male dominant

It was well past 9:00 p.m. when the phone rang about a week later. I was surprised to hear Mr. Damon on the other end of the line.



“Chloe,” he said, “Chuck and I have been discussing you here over drinks this evening and have decided we’d like a little more of your tight little cunt. Well, I’ve decided that. Actually, Chuck wants your mouth again.”



I was stunned, he was obviously a little inebriated, and not knowing exactly how to respond to such overt and startlingly coarse language, I could do little more than tremble, “Yes, okay.”



“Anyway, here’s what we want,” obviously not attuned to the trepidation in my voice. “Tell Joey that there’s an emergency at work and we need you here right away. We want you dressed in a coat and that’s all. Nothing underneath. What? Hold on, Chloe…. Chuck wants you in a garter belt and black stockings, nothing else.”



“I don’t have a garter belt,” I whispered shielding the phone, fearing Joey would hear.



“She doesn’t have a garter belt….Okay, I’ll ask her. You got black thigh highs?”



“Yes,” I stammered.



“Thigh highs and heels then. Nothing else. No panties. Nothing. You got that?”



“Yes, sir,” I answered nervously.



“When you get to the parking lot, call us. We’ll tell you what we want next.”



I could hear Chuck laughing in the background. I had a feeling that I would be used again by both Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, but I hoped not so abruptly and so crudely. I was frankly reluctant to go, but having been unable to indicate that, I felt I had no choice now but to obey.



I went into the living room where Joey and I had been watching a movie and told him what Mr. Damon had told me. He looked puzzled, but told me to be careful and call him when I got there. He’d wait up for me.



I told him that wasn’t necessary, that I’d likely be late, slipped back into the bedroom, and nervously stripped. I think it was only then, while I was actually undressing as I was told to, that I realized I was in fact going to do this. When I stopped anxiously to check my naked body in the mirror to ensure that it would be pleasing to the men, I knew I was truly lost. I slipped my coat over my nakedness and left the bedroom.



I kissed Joey goodbye, scared to death that he would sense my bareness beneath the coat. My heart was racing as I walked to the car, both in fear and excitement.



I called Mr. Damon from the parking lot, and he told me the night watchman would let me in the back door and escort me to the elevator. He told me to leave the jacket on but unbutton it completely. The night watchman, a guy about my age that I had innocently flirted with many times, gave me such a strange look. It almost made me blush. With my coat unbuttoned, my nakedness was dramatically evident. I couldn’t imagine what he must be thinking.



At Mr. Damon’s office, I knocked nervously on the door. Mr. Compton answered and let me in to a rather dimly lit office and the distinct aroma of cigars. I saw Mr. Damon sitting on the sofa near his desk and standing just to his right a tall, distinguished looking older gentleman smoking a cigar and holding a glass of something in his hand.



“This is the girl we were talking about, Giles,” Mr. Compton said, ushering me into the room. “Chloe, this is Giles Stanford.”



I was a bit taken aback. First, I hadn’t expected anyone other than Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, and second I certainly wasn’t expecting to see Giles Stanford, the man whose father founded the company.



“Beautiful young woman,” Mr. Stanford said, looking at me intently. He had a deep and intimidating voice, a voice that just seemed innately to command respect and one that literally put chills down my back. He was handsome in the way that older, powerful men who are confident in their place in the social order seem to exhibit naturally, and he was impeccably dressed. Even Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton were in obvious awe of the man. And I most certainly was.



“Take your coat off, Chloe,” Mr. Damon ordered abruptly. “I think you’ll be impressed with this, Giles,” he said, turning to Mr. Stanford. “Not only with her beautify but with her obedience.”



I was not ready for this. Both Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton had made it clear to me after they first took me that I was in fact their property now, but I don’t think I completely understood until just this minute. I knew that I had not actually given myself as property to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, as I had to Derrick. This was far different. No, I hadn’t “given” myself to them; they had simply taken me.



It’s very hard for me to explain, even to myself, but when Mr. Damon raped me, I understood that he did so because he knew he could. He wanted me, and the fact that I was married meant nothing to him. He took what he wanted, and he wanted me. My husband sadly was unable to protect me. Simply put, a more powerful man had taken what he had and now owned it in ways Joey could never emulate. And in truth, I was more naturally bound now to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton than to Derrick. What I gave I to Derrick I could take back. But what was taken was forever theirs.



Understand I did and do love Joey. I have always done my best to please him and to build his confidence around other men. It really did please me to be his “arm candy,” but at the same time he put our relationship at risk by displaying me that way. My beauty, my sex were his badge of manhood, but when a stronger man simply took what he saw displayed, took ownership of it as his natural right, as Mr. Damon had done that afternoon in his office, I had no choice but to surrender. It just seems a natural law that that’s the way it must be. Like Darwin proved, these men were superior and had an innate right to strew their genes where they choose. This was much bigger than Joey. Much bigger than Derrick.



This wasn’t at all like my submission to Derrick. As I said, that was totally willing on my part. But the funny thing was, the distressing thing, actually, was that standing there in front of these powerful men it came to me in a dazzling image, that their taking me simply because they could had bound me to them in ways that my easy submission to Derrick could never. I truly was their property. Their captured property. Their booty.



“The coat, Chloe,” Mr. Damon said again, snapping me out of my reverie. I knew my next decision would unalterably mark me as “property,” but I also knew that decision had already been made last weekend when they simply took their property from Joey and enjoyed it. I slowly pulled the coat from my shoulders and let it fall to my feet.



“Well,” Mr. Stanford exclaimed. “Where did you find this? I see a ring on her finger. She married?” he said, walking over to me, his eyes fixed firmly on my body.



“Some auto parts clerk or something. Nothing to worry about.”



“Nothing to worry about, Honey?” Mr. Stanford asked, extending his hand and cupping my left breast, never once glancing at my face.



“No,” I murmured.



“I’ve never seen tits this large and so perfectly formed,” he said, addressing Mr. Damon. “In size and shape they almost look like implants, but they’re very obviously not,” he added, now kneading my breast and squeezing my nipples. “Tiny waist. This is a rare find. And she’s a good fuck, you say?”



“Not bad,” Mr. Damn answered. “A little inexperienced, but also tight and underused. Turn around and let Mr. Stanford see more of you, Chloe.”



I turned obediently, watching as Mr. Stanford put his drink and cigar on the table and came near to examine me more carefully.



“What did you say her name was,” Mr. Stanford asked.



“Chloe.”



“Bend over for me, Chloe, and spread you legs open a bit.”



I did as I was told. Putting his hand between my thighs, he nudged my legs open a bit more and began to expertly caress my vagina.



“Very smooth, nicely kept. Your idea?”



“No, she came that way,” Mr. Damon laughed.



“She has slightly puffed cunt lips, which I like a lot,” Mr. Stanford said, turning me now to face him.



“Has she ever been whipped?”



“I doubt it,” Mr. Compton said. Certainly not by us. We haven’t had her long enough, and I’d bet anything not by her husband. Ever been whipped, Chloe?”



I shook my head no, lying but worried about the question.



“You will be whipped,” Mr. Stanford said assertively, “but not tonight.”



“Would you like us to leave while you fuck her, Giles?” Mr. Damon asked.



“No, let’s all enjoy her, though I think I’ll invoke executive privilege and take her first,” Mr. Stanford laughed. “Take her over to that conference table and push her tits down on it,” he said to Mr. Damon. “I’ll take her from the rear.



“Cunt or ass?” Mr. Damon asked.



“Perhaps both,” Mr. Stanford replied.



“Well, just as a heads up, the latter is virgin, something we saved for you.”



“Interesting. Nice gift. I think I will give that a try. Your ass is virgin, Chloe?” he asked, running his hand across my butt.



“Yes,” I lied again, hoping he wouldn’t know.



As Mr. Damon was leading me to the table and pushing my tits down hard on it cold surface, I just seemed to intuit that once Mr. Stanford took me, I would be his property, not anyone else’s. In truth, I hoped that would be the case.



The second he touched my bare ass and began rubbing it and examining it, I knew without any doubt that this was going to be an intense experience.



“You haven’t branded her or marked her, I see,” Mr. Stanford said. “Maybe I’ll put my own mark on her,” he added. “If she earns it.”



I was determined to earn it. I wanted his mark, his brand, his whatever it was that he needed to deem me his property. I knew for the first time in my life that I was in the presence of pure power, and that whether anyone else knew it, he already owned me. I was just waiting for him to take possession. I would beg him if necessary.



His hand slid from my butt to my pussy and his fingers began to probe my clit as I writhed in anticipation. I heard him laugh and exclaim to Mr. Damon that I seemed eager to get “my cunt filled.” And I was! At least by him. I didn’t have long to wait.



I held my breath as I felt his cock begin to breech my labia because I knew Mr. Stanford would not be gentle. But I was mistaken. At first.



His first stroke seemed exploratory, as if probing to find the best position to impale me. His next stroke was not so gentle. He plunged his cock fully in me in one tremendous stabbing thrust, literally lifting me off of my feet. Each subsequent stroke found the very bottom of my cunt and threatened to rupture my cervix. I knew I would offer no resistance if that’s what he wanted. And then he stopped and withdrew!



I ws desperate for him to continue, but afraid to say anything that might offend him. I simply lay there, poised for his next assault.



“Chloe,” he said gently. “I’m going to fuck you in your ass now and I will probably rend you in the process. Do you understand?”



I nodded that I did.



“Your cunt is quite tight and I imagine your ass will be even tighter,” he went on. “I expect some tearing and some bleeding, as I’m not inclined to be gentle in these situations. I’d like you now to invite me to rend you ass.”



I hesitated, naturally. What he was offering was frightening and he wanted me to not only give my permission but to ask him to take me.



“Chloe?” he said sternly.



“Yes,” I stammered. “Yes, sir, go ahead,” and closed my eyes against what I knew was coming.



“I said ask me to rend your ass, Chloe. I expect your answer to reflect that.”



My voice was weak and wavering as I stumbling said, “Yes, please fuck me in the ass.”



“Rend, not fuck, Chloe,” he said sternly to me. Looking at Mr. Compton and Mr. Damon, he added, “Do you always have such problems getting through to your whores?”



I could see that neither Mr. Compton or Mr. Damon were happy with me at the moment, but I managed to blurt out, “Please rend my ass, Mr. Stanford.”



I heard him chuckle as he placed the head of his cock against my rectum. And then with a grunt he drove his engorged cock deep into my ass. I screamed in horrifying pain as his thick fat cock tore its way deep inside my ass.



His plundering of my rectum was relentless. The pain was incredible and seemingly endless, and only at last, when his heavy cock unloaded its burden inside my belled anus did I feel any relief. It’s odd how welcome his cum was, providing not only soothing balm to my ruined ass but also the promise of an end to this brutality. And odder yet, I had fallen desperately in love with this strong, domineering man who simply took what he wanted. In some way, I felt proud to have given him some satisfaction, even though the cost to me was extreme.



When he grabbed my hair and yanked me to my knees to clean his soiled cock, I took it humbly and gratefully. I ws his if he wanted me. And even if he didn’t!



“I think she needs a little training, Chuck,” I heard Mr. Stanford subtly complain. Her cunt is tight right now and that makes up for a lot of lapses in technique, but she needs work. Right now, she takes a cock. She doesn’t work with it. I’m surprised a beautiful young woman with a body like this hasn’t had considerably more experience, but she apparently hasn’t, so it’s up to you two to provide that knowledge. Also, her ass is frankly a little uncomfortably tight. I’ve opened her pretty well, I think,: he added, sticking four fingers into my ass and then again into my mouth, “but I expect you to keep her opened. Use a large dildo or have her ass fucked a least once a week by somebody with some size, perhaps by one of the blacks who clean up here.”



“No problem, Giles” Mr. Compton answered. “Maybe we can get a little better janitorial service with Chloe here as a bonus for especially good work,” he laughed.



Brianna



It was a week later when, being summoned to the office, I walked into the middle of a conversation about Mr. Stanford’s new girl, Brianna. Neither Mr. Damon nor Mr. Compton had met her yet, but they had heard that she was arrestingly attractive and quite young, apparently barely eighteen. Both were eager to see (and, I assumed, to fuck) her.



Mr. Stanford brought her to the office later that morning, and everything said about her was true. She was simply stunning. She was tall, at least three inches taller than my 5’6″, with beautiful long legs and supple hips and slender waist. Her skin was the palest ivory, and the contrast of her hair falling in luxurious waves of black curls down her back, framing the flawless features of her perfect face, only enhanced the stunning contrast. Her deep green eyes seemed to express knowledge far beyond her scant years.



Dressed in a chic teal skirt and matching sweater that very obviously didn’t come off the rack at a department store, she had an air of unassuming confidence. The body incased in that elegant ensemble would befit a goddess. Standing there in her natural hauteur, she displayed the aura of one accustomed to power and privilege, thought I learned later that was not the case at all. The daughter of one of Mr. Stanford’s clients at the time, Brianna first caught his attention at fourteen, he told us, and he resolved immediately to possess her and her younger sister. Mr. Stanford had first taken the mother as collateral on a loan made to her husband, a gambling addict deeply in debt to some very dangerous men, though his addiction to the crap tables was likely far more dangerous. The mother, Katherine, submitted early on, and within a month proudly wore Mr. Stanford’s mark above her vagina, a mark proclaiming her to be his exclusive property.



As the husband’s debts accumulated, Mr. Stanford’s hold on the family grew as did his interest in the two daughters. When he mentioned his intention to possess the two daughters when they reached the age of eighteen, Katherine objected. A week later, at lunch with an Asian businessman, he sold her for a bowl of wan ton soup to the same businessman, who that very evening drugged her and shipped her off to Hong Cong.



Having now to deal only with the husband, Mike, Mr. Stanford made arrangements to cover all of his gambling debts, with the provision that the girls become his property at eighteen and that they both be virgin. When that provision was satisfied and Mr. Stanford took possession, he would give Mike a cash settlement of twenty thousand dollars for each. Mike agreed. Mr. Stanford began the girl’s preparation immediately.



By the time Mr. Stanford took possession of Brianna four years later, he had transformed her into an elegant young woman, poised and accomplished in her manners and dress, but more important a young woman trained to perfect obedience. Her body, nearly faultless already, had been sculpted by an array of fitness trainers; had been prepared further by a yoga instructor who enhanced her natural sinuous suppleness; and finished by laser treatments that left her body silkily smooth and unblemished. She was now eighteen, a virgin, and Mr. Stanford’s property.



When Mr. Stanford walked into the office that morning and introduced us to Brianna, I knew immediately that, though this girl was younger than I, she was much older in ways I would have yet to learn.



He told us the basic story that I have related above, and then asked Brianna to remove her clothes, which she immediately did. As her skirt and sweater fell to the floor, all of us involuntarily gasped in amazement. Brianna was simply awe inspiring. Her skin was milky white and flawless, her hips full, her waist stylishly tapered, and her breasts perfectly shaped and alluring.



I am not unaware that I have a nice body. Many guys have told me so. But I also know my boobs are too big for my frame, and while a guy might think my tits fit me impeccably, every girl would know otherwise. But Brianna was faultless. Her boobs were a large B cup or more likely a C, and stood prominent and enticing. Her nipples, slightly erect, were light pink and ideally proportioned. I felt humbled at the sight of this gorgeous apparition of classical beauty.



It was a moment before my eyes fell to what Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton had been talking about: a tattoo in subtle shades of reds and greens arching over her vagina and proclaiming in elegant script that she was the “Exclusive Property of Global Enterprises, Inc.” It was appropriate in every degree to her body and her demeanor. Once seeing it, I could never imagine her without it. It was perfection.



Turning her around by her graceful shoulders, Mr. Stanford drew our attention to her derriere and the small brand, about the size of a silver dollar, burned deeply into her bottom. It too was perfect. A thin circle enclosed Mr. Stanford’s initials, all of which protruded ever so slightly above her skin. I couldn’t help but touch it.



The skin surrounding the brand was as smooth as glossy velvet and the brand itself had no roughness to it at all. Rather than the irregular branding so common, this was a beautiful piece of art work that Brianna could be rightfully proud of.



“How did you get that brand to come out that way?” Mr. Damon inquired. “I’ve never seen that kind of result. How did you manage to brand her and not make a mess of it?” he added, expressing the sentiment of us all.



“The right equipment and a steady hand,” he replied. “I like to use a stainless steel brand that allows me a very thin outline that I can heat to extremely high temperatures. It’s important that your bitch not move at all when you apply the brand, so I had one of my dog breeding stocks modified enough so that I can secure her tightly enough to keep her immobile all through the process.”



“You’re a fucking genius, Giles. I mean it,” Mr. Compton said. “The mark is perfect.”



Mr. Stockton laughed and said it was one of his better inventions and that maybe he’d patent it. Everybody chuckled.



Mr. Compton again turned Brianna and while inspecting her vagina turned to Mr. Stanford to comment that her labia were not pierced.

July 2008



“Hey, Lloyd, I hear you’re getting a baby girl! Will you miss me?” Dom thought he was more of a comic than he was, but he was a pretty sharp partner and I’d miss him. I didn’t know exactly how he’d gotten his job, but he was at the beginning of his life rather than the end, and was making the jump from store cop to real cop. I didn’t envy him the change, but then I wasn’t the one making it.



I was the one who got to deal with his replacement, an unknown quantity probably the result of the same impartial hiring process I’d run through. There had been some informal discussion about swapping around shifts, but nobody was keen on teaming up with the newbie — or keen on teaming up with me.



There weren’t complaints, precisely, but I rattled them in some unknown way. Dom told me I “had dark waters” when he was in a good mood, and called me “hinky” on days when he wasn’t. I was still in the middle of the seniority list — by date of hire, not age — and I knew some of the others continued to harbor suspicions I was some kind of management spy. They didn’t like it when I used big words, either.



There were only three topics of conversation at Dom’s farewell party. “Can I see your gun?” “Do you think management will give us a raise?” “I hear Lloyd’s new partner is a hottie.” I quickly tired of all of them, particularly the last. It was based on third-hand gossip leaking from that week’s new hire orientation, and quickly elaborated with sexist suppositions from the all-male audience who felt challenged by the absence of any hard facts to make up their own.



As somebody who spent nearly every night looking at more female flesh than they could imagine, I had somewhat higher standards and lower expectations. “Man, don’t you wish you were still young enough to enjoy her?” asked some wag who had misinterpreted my lack of enthusiasm.



He was quickly silenced by Dom, who’d had the native intelligence to notice I wore a wedding band but had never, in two years, spoken a single word about a Mrs. Parker.



The laugh turned out to be on me after all. I ambled into the break room the next morning to find the personnel manager and a young girl waiting for me. Okay, the “young girl” probably wasn’t any younger than Alexandra had been when I met her, but that had been a long time ago. She looked damn young to me.



She stood straight like she had a stick up her ass, or was posing for a Marine Corps recruiting poster, or both, and a body that would’ve had Danny panting and climbing the walls. I admit I admired her charms, discreetly, myself, but I also noticed her level gaze that flicked periodically around the room before always returning to me.



“Mr. Parker, I’d like you to meet Angela Vasquez. She’ll be your new uniformed partner. Ms. Vasquez, this is Lloyd Parker. I hope you enjoy working together.”



Angela had a firm grip and an inquisitive eye. She favored me with a social smile, but I’d seen her eyes flick from my face to my ring to the earbud and back to my face again before the rep had gotten fairly started on his retreat to the safety of the management offices.



“REMF,” Angela muttered under her breath.



“Excuse me?” I said, not catching the reference.



She waited a beat until we were alone. “Rear Echelon Mother Fucker,” Angela explained, watching me closely.



I snorted. “Very apropos. Armed Forces?” It wasn’t a very risky guess.



“Does it show?” she asked, grinning to show she knew it was a silly question. “Army. I was in Iraq; two tours.”



That impressed the hell out of me. “Well, I hope you find this a little more restful. Would you like the ten-cent tour?”



“Sure; lead out.”



We didn’t do much more that day than walk the store, every floor, so I could show her every door, every changing room, the blind spots where shoplifters seemed to think the security cameras couldn’t see, the few spots where they really couldn’t see, and most of the other quirks I’d picked up in two years.



I could see Angela treated it like a combat exercise, never mind that the bad guys almost never fired back here. She didn’t ask many questions, but the few she had were worth the asking. I found it easier to talk to her than I expected, so much so that I was a little hoarse when our shift ended.



“You look younger than I expected,” she told me at the end of the day.



The compliment took me a bit by surprise, and made me feel good. “You’re older than you look,” I said in turn.



“Yeah,” she said with a sad smile. “They say it wears off a little bit after a while; I don’t know.” The smile brightened a bit. “Well, until tomorrow, Lloyd?”



“See you then, Angela. Have a good evening.”







I started looking forward to the day job. I got a lot of razzing from the guys, until Angela nearly broke a few fingers off the hand of the idiot who thought the way her ass filled out her uniform slacks gave him license to pat it. After that, they treated her with the respect you’d give a tiger, and put down our cordial partnership as another facet of my mysterious bearing.



My secret was that I simply treated her like a daughter or granddaughter instead of some centerfold picture. I wouldn’t have thought you needed a psychology degree to figure that out, but maybe I was wrong.



Angela was intelligent and inquisitive, sometimes annoyingly so once she got over her initial reticence. She reminded me a little of Alexandra, more so when I found she was working this job during the day to make money for school during the evenings. The Army had paid for her undergraduate degree, but she was determined to get an MBA and break into a good management job. “Nobody ever got rich working for somebody else.”



Our shifts grew to resemble freeform dialogs on the topics she encountered in class, occasionally interrupted by the need to dissuade misguided shoppers from eroding the store’s bottom line. Angela’s gratitude was obvious, since she didn’t have much free time off for studying. I was happy to keep our conversations on safe topics.



Nevertheless, as that summer faded into memory, a degree of tension worked itself into our friendship. Part of the problem was me; I’d been extremely reluctant to say anything more about myself other than I was a widower who didn’t want just to sit home alone. Nevertheless, I could see the wheels turning in Angela’s mind — figuratively — every time this old geezer undercover officer she worked with managed to answer, at length and off the top of his head, nearly every question that came up in her coursework. A good deal of the art of our profession was noticing things that looked out of place, and I knew it was bothering her.



The other part of the problem also was me, so to speak. It seemed I was finally waking up to the fact that I was still a man — one who hadn’t gotten laid in more than five years. I remained stubbornly faithful to my memory of Alexandra and the promise I’d made her, but it was starting to get hard.



The girls at Home Run were walking inducements for sex and treated me with the careless familiarity of someone who was harmlessly androgynous. It wasn’t exactly like being the palace eunuch; rather, the thought that someone of my ancient decrepitude might retain a sex drive just never crossed their minds. Danny wasn’t that much younger than me, and he was still active. Anyway, I thought I’d become inured to it all.



I knew I had a problem when I caught myself thinking one afternoon about what Angela’s ass would look like if she were in heels instead of her black athletic shoes. I gritted my teeth and told myself to focus on the accounting problem we’d been discussing.



My conscious mind was one thing, but I started waking in the mornings with erections and unsettling fragments of half-remembered dreams that all featured a lithe, dark-haired beauty with a flashing smile. I felt vaguely guilty, but there was nothing I could do about it.







I started going off the deep end in October. Some of Angela’s friends from school were throwing her a party for her 25th birthday, and she invited me. I mumbled something non-committal at the time, repeatedly counted up the reasons I shouldn’t go, and ended up taking a night off from Home Run anyway.



The place was some restaurant I’d never heard of before, and I knew I shouldn’t have come the moment I stepped in the door. I took a long look at the cluster of youngsters gathered around Angela and realized I was probably older than all of their professors. Unfortunately, Angela spotted me before I could retreat.



“Lloyd!” she screamed, bouncing to her feet. Maybe a dozen pairs of eyes were focused on me while she hurried over and embraced me. “I’m so glad you could make it! C’mon over and meet everybody!” My body tingled where her breasts had brushed it, and what she did to a pair of jeans had to be illegal.



Angela introduced me around to her friends, whose names I uncharacteristically forgot, as her partner, and parked me on a stool next to hers. All of them were acquaintances from the University, save one young man whose eyes held the same faintly haunted expression as Angela’s.



“I brought your something,” I told her during a lull in the noise. “You don’t have to open it here.”



She looked at the slim package, wrapped in expensive paper from the specialty store in the mall, and then at me. “That’s so sweet, Lloyd; you didn’t have to do this.” Before I could react, she leaned over and pecked me on the cheek.



My paralysis lasted a minute or two while she tucked the gift into her coat pocket, and nobody else commented on our interchange. I was intensely aware of Angela’s proximity the remainder of the evening. The left side of my body felt her heat, even when I was drawing out her acquaintances on their experiences at school.



“Hey, you want to go clubbing with us?” Angela asked me after the remains of the meal had been cleared away and we’d embarrassed her with the obligatory “Happy Birthday” chorus.



“Are you kidding?” I laughed, and then blinked. The mental picture of myself trying to bounce along to the crap I heard filtering out of the Abercrombie changed channels to the image of Angela drawing a bare knee up my leg, spreading her tiny miniskirt, and arching her back to emphasize her breasts through an indecently thin top. I hurriedly added, “My heart would never survive it.”



“You aren’t as old as you think you are,” she chided me with a smile.



The erection filling my underwear begged to differ, and I remained close to the table as the group began to break up and made their goodbyes.



I welcomed, and simultaneously dreaded, a farewell hug from Angela. “Thanks again for coming, Lloyd. And thanks for the gift; you didn’t need to get me anything.”



“You’re welcome. Have fun; I’ll see you Monday,” I replied.



I drove home to my dark apartment, carefully undressed, and masturbated for the first time in decades. My hand hadn’t forgotten what to do, my cock was aching for release, and there was still a hint of Angela’s scent on my shirt. A little lotion for lubrication soon warmed to body temperature, and each slow stroke I made pulled the tension out of my body and concentrated it beneath my hand.



The pace didn’t stay slow for long. I closed my eyes and started fantasizing, dreaming of delicate feminine fingers replacing mine on my heated manhood. A moist tongue extended to touch me, warning me of the warm lips that were about to engulf my glans. In my imagination, my hands were free to guide her head closer, but the hair threading between my fingers remained stubbornly dark and it was Angela’s face that looked lovingly up at me, not Alexandra’s.



“I didn’t thank you properly,” she’d say, releasing me and crawling sinuously up my body. Angela was naked, and bare like most of the girls at Home Run, so there was nothing to obscure the view as she inserted me into her glistening folds. My penis felt like it had entered a sauna, and her muscles gripped me like a hand, but her hands were supporting her body so I could admire her compact breasts and the ruddy nipples capping them.



My hands pulled her forward, dragging her off my spear, so I could taste her skin, capture one of those buds between my teeth, and stretch it before allowing it to pop free. Her lips parted with an inarticulate sigh that left us both trembling, and when I pushed her back to spear her again, she was wetter than before.



“Do that again,” she gasped, and after I did, her nipples matched, equally stiff and engorged.



“I don’t think I can take much more of this,” I admitted. Every nerve in my body felt like it was energized and my heart was racing.



“Thank God,” Angela replied, wearing an expression of desire that managed to raise my blood pressure even more. She started rocking herself more vigorously, working my frenzied penis with her pussy, and the ends of her hair, perfumed by her body, trailed across my face. A droplet of sweat zigzagged its way down a jiggling boob, never quite breaking free.



My body jerked, and Angela threw back her head and screamed her climax as I began pumping jets of hot sperm onto my undershirt.



“Oh God, Alex, forgive me!” I sobbed into the stillness of my lonely apartment. The semen cooled rapidly, but my desire did not.



I knew it was just a dirty old man’s fantasy. My darker side, stirring sluggishly to life after a long sleep, reminded me that, unlike other men, I had the power to make that fantasy a reality. I sat on that thought — hard. The trail behind me of lives ruined or ended by my feeble attempts to play god for my personal benefit still haunted me.







Nevertheless, in the same way my body and spirit slowly had returned to life, my intellect was stirring again. Fed by my discussions with Angela about her coursework, I realized I missed the stimulation of using my entire mind. My idle thoughts — purely as an intellectual exercise! — drifted to considerations of how I could “fix” somebody while avoiding the missteps of my youth.



The only thing that kept this madness in check was the dawning suspicion, totally against all expectations, that Angela might be interested in me.



She was never without the expensive pen and pencil set I’d given her. While we both remained professional at work, Angela’s demeanor seemed warmer than before, and she invited me out for a drink the following Friday. “Oh come on, Lloyd. I feel like I owe you a round!”



I tried to make light of it. “It’s date night. Don’t tell me you couldn’t find a younger man!”



She laughed and made a rude gesture with her hands. “I prefer a companion with a little more intellectual depth, and you’re much smoother with the mental undressing.” Angela laughed harder at my guilty start. “Don’t worry, I take it as a compliment. If you weren’t looking, I’d know you were gay!”



“Now who’s being politically incorrect?” I chuckled. “I guess you talked me into it.”



We ended up in a booth upstairs. Surprisingly few people remembered the store had a small restaurant in it — a throwback to the old days — and it certainly wasn’t the sort of place people went on Friday nights. It was quiet, and even if the employee discount didn’t extend to alcohol, a few beers weren’t going to break us.



Angela had softened her look by donning a disappointingly bulky but warm turtleneck and letting her hair down. She’d been growing it out, and it was long enough she usually put it up when she was on the clock. I, of course, was already set with a forgettable flannel shirt and cardigan.



Our conversation avoided the financial meltdown, work, and school, and drifted onto our pasts. Angela’s laconic accounts of her experiences in the Army were by turns comedic and dark, and I was pretty sure she was self-censoring some of it. In her turn, she was tickled to hear I was an alumnus. We compared notes on the changes (or not) between our eras for a while, but she guided the conversation back to me.



With some initial reluctance, I described my meeting with Alexandra and how we’d come to marry. Needless to say, many details were omitted and others altered for the benefit of young ears. She was horrified to hear we’d lost our son at the World Trade Center. Even with sympathetic prodding, I couldn’t say more about Alexandra than that she’d died a few years ago after a long illness.



It was still more than I’d ever told anybody, except maybe Danny, who’d lived it too, and I realized that the tightness in my chest had loosened a bit by the end of the telling. Angela furtively wiped her eye, and we sat silently for a moment longer.



The restaurant was deserted; it was past closing time and I vaguely recalled Angela telling them we’d lock up on our way out. Just at the moment, perversely, I was feeling a warm sense of companionship rather than sexual attraction. “We should do this again,” I suggested. “Next week, my turn?”



Angela shook her head, dashing my hopes. “On Halloween? Are you kidding?”



I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. Danny always threw a costume party at Home Run that was like Mardi Gras, but with fewer morals. There was no way I could skip out on it; I didn’t know how he’d made it through the years I’d been gone without getting raided, or worse.



“How about the week after that?” Angela countered, shattering my introspection and lifting my spirits.



“Let me check my appointment book,” I grinned. After a little pantomime, I added, “My eyes don’t work so well in the dark anymore; can you make this out?”



“It says you have a date with a smack for being a wise guy,” she mock threatened, but spoiled the effect by laughing.



“Well, heck,” I was laughing too, “a drink with you beats a smack upside the head any day — I guess we’re on!”







It was back to the old grind after that. I intercepted an odd look or two from Angela later the next week, but we still seemed as close as ever and my mind was focused on trying to head off Danny’s wilder ambitions for Halloween.



The party was a disaster. Personally, not professionally, that is; Danny was a master at gauging his audience and cleaning up on the business side. The problem was, there were a lot of people there and every damn time I caught a glimpse of a thin brunette, my cock ratcheted up another notch in my tuxedo pants.



It was ridiculous — Home Run would be the last place on earth I’d expect Angela to show up. Even if she did, she didn’t strike me as the sort of girl who’d go out wearing only a mask and a G-string. Maybe the red devil with the cutout around her crotch, but not with a pitchfork that had dildos instead of tines. Who knew there were so damn many brunettes in town?



After walking halfway around the room trying to get a look at the face of the harem girl who was covered from head to toe, but only in gauze so thin you could read a newspaper through it, I had to retreat upstairs to my office.



Danny poked his head in the door while I was cleaning up after my jerk-off session. “You know, Lloyd, you don’t have to do that. At least half the girls would be more than happy to give you a blow, or fuck, or whatever. Whatever you promised Alexandra, she’s gone now.” His tone was neutral, nonjudgmental, but then he’d been amoral since our unexpected meeting in the Madison lobby long ago.



“Thanks,” I told him, the stark reminder of my past poor planning pouring cold water on my nerves. “I’m okay, now.”



I didn’t stress out for the rest of the evening. I told myself things would just happen in their own time, or they wouldn’t. Any thoughts I might have to the contrary were purely hypothetical intellectual exercises to pass the time, like doing the crossword puzzle. I was almost able to convince myself everything really was okay.







Then there was Obamamania. The effect was a bit muted in the store, whose clientele slanted more Republican, but you couldn’t avoid it anywhere else. I knew by the spring in Angela’s step who she’d voted for; actually, so had I, but I didn’t advertise it.

I didn’t want to stay at the store, so I’d made reservations at an Italian place Danny recommended. It was expensive enough to keep out the noisy crowds, but perversely focused on the “casual chic” sort who didn’t get excited about dressing up to eat.



Angela gave me a long look. “Am I going to be okay like this?” she asked me, gesturing at her sweater, after I’d given her the option of convoying or carpooling.



“I’m not changing,” I nodded. “Besides, you know you’ll have the waiters walking into walls.”



“Stop it,” laughed Angela. “What would you know? Do you even own any clothes younger than I am, gramps?”



“Ouch,” I winced. “I have it on good authority you’re fine. Shirt? Check. Shoes? Check. No swimsuit — Check. Don’t worry.”



“Well, I’ll trust you,” she said lightly, sending a faint chill down my spine. “But I’ll drive; I seem to recall somebody saying he didn’t see too well after dark.”



Her old Taurus looked and sounded like it was on its last legs, but it knew its mistress and got us to the restaurant without complaints. Angela hesitated in the driveway, seeing the valet sign ahead but no alternatives — apparently the casual chic didn’t like to self-park, either. She sighed and pulled up in front of the door.



They were expecting us, and the maitre d’ led us back, not to the table I was expecting, but to a curtained-off private room. It boasted a fireplace, a chandelier, and an ornate table set for two. A single long-stemmed red rose was laid across one of the settings. Goddamn it, Danny! I silently cursed and colored beneath the expressionless gaze Angela turned on me.



“If this will suit?” the host asked, pulling back a chair for Angela.



She nodded, showing considerable poise, and allowed herself to be seated. I was seated across from her a moment later, and the wait staff left us, promising to return momentarily with menus and water.



“Well,” Angela allowed. “This is… a little more than I was expecting. You did say ‘drinks’, didn’t you?”



“I have never been so embarrassed in my life,” I muttered into my lap.



“What?”



I looked up at her. “I said, I’m sorry.” After a heavy sigh, I continued, “I asked a — friend — to recommend someplace quiet where a couple could talk. I think he’s a little too invested in my emotional well-being and jumped to conclusions. I certainly didn’t expect this! We can leave, if it’s making you uncomfortable.”



“No, we’re here,” Angela said, lifting the rose to her nose and inhaling. “I saw your face when we came in, and I know you didn’t expect this any more than I did. It’s a little humorous, really.”



There was a break while we ordered drinks and some appetizers.



Angela spoke up again, sounding stern, as soon as we were alone. “But you’ve been holding out on me, Lloyd.”



I let my surprise show, uncertain what she meant.



“I was curious, so I looked you up in the alumni directory. Why didn’t you tell me you have a Ph.D.? Christ, no wonder you can sleepwalk through my coursework! What are you doing wasting your life doing store security?”



“That part of my life’s over,” I told her flatly, slumping back in my chair and draining off half my glass of wine. “I can’t do it anymore.”



She backed off her intensity. “Yeah, your wife. I Googled her. I’m so sorry; that must have been Hell for you. What a tragic accident.”



I didn’t say anything, but just stared at the menu without seeing any of the words and clenched my hands in my lap. And cursed Angela’s perceptiveness.



Her eyes narrowed. “It was an accident, right? Surely you can’t blame yourself for it? Lloyd?”



“I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.”



Angela sighed and picked up her menu, but the atmosphere remained tense through the end of the salad course.



She surprised me by speaking up just after we’d gotten our entrees. “I’m sorry I’m being pushy, Lloyd. I’ll say one more thing, and then I promise I’ll shut up and never mention it again if you don’t want me to. Okay?”



I nodded, resigned.



“Don’t cheapen Alexandra’s memory this way. I care about you, and you’re throwing your life away for something that wasn’t your fault. Look, I saw a lot of bad things in Iraq, and others saw worse. Bad things happen in life, Lloyd. But we pick ourselves up and move on, because if we don’t, then what were our friends sacrificing themselves for? Don’t be a quitter.”



Her premise was wrong, but I couldn’t tell her that. Knowing she cared lightened my heart, and the humor of the situation got to me. Getting lectured about life by a young girl? “Yes, mother,” I rolled my eyes.



She smiled, and the rest of the evening passed much more agreeably.



When we left, Angela was carrying the rose with her. “Thank your friend for the rose,” she told me while we waited for the valet.



“I’ll tell him what he can do with your rose,” I growled, still embarrassed by the whole thing.



“You’re so sweet,” she laughed, and squeezed my arm gently.



We drove back to the mall, and Angela pulled up next to my old Acura. “Next week, my turn?” she asked casually. “In less refined surroundings,” she added with a laugh.



“Absolutely,” I agreed with delight. I was even more delighted when she leaned over and brushed her lips against my cheek before I climbed out. “Drive safely,” I warned, closing the door.



“Live well,” she shouted through the glass. Angela waited until I had the engine started, and pulled away into the night. She was incorrigible.



I spent the night dreaming about the touch of her lips, and what they would feel like everywhere on my body. In my dreams, we revisited the restaurant, but Angela was the main course. She lay naked atop the table, writhing in ecstasy, while I gave her the fucking of her life and we both came together. Later, we spooned on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, and her kisses tasted of our combined excitement.



That smile was still on my lips when I woke alone in bed, and the stickiness in my pajamas belonged only to me. Was she as interested in me as I was in her? The question kept preying on my mind.







I didn’t know which one of my bastard coworkers to blame, but I knew the jig was up when I met Angela in the break room Thursday morning.



“Hey, I’m sorry, but I have a conflict for tomorrow. Could we reschedule for Tuesday?” Angela already had her “professional” smile on, but I could see the glint of humor in her eyes. For damn sure she knew it was my birthday.



Arguing would have prolonged the inevitable. “Yeah, but no fancy stuff,” I warned her.







“Plain enough for you?” Angela asked archly; she’d just pulled her winter coat over the uniform. It meant we weren’t going upstairs, and probably weren’t going out anywhere that wasn’t extremely casual.



My pulse sped slightly in nervous anticipation. “I’m yours to command.”



She laughed. “How long will that last?”



It wasn’t technically holiday season yet, but the mall had already opened satellite parking lots for the employees, so we rode the shuttle out. “Just follow me,” Angela said during the ride. “I’ll drive really slowly so it’ll seem familiar to you.”



Angela didn’t carry through on her threat, but she was a careful driver and I didn’t have problems staying with her, even in the evening rush. We headed generally in the direction of the University and turned into an unremarkable residential area. I followed her slowly down a street, and saw Angela roll down her window and point towards a vacant spot along the curb.



As I pulled in, she sped down the street and turned into an entrance just beyond the building, quickly disappearing from view. I got out of the car and looked around, feeling a little light-headed; this had to be where she lived! I started walking towards the door of the building she’d gone behind, and Angela appeared in the doorway when I was about two-thirds of the way there.



We walked up to the second floor and she unlocked her door before ushering me in. “Welcome to Casa Vasquez, Lloyd. Throw your coat in the closet. Can I get you a beer or glass of wine?”



“Something red would be great,” I answered, looking around with interest. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, and everything was spic-and-span; pretty much the polar opposite of my place. I heard some clunking and shifting of cookware in the kitchen, so I drifted that way.



Angela met me there. A pair of half-filled glasses sat on the counter, and she’d just put a pot on the range. “It’ll take a little while to heat, but the hard stuff was done yesterday. I hope you like Mexican.”



I smiled and told her, “I’m not so picky in my old age.”



“Great! If you can amuse yourself a minute or two longer, I’ll change into something more comfortable.” Angela winked at me and sauntered out.



A sip of wine steadied my nerves, and I wandered back into the main room. There was a small display case hung on the wall, and I moved closer to examine its contents. There were some ribbons and medals, of which I recognized only a Purple Heart, what I took to be a unit insignia, and her Bachelors diploma. The rose from our last dinner lay in the bottom of the case. I looked around for pictures, but didn’t see any.



“Ta-da, comfortable and decidedly not fancy!” Angela announced. I’d faintly hoped for a filmy negligee and heels, but what I got was sweatpants and a tee-shirt, with fuzzy slippers. The shirt, which was black, proclaimed “I invaded Iraq and all I got was this fucking shirt.” It had the same insignia as the patch in the case.



“It seems like a lot of work for a shirt,” I laughed.



“You have no idea,” Angela said, walking back to the kitchen to check the pot. The back of the shirt said, “TWICE.”



“Come on,” I kidded her, “were you even out of diapers for the first one?”



“First grade, I think,” she mused while giving the pot a stir. “They decided a second tour was good enough for government work. Here, get some more wine; we have about 15 or 20 minutes, I think.”



Angela disappeared again while I refilled our glasses, but she was back by the time I was setting down the bottle. “Happy birthday, Lloyd,” she smiled, and then handed me a gift box.



“You didn’t have to do this.” Whatever it was, it had a little heft to it. I opened the box, and found it contained a man’s watch. Looking more closely, I realized it was an old stainless steel Rolex, still in pretty good condition. “Angela, I can’t accept this; it must have cost you a fortune.”



She lightly pushed away my hand. “It didn’t cost me a penny. My mother gave it to me; I guess it was my grandfather’s.” Her eyes focused inward for a moment. “She’s never been very talkative about her side of the family.”



“It must have some sentimental value; save it for your husband, then.”



“Stop whining and just accept it! I forgot I even had it, honestly, but I thought of you right away when I found it. You know nobody my age wears watches anymore — we just look at our cell phones. It would make me happy for you to have it.”



I carefully removed the watch from the box and examined it. It looked like an Oysterdate, which pretty much exhausted my knowledge of Rolex watches, and appeared to be in mint condition except for some scratches on the bottom of the steel link band. Angela obviously had wound it and set the correct date and time.



After a moment of thought, I removed my pedestrian Timex and put on the Rolex; it sat solidly on my wrist, a little loose but quite passible. “Thank you, then, from the very bottom of my heart.”



“You’re welcome.” She hugged me, and I was intensely aware of her body beneath the thin shirt. I didn’t want to embarrass either of us with an erection, but my body had other ideas.



“So, what are we eating?”



“Carnitas,” Angela answered, looking back at the range. “It’s slow-cooked pork, served with lots of things that are bad for you. But, hey — we both probably should be dead already.”



It proved to be delicious. I forced myself to stop before I was full, not wanting to be bloated.



“Forget about the dishes,” she ordered me when I started to clean the table. “Go sit on the futon and pretend you’re a guest, okay?” Angela punched the button on the coffeemaker and joined me; our knees were almost touching.



I shifted a bit, using my hands folded in my lap to cover my rigid penis. Angela looked at me, as if she were waiting for something, and I gazed back at her, taking in the loose coil of hair on the back of her head, the way her bust moved lightly beneath the shirt as she breathed, and the curve of her legs beneath the soft pants.



“You’re undressing me again,” she chided.



“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I told her with a dry mouth.



A slight wariness entered her eyes, but I was already too far gone to notice it. “I admire you very much, too.”



They were almost the words I’d been longing to hear. I needed her so badly! My hand trembled when I reached out to turn her face towards me so I could kiss her the way I’d been longing to.



She swept my hand easily aside and turned her face away, stiff-arming me back into my place. “Lloyd, no!” Angela was clearly upset, but still in command of herself and the situation.



I stared at her in stark incomprehension. “No?”



“I invited you here tonight to salute you and feed you, Lloyd — not to have sex!” She was trembling now, herself. “I am not that kind of woman.”



“You’re all that kind of woman!” I shouted, and began struggling to reach her.



Physically, she had nothing to fear from me; emotionally, anger started to displace her initial disbelief. Angela shouted, “NO!” and slapped me, hard.



YES!” I raged, and waves of emotion fueled by loss, rage, humiliation, and lust channeled through my mind’s eye and crashed down on her like a ton of bricks. Mentally, it was more like a ton of flashing, razor-edged knives.



I wasn’t consciously directing anything, but my raw ability hadn’t faded any after years of disuse. Any inhibitions I might have felt were buried beneath raw emotion and a bitter sense that all my past attempts at self-restraint had ended badly. I didn’t show any restraint at all, that evening.



The tangled ball of Angela’s mind thrashed as if the individual strands of her consciousness were unraveled simultaneously in place and then stretched in differing directions, somehow forming two almost independent but interwoven tangles, before the sparkles forming them began to flare under the pressure of my intent.



I wanted a slut, a wanton sex object who would always be ready for my attentions, craving my touch, and loyal beyond all doubt or distraction. Not a slave, exactly, but a partner whose most focused desire would be my own gratification by whatever means necessary. If I felt even a passing desire to take her, she would be ready. The living incarnation of every adolescent boy’s unwaking wet dream and carnal fantasy.



Both of us screamed. What Angela felt, I didn’t know, but the mother of all headaches seemed to hit me like lightning, and the sparkles of her mind were eclipsed by the stars appearing in my vision, just before I passed out.







My senses were out of kilter when I finally decided I was awake. Keeping my eyes closed seemed to reduce the intensity of the headache, and allowed me to concentrate on the pleasure I was receiving. My first thought was that Susan was blowing me; that we’d stolen away again to the lumpy couch in the ladies’ washroom for a quickie. She was all frantic desire, without the quiet, assured confidence that Alex had developed after decades of learning more about my body than I knew myself.



Belatedly I understood that framing the comparison at all meant it couldn’t be either of them, and I forced my aching eyes open. Angela knelt between my legs, worshipping my organ with an intensity of purpose that showed in every line of her body. The sight of this fantasy realized brought me to full rigidity.



Angela stood, revealing her sweatpants and underwear already were missing. My eyes drank in the arousing contours of her young body, pausing briefly at the traces of semen glistening near her neatly groomed bush. Wearing only the tee shirt and socks, she quickly knelt atop me and guided my erection into her pussy.



We both moaned at the exquisite sensation, and Angela quickly looked up at my face. Seeing that I was awake, she gave a cry of delight and leaned forward to kiss me aggressively. “Master!” she cooed a moment later.



“Don’t call me that,” I blurted, feeling the word jab at my guilty conscience.



She started and pulled back slightly, suddenly looking as if she might cry. “Don’t you find me pleasing?”



“Don’t stop! Oh, you’re extremely pleasing; just — not that word. I’m nobody’s master, least of all yours.”



The smile reappeared instantly. “Whatever you say,” she agreed, and began to work herself on me again. Angela’s expression suggested she was pandering to some beloved, but addled, elder — not a bad analogy — but became by turns more self-absorbed as our excitement crested higher.



I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cum more than once in a day, but years of abstinence coupled with the sight — and feel — of Angela’s wild abandon were pushing me to the edge again. “Oh, you hot fucking slut,” I gasped, not bothering with any self-censorship at this point.



As if my words were goads, Angela began panting. “Oh, fuck! Fill me up with your cock! I am your slut! Oh! OH! Ohmygod!



She was too much for me, and I felt my penis throb as I orgasmed the remaining dregs of my scum into her. Angela screamed her delight at the same time, orgasming so wildly she put out a hand to grip the futon and keep from falling over. Part of me suspected it wasn’t a coincidence, but the rest of me was having too much fun watching to give it any thought.



Angela pulled herself off me and watched, entranced, as commingled lubrication and jism glistened along the entire length of my deflating manhood. She reached out to grasp me, but I shooed her away.



“Go easy on an old man! You don’t want to break it, do you?”



“More,” she pleaded, with the air of a five-year-old in a candy store.



I couldn’t help laughing. “We’ll see! First, I’d like to see more of you.”



Angela stood without artifice, but with innate grace, and faced me. She pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. A toss of her head arranged her hair behind her shoulders, and she was already removing the simple cotton bra she wore.



My mouth went dry looking at her. I knew what Angela looked like fully clothed, but some women were expert at using garments to accentuate their good points and obscure those that weren’t so good. She hadn’t struck me as that type, but it was clear her body didn’t need any help at all in that regard. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I wasn’t going to end the night at this point!



I stood up, and discovered my pants were still puddled around my ankles. Happy I’d worn loafers, I managed to free my feet without killing myself. A few steps brought me within reach of Angela. Gingerly, I reached out to cup a breast; it was warm, soft, and I felt the nipple erect itself against the palm of my hand. Angela’s lips parted in an unaspirated sigh, and her body melted against mine. Well, against my flannel shirt and cardigan, anyway.



“Damn shirt,” I muttered, and withdrew my hand to start unbuttoning it.



Angela brushed my hands gently aside. “Let me,” she offered. Her fingers were deft, and didn’t miss a single opportunity to touch and stroke my body. When she finished peeling my undershirt over my head, we were pressed against each other with our outstretched arms entwined.



My cock was thinking about rising to the occasion a third time. I left it to fend for itself, sandwiched against a toned hip, and pulled Angela tighter against me. I kissed her again, and this time she reacted passively, parting her lips and allowing my tongue to explore her mouth as I chose.

It was warm on the terrace of the small village home. The sun was setting but the sky was a firey color. Master stood next to me, the tips of Sir’s fingers were touching the small of my back.



Master’s hand moved up my back and ran through my hair and his hand gripped my hair tightly and I, his Kutiya (hindi for bitch) let out a soft moan from the unexpected, yet delicious touch. He used His grip in my hair to turn me toward Him. Pulling my head back, He brought His face close to mine and spoke firmly to me..



“Aaa.. My slut.. My bitch.. you are Mine and will be Mine in everyway from this moment forward.”



He stood pressed up against me, His hand still pulling my head back. I felt His mustache and the stubble of His day-old beard against my skin. My eyes closed, enjoying the feeling, and then I felt His teeth pressing and then biting into my shoulder and then neck…



I felt an instant wetness between my legs.. A desire.. a need that couldn’t be resisted.



His other hand moved over my face.. my neck.. down to my breast. His hand grabbed and kneeded my breasts.. one at a time. My nipples grew hard and He could feel them against His palm, even through the fabric of my blouse.



His deft fingers pinched my nipple.. hard. I felt Him growing hard against me. His hands moved over my breasts and then ripped open my blouse then slapping the top of my breasts. My hands reached out to touch Him but He pulled away and slapped me across my face, leaned in and spoke into my ear…



“Not yet My slut..”



His arms wrapped around me and I loved feeling His warmth against me.. the scent of His body.. the feeling of His solid self…



He unhooked my bra and pulled it over my shoulders then told me to take it off, which I did. He moved behind me then, and again, I felt Him against me.. His arms around me..



One by one He pinched and pulled my nipples.. Twisting them between His fingers, then put a clover clamp on each of my long, thick nipples. He then tied the string loops on each of them together. All the while I felt His cock pressed against my ass, growing harder and harder all the time. I reached back and ran my fingers and palm across His hard cock



My pussy was so wet and my mouth was watering. My fingers fumbled to open His trousers. I wanted.. NEEDED to touch His cock.. to feel it, taste it, be filled by it… I opened His pants and slipped my hands into His shorts..



The heat of His hard, thick cock in my hands, my fingertips rubbing His balls while my palms moved up and down the length of the shaft of His cock. I leaned my head back and kissed the underside of His chin and neck. He moaned which made me smile and encouraged me to continue. My tongue licking His neck.. softly nibbling His flesh



His cock began to leak slowly.. pre-cum.. Mmmmm



I pushed His pants down and I pressed my ass against His hard, leaking cock. I could feel the pre-cum through my skirt.. I felt His hands grab my ass. Suddenly He turned me around, With His hand pulling my hair, He moved me where he wanted me: Down on my knees before Him, I licked His cock and balls, slowly and intently.. enjoying every moment.



“Thats a nice place for my bitch to be at,” He said to me, as he watched me at His feet.



I sucked Him slowly into my mouth, my tongue licking His cock. I looked up at Him as I sucked His cock.. needing to see if I was pleasing Him. His hands were buried in my hair and I sucked faster, harder.. Pulling Him deeper into my mouth..



My face pressed against His belly as His cock filled my mouth and pressed against the back of my throat.



“Yessss,” he moaned, and began to fuck my mouth.



I could taste Him heavy in my mouth. I wrapped one arm around Him while the other played with His balls.



One of His hands was wrapped around my throat as my hand caressed His delightful ass cheeks, and He continued to fuck my mouth mercilessly.



I moaned with my mouth full of Him. My thighs were soaked.. nipples hard and clamped.. hands caressing His ass.. My mouth full of His cock..



Each time I moaned or groaned, He sighed… Sometimes affirming him pleasure with a low “yesss” or “fuck yes”.



Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help moaning. The feeling of His cock in my mouth was too good to be resisted. I wanted desperately to taste Him..



I felt His balls begin to rise and twitch in my palm and knew He was close to cumming.



I took His cock deeeep in my mouth and throat, and swallowed. My throat closing on His cock again and again.. My tongue and lower lip rubbed and teased against His balls and the underside of his cock.. the shaft and glans.



I felt Him push deeper and then I felt it..



Felt Him cum.. and cum and cum and…



I felt Him flood my mouth with His hot seed. I swallowed Him sucking every drop of His cum.. licking His cock and running my lips over the shaft. My hand milked His of every last drop, lapping it up and then rubbing His cock all over my face.



I enjoyed feeling Him everywhere on me, and as I looked up at Him, I saw Him smile. I kissed the inside of His thighs.. my teeth grazing across their flesh and I heard Him moan a long “Mmmmmm”.



I loved the sound of Him moaning!



His hand still buried in my hair, was slowly rubbing my head.. Pulling my hair.. There on my knees before Him, with my head pulled back, He slapped me across my face then grabbed the string between the clover clamps on my nipples and pulled up.



I let out a yelp and a groan, and felt my body betray me.



A small gush released from my pussy and my body shook as I came. He pulled up harder and I moved to stand up, as He used the string to lead me.



The sun was nearly down. The sky was getting darker and stars were coming out.



He lead me a few meters away to a potting table littered with soil and pots and twine.



And rope.



He backed me up against the table, laying me back onto it. He reached over me and grabbed the rope and twine. He tied my wrists and secured them to the potting table, took the twine and smacked it over my skin with it. It was scratchy and pokey and left small red raised patches where it hit.



He moved to the side of the potting table, yanked on the clamps.. Once.. twice.. three times. Each time I groaned and the last time I squirmed and cried out.



“Yes, My lovely slave..” He spoke softly.



He put His hand around my throat and squeezed slightly, then slapped my face again. I looked into His dark eyes And there was a humor there.. and a hunger.



I wondered if you could see my own hunger for Him. He leaned over me and bit my breast.. Hard. Again I cried out but not just from pain but pleasure as well.



He bit again and again across my tits and belly. My skin was a map of red crescents. He reached into a box looking for something and came out with a long garden knife.



The skirt I had been wearing, I was still wearing. He ran the blade down the length of my upper body tracing over the impressions of His teeth on my skin and then sliced through the fabric of my skirt and then again through the thin fabric of my very wet panties.



Instinctually I closed my legs, but He took the twine and hit my legs hard with it..



“You look nice with fear, anticipation and desire,” He said, then ordered me to open them for Him.



Softly I replied, “Yes Master”.



I closed my eyes as I felt His hand on my thigh.. Touching the slick wetness.



Suddenly I felt the twine smack hard onto my bare pussy, my long fleshy lips hot and red and stinging.



He was pleased, “mmmmm, nice..”



The first smack came on my inhale but the exhale was broken and moaning, and then the second smack came eliciting a loud cry. The loud spank of His hand followed the twine and I squirmed again. I was unconsciously making a half moan, half cry that grew louder with each impact.



He pushed my knees open wide and told me in no uncertain terms to “Keep them open!”



He moved around the table, above my head and opened His trousers, pulled His cock out and rubbed it over my lips “Lick it, bitch”.



Of course I did, and with pleasure.



I felt His cock grow harder and harder as I licked it.. kissed it.. sucked it.. He pulled the clover clamps again and I half cried, half yelped.



Once He was nice and hard again He moved to the other end of the table, yanking the clamps as He worked His way around.



When He was at the foot end of the table I felt His fingers press into the inside of my thighs and I smiled knowing I’d carry His fingerprints with me for days to come.



He pushed my knees up to meet my chest and my ass rose up off of the table. I felt His cock slide between the long wet lips of my pussy and rub against my clit and then down to the pucker of my ass.



I sighed.. It felt so good..



Then His voice, loudly.. “Open your eyes My whore. Open your eyes!”



I opened them wide and was staring into His large, dark eyes.



“Finally I’m going to take what’s mine..” He said as I felt Him push His thick cock into my tight, virgin ass.



I cried out, trying to stifle it.. but a tear slowly made it’s way down my cheek and into my hair.



He fucked my ass slowly at first and then harder and faster. He leaned over and bit my lip and then came. I felt Him cumming inside of me as he buried his entire cock inside of my ass and flooded it with His seed. I cried out and He smothered my mouth with His.



He lay over me.. His cock still within me.



Sometime later He cut the rope off of me using the knife and helped me to sit.. then held me as we walked a short distance to a large patch of lush grass where we lay down. The cool grass held us asIt was warm on the terrace of the small village home. The sun was setting but the sky was a firey color. He stood next to me, the tips of His fingers were touching the small of my back.



His hand moved up my back and ran through my hair. His hand gripped my hair tightly and I let out a soft moan from the unexpected, yet delicious touch. He used His grip in my hair to turn me toward Him. Pulling my head back, He brought His face close to mine and spoke firmly to me..



“Aaa.. My slut.. My bitch.. you are Mine and will be Mine in everyway from this moment forward.”



He stood pressed up against me, His hand still pulling my head back. I felt His mustache and the stubble of His day-old beard against my skin. My eyes closed, enjoying the feeling, and then I felt His teeth pressing and then biting into my shoulder and then neck…



I felt an instant wetness between my legs.. A desire.. a need that couldn’t be resisted.



His other hand moved over my face.. my neck.. down to my breast. His hand grabbed and kneeded my breasts.. one at a time. My nipples grew hard and He could feel them against His palm, even through the fabric of my blouse.



His deft fingers pinched my nipple.. hard. I felt Him growing hard against me. His hands moved over my breasts and then ripped open my blouse then slapping the top of my breasts.



My hands reached out to touch Him but He pulled away and slapped me across my face, leaned in and spoke into my ear…



“Not yet My slut..”



His arms wrapped around me and I loved feeling His warmth against me.. the scent of His body.. the feeling of His solid self…



He unhooked my bra and pulled it over my shoulders then told me to take it off, which I did. He moved behind me then, and again, I felt Him against me.. His arms around me..



One by one He pinched and pulled my nipples.. Twisting them between His fingers, then put a clover clamp on each of my long, thick nipples. He then tied the string loops on each of them together. All the while I felt His cock pressed against my ass, growing harder and harder all the time. I reached back and ran my fingers and palm across His hard cock



My pussy was so wet and my mouth was watering. My fingers fumbled to open His trousers. I wanted.. NEEDED to touch His cock.. to feel it, taste it, be filled by it… I opened His pants and slipped my hands into His shorts..



The heat of His hard, thick cock in my hands, my fingertips rubbing His balls while my palms moved up and down the length of the shaft of His cock. I leaned my head back and kissed the underside of His chin and neck. He moaned which made me smile and encouraged me to continue. My tongue licking His neck.. softly nibbling His flesh



His cock began to leak slowly.. pre-cum.. Mmmmm



I pushed His pants down and I pressed my ass against His hard, leaking cock. I could feel the pre-cum through my skirt.. I felt His hands grab my ass. Suddenly He turned me around, With His hand pulling my hair, He moved me where he wanted me: Down on my knees before Him, I licked His cock and balls, slowly and intently.. enjoying every moment.



“Thats a nice place for my bitch to be at,” He said to me, as he watched me at His feet.



I sucked Him slowly into my mouth, my tongue licking His cock. I looked up at Him as I sucked His cock.. needing to see if I was pleasing Him. His hands were buried in my hair and I sucked faster, harder.. Pulling Him deeper into my mouth..



My face pressed against His belly as His cock filled my mouth and pressed against the back of my throat.



“Yessss,” he moaned, and began to fuck my mouth.



I could taste Him heavy in my mouth. I wrapped one arm around Him while the other played with His balls.



One of His hands was wrapped around my throat as my hand caressed His delightful ass cheeks, and He continued to fuck my mouth mercilessly.



I moaned with my mouth full of Him. My thighs were soaked.. nipples hard and clamped.. hands caressing His ass.. My mouth full of His cock..



Each time I moaned or groaned, He sighed… Sometimes affirming him pleasure with a low “yesss” or “fuck yes”.



Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help moaning. The feeling of His cock in my mouth was too good to be resisted. I wanted desperately to taste Him..



I felt His balls begin to rise and twitch in my palm and knew He was close to cumming.



I took His cock deeeep in my mouth and throat, and swallowed. My throat closing on His cock again and again.. My tongue and lower lip rubbed and teased against His balls and the underside of his cock.. the shaft and glans.



I felt Him push deeper and then I felt it..



Felt Him cum.. and cum and cum and…



I felt Him flood my mouth with His hot seed. I swallowed Him sucking every drop of His cum.. licking His cock and running my lips over the shaft. My hand milked His of every last drop, lapping it up and then rubbing His cock all over my face.



I enjoyed feeling Him everywhere on me, and as I looked up at Him, I saw Him smile. I kissed the inside of His thighs.. my teeth grazing across their flesh and I heard Him moan a long “Mmmmmm”.



I loved the sound of Him moaning!



His hand still buried in my hair, was slowly rubbing my head.. Pulling my hair.. There on my knees before Him, with my head pulled back, He slapped me across my face then grabbed the string between the clover clamps on my nipples and pulled up.



I let out a yelp and a groan, and felt my body betray me.



A small gush released from my pussy and my body shook as I came. He pulled up harder and I moved to stand up, as He used the string to lead me.



The sun was nearly down. The sky was getting darker and stars were coming out.



He lead me a few meters away to a potting table littered with soil and pots and twine.



And rope.



He backed me up against the table, laying me back onto it. He reached over me and grabbed the rope and twine. He tied my wrists and secured them to the potting table, took the twine and smacked it over my skin with it. It was scratchy and pokey and left small red raised patches where it hit.



He moved to the side of the potting table, yanked on the clamps.. Once.. twice.. three times. Each time I groaned and the last time I squirmed and cried out.



“Yes, My lovely slave..” He spoke softly.



He put His hand around my throat and squeezed slightly, then slapped my face again. I looked into His dark eyes And there was a humor there.. and a hunger.



I wondered if you could see my own hunger for Him. He leaned over me and bit my breast.. Hard. Again I cried out but not just from pain but pleasure as well.



He bit again and again across my tits and belly. My skin was a map of red crescents. He reached into a box looking for something and came out with a long garden knife.



The skirt I had been wearing, I was still wearing. He ran the blade down the length of my upper body tracing over the impressions of His teeth on my skin and then sliced through the fabric of my skirt and then again through the thin fabric of my very wet panties.



Instinctually I closed my legs, but He took the twine and hit my legs hard with it..



“You look nice with fear, anticipation and desire,” He said, then ordered me to open them for Him.



Softly I replied, “Yes Master”.



I closed my eyes as I felt His hand on my thigh.. Touching the slick wetness.



Suddenly I felt the twine smack hard onto my bare pussy, my long fleshy lips hot and red and stinging.



He was pleased, “mmmmm, nice..”



The first smack came on my inhale but the exhale was broken and moaning, and then the second smack came eliciting a loud cry. The loud spank of His hand followed the twine and I squirmed again. I was unconsciously making a half moan, half cry that grew louder with each impact.



He pushed my knees open wide and told me in no uncertain terms to “Keep them open!”



He moved around the table, above my head and opened His trousers, pulled His cock out and rubbed it over my lips “Lick it, bitch”.



Of course I did, and with pleasure.



I felt His cock grow harder and harder as I licked it.. kissed it.. sucked it.. He pulled the clover clamps again and I half cried, half yelped.



Once He was nice and hard again He moved to the other end of the table, yanking the clamps as He worked His way around.



When He was at the foot end of the table I felt His fingers press into the inside of my thighs and I smiled knowing I’d carry His fingerprints with me for days to come.



He pushed my knees up to meet my chest and my ass rose up off of the table. I felt His cock slide between the long wet lips of my pussy and rub against my clit and then down to the pucker of my ass.



I sighed.. It felt so good..



Then His voice, loudly.. “Open your eyes My whore. Open your eyes!”



I opened them wide and was staring into His large, dark eyes.



“Finally I’m going to take what’s mine..” He said as I felt Him push His thick cock into my tight, virgin ass.



I cried out, trying to stifle it.. but a tear slowly made it’s way down my cheek and into my hair.



He fucked my ass slowly at first and then harder and faster. He leaned over and bit my lip and then came. I felt Him cumming inside of me as he buried his entire cock inside of my ass and flooded it with His seed. I cried out and He smothered my mouth with His.



He lay over me.. His cock still within me.



Sometime later He cut the rope off of me using the knife and helped me to sit.. then held me as we walked a short distance to a large patch of lush grass where we lay down. The cool grass held us as we looked up at the stars, a thin blanket pulled over us.



We lay in each others arms, kissing and touching and caressing.. We fell asleep in one another’s arms, and I woke up to His cock hard against me. He was still asleep as I stroked Him slowly then wrapped my legs around Him and slipped His hard cock into my already wet pussy and rode Him slowly.. He woke up buried inside of me.. My hands caressing His chest.. and kissing, licking and biting His ears, neck and lips.



I felt Him beginning to move under me. His hips pumping. The pleasure building again, faster and higher with each movement.



The climax came quickly.. unexpectedly. My back arched as the muscles in my body tensed and shook.. my skin flushing bright red. A flood released over His cock as he moved in a frenzy then exploded inside of me. I lay over Him.. His softening cock within me.. Our cum mingling together.. His arms around me and mine around Him.. Laying entwined in the grass in the cool night air on the terrace.

So, you think that you’d like to be spanked:



A few years ago I was dating a dirty little blonde who was intelligent, attractive, and had a personality to match.



One evening after a date out, I was sitting on her sofa and she was lying down with her head on my lap. We weren’t really doing much of anything. I think that we were talking or watching television. She was wearing jeans. I playfully gave her a light swat on her bottom. She moaned and squirmed as if she were starting to cum. I was caught off guard because we hadn’t been doing anything that would have aroused her. In fact, we had yet to have sex. Teasingly, I said, “How interesting.” Her face turned red.



Not long after that fun little evening, I found out that she loved to be spanked, and I mean spanked! She liked it often, and she liked it hard.



This was all new to me. Feeling somewhat insecure, I asking her if everything was ok. I wanted to know how being spanked made her feel and if I was being too rough.



By no means do I want to imply that I was an innocent player in our game because the very hint of pushing her beyond her limits is so erotic that it overwhelmed my senses. (In fact, the mere act of writing this story is making my balls ache and cock stiffen) I just did not want to take it any farther than she wanted. The thought of spanking her until it hurt, pushing her beyond her expectations, or beyond what she thought she could take, was a real turn on. Knowing that I could do things to her that caused her to lose self control like the time that she curled up on the bed in an attempt to regain bodily functions, created a sense of ecstasy that I will never forget. But, there is a big difference between pushing her limits and going too far. In the end, that really didn’t matter because I was soon to find that she wanted it taken a long, long, way.



This was one girl that really didn’t have any limits. It was not possible for me to take it too far.



As time went on I came to the realization that it wasn’t just the spankings that turned her on, but everything about being a submissive. What fascinated me is how elaborate our sex games had become. I don’t know why these games drove her so wild, but in retrospect maybe it was because of the fact that a woman with her level of intelligence and business savvy needed a break from reality.



And, break her I did.



Sometimes I’d tell her to go into the bedroom and remove all of her clothing, bend over, grab her ankles, and wait until I came in. Without even a whimper she’d wander off to do as she was told. Sometimes I’d wait a few minutes; giving her time to undress. Other times I’d amuse myself by watching her prepare for what was yet to come.



The first thing that I did after she had disrobed was to inspect her body. I methodically examined her, probing every nook and cranny, leaving her in a state of helpless violation. I covered every inch, even going so far as to stick a finger into each side of her mouth, forcing it open to be inspected. With her legs straining wide open, I made her squat, ever demanding that she conform to whatever position necessary to complete the examination. Her humiliation had begun.



After she had striped down naked and passed my inspection, she’d bend over; grab her ankles, and stand with her legs apart which caused her ass checks to spread wide open. This exposed her little pussy and little asshole so that they faced upward and slightly open. Ordering her to stand in this position left her helpless to any twisted vile whim that entered my mind. Instead of grabbing her ankles, I considered having her reach back and pull her ass checks wide open. But, after having her experiment with a few varied positions, I came to the conclusion that she could not expose herself anymore than when grabbing her own ankles.



She was a petite little thing and bending over opened her up in a way that made her little pussy look disproportionately large and meaty. It was an amazing experience looking between her legs and seeing the inside of her thighs spread wide open ready to be used. What a wonderful fleshy exhibition. She looked so raunchy and helpless. I never imagined that a woman could look so kinky and dirty. She was now poised for me to work her over.



While I was becoming more aggressive, she was becoming, “my little cunt.” I took complete control. She willfully transformed herself from an intelligent independent woman into my slutty little whore that obeyed my every command. Her rounded shapely little bottom stuck high into the air.



I stood over my little cunt; she with her hands grasping her ankles while I rubbed her body from her shoulders all the way down to the soft spot behind her knees. She began to shake. I could hear her fearful little moans; almost tearful whimpers as she struggled to prepared herself for my assault on her hapless little body. For just a brief moment I stopped what I was doing to stick my nose up into her protruding lips smelling the pungent odor emanating from between her legs. She stunk of sex. Like a rabid dog, I lapped up her juices.



She moaned.



I stood behind and slightly to the right of her with my slowly hardening cock free to brush up against her quivering thigh. I repeatedly ran my hands all over her little body.



There really wasn’t a particular pattern, I just massaged and rubbed and stroked and pressed and kneaded and squeezed and manipulated and pinched and pulled and work her from her ankles to her perky little breasts and back again. Over and over I worked, toughing and pulling at my baby girls nipples, only changing the tempo to fit my mood.



At times I worked in a slow deliberate fashion, while others, tearing at her like a wild beast. Her quivering was so intense that I thought that she would collapse. Occasionally, I’d slide my finger up into her dripping wet pussy and then slowly pull it out, only stopping to tug on her clit for a moment or two. I worked on my little whore’s body until the volume of her moans signaled the loss of control.



It was not long before she bore the marks that come from being mauled. Every now and then, she’d pick up on the sexual rhythm that was being generated and rock back and forth as if she were dancing to some euphoric trance inducing jungle sound. This I did not tolerate. I rapidly pushed my finger up into her little asshole as a way to keep her in a state of confusion.



She was shocked. Pushing my finger up into her ass was so unexpected that it only served to intensify the pleasure that was beginning to overwhelm her.



Her moans increased in volume and saliva trickled from the side of her mouth. In between her gasps I heard a faint gurgling coming form her throat. Surrendering her last bit of pride, her eyes rolled back in her head.



She begged me to start rubbing her again. She’d fall to the floor and spread her legs as wide as she could; arching her back while rocking her pussy back and forth pushing it as high into the air as her birthing sized hips allowed. She offered it up to me as one that was using her last ounce of strength to crawl onto a sacrificial alter built for some cruel vengeful god. And when that failed, she’d refer to herself as “your little whore.” My only response was to tell her to shut up and do as she was told. There was no way that her begging was going to keep me from completing my task.



I took action! I ordered her to stop whining, stand up and resume the position. I didn’t really care how horny she had become or what she wanted me to do to her. I wanted my dirty little whore bent over so that I could play with her little pussy and little asshole in any fashion that suited my fancy. And, I wanted her to do it, NOW!



With a humiliated look on her face, she did as she was told. She stood up, bent over, and grabbed her ankles. The only difference was that her pussy lips were all puffed up engorged with blood, bright red, and dripping wet. I stepped behind her and proceeded to push my finger back inside her little asshole, except this time I pushed it in with a vengeance. I didn’t care if it hurt her. After all, it was not my fault that she did not do as she was told. It was my responsibility to train her to be a good little slut, and train her I did! Her humiliation was complete.



For a couple minutes I did not allow her to move at all. Even the slightest twinge required a hard smack on her already red bottom in an attempt to reinforce the command that she had been given.



Quickly, she learned to be still with the exception of the involuntary quivering that I felt running from deep inside her asshole and up into my arm. I moved my finger around as much as I could. She violently pushed her ass up against my hand.



I didn’t let on, but I began to realize that she couldn’t control herself any longer because she had been on the edge of cuming for far too long. I pulled my finger out of her ass while demanding that she stay bent over.



I started spanking her bottom; first one cheek and then the other. With each stroke I spanked harder and harder. At the same rate that I paddled her ass, her moans became intermixed with screams which only caused me to spank her ever harder. Just when it seems like she was crossing the line between pleasure and pain, I gave her three more swats with my hand, just so she would never forget that I could always go a little farther than her moans told me to go.



By this time I was dying to stick my cock inside of her. I knew from both experience and from her cries, that she wanted me inside, and that her ass was her favorite hole to be fucked.



I had her get onto her bed in the doggie position, so that her knees were on the edge, with her calves and feet hanging off the side. Her ass stuck out just far enough for me to stand behind her. The position was perfect. I stood behind her, taking a firm grasp of her hips, and with just a couple quick thrusts, slid my cock into her asshole.

Ronald turned back from the door feeling quite content with the morning’s events thus far. During his brief conversation with his young friend, Dr. Madison, he’d informed him about, not only his desire to purchase one of the mechanical devices they’d discussed earlier but had also made his friend aware of his need of other medical paraphernalia. He ignored Will’s brief attempt to gain permission to schedule Lady Allyson for an appointment with a surgeon for a clitorectomy, much as he had the man’s earlier flirtation.



Their on-going ‘discussions’ regarding healthy sexual behavior versus some of what Lord Allensby viewed as aberrant behavior in the extreme could become lengthy and loud. He was grateful, therefore, that today’s discussion had been kept to a peaceful minimum. As much as he’d pretended to ignore the young bride, Will had been reluctant to voice certain of his views in front of her, for which Ronald was grateful. The suggestion that Allys be subjected to surgical removal of her clitoris would have been laughable had William not been so earnest about the need for it to be done. Giving a snort of derision, Ronald acknowledged wryly that his viewpoints were frequently ‘old-fashioned’ but thought nothing was probably MORE likely to cause Allys hysteria than removal of that which she was learning gave her so much pleasure.



Glancing back across the room he saw Molly helping her Mistress to her feet. The look of uncertainty on Allyson’s face sent him hurrying across the room. Pulling Allyson against him he hugged her, murmuring against her hair, “Well done, Pet.”



Leading her to the settee he let her stand briefly while he built up the fire again. He was aware of her distress and certain he knew the reason for it but this too was part of his plan for her training and education. She must understand, sooner rather than later, that she would obey him in all things — and that he would not brook substantial discussion or argument in any matter. But that if she submit to him wholly and trust him, that he would always keep her pleasure and best interest to heart. He was, he thought, not above bribing her and rewarding her with more and increasing pleasure.



Finishing with the fire he returned to the settee, pulling Allyson down onto his lap as he sat down, his hands lingering on the swell of her breasts and the curve of her buttocks. She sighed and shivered with pleasure when he bent to press a kiss to her lips. His fingers tugged gently at the copper thatch between her thighs and he murmured, “Spread your legs, Kitten” pleased that she did so now with no hesitation at all.



Sliding his fingers between the slippery folds of her sex he slipped two fingers easily into her moist depths, his thumb resting alongside her clit, in much the same way the young doctor had just roused her to orgasm. “I’m very glad you’re learning to let yourself enjoy the pleasure your body is capable of giving you, Pet. Before long we’ll work on some other ways of bringing you pleasure, as well as on your self-control.”



At her look of confusion he continued, “It’s important for you to be able to feel pleasure. I’m very pleased and proud that you can. It’s also important for you to understand that you belong to me…you are mine…my wife. I will say how you can and cannot feel pleasure…when you can and cannot feel pleasure…and with whom. You will learn that your body and your pleasure belongs to me as well. As long as you obey me you will be rewarded…defy me…”



Allyson shivered at the look in his eyes. She couldn’t imagine defying him. He was a man, older…and…her husband. All of her life she’d been expected to submit meekly, without question or argument when her father spoke. Now that she was married she expected to do the same with her husband.



Hearing a slight noise behind them in the room, Lord Allensby called the maid forward as well, addressing both of the young women now, “Molly, there are times that you will need to come and go from this room — either into the rest of the house, or out to the local markets and merchants. Since that is true I cannot place you under the same rule as my Lady wife regarding dress. I will say, however, that I expect you to always be accessible for our use and our needs.”



The girl bobbed a curtsy and Ronald was pleased to see a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Now, as to your activities earlier. I have no objection as yet to the two of you ‘getting to know each other’, as long as I am present in the rooms. If I am elsewhere then I expect you to refrain until such time as I can be reached for permission, or I can join you. And Allyson, when I say that your body and your pleasure belongs to me, I mean it. No matter how ‘hungry’ or desperate you feel you are not allowed to touch yourself or bring yourself pleasure unless I specifically direct you to. Do you understand?”



The color flowed over her body in waves, an ocean in pink and coral as she blushed and tried to stammer out a response, “B-but Ronald, I would n-n… I c-c-couldn’t…” Finally she gave up and subsided with a nod and a gasped, “Yes, Ronald. I-I-I understand.”



Pulling his fingers from her juicy quim he licked one clean before holding the other to her lips. Her lips tightened briefly but then her mouth opened, her tongue tip extruding to lick at his finger delicately. Her gray eyes never left his as she licked his finger clean of her juices. Opening her mouth wide enough for him to place his finger inside she continued to slide her tongue over and around the digit as she sucked at it, generating an immediate response between his legs.



“Mmmmm,” he groaned with pleasure. “That’s lovely, Kitten. Do you think you could do that to my cock as well?”



When she smiled and nodded he kissed the tip of her nose, setting her onto the floor between his legs. She dropped to her knees, reaching forward to grasp his cock. He was still only half erect and she cupped him with one hand, stroking his appendage with an index finger before bending to kiss the tip and run her tongue up and down the shaft. Her warm breath caressed him as she bent to examine him closely, pausing here and there for deep inhalations. He wondered at first what she was doing until she lifted her face to look up at him, her eyes radiant as she informed him, “You smell so GOOD Ronald…the way a man should.”



He chuckled, knotting his fingers into her auburn curls and pressing her face back to his groin. “I’m glad you like it, Kitten…now SUCK my cock!” he commanded. Her obvious eagerness to please him more than made up for her lack of experience, and he actually didn’t mind the occasional graze of her teeth. As his arousal and need for release grew, so did his need to thrust. Reminding himself sternly that it was only their second full day of marriage, and that to frighten or hurt her now would certainly slow all of the progress they had made thus far, he stopped her in mid-stroke, his hands firm as they cradled her head. Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him, smiling happily and scrambling onto his lap when he said, “Come here girl.”



Far from mere submission alone to this stranger who was now her husband, Allyson was feeling a growing infatuation. There were, in her feelings, elements of hero worship for his rescue of her from her father, but he was also one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen…not, she admitted, that she’d seen many handsome men, but Ronald’s confidence and maturity, as well as a subtle sexual confidence, drew her like a magnet. His ability to find and draw out her new found passion and lust certainly played a part in her budding feelings, but so did his kindness to her and his concern for her. She was under no delusion that it could have been much worse. There were many that her father gambled with, she knew. Some that he’d brought to the house with him had been simply repulsive, although others had been…frightening.



Pressed close to her husband’s body, however, the firm length of his cock wedged between their bellies and her own moist heat against his thighs, Allyson felt…not simply safe, but treasured and beautiful and far more sensual than she’d ever expected to feel. His large hands cupped her breasts, lifting them to his lips and her head fell back. She moaned with bliss as pleasure shot through her, seeming to run straight from her nipple to her sex and she rubbed against his thigh seeking relief from her own growing need. His hands moved to her bum, lifting her against him and his voice sounded hoarse to her ears when he said, “Reach down, Pet. Put him in you.”



Biting her bottom lip in concentration she reached between them, grasping his shaft and sliding it backwards. Inexperienced as she was, still she knew when she’d found the right spot, sinking down as he slid home inside her, filling her with his heat. The feeling of fullness made her head spin — a feeling of completeness she seemed to have been waiting for all of her life. His hands stayed on her arse and he began to raise and lower her, as if she were riding a horse, as he did his fingers slid closer to the tight spiral of her sphincter. She recalled the thrill she’d felt when he put his finger inside her and wondered if he might do it again. Meanwhile she was finding that the feel of her nipples, hard as rocks, scraping and tangling in the curls on his chest, was quickly becoming a blissful torture. It seemed as though each flick of her nipple was echoed between her legs and she wanted…oh, she didn’t know what she wanted but the feeling was growing…a maddening, itching, burn that needed…



“Touch yourself,” he growled hoarsely, and when she didn’t respond immediately he repeated, “Take your hand, Pet, and touch yourself…rub your clit!” He pressed a finger against her anus until it gave under the pressure, allowing him to penetrate deeper. Allys moaned with the pleasure she was feeling and, as directed, worked her hand down between them. As she touched the spot that the doctor had rubbed earlier, and that Ronald himself focused on so often, she felt all of her need…all of the heat in her body…gathering there. Even as her slender fingers began to press and rub at the protuberance she found there, she marveled at Ronald’s ability to sense her desire without a word being spoken.



He was pounding her rapidly now, the scrape of her nipples across his chest setting fire to his senses as well. He buried a second finger in the tight tunnel of her rectum. She moaned with pleasure and her head fell back, her hair tickling his thighs while her fingers rubbed more frantically at her cunny. The smell of her rose in his nostrils and the first flutters of her orgasm began to ripple along his prick. Bellowing unintelligibly he pulled her down against him, pressing deep inside her as the hot jets of his seed began filling her. She writhed against him, her hand continuing to squirm and rub as the waves of her climax tore through her, finally collapsing limp and glowing in his arms.



Ronald had closed his eyes tightly in his extremity, but when the pleasure/pain of his scalding emission diminished he opened them again. Over the top of his bride’s tumbled curls he spotted her maid, curled on the floor against a table leg, her own fingers tightly pressed between her own thighs, her breasts dripping. The sight was enough to harden him again although he had already begun to soften.



Feeling the warmth as their mingled cum began to drip from the tight confines of his wife’s cunny he exclaimed, “Here…..GIRL!”



Allys started against him, attempting to rise from his chest but he held her against him, spreading his legs below her and keeping the two fingers of his one hand buried in her arse. Molly looked at them, from across the room and licked her lips hungrily, crawling to them and ducking below. Allys started and gave a squeak of surprise but stopped her attempts to escape when his hands tightened on her again. Ronald could feel the darting strokes of Molly’s tongue against his thighs and balls and assumed she was similarly laving her mistress’ parts. He knew it for certain when he felt her tongue circling Allys’ anus where his fingers were snugly encased. Allys moaned and shivered against him — looking down he noted that her eyes were tightly closed again as she focused on her growing pleasure.



His cock, astonishingly, was once again a rod of cast iron, despite his 50 plus years and his lagging ‘abilities’ of the past few years. His young friend and personal physician had assured him that such decrease in his vigor was entirely natural considering his age and he thought briefly that he should recommend taking a young, virgin bride or mistress…or both he thought with an inner chuckle…to all of his peers with similar complaints.



He smacked his free hand hard against the rounded curve of Allyson’s buttocks, resulting in a loud report and a satisfying sting. The girl squeaked again and lifted against him. Pulling his fingers from her rectum he ordered, “Get up Kitten…and turn around.”



Unable to stand straddling his widely splayed thighs, she stood between them and turned, facing outward. He pulled her back against him, wishing for a moment to bury his prick between the full globes thus presented, but he held off, sticking to his mental plans and knowing that his friend would soon be sending him the wherewithal to ease his access to that glorious passage. Slipping a hand between the girl’s marble thighs he found her cunny. B’god the girl was positively dripping wet and exuding nearly as much heat as the hearth across the room. He stroked her once, and again before easing his cock back into her wet velvet heat. Lifting her thighs he spread them to straddle his own, feeling the little maid on the floor moving forward again — her tongue once again busy against them both.



Allys jerked with surprise but involuntarily rocked atop him, sending a wave of pleasure through them both. Molly bent low to lave his balls, sucking each one into her mouth and cradling them with lips and tongue before returning her talented tongue to his wife’s private parts. Allys’ hands tightened on his thighs as she looked down, watching the other girl’s mouth and tongue moving against her. Ronald reached forward to cup her breasts, kneading her nipples between thumb and index finger, and her head fell back, her long hair tickling his chest and belly.



“Have you ever ridden a horse Kitten?” he gasped the question once, then repeated it, his fingers tightening to near painful levels when she failed to respond. She nodded emphatically and he caught her strangled, “…side-saddle…”



“Soon you will learn the pleasures of riding astride…until then…do your best my Pet.” He panted the command, feeling his balls drawing up and tightening as his pleasure grew. He would have to buy a cheval glass in order to fully appreciate times like these but knew, having observed others in similar pastimes, what he was missing by way of visual stimulation. Molly seemed to have her mouth permanently glued against her mistress’ sex now but he felt her hand reaching to cup his testicles, one finger sliding back along the bridge of his flesh. He eased forward slightly and she pressed down against his own anus, sliding a finger deep inside to massage his nut, and he groaned aloud with pleasure.



Allys was rocking and sliding atop him, her movements disjointed and inexperienced, but all the more exotic and pleasurable for all that. Her bluntly rounded nails were digging into his thighs while she tried her best to focus on both his cock buried inside and the tongue that was teasing and tormenting her clit. He had a sudden fantasy of Molly upon his lap, his cock buried in her arse and his fingers pulling the milk from her tits while his bride buried HER mouth against them and came…roaring his pleasure loud enough to rattle dishes on the table.



Simultaneously he became aware of his butler bending to announce quietly, “The Apothecary’s lad brought round the items you requested, m’Lord.” The man held the smaller box of the ‘Dr. Young’s Rectal Dilators’ open for inspection atop the larger wooden box of the ‘Mayer and Meltzer’s Enema and Pump’ equipment…

Hello my sexy Literotica sluts and whores. It’s been awhile, but I’ve made a new audio for you and your pussy’s listening pleasure.



Thanks very much for all the feedback, emails, and high ratings, and be good girls for me and keep them coming.



If you haven’t had a look, check out my Literotica profile for more information about me.



* * * * *



Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (36 min/mp3)



* * * * *

Special thanks to “Blackstallion21″ for his help editing.



*



“Remove your clothing”. ‘What, here in the park,’ she thought. She knew better than to disobey, that would only resulted in punishment for disobedience. This wasn’t like being on the ranch where being nude out in the open may be discomforting, but the chance of being discovered unlikely. This was a public park. Though they had only seen a couple hikers in the last hour, there were people around. As she slowly removed her clothing, her eyes darted back and forth wondering who might be watching. ‘What is he planning this time? she thinks. The thrill of not knowing only heightens her excitement.



As he removes a blindfold from his pocket, he secures it over her eyes and places her hands on a branch above her head.



“You are now bound,” he tells her, “you are not to speak. Do you understand?”



She nodded yes, knowing that once a command is given she had best not disobey. Next she feels him putting earplugs in her ears. She is left in darkness and silence.



She waits; ten minutes or an hour she has no idea. She feels like she’s been standing there forever, as he still here or had he left her alone? She feels helpless and vulnerable, more so than ever before. Suddenly she feels somebody stroking her breast.



“What have we here,” she hears someone murmur through the earplugs. Was that his voice she wonders? Oh God, please let it be him. The idea that some stranger has found her standing naked in the park has her so excited and scared she is on the verge of orgasm. She can’t help but wonder what this person must be thinking. To find a blindfolded woman in the woods, standing naked grabbing a tree branch. When she feels their warm lips on her nipple, a moan escaped before she can control it.



Goosebumps cover her body and the slightest breeze is like a million fingers caressing her. Is that his scent? She isn’t sure. ‘Say something’, her mind screams, why don’t you say something? A hand slowly goes down her back and caresses her buttocks; and she almost releases the branch when her nipple is suddenly pinched. The sudden pain causes a burst of adrenaline to course thru her. She feels her legs being spread apart. She can feel her juices run down her leg, leaving no doubt to her unknown lover of her excitement. As she feels a warm breath across her pussy lips, she no longer cares who it is. ‘Touch me, please just touch me’, she wants to scream. A tongue penetrates the folds her pussy; oh God, it’s not him. The face between her legs is clean-shaven, not the bushy beard he has. The thought of some stranger licking her pussy sends her over the edge and orgasm after orgasm courses thru her body.



It was already too late when she realizes her hands have left the branch and gone to the head between her legs, trying to pull him closer. She quickly tries to correct her mistake by reaching for the branch above her head. She knows if he is watching she will be punished for her disobedience. The very thought sends a new wave of pleasure coursing thru her body.



He stops his attack on her pussy and again she stands waiting. Time stretches on, she tries to count in her head to see how much time is passing. Even that doesn’t help. Am I counting too fast or too slow she wonders? A quick slap on the ass brings her out of her reverie. Her hands are removed from the branch and her legs are spread wider. She is forced to bend over and her hands are placed on her ankles.



Exposed and vulnerable, her mind races. What is next? Is it to be punishment or pleasure? Is there a difference anymore? A tongue on her ass sends both pleasure and fear coursing thru her.



‘That’s not what I’m craving,’ she wants to scream but knows she can’t. She can feel his thumb penetrating her opening and stroking across her clitoris. ‘How am I supposed to stay in this position with an orgasm building inside of me’, she wonders? She wants to collapse and throw her legs wide but somehow resists the urge. The desire to please her unknown lover engulfs her, giving everything of her self and in return reaching heights of pleasure she has only dreamt of.



Suddenly she is left alone again. As she waits, time seems to drag. After what seems an eternity the blindfold is removed and the brightness blinds her as she blinks and tries to regain her senses. There is her man, calmly standing by observing her. She wants to run to him but knows she hasn’t been given the command to move yet.



“Come to me,” he says. As she throws herself into his arms she weeps, unable to control the emotions that rush thru her. Between her sobs she notices that he’s clean-shaven. Ever since she had first met him he has worn a beard. Seeing him now with a smooth face she realizes he had planned this all for her pleasure. Relief overwhelms her with the knowledge it had been him all along, or was it?



“I should make you walk back to the car naked for your disobedience,” he says. The thought makes her shiver with fear then relief when he tells her to dress. As they wander back towards the parking area she replays what has happened thru her mind a hundred times. She desperately tries to recall every detail for a hint as to whether it was him or not. She doesn’t dare ask him, knowing she has a punishment coming already and having no desire to make things worse. He is chatting away as if nothing unusual has occurred today. ‘Doesn’t he realize the emotional turmoil boiling inside her?’ she wonder.



So wrapped up in her thoughts she doesn’t noticed when they are joined by a third person, it his best friend. ‘Why is he here,’ she wonders. Blushing at the thought he may have been around all along, or could he have been her unknown lover?



“Here’s your video recorder,” he says to her man. “I got some fantastic shots”.



The realization that he has been there and has not only seen everything but recorded it is humiliating and thrilling. Up until now her relationship with her man had always been ‘vanilla’ in public or with his friends. Evidently that has changed now. The knowledge that he has become comfortable enough with their relationship to bring it more into the open gives her a warm feeling inside, it also scares the hell out of her. It’s one thing to be a slut at home or where no one knows her. It’s quite another to have people she knows and see’s everyday aware of it. She has known this was a possibility when she gave control of her life to him, after all it’s what she claimed to want. She wondered if she had the courage to continue this path? But of course she would, it’s her nature to be submissive. To bring pleasure to her man has become her life goal.



As they reach the car she hears them laughing. He’s in a good mood; maybe her punishment won’t be so bad after all.

When You told me that You had a fantasy of arriving at my home and finding me with cum soaked panties after being fucked by someone else, I knew I had to do everything I could to help bring this dream to completion. I wanted to do this for You because You have, and will, fulfill many of mine, and because I knew it would please You, which is the most important reason.



The first order of business was finding someone to help me fulfill Your fantasy. I didn’t think I would have a difficult time finding someone, especially since what I was looking for was someone to fuck me, and what man would turn that down. So, going through a list of people we both knew, I decided to ask Sir Max if He would be willing to help me; I knew He wanted to fuck me since the last time I saw Him. I told Him of Your fantasy, how You would like to arrive and find me wearing panties soaked with the cum of another. I explained to Him that I would need Him to come to my house on a day You were expected and fuck me before Your arrival and leave right after. You knew I was planning to help You with this fantasy but didn’t know when, so I wasn’t cheating on You or fucking someone behind Your back. Of course, Sir Max accepted my offer and said that He would be happy to help me surprise You,



On the day You and I were to meet, Sir Max arrived at my house about 45 minutes prior to Your expected arrival time. We both thought this would give us enough time for Him to fuck me and yet have my panties soaked with His cum when You arrived. I anxiously met Him at the door and He gave me a quick light kiss. We then went into my bedroom where He told me to kneel and suck His cock. He knew I had loved His cock the last time I sucked it, only this time He wouldn’t cum in my mouth.



After I had sucked Him for a while, He had me lay on the bed with my legs spread wide. I spread them as wide as I could and felt Sir Max’s warm breath on my pussy, as He started licking and sucking my clit and fingering my pussy. He did this for a while and then He told me to get off the bed and He laid down on it on His back. He told me to climb on top of Him and ride Him. I did as I was told and rode Him as fast and hard as I could. Suddenly He told me to stop and lay down on my back. When I was lying on my back with my legs spread, He started teasing my clit with His finger until my pussy was nice and wet.



Suddenly His finger left my wanting pussy and I felt Him plunge His cock deep into my pussy, fucking me hard and fast. I felt an orgasm building but He told me not to cum until He did. With several hard thrusts and a lot of moaning and groaning, He told me that He was going to cum and that He wanted me to cum with Him. Thrusting one last time and telling me to cum, He came in my pussy filling it deep with enough cum to fill my pussy so that it was running down my legs. Sir Max withdrew His cock; I cleaned it and put on my pink lace panties which immediately became soaked with His cum.



I thanked Him for helping me with Your surprise. Before He left He told me that He wanted to know what Your reaction was. I told Him I would and He left.



I anxiously waited at the door with Sir Max’s cum running down my legs. I saw You coming up the driveway and I couldn’t help but smile. When You got to the door I told You that it was open and that You should come in. As soon as You entered my house I told You that I had a surprise for You, took Your hand and placed it on my soaked panties filled with Sir Max’s cum. You smiled a big smile while putting Your hand inside my wet panties. I took You by the hand and led You to my bedroom. You lay down on the bed on Your back telling me to climb on top of You on my stomach and slide my pussy up over Your face. When I had my pussy positioned just right You pushed my panties to the side and started licking all the cum from my dripping pussy, making sure that You didn’t miss a drop. I could feel Your cock getting hard. When You licked my pussy clean You flipped me over and told me to spread my legs wide. I did as I was told and without warning You thrust Your cock into my pussy and fucked me until we both came.



After both of us climaxed we lay next to each other with You holding me in Your arms with a contented look on Your face.



“Thank You for my surprise little one”, You say and give me a wet passionate kiss.

Hello my beautiful Literotica listeners. I’m back with a new story that I hope you enjoy.



Thanks for all the wonderful comments, emails, pics, audios, and videos y’all have sent me. I’ve enjoyed them all and look forward to receiving more. If you keep me cumming, I’ll keep you cumming ;) .



Leopard



* * * * *



Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (9.5 min/mp3)



* * * * *

Simone stood in front of her closet, shaking with anticipation while she attempted to select an outfit for tonight. She finally selected her tiniest, slinkiest black dress and started putting on her make up. Sipping a glass of Merlot, her second of the night, she was trying her best to calm her nerves as her mind raced through the events of the last 24 hours.



Sunday morning, she had finally had the nerve to confront Henry with the evidence of his affair. She waited for him to come home from his ‘night out with the boys’, which she knew full well was really a night in a hotel with the tramp he was fucking.



After she had confronted him with the credit card bills and photos she had taken while following him the night before, all hell had broken loose. She had screamed and cried, flinging pieces of their wedding china at him, landing one right in the back of his head. After that he had turned and come at her, and Simone had thought he was about to strike her. Instead he grabbed her, holding her tight as he began to apologize.



Henry agreed to end his affair and get a marriage counselor first thing in the morning. After that, she had sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, vaguely aware of him puttering around the house cleaning up the mess her fury had created.



When Henry had called her just after lunch to tell her that he had gotten a reference for a counselor from a client, she was surprised to hear the name, Dr. Cynthia Ryan. It was amazing enough that Henry had suggested a marriage counselor but a female counselor was completely against his personality. Her husband was sexist, though she had only discovered that after years of marriage. His business associates were always men, and he made little comments that made it clear what he thought of women in the office.



They left after a simple dinner. The office building was very upscale, not shocking considering the sort of people her high power attorney husband worked with. It was Dr. Ryan that was a shock. She was tall and thin with long perfectly kept hair with a movie star face and her body moved gracefully. Her breasts where no larger than a B-Cup, nowhere near as large as Simone’s own natural beauties, but they were shapely and would be considered desirable by almost any man. Despite her skirt being too short and her heels being too tall, Simone had to admit that Dr. Ryan was classy looking.



After nicely talking around the problems in their marriage, Dr. Ryan had Simone leave the room while she spoke to Henry alone. Fifteen minutes later, Henry emerged, looking a bit embarrassed as he told her that she was next. Simone sat down in front of the doctor and before she knew it, had broken down and spilled out every detail of her troubled marriage. Dr. Ryan came from around her desk to sit next to her, holding her as she sobbed.



When Simone had finally calmed down, Dr. Ryan stood back, leaning on her desk as she looked down into Simone’s eyes. She couldn’t remember the first few minutes of what her counselor had said, only how calming Cynthia’s voice had been, and how looking into her eyes had given her a real sense of peace.



Thinking back, she could remember bits and pieces of their conversation. She had thanked Dr. Ryan when she told Simone that she had gotten Henry to agree to end his affair. She told her that Henry, in his own way, was a loving and caring man. Since they had married, Simone had never wanted for anything. Henry never forgot a birthday or anniversary. They did not get to vacation much, but when they did, she had him all to herself. She didn’t share her time with her husband with his smartphone like so many of her friends did.



Her husband was strong in body, personality and mind, and that is what originally attracted her to him. He was a serious man who knew what he wanted and how to take it. The truth was that his attitude was a real turn on for her.



It was also part of the problem. Henry confidence and strength also make him arrogant and bossy. Most of the times that they fought, the reason her anger after he told her what to do. He would make comments on how she dressed, what she ate, who she kept as friends, or any number of things that ended up upsetting her.



Dr. Ryan had listened patiently to all of it, agreeing that such behavior understandably would justify some of the issues in their marriage. Simone felt relief to finally speak to a woman who understood her troubles, but she also found herself agreeing that she had a part in causing her husband into seeking an affair.



She had admitted that she had been a prude, and had denied her husband much sexual gratification. They talked a long time about her background. She had grown up in a lower middle class family in the Midwest. When she started to develop, her conservative parents, especially her mother, had been very concerned. Proper women didn’t wear a size 2 dress and have a 40 inch bust at the same time, and if they did they needed to dress to hide it. Even in the shapeless long dresses her mother bought for her, she knew what people thought of her. She hear the ‘body built for fucking comments’ the boys made when she walked by. No matter how loose fitting her clothes were, the proper girls still whispered about how her butt and tits made her look like a ‘porno star’. Under her parents firm rules, she hadn’t even kissed a guy until her second year of college.



As the conversation with Dr. Ryan continued, Simone had agreed that it was understandable that Henry would seek enjoyment elsewhere. She could scarcely believe herself when she conceding that a powerful, wealthy man like her husband could easily leave her, especially with the prenup they had, and she needed to do her part to keep her marriage working.



There was something about Dr. Ryan’s voice and her gaze that was so reassuring. It had made everything seem safe and warm, and left her with a sense that if she just followed her guidance her marriage would be saved and life would be good again.



She sat quietly in the car on the way home, deep in thought. When they pulled into the driveway, she told Henry that she had a lot to think about and avoided him for the rest of the day and into the next morning. Finally, in the afternoon she called Henry and told him that she would like him to be home on time so she could treat him to a nice dinner and a relaxing evening at home.



Simone did not know where she got the idea for her current plan; if she had come up with it herself or if Dr. Ryan had given it to her. All she knew was that though she was terrified of the night ahead, she was committed to ending her prudish ways with her husband.



She had “gone down” on her husband on their wedding night. Afterwards, she made it clear to Henry that she thought it was degrading and that she had only done it because she wanted to make him happy on their wedding night. He begged and pleaded, but after a while he just gave up. At the time, Simone had felt she won, but it was clear that Henry had just decided to get what he wanted from other sources. She planned on putting an end to that tonight.

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