Late in the evening, my steps echoing on the footway were the only sound. I peered in front carefully, fearful of tripping on a raised slab. Passing along a row of parked cars on my right and a line of terraced houses on my left, I glanced at the sky, where a few bright stars pierced the town's scattered light, and it was this singular movement that allowed me to catch a flickering on the edge of my field of vision.

I paused and turned to the source of the blueish light, a window on the upper floor of a house. Within, it seemed as if there was a television film in progress. I could see the silhouette of a figure seated next to the window, a person I assumed to be enjoying whatever programme was running.

For some reason, I remained still, and in time, my night vision improved sufficiently to see a woman facing out onto the street. She was only made visible by a streetlight across the road and the flickering light from the screen near her. I realised she was naked, the sight of the white globes of her boobs sending a shiver of excitement through my groin. 

Standing stock still, I strained to observe her. She seemed to writhe around. Her torso twisted side to side. Her head tilted back, then thrust forward until her chin was resting on her sternum, framed by her two firm breasts. There was no sign of her arms; they seemed to be clasped behind her back.

There was something very peculiar about her display; it did not seem right to me. My instinct was to check with someone else in the house, so I pushed open the little gate, walked to the front door, looked for a knocker or bell button, and then noticed the door was neither closed nor secure. I laid my hand on the edge, and it swung open. I entered cautiously. Inside, the hallway extended in front, with stairs to the side. A table lamp gave me the light I needed to see my way as I climbed the stairs. On the landing, I turned around and saw the door to the room where my mystery lady was disporting herself in full view of any passerby.

I could hear strange noises coming from the room that I took to be from speakers—the soundtrack to the programme she could not see facing out of the window.

I rapped my knuckles on the door, but there was no response, so I turned the handle and pushed it open.

The view I had was beyond anything I had ever seen.

My lady was across the room, her back to me. She was still writhing on her wooden chair, but now I could see wrists cuffed behind her back and a steel bar stretching between straps on her ankles. In front of me, an armchair faced two laptop screens on the floorboards. Each had a different video playing, and each was pornographic, with varying scenes of bondage and submission. In the first, a woman tied spreadeagled on a bed was being fucked by a machine. In the second, two women were in a rumbustious lesbian sixty-nine, wrists and calves bound together. The twin soundtracks created a cacophony of moans and screams from the actors, masking every other sound within the room.

I carefully picked a route between the armchair and laptops, walked around a bed with an iron frame at the foot, and stood beside her.

She peered up at me, but there was no surprise in her face. Her eyes were a deep pool of darkness, her face framed by locks of black hair.

"You've come. I need you. Make me cum."

Her invocation was soft but demanding. I nodded, then looked down between her thighs. There was a dark stain on the chair seat, where a vibrating wand buzzed uselessly. I picked it up, then thrust the head hard against her engorged lips. A gasp escaped her mouth, and then, almost instantly, she went into orgasm. Her body pulsed and flexed. She threw her head back, her mouth opened wide, and her eyes closed. I saw ultimate pleasure reflected in her face.

Her tap opened, and a gush of fluid jetted out from her vulva, squirting sideways around the vibrator. Caught unprepared, I jumped back, dropping the buzzing toy on the floor.

The gush became a fountain, arcing and hitting the window glass as she writhed and jerked in the throes of her orgasm. I had never seen such a sight—a woman utterly debasing herself in my presence.

She quieted, and the jet became a dribble, but occasional judders still wracked her body. 

Her face turned up towards me.

"That's not enough. I need more—a lot more. Humiliate me, tease me, edge me—make me scream for release. Then take me; use me."

I thought and replied, "Do you have a name?"

"I am Fucktoy, and everything you will need is here, in this room."

Her words shocked me. Momentarily, I thought of fleeing to the street and continuing home. But the snake in my trousers told me to stay and, in her own words, use her.

"Where?"

"In the chest of drawers beside the bed. There is a lamp on top."

I turned and saw the chest. It had been hidden by the open door when I came in. I found the lamp switch, turned it on, and pulled the drawers open, one by one, bottom to top. 

Each layer held a variety of bondage equipment: rope, cuffs, spreader bars, gags, blindfolds, plugs, dildos, vibrators, and many other bits and pieces.

There was one item that caught my eye in the third drawer. I picked out a high-necked leather collar with fearsome-looking steel spikes and a steel-link chain. Just the job, I thought. If she doesn't hold her head up, then the spikes will dig deep into her flesh.

Across the room, I saw her head twisted towards me, watching my every move. I faced her and lifted the collar, letting the chain hang down.

"This is for you, Fucktoy."

I buckled the collar tight so she could not move her head, picked up the chain, and pulled it tight, jerking her onto her feet.

"Move!"

I glanced at the chair as she rose; lying on it was a dildo and a butt plug, both coated with her bodily secretions.

Walking backwards, the chain taut between us, I fixed my gaze on her eyes as she shuffled along, her feet fixed awkwardly, spread apart by the steel rod between her ankles.

When we reached the space bounded by the bedside and chest of drawers, I placed a hand on her breast.

"Stop here."

I held the chain close to her neck, then jerked it up, forcing her head back.

"What are you doing, woman?"

"I am obeying my Dom. It was his command to expose myself."

"Who am I?"

"You are the Master. My Dom told me to expect you."

"Where is your Dom now?"

"He is everywhere."

Her last answer mystified me; it made no sense at all, but my cock was straining both at its restriction and my vision of dominance.

Rifling through the drawers again, I picked out a thickly padded blindfold, placed the band around her head, and gently pushed the pad into her eye sockets. I found a bright red ball gag in the same drawer and pushed it harshly into her mouth before securing the clasp behind her head.

I stared at her face, picking out the strong line of her nose, the freckles on her cheeks, and the grotesque distortion of her lips around the gag.

Such a pretty lass.

My hands found her soft breasts, and my fingers played with her hard nipples. Then I leant forward and kissed each one in turn, sucking and licking the sensitive parts.

Behind the gag, I heard her whimper in pleasure just before the first skein of drool ran down her chin.

Smiling inwardly, I stood up again, reached into the drawer, and quietly lifted two clamps in my hand. Carefully, I positioned one close to a nipple, then released the sprung arms. They snapped against the sensitised flesh. Then Fucktoy screamed—perhaps more accurately—she would have done without the gag.

Her whole upper body shuddered when the second clamp snapped into place, and great sobs escaped around the infernal red globe in her mouth. Saliva poured out, creating a thin string that reached her knees before droplets at the end fell one by one onto the waiting floorboards.

"Turn left until I tell you to stop."

She shuffled around carefully.

"Stop. Kneel."

I watched her swaying, unable to use her arms for balance, as she lowered herself onto one knee, then two.

"Bend forward."

Her upper body made contact with the bedding and relaxed into its softness. I took hold of the leash chain, pulled it tight, and secured it to the bed frame.

I looped a length of rope from a drawer between her handcuffs and a ring on the back of her collar. As I pulled on the free end, she moved her wrists up her back until they were close to her neck. I tied a couple of half-hitches around the standing part, and Fucktoy was nearly ready for use.

An extra touch to her humiliation was a plug with two shiny spheres and a stopper. I found some gel, slathered it over the plug, and pulled her cheeks apart. Her dark brown rosebud looked up at me. I placed the small sphere against her sphincter and pushed hard. 

It disappeared inside immediately, and I heard Fucktoy moan through her gag. With a second push, the larger sphere went in, disappearing right up to the stopper. She groaned and wriggled, unable to escape the fullness in her anal passage.

Kneeling behind her, I pushed my hand between her thighs, prised her pussy lips apart, and slipped along inside until I felt the hardness of her clit.

Very gently, I rubbed the centre of her desire. Her hips rotated under my pressure as she whimpered through the gag. I could feel the tension mounting in her muscles, and just before I thought she would cum, I stopped the rubbing.

Her whole body slumped and relaxed. She repeatedly lifted her head as much as the chain allowed, then slammed it into the bedding in frustration.

Time and time again, we went through the same routine. Clitoral stimulation to the edge, then stopping when she thought the release was imminent. Every time Fucktoy banged her head, her stifled pleas increased in volume to the extent that she seemed to be screaming at me, demanding an orgasm.

But Fucktoy was not the only one who needed their orgasm. The bulge in my trousers was twitching with every touch of my fingers in her sloppy wet slit. I could feel pre-cum surging up my shaft and wetness where my helmet rubbed against my pants.

Eventually, I released my belt and trousers clips, pushing my clothes down to my ankles. Kneeling, listening to Fucktoy moan, I laid my groin against her upturned buttocks, thrust up deep, and felt like a superman, possessed of great strength and virility. Bang, bang, bang.

Bang her hard—that was my sole thought. My whole being was concentrating on that tiny part of me. I had no feelings towards her, just the means towards my end.

My body started to jerk uncontrollably, and then I felt the flow of semen along my shaft. It was a magnificent orgasm, and every thrust was a thing of beauty, heralding another rush of pleasure in my brain.

As my orgasm slowed, I felt a pulsating pressure on my cock. Fucktoy's vaginal muscles were in spasm, grasping me so hard I was locked in place, unable to pull or push along her tunnel. I looked down at her back and realised her whole body was vibrating in orgasm.

I kneeled there, transfixed by the sight of her cumming. Eventually, she settled, lying still but panting heavily from the exertion. Then I pulled my softening cock from her pussy.

Standing above Fucktoy's body, I admired her soft flesh and the locks of hair that tumbled across her face. She had been mine and had given herself up into my control. Although the ball gag distorted her face, I knew she was pretty and desirable, but she was not mine forever.

Dressed for the street, I leant over her back and ran my fingers down her spine.

"Goodnight, Fucktoy. You have done your Dom proud."

I left the room, walked downstairs, and closed the front door just as I had found it, neither locked nor secure.