  I gestured toward the cross
again.  "Please."

   Her legs quivering, Michelle walked over to the St.  Andrew's cross.

   "What do I do?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

   "You know what to do," I said sternly.

   She leaned up against the slightly inclined cross, putting her wrists
over her head and spreading them.

   "Very good," I said.  "Now take off the jacket."

   Never meeting my eyes, Michelle shrugged off her conservative navy-blue
blazer.  I took it from her and hung it on a nearby peg.

   Her full breasts stretched the thin material of her camisole.  I could
see she was, indeed, wearing a bra underneath.

   I took first one wrist and then the other, placing them in the padded
steel restraints and clamping them shut.  I shot the bolts, feeling
Michelle squirm against them.

   I ran my hand up the back of her leg, squeezing her ass through that
conservatve skirt.  Michelle was breathing very hard.  I unbuttoned her
skirt and drew the zipper down the back.  It fell in a dark pool around her
ankles.

   She was wearing very conservative off-white panties underneath, and an
off-white white garter belt clasped to her seamed stockings.

   I nudged the skirt with my toe.  Michelle stepped out of it and I kicked
the garment across the room.

   I went to the cabinet and selected a paddle.  Michelle's eyes were wide
as she watched me return to her.

   I bent down and took hold of her ankles.  Michelle did not resist as I
fitted her ankles into the padded metal of the St.  Andrew's Cross's
built-in manacles.  I could hear her breathing, mingling with the hum of
the heater.

   "Are you warm enough?"

   "Yes," she said softly.  "Quite."

   When I had her restrained, I ran the paddle up the back of her bare
thighs and slipped it under the waistband of her panties.  She squirmed.

   "This certainly is a selling point," I said, and spanked her.

   She gasped and yelped, squirming against the cross and pulling at the
manacles.  Her breath came quicker as I spanked her again.  When I hit her
a third time, she moaned softly.

   "Excellent workmanship," I said.  "Obviously the last residents had good
taste."

   "Obviously," said Michelle.

   I returned to the panel and took down a flogger.  A moan escaped the
realtor's lips as she saw it.

   "A good flogging can't be performed with your shirt on," I said.  "I
trust that's not too expensive a camisole?"

   "N...  not really," she said.

   I took a shimmering knife off its pegs and came up behind Michelle,
running the tip of the knife over the back of her neck.  She shivered.  I
nudged the knife under her top and swiftly cut it down the back.  I slit
the sleeves and pulled the shredded garment off of her, running the knife
edge over her back.

   "Oh, God," she moaned.

   "Have you ever fucked a prospective buyer before?" I asked her.

   "Before?" she breathed.

   "Yes," I said.  "Surely you realize you're the one in chains." I slit
her bra at the back and the shoulders, and the off-white lace fell away,
revealing her full, perfect tits.

   She moaned again, pulling against the restraints.  I put my arm around
her and felt her breasts, caressing them and pinching the nipples.  I
grabbed her hair, which was pinned in a conservative bun, and pulled out
the hair pin.  My fingers tangled in her hair and I pulled her head back
so, towering over her, I could press my lips to hers, violently,
demandingly.  My tongue forced its way into her mouth and she quivered
against me as I explored her.

   "Say 'please,'" I told her when our lips parted.

   Her lips mouthed "yes, please," but no sound came out.  It's all right:
I could read lips.

   I drew the knife slowly down her back and slit the sides of her panties.
When I pulled the ruined underwear out from between her thighs, I pushed
the crotch into her face.  It was soaked.  I tossed the shredded panties
away and brought my hand down between her and the cross.  I touched her
cunt and found it shaved, warm, and dripping.  There was a ring through her
clitoral hood and three rings through each of her swollen lips.

   "Playing hard to get," I whispered.  "While the whole time you were
hoping I'd bring you in here."

   "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

   "Sorry won't cut it," I told her.  I stepped back, returned the knife to
its pegs and took my place behind her.

   "Please," she moaned.

   The flogger swished through the air and Michelle's body twitched.  Her
moans rose in pitch as I flogged first her back, then her ass.  Soon she
was pressing back into the slashes of the leather tails, gasping with each
strike.  I reached between her legs and found her wetter than ever.  She
moaned as I eased two fingers inside her pussy.  I pulled them out and
forced my wet fingers into her mouth.  She licked them obediently.

   "Impertinent little realtor," I said.  "Begging for a flogging.  We've
got to shut you up on both ends."

   Michelle strained against the bonds, twisting her head so she could
watch me as I selected the leather harness I'd shown her earlier, and
fitted into it the very largest dildo from the recessed case.  I toyed with
the idea of inserting a second dildo for her, but decided she would have to
provide for me somehow.  I slicked up the dildo with a bottle of lube and
walked over to her.

   "Please," she begged.  "That one's too big."

   "I doubt it," I said, easing the dildo between her lips and forcing it
in with a single thrust.  Her eyes went wide and she moaned uncontrollably
as I wrestled the shaft into place.  I buckled the harness around her.  Its
designer had thoughtfully left the back quite unconstructed, leaving
Michelle's pretty ass revealed -- including her little rosebud.  I returned
for the ball gag.

   "Now you can moan all you like," I said as I forced the gag into her
open mouth and buckled it behind her head.

   The harness and gag did nothing to quiet Michelle's pleas.  If anything,
freed from the need for self-control, she screamed and moaned louder.  The
flogger swished through the air and Michelle's back and ass were striped
with angry red by the time I took down the cane.

   Her eyes were very wide, now, the fear evident as I teased her cheeks
open and nudged the tip of the cane into her asshole.  She squirmed against
it and tried to beg for mercy, but the ball gag prevented her.  I gave her
a single cane stroke and the sobs broke through as her lovely body, nude
except for garter belt and stockings, was subjected to the most painful
implement in this dungeon.  Liberated from her mind's control, her body
twisted in the manacles and thrust itself hard against the St.  Andrew's
Cross.

   Once you begin to cane her, you must know she's ready to reach her
terminus.  Michelle had no idea how far I'd go.  By the time I felt my cock
surging, aching, begging for that tight asshole of hers, I had left 12
parallel stripes down each side of her, from the first swell of her ass to
the smooth bottoms of her upper thighs.  Tears stained her face and her
body was moist with sweat.  I unbuckled her gag, grasped her hair, and
pulled her head back, kissing her violently again, my cock grinding against
her pained ass and making her whimper in pain as my suit pants abraded her
freshly-administered welts.

   "Are you ready to be fucked?" I growled, a single string of saliva
connecting us as I pulled my lips from hers with some difficulty.  Her lips
continued to work hungrily, her tongue thrust out as, famished, she sought
more of my kisses.

   "Yes," she whispered.  "Please."

   "I'm going to fuck you in the ass," I told her.  "Put it up in the air
for me."

   I shot the bolts of the manacles, feeling Michelle slump into my grasp.
I steadied her and she walked, her legs quivering, around the side of the
cross to the leather-covered bed.  Looking over her shoulder at me, she
climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees and lifted her ass high.

   "Higher," I told her.  "Put it up high and beg me to fuck you."

   Obediently, Michelle clawed at the leather with her hands and lowered
her upper body to the mattress.  Her ass rose high into the air.  I could
see the glittering silver of her pussy rings showing around the strap of
the dildo harness.  Her cheeks spread as she leaned forward.  A woman's
asshole had never looked so good.

   "Please," she begged.  "Please fuck me."

   "I can't fuck you," I said.  "Your cunt is stuffed full."

   "Fuck me in the ass," she said.  "Please."

   "Spread them."

   Leaning on her shoulders, her face pressed to the leather mattress,
Michelle reached behind her and parted her full ass-cheeks with her
fingertips, exposing her tiny asshole.  Seizing the bottle of lube, I
lunged for the bed, opening my pants.

   "Please," she repeated in a whisper as the cold stream of lubricant
drizzled into her crack.  She moaned as I opened her up with my fingers,
and by the time I slid my shaft into her I knew Michelle had a well-trained
ass.  She pushed up against me, her fingers still parting her cheeks wide
for me, giving me unchecked access to her tight asshole.  I reached under
her and pushed the dildo more firmly into her cunt, using my hand to grind
the harness against her clit.  Michelle's mouth opened wide and she went to
scream as she pulsed toward her orgasm, but no sound came out at first. 
Then a strangled moan of pleasure exploded from her as I felt her asshole
clenching rhythmically in orgasmic spasms around my cock.  I pumped into
her faster, knowing I would come any second.  Just as she finished her
climax, I exploded into her, filling the realtor's asshole with my come.

   When I pulled my cock out of her, Michelle slumped forward, exhausted,
sheened with sweat in the now-warm dungeon.

   I laid on top of her and grasped her hair, turning her head to the side
so I could kiss her.

   "How did you know this room was here?" she asked when I relinquished my
hold on her moist lips.

   "I'm friends with the seller," I told her.  "Charles mentioned you were
a personal...  friend."

   "Then I suppose you don't want to buy the place," she said sadly.

   "On the contrary," I told her.  "I think you've earned your commission."

   "Would you like to see the upstairs?" she asked me breathlessly.

   "I think you've shown me all the selling points I care about," I told
her.  "Let's draw up the paperwork.  But leave the harness on as you do."

   "Yes, sir," she said, and I pressed my mouth to hers again, violently
taking her mouth as I heard those words I loved to hear.  Especially from a
realtor.

   THE END







   Copyright (C) 2003 by Thomas Roche.  All Rights Reserved.







   Visit the author at http://www.skidroche.com, or email him at
skidroche@hotmail.com.