Calynda always knew she was pretty. She was also one of the smartest in the family. As she grew and matured, pretty became “gorgeous” and smart became “genius.” Calynda was a straight ‘A” student, and a hit with all the guys. She knew how to dazzle them and to get what she wanted from each, and everyone, of them. By high school graduation, She was valedictorian and a stone-cold knockout. No one was in her league, and she knew it and flaunted it.
Calynda was considered arrogant by some, untouchable by others, but irresistible by all. Those few guys honored enough to date her, found she wanted to be in control, full control. They plied her with gifts in a hopeless competition to impress her. All discovered that it wasn’t about any of them, but always her.
The evening of her eighteenth birthday brought an extraordinary party. Nearing midnight, she took a college quarterback up to her bedroom for the experience of his life. The aftermath caused a screaming fight with her mother and father. The next week, Calynda moved out of Her parents stifling, sexually oppressive environment and into an apartment.
Within a short time, she had a lucrative tech job, a cute car, and a developing sex life. But the most amazing, fortuitous occurrence was soon to happen. She was to discover Uncle Buddy.
He had always been a nearly unknown figure among the large group of relatives in her life. He lived abroad, and Calynda had never seen him. She only knew of him via intriguing Christmas cards, and even more intriguing, and wildly lavish presents. However, when she received a totally ‘out of the blue’ call from him, it proved to be life-altering.
From the moment they met, Calynda sensed She could make him into Her “sugar daddy.” She was astonishingly correct. He willingly confessed his fascination and adoration for her. She had been his most cherished fantasy, even from afar. She smiled and he was Hers.
In the next few months, She moved into an upscale condo. Uncle Buddy bought Her the condo. She started frequenting clubs, thanks to a fake ID. Uncle Buddy procured it for Her, along with a lavish clubwear wardrobe. She needed new wheels. Uncle Buddy delivered a red Corvette. He was proving to be filthy rich and completely enthralled with his hot, sexy niece. He promised to do absolutely anything for her, and she constantly tested that.
In no time, Ms. Calynda became a “player extraordinaire.” She prowled the chicest clubs, with a few other select hotties, and invariably scored a stud or two or more. Young, virile males could simply not keep up with Her insatiable desires, nor contend with Her overpowering sexual skills. In short, She owned most any guy She wanted. Ms. Calynda had remarkably become a quite invincible sex goddess as She approached twenty years of age.
Of course, She knew that Uncle Buddy was a harmless voyeur, but also an integral part of Her blossoming “playgirl” lifestyle. He needed to be rewarded. Initially, She merely let him watch Her at a club flirting, dancing, grinding, and seducing. He was beyond thrilled, yet always left the scene abruptly. There was no doubt where he was headed and for what purpose. He showed his thankfulness with more lavish gifts.
Because they were often in the same venues, Ms. Calynda demanded an agreement which was quite simple: do Not get in Her way, ever. He affirmed he would not. After several months of these liaisons, he became somewhat conflicted by this unseemly relationship, however Ms. Calynda was an insanely sexy tease. She was so impossibly seductive that he couldn’t stop himself. Instead, Uncle Buddy bought Her a black Lamborghini.
He turned fifty shortly thereafter and Ms. Calynda proclaimed Uncle Buddy as Her newest “slave-boy.” There was no denying his devotion, his generosity, his obedience. So, She slipped a stylish gold collar around his neck and snapped it shut, permanently. In return, he groveled at Her feet and reverently kissed Her boots for the first time. She demanded that their agreement be refined: he’s never allowed to touch Her, and She is never to touch him. A chastity cage on his package seals the deal.
Fast forward a few months. Ms. Calynda is refusing gifts now, and instead demanding, and receiving, a substantial monthly allowance from Her “Buddy-boy.” Without hesitation, he faithfully transfers the six-figure amount to Her off-shore account. In return, She shares stories, pictures, and videos of Her erotic escapades every few weeks. They meet in the courtyard of his secluded residence at sunset. Security assures their complete discretion.
Today is June first, a sunny, yet still cool, late afternoon. Ms. Calynda pulls the sparkling Italian sports machine into the rendezvous area. Buddy-boy is awaiting Her, kneeling on the pavement. Their kinky kinship has advanced into a female-dominated fantasy world for him. She rules, he worships. Perfect!
The rumbling car coasts to a stop inches away from him. The passenger’s door pivots open as She shuts down the turbo-charged engine. Buddy-boy gets the first vision of Ms. Calynda in fifteen long grueling days of chastity. It is stupendous. She is nestled behind the steering wheel adorned in glittering gold and pristine white fur. He whimpers at the vision and expresses his adoration, “Goddess Calynda, You are divine wickedness!”
She gives him a sly smirk and purrs, “How sweet, My slave-boy. You always find new, and appropriate words by which to exalt Me.”
“May I enter?”
The stunning blonde bombshell raises Her right metallic leather-clad leg and places it on the console. “Earn it,” She commands.
His gaze takes in Ms. Calynda’s majestic beauty, stiletto-heeled thigh boots; glistening semitransparent leggings; expensive jewelry everywhere, chic driving gloves and fluffy mink arm wrappings. She is affluent sensuality personified. Meekly, he crawls into the black leather interior, leans inward and carefully presses his lips to the highly polished vamp of Her boot.
She allows Her slave to indulge himself for a few moments, then says coldly, “The other.” The elevated leg splays over his back to expose the rest of Her outrageous attire. A pair of “barely-there” booty shorts span Her temple of worship, and a band of ultra-snug matching latex spans Her enormous breasts leaving vast amounts bare. She sternly points to the left leg boot which Buddy-boy obediently kisses.
“Back,” is the next command, followed shortly by, “Get in.” Her instantly aroused play-toy is now situated in the contoured seat and the door closes. Her intoxicating aroma fills the confined space, and all that’s heard is Buddy-boy’s panting.
“I’ve had six so far this month,” Ms. Calynda arrogantly proclaims.
Buddy-boy finds his voice enough to say, “Goddess, you are so magnificent. Please tell me abo…”
“No,” She interrupts caustically, “All you need know is that they were all hot and hung and I devoured each one.” Her sparkling gray-blue eyes take on a crimson glow, not unlike those of a stalking feline. “I will tell you of one and show you why he’s now in My keep.” The reference to the holding closets that are occupied by those in Her training regiment send chills up Buddy’s spine. He’s seen the three spaces several times, and each time they were occupied by male specimens in various states of disarray. Most naked, most resting with a look of surrender and awe on their faces.
“I sent you prep pics, boi!” She expresses a bit of anger as She withdraws Her legs and they disappear under the dash to Buddy’s deep disappointment. “Did you?” She asks assertively.
“Yes, yes I reviewed.” A recognizable concern in his response, “They excite me so very, very much and it hurts tremendously.” What they both know is that he is referring to the custom chastity confinement he’s wearing for Her.
“Poor bay-bee,” Ms. Calynda unsympathetically coos, inspecting his throbbing lump, an outline of the metal cage pressing outward from his loose slacks.
“Pants down,” She abruptly demands. He struggles to wiggle and tug them to his shins. Of course, Buddy-boy is commando as She always requires. He’s barely medium-sized but he’s already rock-hard, his long dormant, unused package trying to pop through the tiny steel mesh. At every opening, of which there must be hundreds, his skin is exceedingly taut and ruby red. She loves to hurt him, just a little bit.
“Umm, a couple of weeks locked up,” Ms. Calynda enjoys the further taming quality of his chastity. “How delectable your suffering is for your ‘Dream Babe,’” She teases using a recent loving nickname he once gave to Her.
Buddy moans pathetically, “Please, pleezz, it’s torture.”
“Ask properly, bitch.”
His voice comes with great effort, “Mistress Calynda, I, I am but ya, your servant. I beeeg of you to release your prop, property from detention.”
A malicious smile forms on pouty, polished lips as ever so slowly her hand maneuvers over a remote on the console. Glancing up to see the agony on his wrinkled face, She hesitates over the button for a very, very long time until Buddy, in a high-pitched squeal, pleads, “Pleeezz!”
She taps once. The cage automatically springs open and Buddy moans mournfully. He’s freed from the long, wicked ordeal, for the moment.
Mistress Calynda snickers at the abject cruelty She puts this man-child through. He loves it, She knows. Adjusting herself in the seat, She clicks a few items on the control console and inquires in a hushed tone, “Wanna see?” Buddy nods vigorously, instantly grabbing his swiftly engorging organ, only to suddenly stop. He has been trained to ask for permission from the rightful owner of his sex, to touch himself.
With a final click the on-board screen comes to life and She nods Her head toward his oozing stiffy, “Pump,” is the curt order.
In a crazed frenzy, he starts wanking his horribly neglected cock, while his vision is completely concentrated on the running video. What he sees is Her newly expanded playroom with a half-naked male being ferociously stripped by Mistress Calynda.
Buddy is now hard as stone and in less than a minute. That sight causes the observant Mistress to snarl, “Stop!” He does so promptly, with whimpering reluctance. Ms. Calynda smirks at his interrupted fun.
From a side compartment She produces a latex bag with a smooth acrylic collar. In a nonchalant fashion it is tossed to Buddy. With trembling hands, he immediately slides it down over the head of his tool and snugs it tightly around his glans. This is the fifth time in his life that he’s been allowed self-manipulation in Her presence. He’s quivering uncontrollably.
“More,” the grinning hell-cat purrs. He gives the custom catch-enclosure another single tightening tick. “More,” She repeats low and sultry. Again, his fingers tick it one further constriction. He looks up at Mistress Calynda with hope against hope. Instead, She pauses to languidly lick around Her lips and then in an almost imperceptible whisper, “More!” This time he grits his teeth to the pain, yet obeys.
“Now watch and listen.”
Through his blurred vision he sees the video action of his nasty niece as She shoves the aroused guy onto a huge, circular black satin bed. With lightning quickness She’s on him.
“This is Vegas, and this muscular hunk is the virgin son of some giant company CEO.”
Buddy madly strokes the shaft of his cock simultaneously massaging his swollen, over-ripe balls. He can’t reach the sensitive foreskin or corona of his member, but he’s so delirious by now it really doesn’t matter.
“He was so shy, so innocent and so fucking easy,” She narrates, as the vid proceeds to show Her mounting him. Ms. Calynda drives stilettos into his sides and uses a riding crop several times. The sound that the guy makes on video is similar to Buddy’s whining, which is joined by Mistress Calynda’s jubilant giggles. Momentarily and unseen, Her hand descends into the gold booty shorts and She just growls.
The video scene continues with Her wildly writhing, arms above Her head and hair swirling like a tornado. This is a spectacle Buddy has not been allowed to see before. He hesitates just a second or two watching this evil beauty de-flower Her victim with utter abandon, while thoroughly enjoying an orgasm of Her own.
He pounds his meat like a man possessed, getting more slippery with each stroke, oozing profusely into the bag. Eventually, and without warning he stiffens, legs shoot out and his back arches up.
Most certainly, Mistress Calynda has observed a male ejaculate countless times and knows Buddy is on the precipice. She leans closer to him and hisses in his ear, “Do it Buddy, do it, cum for Me, Cummm!”
The pitiful excuse for a male grunts and cries as ribbon after ribbon of his juice spurts into the bag. His pathetic release goes on and on for nearly thirty seconds. Frantically he pumps himself, then milks his pulsing rod as he empties the entire load. The only one Mistress Calynda will allow now. Finally, he slumps back into the contoured seat, sweating and thoroughly exhausted, physically, and mentally.
“God-dez, God -ess, You, you,” he swallows, trying to cease his hyperventilating. Then, he starts again, “I adore your every breathe,” he manages. Looking over in Her direction, he sees the visor is tipped down and She is vainly admiring Herself in the lighted mirror as She applies another coat of glistening lip gloss.
‘Of course you do, slave-boi,” is Her arrogant, but reveling reply. They both know that Buddy is powerless to resist Mistress Calynda in any way, or any time. Giving him a brief sidewards glance, She snaps “Now put it away.” He sees Her glamorous face is filled with radiant triumph. He carefully slips his retreating member, and the bag hanging from it, back inside his pants, and quite delicately zips up.
“Now, about My allowance. I want it increased by ten percent per month starting today,” She demands.
Buddy has never, ever, been able to deny this domineering seductress, and he won’t at this moment either. “Yes, yes I will, gladly.” That exchange is all that’s needed between Uncle and niece.
Gesturing to his crotch, She snickers, “Nice big wad, slave -boi.” Starting up the Lambo, the nasty lady surmises, “You’ve been dreaming of Me, haven’t you?”
“Always,” is his truthful response. His tone has a nervousness that indicates how agonizing it will be when he’s soon dismissed.
“Lock it back up and send proof pics within twelve hours,” is Her blunt command, “The rest of the vid is in your email.” There is no doubt, Her addicted thrall will do as he’s told after a sordid night of self-manipulation. Thus, will begin another period of intense longing and brutal denial. She really gets off on this little game.
The passenger’s door opens wide, and Her trained little uncle bows his head in willing submission. “Divine One,” he sobs, awkwardly sliding out of Her idling supercar. He takes a last, precious look at Mistress Calynda’s golden splendor as he backs up just in time for the door to brush by him on its downward arc.
“Next time, big Buddy,” he hears from within, before he’s sealed out of Her life for now.
“Good bye, My Love,” he whispers to the tinted window as it and the Lambo rolls forward and roars away.
