Posts Tagged ‘female submissive’
Gracie didn’t notice John’s withdrawal as they made their way to the top floor of the Hyatt Regency, where John’s bank was wining and dining all their biggest clients and a few others they hoped to recruit very soon. Gracie was more occupied by the Dallas skyline, the room full of people that she had no interest in schmoozing and the soreness between her legs—Not necessarily in that order.
She’d dressed in a very sedate cocktail suit that came just below her knees. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose chignon and her grandmother’s pearl earrings were at her ears. She looked like a successful attorney, not a woman who less than two hours before had brought her lover to orgasm by telling him about her domination fantasy. And she definitely didn’t look like a woman who wasn’t wearing any underwear.
John seemed nervous, more so than usual for a function like this, so she casually put her arm around his waist as a way to offer support. She hadn’t realized how important this evening was to him, and she probably should have been a little more sensitive earlier. What she wasn’t expecting was John to show revulsion at her touch. The look on his face would have been comical if it hadn’t been directed at her and in front of a group of people.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” he stammered out. “You took me by surprise.”
The excuse must have even sounded lame to him, because he wouldn’t meet her eyes after he’d told the lie. He took a step away from her and Gracie flushed in embarrassment.
“I’d like to introduce everyone to Gracie McGuire. She’s a partner at Decker, Deets and McGuire and one of SureTrust Bank’s most valued clients.”
Gracie stood rooted to the floor, her stomach in knots and sweat puddling at the base of her spine. Something was wrong. She and John had been dating for three months, and he’d always taken every opportunity to show her off as his own private possession, but now for some reason she was just his client. There was only one thing that could have happened to make John’s feelings change in such a short amount of time. He’d liked the idea of her fantasy in the heat of passion, but now when he had to look at her over canapés he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He was ashamed.
Gracie gave John a look of boredom, as if he were no more than dirt under her shoe, and felt satisfaction at his flinch. She’d just learn to keep her mouth shut from now on. Bedroom secrets were meant to stay secrets. Lesson learned.
Gracie’s pale skin showed polite indifference as she made the round of introductions.
“This is Peter Sterling, the CEO at the Nightingale Corporation,” John droned. “SureTrust is hoping to get his business very soon.”
“We’ll see, John, old buddy,” Peter said with a conspirator’s laugh and a wink at Gracie.
Gracie had to refrain from rolling her eyes. The good old boys’ club never changed. Peter was a middle-aged executive with silver at his temples and capped teeth. He probably cheated on his wife with anything in a skirt and smoked Cuban cigars at his expensive country club. Peter was boring. John could have Peter with her blessing. Gracie was through with men like them.
She was much more interested in the tall, dark man that stood to Peter’s left. His hair was as black as midnight and his eyes as blue as sapphire. He didn’t have the face of a pampered businessman or the body of someone who’d spent too many hours behind a desk. His suit was expensive and his cologne a seduction. He made the other men in the room pale in comparison, and the other women in the room overflow with envy that he wasn’t theirs.
This strange man had witnessed Gracie’s humiliation at John’s words, but he hadn’t looked on in speculation and titillation as the other guests had. He’d looked furious on her behalf.
Gracie looked down at her watch and wondered how much longer she needed to stay at this thing now that she’d decided John was a horse’s ass. She had briefs to read, a pair of comfortable slippers to put on and a nice bottle of wine waiting at her apartment. She didn’t have any personal possessions at John’s, so she wouldn’t have to go through any awkward scenes when she told him she was through.
She sighed in defeat. It wasn’t even nine o’clock. She needed to stay at least another hour for her own business purposes. The least she could do was enjoy the free food and the endless champagne.
The stranger caught Gracie’s sigh of impatience, and his eyes laughed at her predicament. Gracie and the stranger both remained silent as Peter and John postured back and forth, their gazes never leaving each other. There was something very different about this silent man. Something dangerous. Something secretive. And she was drawn to him. She shivered as his eyes seemed to undress her and thoughts of what he could do to her with those sensuously full lips invaded her mind.
John interrupted her thoughts when he remembered that she and the others standing around were still important clients. “I beg you pardon, Gracie, gentlemen. Peter and I go back a ways. I think you know everyone else, Gracie, except for Peter’s friend there. And I hate to admit that I haven’t caught his name yet. Peter didn’t tell me he was bringing a guest,” John said. The admonition was there at Peter’s oversight, but it was skillfully done.
“He’s not my guest, John,” Peter said. “We had just started talking when you and Gracie came up. I haven’t caught his name either.”
John’s smile was saccharine as he extended his hand to the stranger, everyone’s attention focused on the man who had intruded John’s special event. “John Johnson,” he said. “President of SureTrust National Bank.”
The stranger looked at John’s outstretched hand with disinterest but took it in his grip anyway. “Mitchell Caldwell,” the stranger said.
Mitchell Caldwell didn’t have to tell anyone his position of importance. Everyone already knew who Mitchell Caldwell was, including Gracie. The murmurs that surrounded them assured that the word had traveled fast. Gracie thought John might pass out with the glorious news. It was a coup in his corner to be sure. The majority stockholder of the Caldwell Corporation, a billion dollar financial institution, was standing in the midst of peons.
“Mr. Caldwell,” John stuttered. “I had no idea you planned on attending tonight. Your secretary never confirmed your invitation.”
“Let’s just say it was a whim. I didn’t have anything better to do tonight.”
Gracie coughed to cover her laughter. John didn’t know whether to be insulted or kiss the man’s feet, and the uncomfortable silence from the other guests showed they weren’t quite sure what to do with a man like Mitchell Caldwell either.
The laughter lit Gracie’s eyes and she stuck out her hand, determined to see if the spark that had ignited before she’d learned his name was still there.
“Gracie McGuire,” she said.
Mitchell took her hand in his gently and brought it to his lips. The heat from his touch sent a sizzle to Gracie’s most intimate places, and her breath caught in her throat. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. McGuire. I hope I’m able to do business with your firm very soon,” he said.
Gracie felt the dampness pool between her legs and wished that she’d not been so foolish to go without panties. She’d have to make a trip to the ladies room and wipe away the moisture that was sliding down her inner thighs.
“Stop by my office any time,” Gracie said before excusing herself and heading to the ladies room. She could feel the heat of his gaze follow her down the hallway to the bathroom door, and when she was safely inside she hurriedly checked the stalls for other occupants and then locked the door to keep everyone out.
Gracie unzipped her skirt slowly and lowered it to the floor, watching herself in the large mirror over the sinks. She was naked from the waist down and her buttocks were toned and firm. She laid the skirt carefully over one end of a settee that was positioned against the wall. She didn’t want to cause any more talk tonight by reappearing at the party in rumpled clothes.
Just a seductive glance from the stranger had made her hotter than she’d ever been. She had no choice but to relieve the pressure that was building inside of her.
Gracie unbuttoned her suit jacket and slipped it off her shoulders, placing it on top of her skirt. Her breasts were full and aching with need. Her nipples erect. All because of a man she’d just met. She stared at herself in the mirror, her breasts high and proud and her pussy shaved, the lips glistening with moisture.
She skimmed her hands up her body until they held the weight of her breasts. She moaned at the touch and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of one of her most sensitive areas. She plucked at her nipples until they were hard and aching and the juice was flowing freely down her legs. She squeezed her nipples until she felt a jolt go through her clitoris and she experienced a small orgasm that brought her to her knees on the settee.
She lie back on the cushioned seat and spread her legs wide. Her reflection shone back in the mirror and her petals glistened with her desire. Her fingers thrummed against her clit with speed and precision, inciting a moan that she was sure could be heard outside.
Gracie closed her eyes as she felt the sensations rioting through her body. She thought of her dark haired stranger and what his cock would feel like as it stretched her body. She pushed two fingers in and out of her pussy, wishing it was her stranger hitting the special spot deep inside. She was writhing in exquisite torture on the settee, the pins fallen from her hair and a light film of sweat covering her body.
“Mmm, oh yeah,” she panted, strumming her clit as she pistoned her fingers faster in and out of her dripping hole. “Fuck me harder, Mitchell. Harder,” she screamed. The sound of her voice reverberated off the tile wall as she came in a gush of liquid heat that soaked the settee beneath her. Her body heaved in exhilaration and she moaned as she cupped her sex, holding in the sensations as long as possible. She wished it really could have been Mitchell that had given her such an exquisite feeling. It had been a long time since she’d come that long and that hard.
She was going to have to do some major damage control before she went back in to the party. Gracie washed off quickly with a damp towel and tried to erase the musty scent of sex from her body. She put her clothes back on quickly, shoved the pins back into her hair and dug through her evening bag for the emergency makeup kit she always carried. She took a final glimpse in the mirror and decided she looked fantastic. Radiant even.
She flipped the lock on the door and slipped out, glancing at her watch to see what time it was as she made her way back to the party. She’d had no idea that she’d spent so long in the bathroom. It was almost ten o’clock. Hopefully, no one would suspect that she’d been giving herself the orgasm of a lifetime for the last forty-five minutes.
Gracie made her way over to the bartender with a bounce in her step, ignoring the crowds of people talking about business and gossip in little groups all over the room. “Champagne, please,” she said with a smile.
“Absolutely,” the bartender said with a wink and a leer that would have been frightening if he hadn’t been so young. He held the glass just out of her reach, and Gracie shot him a look that had been known to make grown men tuck their tails between their legs and run away.
“Is there a problem?” Gracie asked.
“I know all about you, Gracie McGuire. I know how much you’d like me to pour this champagne over your naked body and lick it from your pussy. And I know how much you’d like me to restrain you and fuck you while you scream,” he whispered.
Gracie felt the pleasure from her earlier experience disappear only to be replaced with the long, icy fingers of fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “How dare you speak to me that way.”
“You can’t deny your desires,” he said. “We all know what your guilty pleasures are. And for the record, I don’t think there’s anything sick about your fantasies. I got so hot thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you that I had to go jack off in the bathroom. There was another guy in there doing the same thing. You’re going to be the object of many men’s dreams tonight. I don’t know what you ever saw in that prick, John.”
“Me neither,” Gracie whispered and turned away, her champagne forgotten.
Has John really told my secrets to a room full of strangers? God, he must have for the bartender to know my most intimate desires.
Gracie stumbled through the room in a daze, ignoring the stares filled with lust and the occasional hand that grabbed her ass or her tits. A gentleman blocked her path, and she felt another close in behind her so she was sandwiched in between the two. Her eyes were filled with anger as she stared down the man in front of her.
“Get out of my way,” she spat.
“Ooh, you’re fiery. I like that,” he said. There was alcohol on his breath and his eyes were glazed. “Why don’t you come along with me and my friend to our room? I bet the two of us can put that feistiness to good use.”
Gracie felt the second man move up closer behind her until he was pressing his erection into the small of her back. The man in front of her slipped his hand inside her jacket and pinched her nipple hard enough to make her gasp.
“Let me make myself very clear, gentleman,” Gracie said, speaking loudly so the other curious onlookers could hear what she had to say. “John Johnson is a liar. This is his feeble attempt at revenge because I told all the people at my office that he’s impotent. Which he really is, by the way. I tried and tried and tried to get that little thing to work, but it didn’t help. What’s a girl to do but to move on to a man that has working parts? Not to mention that you’re all probably going to want to find a different bank, because when I’m through suing John Johnson, I’m going to own SureTrust National Bank. So I am going to ask you one more time to get out of my way before things gets ugly.”
The man behind her moved away quickly and the crowd mumbled their displeasure at the lack of excitement, but the man in front of her wasn’t sure if she was bluffing. He finally decided she was speaking the truth and backed out of her way. “Fuck it,” he said on his way back to the bar. “I can get pussy anywhere.”
“I’m sure you can,” Gracie said to no one in particular. She noticed Mitchell Caldwell standing next to the wall by himself. He gave her a nod of approval and a quick smile, but Gracie was too mortified to keep up eye contact. She’d just been imagining it was him fucking her to a mind-blowing orgasm and somehow she’d turned into the laughing stock of the whole party.
Gracie McGuire had one goal: To find John Johnson and get an explanation. If what the bartender and her other admirers had said was true, than murder was much too good for the man. She found him a few feet in front of Mitchell, drinking whiskey like it was water and holding court over a group of fascinated people. It wasn’t the burning of her ears that notified her that she was the topic of conversation. She could hear her name coming from John’s lips as clearly as if he was holding a microphone to his mouth.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Gracie approached him. He was glassy-eyed and red faced from too much alcohol, and the ramifications of what he was doing were slow to take hold. “Gracie, my girl, we were jusss talkin’ bout ya,” he slurred. “You damned near fucked me to death thissss afternoooon.” He laughed at himself and nearly toppled over, catching himself on the arm of one of his cronies.
A few of the people around them snickered into their drinks and a few others gave Gracie pitying looks.
“Gosh, that’s not how I remember it John. You might be careful with the drink, I’ve learned from experience that too much can make your dick go limp. Permanently. I honestly didn’t mean to fuck you to near death this afternoon. I was just trying to get it to do something other than lie there. Honest,” she said with a guileless smile.
This caused a chorus of raucous laughter that would be ringing in John Johnson’s ears for a long time. He wasn’t the type of man who liked to be laughed at. He liked to call the shots, and he liked to be the one to give the insults. His already flushed face turned crimson with anger and his fists bunched at his sides.
“You bitch!” he screamed.
“Careful what you say, John. You’ve done a lot of damage tonight. For someone who’s so worried about his career, you seemed pretty comfortable pissing it away tonight. You’re a drunk, but that’s no excuse for what you did to me tonight. What was done or said in the privacy of our bedroom should have stayed there.”
Gracie had gotten his attention when she’d mentioned him pissing his career away. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “I’ve worked a long time to make my bank one of the best in the state.”
“I’m going to handle this like an adult. I’m sure that’s pretty foreign to you,” she said. “And just for the record, John, a normal man wouldn’t be sickened by my fantasies. A normal man would treat me like a queen and be rewarded with the most amazing sex of his life until we both grew too old to care. No wonder our sex life was so boring.”
Gracie turned to walk away, prepared to make an exit while having the last word, but it didn’t work out that way.
“We had a boring sex life because I’ve been fucking my secretary across my desk every day. I didn’t have a lot left in me when I got home to you. I’ll do anything for the business, even screw every female client I have if it brings in more money.”
Gracie, along with every other person in the room, was speechless. She walked up to John with a determined stride and a don’t mess with me chip on her shoulder, pulled back her fist and punched him in the nose. Her hand hurt like hell, but seeing the spurt of blood across his white shirt was well worth the pain.
The Monday after the most embarrassing night of her life blew in with a storm, the skies gray and cloudy, just like Gracie’s mood. She’d sat at her desk for hours, working with the determination of a machine, trying to keep her mind off of one thing. Or one person, to be exact.
It wasn’t the humiliation that had kept her tossing and turning for the last two nights, but a man she’d only seen for a matter of moments. A few moments that had captivated her to the point of obsession.
Gracie wasn’t worried about her reputation or that of her firm. The threat of a lawsuit had squelched the gossip that had been circulating. If anything, business seemed to be up. She’d received a few interesting emails with indecent proposals, a dozen roses with a card that contained a marriage proposal, a singing telegram and a dozen messages from John begging her to return his calls. She’d gotten her partners to pull their accounts from John’s bank and invest with a competitor. He’d do anything to get them back as clients. Even apologize. From what she’d heard through office gossip, it wasn’t only their accounts that he’d lost since the previous Saturday.
It was petty revenge, but it felt damn good.
Gracie jumped in surprise as a crash of thunder rattled the glass in her office window. Being on the nineteenth floor had never made her feel very safe. The time had gotten away from her, and it was already way past dark. The rain was coming down so hard that she couldn’t see two feet outside her window.
She shut down her computer and shoved her files in her briefcase. The Texas weather was too warm for a coat, even a raincoat, so she was thankful that she’d gotten to work early enough that she’d found a parking spot in the garage. Getting soaked to the skin would have just added misery to an already miserable day.
The elevator took her straight to the bottom, not stopping at other floors along the way, as almost everyone in the building had already headed home for the evening. Her heels clicked rapidly on the cement as she made her way to the lone car parked under the yellow light in the far corner, and her hand clutched her briefcase and handbag in a tight grip. Her heart was racing, and she had to squelch the urge to scream every time the thunder boomed overhead. Images of a large glass of wine and a hot bath were the only thoughts in her mind when a hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped around her waist, effectively clamping her arms to her sides.
Gracie bit at the black-gloved fingers and screamed when he uncovered her mouth, no doubt cursing the pain she’d caused him. The instinct to fight back overtook her and she kicked out behind her, feeling the hard flesh deflect her foot. Her attacker was silent through it all, wearing down her strength patiently as he dodged her blows. It had seemed like she’d been struggling for minutes, but in truth it had only been seconds. Her screams had gone unheard and she was truly alone with an attacker whose strength was far superior to her own.
The last thought that went through her mind before the sickeningly sweet smell of chloroform assailed her nostrils, was that John Johnson would pay for this.
Gracie remembered vaguely that she’d ridden in a van. To where, she had no idea, but every detail mattered. When she’d woken again she was lying on something soft, probably a mattress, in a room as black as pitch. She couldn’t see anything, but she could still hear the rain pouring outside. Did that mean it was still the same day?
Her mind was fuzzy from the drug and a headache pounded just behind her eyes. She tried to lift her hands up to rub away the pounding, but they were restrained. Panic overtook her, and she had to consciously slow her breathing for fear of hyperventilating and passing out.
Gracie cleared her mind and tried to think of the facts. She’d been on her way home from work when she’d been attacked, she’d been drugged, she’d woken briefly in a van with a hard metal floor, it was still raining and her hands and feet were tied to what she assumed was a mattress. Any way she looked at it, she decided the outcome couldn’t be good.
The opening of the door sped her controlled breathing up once again. It wasn’t the sound of the door that let her know that someone was in the room with her, but rather the lack of sound. The pregnant silence settled over her like a thick blanket, suffocating her until she wanted to scream just to fill the void.
The footsteps of her captor weighed heavy as he made his way to her side. “Have no fear from me,” he said. He knelt beside her on the bed and lifted her head in his hand. The cool water splashed against her lips and she drank greedily. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
“Slow down,” he ordered. “You don’t want to make yourself sick. Open your mouth for me.”
“I have aspirin for your headache.”
When she didn’t comply, he stuck his finger through her clamped lips and pried her mouth open, dropping the two pills in. He held her nose and poured the water down her throat until he was sure she’d swallowed them.
“Don’t make things difficult on yourself. There is no need for you to be in pain.”
“Then untie me,” Gracie demanded.
“The bonds do not hurt you,” he said, checking the padded restraints just to make sure.
“Someone will look for me,” she said. “You can’t just take someone against their will and not expect there to be consequences.”
“But this is your will, isn’t it, Gracie.” He whispered the words so they were a caress along her skin.
A satin blindfold was placed around her head, and she almost asked what the point was since it was so dark inside the room, but the she heard the scrape of matches and saw the dim glow of light through her blindfold. Gracie heard a small click and winced as she felt a cold blade glance across her skin. It was sharp as it sliced through her clothing as if it were nothing more than paper. Her suit was tossed aside, no more than trash now, and her undergarments were given similar treatment until she was laid bare before her captor. She let out a breath of relief when she heard another click and the blade was put away.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his finger from the tip of her breast to the top of her thigh. “I’m going to give you a choice, Gracie. We’re not strangers. I felt the passion in you from the first moment and knew that we’d be together this way. But if you want what I have to give you, you have to take a chance.”
Mitchell. But what if it wasn’t really him? Was she willing to take that chance?
“What do you have to give me?” she asked.
“My cock buried deep in your pussy and as many orgasms as you can stand.”
His promise sent desire to her clit and she could feel her nipples pebble. “And what is the alternative?”
“I’ll let you go. And you’ll never see me again, except in your dreams.”
Gracie held back a cry of distress. She couldn’t bear the though of never having his touch again.
“No, don’t release me,” she said, panicked as she felt him begin to unclasp her restraints. “I want what you have to give me.”
“Very good,” he whispered.
She shuddered as his mouth came down over her nipple. The warmth of his caress and the gentle pull from the suction of his mouth was almost enough to make her go over the edge. Then he bit her, gently at first and then increasingly harder, until she did scream with a climax. His warm tongue soothed the pain with long strokes until she sighed in contentment.
She gasped as something cold touched the still tender nipple and she whimpered in pain when something clamped down onto it. Hard. And then the same thing was repeated with the other one. The clamps sent jolts of pleasure straight to her clit, and she had another small orgasm before her captor could work his way down her body.
“Please. . .” she begged.
“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”
“Whatever I wish,” he answered as he closed his mouth over her most sensitive spot.
Gracie could do nothing but moan as she felt him open her nether lips with his fingers and kiss her intimately. His tongue circled her clitoris and then delved inside her, and he repeated the process over and over until she was writhing beneath him and pulling at her restraints.
“I’m going to come,” she panted.
“Mmm, I hope so. You taste so sweet. I want you to flood my mouth with your nectar.” He flicked his tongued one last time against the swollen nub and sent her spiraling over the edge.
She screamed out her release. “Stop, stop, it’s too much. Ohmigod. Please,” she didn’t know what she was asking, only that the sweet torment continue.
Gracie sighed as he slowed his assault and gently lapped at her still throbbing pussy. The sensations continued though when he pushed his finger slowly inside her, all the way to the hilt.
“God,” he groaned. “You’re so tight. Do you know how good you’re going to feel around my cock?”
Gracie protested as he pulled his finger out, but moaned when he quickly added a second and began slowly penetrating her again. Her toes curled when he curved his fingers up slightly and hit her G spot. It had been eight years since a man had found her G spot, and it had been an accident that time. The pleasure intensified as he flicked her clitoris in time with his fingers, and before long she was thrusting against his mouth and his fingers with another climax.
She might have passed out for a minute or two, but when she woke the restraints were being taken off her legs.
“What about my hands?” she asked when she realized he was going to leave those in place. “I want to touch you.”
“No, you want to be dominated. Held captive. You will not touch me with your hands until I say so.”
With the restraints gone from her ankles she was able to bring her legs up higher, expose more of herself to him. She waited in anticipation for what he would do next. The sound of drawers opening and closing caught her interest, but she was soon distracted as she felt the weight of his body back on the bed.
“Pull your knees up to your chest and open yourself wider to me,” he demanded.
Gracie felt the cool gel on his finger and yipped at the shock of it. It warmed quickly, and when his finger touched the puckered star of her anus, she relaxed her muscles as her worked his finger inside. He repeated the process slowly, gathering more lube and then slowly penetrating a finger, then two fingers, then three, until she was prepared for whatever he had in store for her.
“Relax,” he told her.
She did as he asked, but still tensed as the felt something hard penetrate her ass. It was large and ridged, and every bump and ridge was received with a gasp of pleasure, until it was pushed in to the hilt and her bowels were full.
“Oh, God, it’s huge.”
“Put your legs down and keep it inside,” he told her. “I’ll punish you if you don’t keep it in.”
Gracie felt his hot breath along her skin as he made his way back up her body to her lips. The kiss was carnal and wet, and she tried to wrap her legs around him and take him inside of her, but he wouldn’t let her. He pinched her nipple in punishment and she whimpered.
“You’re getting greedy, slave,” he said.
She felt him move up so his legs were on either side of her torso, and the weight of his cock rested against her chin. He cradled her head in his hands and positioned her so her lips touched the salty tip.
“Open you mouth,” he said.
Gracie complied, hungrily, and they both groaned as his cock entered her mouth. She relaxed her throat as he began fucking her mouth, slamming himself against her face. She swirled her tongue around his tip every time he pulled back. His pace became frantic and frenzied, and he held her head still so his cock completely disappeared inside her mouth.
“God, yessss,” he groaned.
Gracie felt the force of his come as she did her best to swallow it down. She drank every drop and flicked her tongue over his sensitive underside, making him jump with pleasure. She kept him in her mouth a little longer, amazed that he was still very hard.
“That was amazing,” he said as he collapsed beside her.
She felt him move until his weight was no longer on the bed. He positioned himself at the foot of the bed and then slowly turned her until she was on her hands and knees.
“Mmm, that’s a beautiful sight,” he said as he ran his fingers across her cunt, making her shiver with need. “Can you imagine what you look like right now? Your ass is in the air with a giant dildo shoved in you to the hilt, and your pussy is gaping open just begging to be fucked. I can’t wait any longer,” he said, positioning himself behind her.
Gracie felt the head of his penis brush against her nether lips. She was already so full from the dildo in her ass she didn’t know how she was going to take him as well. Her breath caught as he pushed his length into her in one thrust. Her breasts rubbed against the sheets of the bed with every thrust and the clamps on her nipples sent tingles to her core. She squeezed her muscles around him with every thrust, trying to prolong her pleasure, but the sensations against her nipples, in her ass and her pussy were too much for her to take. She came in a gush, her juices soaking the bed beneath them.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” her captor yelled. “You are so fucking hot.” He pulled out of her and she heard him rummaging around in another drawer.
“I can’t take any more,” she cried.
The slap of a paddle against her bare bottom changed her mind. She winced in pain at the same time she was groaning in pleasure, because every once in a while the paddle would glance off her pussy lips and leave her wanting more. Just when she thought she’d have to beg for another release, her captor spanked her hard and pulled the dildo from her ass at the same time. Her senses were assaulted and she came again, collapsing in exhaustion.
The man behind her began messaging something cool into her burning ass cheeks, and she sighed in relief at his gentle touch. She was dozing as she felt him readjust the restraints around her wrists so the chain was longer. He pulled her toward the edge of the bed until her legs touched the floor and she was bent over the side. Her arms were tied over her head, and her sensitive breasts were pressed into the mattress.
“Now it’s my turn,” her captor whispered.
She shuddered as he left a trail of wet kisses up her spine, and she felt his hard arousal nestled between the cheeks of her ass. His weight was heavenly against her body, and when he shifted and guided himself into the puckered rosebud of her anus, they both groaned in bliss. He thrust against her patiently, slowly, until the sensations she’d become so familiar with started to spread through her body.
“I’m going to come, baby,” he panted. His breath was hot against her ear, and his tempo had increased.
“Yes, please, come inside my ass. I want to feel your come coat my insides.” Gracie thrust back against him, harder and faster until he shouted his release. She felt his cock expand and his hot seed shoot up inside of her, causing her own orgasm. Her sphincter tightened around him and they both shook as they collapsed from the intensity of their desires.
Gracie woke as she felt him separate himself from her body. They were sticky and covered in sweat. He pulled out of her slowly, but even then she winced in discomfort.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll run a hot bath and we can both soak our sore muscles,” he said lying down beside her.
She turned her head toward his voice and smiled as he released her hands from their bonds and reached around to loosen her blindfold. As her eyes adjusted to the light she found herself looking into crystalline blue eyes, the eyes of the man she’d been dreaming of. The man who had captivated her from their first encounter.
“I knew it was you,” Gracie whispered, as she touched his face for the first time. She leaned over and kissed him gently. “Mitchell.”
“You were the reason I came to that stupid party,” he said. “I saw you leaving your office building on Friday, and I knew I had to have you. It took fast work to find out who you were and what your plans were, but my staff pulled it off. And it wasn’t that hard to question your staff because I own your building.”
Gracie laughed at that news and snuggled closer. “Well, you have me. And I leave it up to you as to what you want to do with me.”
“I have a proposition for you,” Mitchell said without any hesitation.
Gracie stared at him, her body still tingling from his touch, and knew he could ask her for anything in that moment and she’d agree. “What is it?”
“Well, I heard a woman once say something very profound, and it’s stuck with me. What do you say I treat you like a queen, and then you can give me amazing sex for the rest of my life until we’re both too old to care?”
“Whoever said that sounds like a smart woman,” Gracie said. “It’s a deal.”
This is part two of a story. Any questions can probably be cleared up by reading the first part. It was not mentioned during the first story, but even though the story is written in first person, it hasn’t actually happened. This story was originally written for my Master as a fantasy of us, and it was him who inspired me to submit it. I hope you enjoy it as much as we do, and please leave me comments, as we do read them.
I thought it was over. I realize now that that was a stupid assumption. You’d never let me get finish so soon at home, so why should it be any different now? My body has stopped shaking, but my mind is in a totally different place. As we look out on the gallery – you had opened the curtains, but I am unsure when — I notice that there are a lot of different things going on. Some people are just watching, their gazes roaming until they see a particular scene they like, while others are engaged in different activities. There is a hot tub, several private dungeon areas with views out to the public, and a few rooms that are laid out like bedrooms with large windows.
As I watch I suddenly feel you secure straps around my ankles, then my wrists. Suddenly my mind is alert — where had those come from? As I turn I see the tray they’d been brought in on along with the cords laying there. I am curious as to what they are there for, as it’s not something we’ve done before. As you pick up the first cord, you hook it to the ring on the right-hand cuff, followed by hooking the other end to a ring suspended from the ceiling. You do the same with my left. I am barely able to move in either direction, much less sit or kneel. Next you fasten my feet to the floor; I am now spread eagle, for everyone to see. I am glad that my clothes are still on and intact.
“You have been very naughty lately.” You tell me as I hang in place. “I expect better of you.” I am bewildered by this as I have no idea what you are talking about, haven’t I been a good girl? What did I do that upset you? “You want me to tell you what you did?” You ask with a menace in your voice that I am quite familiar with. “Yes, Please” I respond, unsure of how to answer. My knees are shaking and my pussy is once again wet with anticipation. “You mean you don’t know?” you ask, the sound of your voice so forceful that my pussy starts to ache. “No sir.” I reply knowing that more than a mono-syllabic response at this time would be difficult to say as the connection between my brain and mouth has been lost in the confusion of being on display with a dripping cunt. “Well slut, that means you need even more punishment.” The smile on your face is wicked, and my nipples are hard just contemplating what might be in store.
You slowly disrobe me, untying the corset, followed by the halter. As the zipper on the dress comes to a stop, you freeze momentarily as it pools around my calves, and ripping the seam out so it comes away completely you say, “I guess that’s just one more thing you’ll have to fix.” You finish my disrobement by tearing off the thigh-highs, and tossing them on the floor.
I can see everything. Hanging bare, and half suspended, I notice a girl — a sub by the look of her — watching us. Her Mistress is punishing a male sub by keeping him erect, but not allowing him to cum. The girl is transfixed, her eyes watching us closely.
Your focus is completely on me. You start my punishment with just a touch, using your hand to produce small caresses up my buttocks and spine. A soft touch here and there, driving me crazy as my pussy drips hot juices down my thighs. As you reach up and caress my breasts, I notice the sub across the way has begun to touch her-self. She mimics your movements, stroking her butt as you touch mine, pinching her nipples as you squeeze mine.
I am brought back to us as something cold lightly touches my thigh. I can’t see what it is, but it is stiff and smooth. I am nervous, and unsure of what to expect. The object is removed, and soon your hands start to fondle my ass. You very slowly start to play with that hole. It is sensitive, and tight. You work first one, then two fingers in, and as I start to moan with pleasure I notice that the sub across the way is leaning over a chair with her legs spread and her fingers penetrating her ass. Watching her is making me even hotter, and my swollen pussy is throbbing in response to my heightened senses.
I notice that you are now using a lubricant, it is making it easier for your fingers to pump in and out, and I am having a hard time focusing on anything else. Suddenly, in one quick movement your fingers are gone replaced by the cold object, which I now realize is a metal dildo that had been sitting in a bucket of ice.
The pain of this sudden violation makes me scream out, and you spank me to remind me of who is boss. I quiet, shaking in my bonds as my ass seizes from the unwanted intrusion. Now suddenly aware of everything I notice that my screams have brought us to the attention of other curious club-goers, but my favorite is the sub, who seems intrigued, and unaware that she has drawn her mistress’ attention as she continues to fuck her own ass.
Watching them I am reminded once again of my own body. I notice that the pain and humiliation of my recent violation has made my nipples so hard they hurt and my pussy even wetter. As the dildo in my ass starts to warm inside me, my body stops shaking, but just as I’ve gained the power to stand I am reminded that this is punishment as you begin to administer soft whips with a flogger.
Your chosen device is a red leather cat o’ nine with soft broad heavy straps, and a large rounded handle. I know this flogger well; it is one of your favorites. You start, as always, with a barrage of light, petal-like strokes, lightly tapping my ass and back with just the tips of the straps. You are speaking, but my mind has gone fuzzy, I love the feel of the whip, punishing me with its light caresses, showering me with promises of pain and torture.
I can still feel my ass filled with your newest toy, throbbing around it, squeezing it intermittently, as your strokes become harder. I shake in my bonds, my body tensing and releasing with each blow as they become harder and faster. I know the moment that they are hard enough to leave welts on my back and ass, and it is this point that I find my voice, exploding in a chorus with every lash of my punishment. “Yes! Oh, God! Don’t stop! I’m sorry master! Oh! Yes!” After a few short moments, your flagellation ceases and my body slumps in its bonds.
As you carefully sponge my back, softly soothing me with words of encouragement such as “Its ok,” and “It’s done now.” I notice that the sub across the way is still in avid fascination. I’d expected her mistress to have corrected the behavior by now; instead she is riding the male sub’s cock while watching the girl as she uses the handle of the flogger to masturbate while watching us.
You unhook the cords attached to my wrists and ankles, and slowly move me to a long table which you have moved to a position in front of the audience. You lower me onto the cold surface placing a pillow under my head, and several more under my ass to prop it into position. You then secure my hands above my head and my ankles in a position that spreads me wide open at the edge of the table. Using your fingers you quickly bring me to the brink of an orgasm as everyone watches. Just as I am about to cum, you remove your fingers and, slowly rubbing my inner thighs you wait for my body to calm. By turning my head, I can see the girl across the way has not stopped, and she lets out a small scream, and collapses to the floor as her orgasm hits and her cunt squirts cum in several directions as it tries to escape past the handle of the whip in her pussy. Having watched her sub’s display the mistress, who has moved to the male sub’s face to be eaten out, finally has her own release and also collapses to the floor, both women writhing in their bodies’ sudden ecstasy.
Seeing that my own body has calmed from its near orgasm, you begin to use your tongue to explore my throbbing pussy. You begin by slowly licking back and forth along my slit, enticing my clit to swell and swirling your tongue around it each time you reach the sensitive nub. You slowly open my nether lips to your probing tongue as it delves into me. I writhe with pleasure as you probe my cunt; licking first just around it, then into it deeper with each thrust.
“Please Master,” I plead with you breathlessly, “Please, I need your cock!” You seem to take no heed, and wondering if you’d heard me I try a little louder, “Oh! Master! Please I need you to fuck me with your prick!” I can feel you smile, and I know that you heard me, but now I’m desperate, and my voice rushes out in a rather loud shout, “Oh my God Master, Please, Please, Please! Fuck my cunt with your huge cock! I need you to make me your slut! Fuck me now, Please!!”
Without so much as a word you quickly stand and ram my tight, wet pussy with your rock-hard prick; the force of which makes me scream unintelligibly with pleasure. You slowly remove your cock, only to ram it back into my snug little hole eliciting squeaks and moans of pleasure from me.
As your fucking becomes smoother, you begin to taunt me. “You like this don’t you?” you ask, “You love showing the world how slutty you are, don’t you?” “Yes Master.” I reply, softly. “So say it, I want you to tell your audience just how much letting them watch you get fucked turns you on.”
My response is slow, I don’t know how to word it, or if I’m supposed to speak to them, or just tell you loud enough so they can hear, I finally choose the latter. “Oh Master!” I shout, “I feel like such a slut! Oh Yes! I love that all these people are watching you fuck my taut little pussy with your big hard cock. Oh letting them watch as you stretch my pussy, and bang my cunt makes me feel so good! Oh, God! I have to cum! Oh Please Master, Let me cum!”
My speech begins to slur into moans and whimpers as I hold back my orgasm, until finally you give me a nod allowing me to cum. You pull out as my body shakes with its release and positioning yourself over my face, you grab my hair and begin to pump your prick in and out of my awaiting mouth and – just before you cum – you pull out squirting your semen all over my face and tits.
You close the curtains once again, blocking us from view as you unbind me and help me to clean us both up with the sponge and a fresh basin of hot water. Wrapping me in a satin robe, and packing the remains of my outfit and our toys into a bag, you slowly escort me out, and back to the car where you help me in and gingerly strap me into the seat-belt.
As I fall asleep on the way back to your house, it occurs to me, I never did learn what the punishment was for… Oh well, I’m sure it will come to me eventually…
A mischievous smirk lit up my face as my girlfriend opened up the door to her room. Her housemate had let me in, as I’d suspected at her insistence. Obviously she’d followed the instructions I’d sent her the night before.
I stood in the doorway looking down at her beautiful body, she stood there undressed aside from her choice of lacy lingerie. My grin widened and I stepped into the room pushing the door closed behind me.
I’d been plotting tonight for a while now, ideas had been running through my head for longer, but after a conversation about our personal fantasies I’d worked out what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Hopefully what I had planned would be enjoyable for the both of us.
I’d sent her an email with a list of instructions the night before; she was to be waiting for my arrival unclothed, she was to abstain from pleasuring herself till I arrived, and an assortment of toys were to be ready on the bed side table.
I glanced across the room and sure enough there were the items I’d requested. An assortment of sex toys and a pair of handcuffs.
“I see you followed some of my commands” I remarked playfully.
“Lie down on the bed, face up, arms above your head” the playfulness vanishing from my voice, replaced with a stern commanding tone.
She lowered her head and walked back towards the bed, I watched her, almost devouring her with my eyes, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the curve of her back and the way her hair cascaded past her shoulders.
As she lay down I raised an eyebrow, she’d made eye contact.
“Did I say you could look at me? Now lie down” I replied to her insolence, silently she obeyed, lowering her eyes once more before lying down completely open to me and utterly submissive.
The power was almost intoxicating, there she was following my every command, giving herself up to me, wordlessly and unquestioningly.
With a smile I moved over to the side of the bed and sat down, still fully clothed, the contrast with her only wearing lingerie reinforcing the position of power I sat in.
I lightly traced a finger up one of her arms from shoulder to wrist, before lifting it up.
“I’m going to restrain you now… if you behave I’ll consider letting you go” I spoke calmly and reassuringly with a subtle hint of power playing in my voice.
“Do you understand?”
She replied with a mute nod, her eyes still downturned; I picked up the handcuffs from the bedside table.
“Good…” I replied clicking one side closed over her wrist.
Gently I looped the handcuffs through one of the posts in the bed’s headboard and fastened the other cuff around her other wrist, clicking it shut; tight.
She tugged a little, testing her bonds tentatively.
“Did I say you could do that?”
I barely waited for an answer, sliding my right hand under her bra and gripping her right nipple tightly between finger and thumb, giving it a slight twist and a tug. This elicited a slight gasp.
“Now then” I continued, twisting her nipple almost idly.
“You are at my mercy here… and I have some rules. You may speak, you may make noise… however you are not allowed to cum until I have given you permission, and you are to tell me when you feel you are about to cum. Understood?”
With my left hand I cupped her jaw and tilted her head up to look at me, obediently she offered no resistance, still kept her eyes lowered so as not to make eye contact.
“Yes” she gasped quietly as I twisted her nipple once again.
I moved up onto the bed, no longer sitting on the side, but kneeling next to her beautiful bound body. I drunk it in, letting my hands flow over her torso, deliberately avoiding her breasts and anything below the hips.
I traced my fingers along her shoulders, and up her neck before coming down between her breasts, teasingly just brushing past, and then down across her stomach.
Her breathing was getting heavier now as I teased her, defiantly she raised her hips, urging me to rub her clit and finger her wet pussy as I traced my hand down across her stomach.
I shook my head and pushed her hips down with my spare hand, before sliding it up from her knee along the inside of her thigh, carefully tracing the outline of her thong. She gasped once again rising her hips.
“Please” she uttered thrusting herself towards my teasing hands.
Once more I shook my head and pushed her back down onto the bed, she was mine and I intended to enjoy her to the full, teasing and all.
Once more I resumed sensually caressing her torso, this time letting my hands brush over her full breasts, squeezing gently before moving on.
Her breath was ragged and she was obviously trying to restrain herself from attempting to force me to go further than this teasing. I watched rapt with her internal struggle, all the while feeding the fires of her desire, teasing, caressing, but never quite pleasuring.
After a while of enjoying driving her mad I slid both hands inside her bra, tweeking her erect nipples again, she gasped and whimpered as I rolled them between forefinger and thumb, pulling gently before twisting again. Her whimpers slowly merged into moans of pleasure as I squeezed her nipple harder and harder, almost yanking them as I twisted them.
Then almost as abruptly as I’d started I stopped, withdrawing my hands and continuing my teasing, brushing caress. I leant forwards, leaving my lips an inch or so away from hers as my hand traced further down, and I began to toy with the elastic of her thong, sliding a finger underneath and sliding it along, teasingly stroking beneath the lace.
She strained to kiss me, but I was just out of reach, she gasped as I stroked her mound, briefly letting one finger brush seemingly accidentally over her clit.
And then suddenly I leant forwards kissing her long and hard, my tongue in her mouth and I slid a finger into her soaking pussy.
She moaned into my kiss, responding passionately and thrusting against my hand driving my finger deeper into her.
I circled my finger around inside her and drew it out before pushing back in, all the while kissing her deeply.
And then abruptly I pulled out of the kiss, drawing my finger almost entirely out, leaving the tip, just past her opening.
With my free hand I gently pushed her head to the side, planting a kiss on her neck followed by a short bite.
She gasped and tried to thrust upwards in an attempt to get me to finger her hard and deep again, but I had other plans.
Half with pleasure and half with annoyance at the denial of full pleasure she moaned as I kissed her neck again whilst sliding a second finger to the entrance of her wet pussy.
I nibbled her neck once more, driving two fingers inside of her and crooking them upwards, pressing my thumb against her clit and gripping as if trying to rub them together, rubbing her inside and her clit simultaneously.
Her disappointed moan became one of pure ecstasy as I played her clit pussy and kissed her neck.
“Oh god” she whispered between moans.
I began to move down her neck towards her shoulder, kissing all the while, still furiously playing with her clit and pussy with one hand.
My kisses lead a trail down along the shoulder and then in across to her collarbone and down, between her breasts and across her stomach coming to a stop on her hip.
I withdrew my fingers and pulled her thong down around her ankles leaving her almost completely naked.
I gazed at her, ogling her; drinking in her beauty as I moved from beside her to kneeling between her legs.
Once more I pushed two fingers into her pussy and began to work inside her again, revelling in her gasps and whimpers of bliss.
I glanced over at the bedside table and settled on a toy; I selected her silver vibrator and reached out to retrieve it, all the while finger fucking her bringing her closer to her inevitable orgasm.
Her eyes were closed with the pleasure as I retrieved the vibrator, but as I brought it down towards her pussy I switched it on. The sound caught her attention and she opened her eyes, catching a glimpse of the vibrator as I slid it down across her clit, all the while fingering her.
She almost screamed with the sensation that washed through her as the cold metallic object pressed against her clit sending shivers of pleasure running through her whilst I slid my fingers deeper inside her, pressing them as deep as I could.
“Remember what I said… tell me when you’re about to cum” I reminded her sternly
She replied, her words faltering as she gasped at the feelings running through her body.
Finally I withdrew my fingers from her soaking wet pussy and leant forwards, placing them gently on her lips, running them across her lips, and then letting her suck them clean, all the while the vibrator pressed firmly against her clit.
Once she’d licked my fingers clean I knelt back down and leant towards her clit, pushing the vibrator further down, till it slid inside her pussy and my tongue made contact with her clit.
I slid my tongue up and down, playing with her clit almost tentatively, gradually applying more and more pressure before changing rhythm, sliding it across and then round in circles before eventually sucking it; tonguing it inside my mouth.
Her legs clamped around my head in an attempt to keep me there, and so I couldn’t hear properly as she cried out with the pleasure of my tongue on her clit and the vibrator sliding in and out of her pussy.
Eventually her relaxed her legs and I heard her gasping, trying to speak.
“I’m going to cum… can I cum? Please Josh?” she begged, faltering as her breath came in ragged gasps.
I knelt back up, leaving her clit alone, and turning the vibrator off, but still sliding it in and out of her wet pussy. She was obviously having trouble restraining herself, her breath was coming in gasps and she was biting back moans of bliss.
I waited a few seconds, still fucking her with the vibrator before I made up my mind.
“You may cum… but you’ll have to make it up to me” I responded pushing the vibrator back in and switching it on at full power before leaning forwards and tonguing her clit.
It wasn’t long before I felt her buck and arch her back pressing her clit against me as the orgasm ripped through her body sending her into spasms of ecstasy.
I continued sucking her clit and playing with it with my tongue and sliding the vibrator in and out hard as the orgasm washed over her sending her over the edge into a sea of bliss till she could physically cope with no more.
Eventually I switched the vibrator off and removed it from her pussy and leant over her, kissing her deep and hard, the taste of her pussy on my tongue.
Her breath was still ragged and she gasped as my hand slid under her bra and tweaked her nipple once more, still sensitive from the orgasm.
“Now then… time for you to make it up to me” I smirked as I unlocked her handcuffs freeing her wrists.
Instantly she went to unbutton my shirt, but I caught her hands and pushed them back up.
“I’m going to sit on the bed, and you are going to kneel on the floor in front of me.” I spoke, not a room for questioning in my tone.
Obediently she moved to the floor and knelt down by the side of the bed. I shuffled over and sat in front of her legs spread showing my cock pushing eager to be free of the trousers imprisoning it.
“Remove your bra” I ordered reaching for a second toy from the table, this time a butt plug and a tube of lube.
As I watched her undo her bra and release her beautiful breasts I lubed up the plug before handing it to her.
“Now slide this inside your ass” I grinned as she took the slippery toy and leant forwards, making a show of sliding it inside her, wincing a little as it spread her tight asshole, she slid it in and out a little, fucking herself before pushing it in and letting it find it’s place inside her.
As I watched her follow my orders unquestioningly I undid my belt and unbuttoned my trousers, pulling them down a revealing my boxers, which barely covered my cock which was straining for freedom.
Of course she knew exactly what was expected and as soon as her plug was in place she gripped my cock with one hand through the thin fabric of my boxers and stroked it up and down before lifting the elastic waistband up and over my cock, pulling my boxers down around my ankles.
I stepped out of them and my trousers, leaving my bottom half entirely naked.
As I felt her tongue run up the bottom of my cock I began to unbutton my shirt. As she reached the top she swirled her tongue around the tip before encircling it with her lips and bringing as much as she could into her mouth, servicing me submissively. She was knelt before me and right now all that mattered to her was to please me. I was in control; she needed to thank me for allowing her to cum… and so she did.
Bobbing her head up and, swallowing my cock into her eager mouth, teasing the underside with her tongue and taking as much as she could into her mouth.
Once undressed I stood before her and grasped her head with one hand, pushing her down, forcing more of my cock into her mouth, choking her a little before pulling all the way out.
She grasped for my cock and slid her hand up and down it, jerking me off whilst she sucked the tip, I pushed her head down again and slid my cock into her hungry mouth and she sucked my cock she played with my balls, fondling them and teasing them.
Eventually I felt the warm feeling of an impending orgasm rising within my balls and I pulled her off my cock, letting it come free of her lips.
“Bend over the bed” I ordered reaching for a condom and sliding it over my rock solid cock.
As she bent over I stood up behind her and gripped the butt plug, twisting it slowly and pulling it out.
She moaned as I removed the toy and slid a finger into her already lubricated but tight hole.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked already knowing the answer.
She responded with moans pushing against me finger driving it deeper into her ass.
“Please… Josh, please fuck me!” she moaned into the duvet.
With a grin I applied some lube to my cock and positioned myself behind her before pushing into her ass, slowly at first till I was mostly in and then pulling out and pushing in again harder and faster this time.
I gripped her hips and pulled her onto me as I pushed, driving myself all the way into her, as I did so I saw her hand reaching back to play with her own pussy as I fucked her hard in the ass.
I pounded deep gripping her hips, driving myself in as deep as possible, occasionally letting a hand wonder to scratch down her back or to squeeze her ass cheeks; leaving finger marks.
She moaned with pleasure, crying out with another orgasm as I fucked her deep in the ass, and she played with her clit and fingered her pussy. I could feel her fingers against my cock inside her, adding to the pleasure I was feeling.
Eventually I felt the orgasm begin to boil within me again and I pushed in deep as it overcame me. My cock twitched as it spurted jets of cum, and I arched my back and pushed harder into her with the sheer overwhelming gratification that flooded my senses.
I felt my head go light and I pulled out, sitting down on the bed beside her in a delirious daze.
“Was that worth not touching yourself for then?” I asked eventually
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.
“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.
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.
Lloyd’s Angel: Doing Susan
Dinner broke up with a round of “good-nights” and soon Susan and I were walking back across the campus. The two of us strolled quietly for a block, watching our breath steam in the chill night air, while a new round of snowflakes fluttered down past the streetlights.
“Whose idea was the ketchup?” Susan asked after we turned onto a less populated street. Her tone had hints of both resignation and humor, but apparently no anger.
“Alexandra’s. She thought something you weren’t expecting would be more useful.” I was honest enough to assign credit for a clever idea, and not chivalrous enough to take the fall for it if she was really upset. “Tell me about it while it’s fresh in your mind,” I suggested, genuinely curious.
“She’s going to come to a bad end,” Susan muttered, then shook her head. “I knew something was up as soon as I’d put it on my burger. I looked at the fries with that bottle in my hand, and I could feel my mouth water. But I knew I hated ketchup on fries!”
We passed another house before she resumed talking, giving me a chance to reflect on what she’d said. It seemed we had another piece of hard evidence that my ability was real, and that it was trickier to use than I’d thought.
“Finally, I just had to try one,” Susan admitted. “It was really weird.”
“Yeah, I saw your face. You didn’t like it after all?”
“Honestly, it’s confusing. It tasted exactly like I expected, but…” Susan shrugged. “It was like half my brain was saying, ‘you hate this,’ and the other half was saying, ‘this tastes great!’ I’m not sure what to think.”
“Wow,” I said, and blew out a large cloud of steam. “Would you eat them again?”
She thought on it awhile. “I think so,” Susan finally replied. “I think maybe I’d just need to get out of the habit of not liking it, if that makes any sense.”
“About as much as any of the rest of it,” I mused, pondering the ramifications. “Alexandra will be fascinated, I’m sure.”
I sensed more than saw Susan roll her eyes. “She has a low sense of humor, even if food was one of the things we agreed to test. Would you like to come up?”
Startled, I realized we’d reached the student apartment where she lived. “Won’t that be a problem? I thought you had a roommate.”
Susan laughed. “Yelena? Not on a Friday evening — I should introduce her to Danny, but I’m not ready to completely ruin her reputation! We’re not supposed to have boys in after hours, but the other girls sneak them in all the time.”
“Okay, if we won’t get in trouble.”
“No more trouble than you deserve! Just wait over there by the side door and I’ll be back in a minute.” She surprised me with a quick kiss and hurried in the front. I meandered over to the side of the building, following the path worn in the snow; I barely had time to look around before Susan had opened the door and dragged me inside. She led me up the back stairs to the second floor and down the hall, passing another girl who only smiled.
Susan let us into her room and I looked around for a moment while she rummaged in a dresser before producing a bobby sock. “Do not disturb,” she explained, pulling it over the doorknob before closing and locking the door. Some of the thoughts that had been running idly though my head over the past few minutes came into sharper focus.
We took off our coats, but instead of hanging them in the closet, Susan dropped hers on the floor and started unfastening her sweater. I presumed my coat ended up on the floor too, but I wasn’t paying attention to it. It turned out my earlier guess had been correct; there was nothing under the sweater except nubile female flesh.
“I do have nice boobs, don’t I?” Susan asked, presenting herself confidently for inspection.
“Oh yeah,” I agreed, urgently hard. Thoughts of Alexandra didn’t so much disappear as move aside as I admired the attractive and half-naked young woman before me. I needed physical relief, and I wanted to fuck her in the worst way.
“They’re bigger than Yelena’s,” Susan boasted, but I cut her off with an aggressive kiss. She opened her mouth almost immediately and our tongues probed against each other. I’m sure she felt my cock as clearly as I did her tits. We broke apart and almost in unison began shedding our clothes. Susan had a head start, but I didn’t have hose to deal with, so we finished in a dead heat.
I thought I read lust in her expression, but Susan turned away from me and started rummaging in one of the dressers, mumbling something under her breath. A little disappointed, I followed her delectable ass and wrapped my arms around her from behind, grinding my rigid tool against the small of her back. “Lloyd!” she squeaked, squirming in my embrace; she had a condom package in one hand.
I felt like a heel for not thinking of the risks, but my remorse quickly was buried beneath my rising anticipation and physical desire. My grip tightened and I lofted Susan onto the nearby bed, smiling at her surprised shriek. “Sssh!” I told her, and knelt on the bed to straddle her as she lay on her back.
Susan looked at my cock, jutting towards her face, and I wondered if she might squeeze it between her tits or even take it in her mouth. Instead, she tore open the packet and started rolling the condom down my penis; apparently she was as eager to reach home base as I was. I trailed my fingers up her flanks to her nipples, watching them stiffen beneath my touch.
As soon as the condom was in place, I crab walked backwards until I was between her legs. I wasn’t the world’s most experienced lover, but even I realized we hadn’t done much in the way of foreplay. I probed her bush gently with a finger, thinking I shouldn’t be too selfish, but Susan was already wet and pulling at my arms.
“Oh, just get inside me, hurry!” she moaned.
No man alive, and certainly not me, was going to pass up a request like that from a beautiful girl. I lined up and started easing myself into her molten pussy; about half-way in, Susan got her legs around mine and pulled me the rest of the way into her in a rush. At that point, my remaining self-control vanished and I started rutting into her like a jackhammer. It had been awhile since I’d been with a girl and Susan felt way better than my hand, even with the condom in the way.
She made the most erotic little moans and gasps, as if she were trying to remain quiet but just couldn’t hold them in. Her eyes were open, but must have been focused about 100 feet above the roof of the building.
I came embarrassingly quickly, like I was still eighteen or something, and collapsed momentarily atop Susan. Regretfully, I wriggled free before I deflated and lost the bulging condom inside her. My libido was still stuck in overdrive, even if my penis needed a break, and I didn’t think Susan had orgasmed yet. Settling myself beside her, I started fingering her dripping crevice. At the same time I was physically stimulating her, I tried to will her to orgasm.
It took a few minutes, but I could see something was working because her nipples were hard like rocks and her knuckles were white where they gripped the bedspread. Suddenly Susan gasped and arched her body completely off the bed while a scream tore itself from her throat. I’d never seen a girl so abandoned, and I didn’t think it was an act. My cock was hardening again at the sight of her.
Susan’s eyes focused on my face and she brushed a sweaty lock of hair off her forehead. “My gosh, Lloyd, I’ve never felt so wanton,” she whispered hoarsely. A slow smile spread across her face when a questing hand found my firm tool. “Come here, you.”
I thought she might want to fuck again, but she pulled on me, leading me by my cock until I was straddling her once more. Susan stripped off the condom and cast it aside, then pressed her breasts together around my now-rigid organ. “Do they feel as good as they look?” she asked me.
“Better,” I assured her. My slick flesh easily slid back and forth against hers. It wasn’t the same as fucking her, but without the condom in the way, the sensation was intense, and the view was even better. I’d heard about tit-fucking, but never done it before now. It was exciting to be doing it, and even more exciting to think I might have influenced Susan to do it.
It was ungracious, but I had a sudden flash of Alexandra squeezing her tits around my cock. The thought was enough to make me shudder and jet warm spunk onto Susan’s neck and chin. She jerked but couldn’t avoid either the initial blast or the follow-on emissions that dripped stickily onto her chest.
“Eeww, Lloyd,” she complained, evidently as unpracticed in these matters as I. “Come on, get off me!”
I backed off, but slowly, letting a few last drops spatter her belly. I felt like a dog marking his territory, and thought hard about Susan massaging my cum into her flushed skin.
Susan appeared to be oblivious to my thoughts. “Can you get me something?” she asked, sitting up. Some of my spend had already dripped onto the pillow, and now the rest was trailing slowly down her body — a truly erotic sight.
I looked about for a moment before catching sight of her panties lying on the floor with the rest of our clothing. “Here,” I said, stooping to retrieve them, “I think it’s your turn to ruin a pair.”
She gave me a dirty look before laughing and accepting them. “We don’t seem to do a very good job of planning, do we?” she asked, mopping up the worst of the mess. Susan looked doubtfully at the spots on the pillow.
“Lick it up!” I thought while managing to get out a simple verbal, “no.” My hopes rose as Susan used a finger to remove most of the excess, but she merely cleaned it on the panties and flipped the pillow so the spots were on the bottom.
She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m pretty sure Yelena’s done worse to me.”
“What?” I asked, not getting it.
“This is Yelena’s bed,” Susan explained. “You don’t think I’m the kind of girl who keeps condoms in her dresser, do you?”
I took in her naked body, topped with tousled hair and gleaming here and there with the residue of my orgasm, and thought she looked exactly like that kind of girl. I felt an urge to do her again, but my penis didn’t look like it was up to the challenge. Yet.
Susan read the answer in my expression and flushed slightly before giggling. “Well, okay, but I’m not!” We both laughed, and started picking up our abandoned clothing.
It seemed a bit gauche to just leave, but we’d already had dinner. “Do you want to see a movie, or maybe get a cup of coffee?” I asked.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the wrong order? Besides, I think I need a little more cleaning up than you do.” Her skirt went into the closet in exchange for a robe, which Susan pulled on and belted. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, mind you.”
I finished tucking in my shirt and stuffed the tie in my pocket. “Well, another night, then.” I hesitated, and then walked over and kissed her again. It was pretty steamy, but without the raw edge of our earlier lust, and Susan pressed her hand over mine when I slid it inside her robe to cup a breast.
“I’d better fix that,” Susan told me when we parted, and ran a finger across my mouth; it came away lipstick red. “Better,” she pronounced, and walked me to the door.
Susan cracked the door and I slid out, trying for a little discretion, to find myself facing another girl. She was thin, although still feminine, and gave me a piercing look as I emerged from the room.
“So, Susan is not so aloof as she appears,” the girl drawled after finishing her examination. “I am pleased to meet you, I think.” Her amused smirk was hard to resist.
“I’m Lloyd,” I introduced myself, offering my hand.
“Yelena,” she responded, placing her hand lightly in mine instead of shaking it as I’d expected.
I yielded to impulse and raised her hand to my lips; it just seemed like a natural thing to do. “Charmed.”
“I can see,” she commented archly, looking at the red smudge I’d left by her knuckles. “I would wish you a good evening, but I see you’ve already had one.” Yelena stripped the sock from the doorknob and wiped away the lipstick. “Please feel free to visit again.”
“Yelena!” Susan moaned from behind me.
“I want to hear all about it,” Susan’s roommate said as she entered the room. I waved a silent, and unheeded, goodbye and retreated the way I’d entered without encountering anybody else.
The snow was falling again Saturday, and I wasn’t exactly a winter person. One of the benefits of boarding instead of living in a dorm or apartment was that I could get away with holing up on these kinds of days; Mrs. Wagner would even bring me coffee without prompting. I claimed my usual chair by the fireplace in the family room and worked through a stack of grading while Mr. Wagner studied the minutia of the sports section and Mrs. Wagner knitted — very homey.
After I’d finished grading, I turned to the more interesting question of assessing what I’d learned the previous day and what I might try next. There was a delicate balance to maintain between what I wanted and what would be safe, and what I could tell Alexandra and what I shouldn’t; I ended up just closing my eyes and waiting to see where my mind would drift.
I hadn’t quite fallen asleep, or so I thought, when I woke suddenly and found Mrs. Wagner standing beside my chair with a throw in her hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lloyd! I didn’t mean to startle you; I just thought you looked a little cold.” She proceeded to settle the throw over my lap and legs.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Wagner, I wasn’t really sleeping. Thanks!”
The whole interaction was almost routine, because Mrs. Wagner was eerily silent in her slippers and really had surprised me any number of times in the past. I’d grown accustomed to it, but it was disconcerting. Somehow it hadn’t worked that way today.
I lay back and closed my eyes again, but this time my mind was working much more quickly. What had alerted me this time? I worked on the problem fruitlessly for some time before calming again in the warmth of the fire and the crackle of the burning wood. I’d started watching the transient flashes of imagined stars inside my eyelids when I gradually became aware of a faint lightness somewhere ahead of me. It reminded me somewhat of coals buried beneath ashes after a fire had almost burned out, but without any sense of color.
Opening my eyes momentarily revealed the glow, if it really existed, seemed to coincide with Mr. Wagner. I closed my eyes again and cast about for Mrs. Wagner; I convinced myself that I found a matching glow where she was sitting, but it was too faint to discern with my eyes open. A little experimentation suggested the glows tracked with them, but I couldn’t make out anything more. The chief result of sitting there with my eyes closed was that I fell asleep again.
The ringing phone awakened me. For whatever reason, Mr. Wagner was in charge of answering it, and he was most of the way to the kitchen before I was aware enough to close my eyes and try to follow him. I didn’t have any luck, either due to the extra distance or my unsettled mental state.
“Lloyd, it’s for you,” he said after a minute.
I sat up in surprise. Sure, I was listed in the campus directory, but I couldn’t remember anybody calling me before this, and it wasn’t the right time for my parents to be calling.
“A Susan,” he added with a wink. It was ridiculous how excited both of them looked; Mrs. Wagner had let it be known that she thought I didn’t socialize enough, and now I’d never hear the end of it.
I got to the phone and tried to ignore my hosts, who were hovering far enough away to give me some space but doubtless close enough to hear every word I said. “Hi, Susan.”
“Oh, Lloyd, I hope you don’t mind me calling,” she apologized. “Did I interrupt anything?”
“Only a thought experiment,” I quipped. “I’m happy you called.”
“I was just wondering if we could get together and plan some more research.” She lowered her voice and continued, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. You don’t think I’m being too forward, do you?”
“I’d like that,” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mrs. Wagner practically jumping up and down and whispering, “Ask her out!”
“This is research!” I hissed, holding a hand over the phone, before putting it back to my ear. “Would you mind coming over here? I board but I don’t think the owners will mind. The university doesn’t leave the thermostats turned up over the weekend, and it would be more comfortable than your place or the library.” It was unlikely to be a problem with the Wagners, and sure enough a quick glance showed Mr. Wagner giving me a thumbs-up.
“That would be fine; can you give me directions?”
“What if I pick you up, instead? It’s still miserable outside, and I’d be happy to take you home again afterwards.”
“Would you? That’d be swell!”
“About 6:30, then?”
“I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I assured her, and hung up.
Mr. Wagner chuckled. “She must be some girl to get you out in the snow.”
“Oh, shush,” said Mrs. Wagner, elbowing him. “Weren’t you telling me you wanted to see ‘Lawrence of Arabia’?”
They traded knowing looks. “Well, Lloyd, it looks like some girl is going to drag me out in the snow, too.” Mr. Wagner didn’t look too upset about it.
“I promise not to throw any wild parties,” I grinned, starting to think about what else I might do instead.
We ate lunch, and I called Susan back, just to let her know she didn’t have to worry about impressing the Wagners. I then proceeded to do un-Saturday-like activities such as making my bed, showering, and shaving. I also checked to be sure I had a few condoms discreetly tucked where I could reach them at need.
After picking at a dinner that could have been sawdust for all I remembered of it, all of us bundled up, brushed off the cars, and departed in different directions. The movie was long, and the Wagners told me they didn’t expect to be home until late. The roads weren’t as bad as I’d feared and I made it to Susan’s apartment early, but she emerged from the front door as soon as I got out of the car.
I handed her into the passenger’s seat, slammed the balky door hard to make sure it latched on the first try, and scampered around to climb back inside myself.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Susan told me, huddling in her heavy coat. “I wasn’t really looking forward to going anywhere in this.”
“Neither was I,” I laughed, “but this seemed like a good cause.” I concentrated on keeping the Ford in the middle of the street and we made only inconsequential conversation on the thankfully short drive back home. After pulling back into my space in the empty driveway, we dashed up to the house and inside to the warmth of the mud room, where we stamped the snow off our boots.
I offered to hang up her coat, and got the surprise of my life — beneath it, Susan was naked save for a scarf and her boots. “Jesus, Susan!” I blurted, fumbling with the garment.
She giggled, evidently pleased by the pole-axed expression that must have been visible on my face. “I have a present from Yelena, too,” she announced, and withdrew a handful of condoms from one of the pockets. “We only have to promise not to use them on her bed!”
“It’s a deal!” I got our coats mostly onto hangers and then, hands free, pulled her tight for a passionate kiss. “This way,” I urged her a minute later, tugging in the direction of my room. I had my shirt unbuttoned by the time we got there; I started on my trousers, but Susan pushed me onto my bed and finished the job herself.
“I want you,” she growled huskily, shredding one of the condom wrappers. “Do I make you hot?”
“Unbelievably,” I gasped, as if my rigid erection wasn’t answer enough. There were things I wanted to try, but I suspected I was too worked up at the moment, and the sight of Susan wearing only a scarf was a real turn-on. I made myself lie still while she rolled on the condom, then pulled her onto the bed beside me and we were in each other’s arms.
“I’m looking forward to this,” I admitted, but she just moaned as I pushed myself into her wet pussy. There was no resistance and in no time at all we were fucking like minks.
“Oh, fuck! Fuck me, Lloyd!” was about the most coherent thing Susan said, but she was vocal enough to make me glad we had the house to ourselves.
I forced myself to slow down so I wouldn’t pop right away. “Get on top, baby — I want to hold your tits,” I gasped.
Susan gave me a sly look, and we rolled so she was straddling me. She wriggled a bit and began bouncing up and down on my organ while I cupped her breasts in my hands. The bad news, if you could call it that, was that she was working herself more energetically than I had been. The good news was that I could lie passively and enjoy the ride.
With my eyes closed, I tried to ignore the extremely pleasurable sensations emanating from my groin and focused on the space above me. Almost immediately I found a glow, either brighter or closer, about where Susan’s head was; it bobbed slightly in rhythm with her body. I fixated on that spot and concentrated on my arousal, and how good my cock felt inside her, and the orgasm that wasn’t too far away.
Everything happened at once, so I never was sure what might be cause or just reaction. The glow rippled slightly, Susan’s pussy squeezed me like a vise, and both of us climaxed almost simultaneously. I gasped, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and Susan wailed as if she were dying. A moment later she collapsed atop me and we held each other, breathing heavily.
“God, you are hot,” I complimented Susan, meaning every word, and kissed her. I wasn’t sure if she’d orgasmed because of what I’d tried or not, but the effect was equally delightful either way.
“Flatterer,” she replied. “I’ve never felt the way you make me feel, Lloyd.” A subtle movement of her body reminded us both I was still inside her.
It wasn’t every day a guy had a beautiful girl tell him he was the best lay she’d ever had. I was still pretty hard, and motivated to go again, so I pulled Susan close and rolled us back until I was on top of her again. Both of us were smiling in anticipation as I pulled back a bit and thrust into her.
Susan screamed and we both jumped.
“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.
She chewed daintily on a lip and considered. “Oh, yes. I just — wasn’t expecting that.” She spread her legs a little wider. “Please don’t stop!”
I started pumping again. This time, I didn’t stop when Susan started wriggling and panting beneath me; as if we’d played the previous few minutes over again at high speed, she climaxed after only a minute, but continued begging me to fuck her harder. With that stimulus, I rapidly approached my own orgasm. Judging by the jerking and incoherent cries she made, Susan got off one or two more times before I emptied my load into the abused condom.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she sighed weakly when I pulled out before the condom could leak any of my semen into her.
Feeling a bit drained myself, I skimmed off the condom and discarded it before collapsing back on the bed beside her. “You are a firecracker.”
“I know. I mean, my gosh, I’ve never cum like that before.”
I’d been wondering that too, and she’d saved me the awkward question. “I’d like to cum like that again, but I’ll need a little rest, first,” I chuckled. There was a decent chance my meddling might have had something to do with it, but I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t have infinite stamina. I had a slight headache, but it was already fading.
Susan giggled. “I guess it’s a good thing I have extra condoms!” One hand possessively cradled my shriveled penis.
“I have to admit I have a few laid in, too,” I grinned in return. “Do you want to see how many of them we can go through?”
“Yes,” Susan answered, with a matching grin. “But maybe we can talk while you recover.” Her expression turned more serious.
I braced myself for the sort of touchy-feely dialog many girls seemed to feel went hand-in-hand with sex. “Sure. What did you have in mind? Something about the research project?” It was sort of a joke.
“In a way,” was the unexpected answer. Susan rolled on her side so she could look at me. “Help me, Lloyd. Help me be better.”
The strange request triggered so many random thoughts that they jumbled together and all that came out of my mouth was, “huh?” It wasn’t my finest moment. “What do you mean?” I clarified. “You seem plenty good to me!”
Susan brushed the side of my face with a hand. “Thanks, Lloyd. But I do have a problem, a big one, that I think you could help with — and not many people could.” She took a deep breath and released it, then added, “I’m too shy.”
It was a struggle not to laugh in her face, but Susan clearly was serious about it, and it would be rather ungentlemanly of me. “I hadn’t noticed,” I finally responded, making a point of running my gaze down her nude body.
“I’m serious!” she protested, punching me lightly. “It’s different with you — I’m uninhibited, more confident, more open. I don’t know why,” Susan reflected. “I just trust you, I guess.” I started to reply, but she shushed me and continued. “I’m not this way with anybody else. It took me months to open up with Alexandra, and we share the same office! Remember how long it took me to say anything to you besides ‘hello’ and ‘good-night’? Do you know Dr. Reynolds still calls me ‘Susie’ and I haven’t worked up the courage to tell him I hate that name?”
Susan rolled back to stare at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t even be in the graduate program. My parents were so proud I got my bachelor’s degree that I couldn’t tell them ‘no’ when they started talking about graduate school. I passed on a grant application for this year because I was embarrassed to ask for help on it, and then I was afraid to admit I missed the filing deadline. I can’t go on like this.”
“Lots of people have problems, Susan. I’m not exactly a ladies’ man myself, in spite of what you might think. I’m not sure I could help, even if there was something to do.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” She pinned me with a direct look. “I don’t want to feel like I’m asphyxiating every time I’m in a room with strangers; I want to be my own woman. Whether it’s because we just happen to click, or because you’ve been meddling with me, I don’t care — just help me learn to do it with other people!”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit rash? I have no idea what — if anything — I’m doing, and I could make things worse without even realizing it.” I wondered if that wasn’t already the case. “Maybe we should wait until Alexandra’s experiments have gotten a little further along.”
Susan blew a tendril of hair away from her face. “That could take forever; I don’t want to wait.” She stroked a finger gently down my chest to my groin. “Please?”
It would have taken a more principled man than I to resist her plea; I sighed. “I’ll try. Just lie here quietly, okay?”
She wriggled a bit. “Can we get under the covers first? I’m getting a little chilly.”
“I have a better idea,” I said, standing up and offering her a hand. “C’mon.” I grabbed the throw that had gotten kicked off the foot of the bed at some point and started for the hall.
Susan hung back. “Lloyd! Where are you going?”
“The family room; we can sit in front of the fire. The Wagners won’t be home for hours.”
Thus reassured, she joined me and we ghosted naked through the house. The fire had died down, but it only took a minute to poke up the coals and add a few more logs. I’d thought we’d use the couch, but Susan had opted to steal a pillow and camp on the rug closer to the fireplace. Soon we were lying spooned together with the throw around us, watching new flames dart up from the seasoned wood.
“Better?” I inquired.
“Much,” she answered, arching slightly so her butt was planted even more firmly against me.
“Okay, just relax. I’m not going to do anything right away.” Susan nodded, and I closed my eyes. At this range, with her hair tickling my nose, what I thought of as the glow of her mind bloomed in my vision as soon as I started looking for it. I continued concentrating and subtle hints of details began to appear; it was reminiscent of sunspot pictures I’d seen. I had no idea how to manipulate it, but ample reason to believe it was possible. “Hmmm… How to start?”
Self-confidence was a slippery concept, especially since most of my presumed successes seemed to be associated with simpler emotional cues. Reducing Susan’s fear of conflict and failure seemed to be what was needed, but I’d never tried to remove rather than impose a feeling, either. The most workable approach seemed to be establishing a positive feedback cycle, but based on what?
“Tell me if you feel anything happening.” I tried to form an amalgamation of my impressions of Susan, the notion of strong, independent women, attraction, and desire, and then somehow attempt to project that in front of me. Nothing happened for a long time, but then Susan’s glow rippled gently. There was an itch inside my head, and then something twisted in a way I couldn’t describe; the penumbra of the mind in my vision flared, and I lost sight of it as I was seized by a splitting headache.
“Damn,” I cursed softly, seeing stars.
“What happened?” Susan asked, twisting to try and look at me.
“I’m honestly not sure, but I gave myself a heck of a headache.” I tried rubbing my forehead, to no discernable effect. “I think I need some aspirin.” I disentangled myself from Susan and the throw, and then stumped off to the bathroom. On the way back, I made a detour to the liquor cabinet and took a quick shot of Mr. Wagner’s brandy before carrying a pair of snifters back to the family room.
Susan had thrown off the covering and in the glow of the fire looked like every man’s wet dream — at least, every man who didn’t have Alexandra on the brain. I felt a stirring in my groin as I sat down beside her.
“Nightcap?” I asked, handing her one of the glasses.
She sipped it appreciatively; Mr. Wagner had far more experience and financial resources supporting his liquor supply than mere graduate students. Giving me a sly Mona Lisa smile, Susan tilted the glass and spilled some of the alcohol on herself, where it trickled between her breasts and down to her navel. “Ooops!”
I obligingly tossed back the remainder of my drink and leaned over to lick her smooth skin. I sucked the fragrant liquor from her belly and slowly worked my way upwards, kissing and teasing as I went. By the time I was done, her breathing was coming more quickly than when I started, and I was at half-mast. I transferred my attentions to her delectable tits, straining to see how much I could fit in my mouth. I teased first one and then the other nipple until both had hardened between my lips and teeth, and Susan was moaning softly.
“My turn,” she husked as she pushed me away. Susan poured out a little more of her brandy, this time directly on my erect penis, and then drained her glass. She tossed her hair back and it was my turn to moan as she bent and took the tip of my organ in her mouth.
My hips rotated of their own accord, trying to drive my cock deeper into Susan’s mouth. I’d gone perhaps an inch more when she shrieked — muffled by my flesh — and sat up to look at me. I was concerned I’d offended her or gone further than she’d intended, but that didn’t seem to be the problem.
“What did you do to me?” she asked, looking me in the face with wild eyes before dropping her gaze to my crotch. I had no answer, but apparently it wasn’t needed; she hunched over and engulfed me again, this time sucking me in so deep I heard her start to gag. Susan backed off, but only so she could go down on my full length again.
The feeling was incredible. I’d had a girl take me in her mouth before, but it had been nothing like this, and with nowhere near the same enthusiasm. I started bucking back, and we settled into a fast rhythm. I could barely believe this gorgeous girl was servicing me this way; I tangled my fingers in her hair, but I could hardly drive her faster or harder than she was going on her own.
When her rhythm broke down and I realized Susan was climaxing, I couldn’t help blowing my load down her throat. She sat up, coughing, and we both tried to catch our breath.
“Oh, my,” Susan choked. She coughed once more, and then fastidiously wiped an errant drop of semen from her lip and examined me. “I never knew — is it like that for everybody?”
“I don’t think so,” I admitted sheepishly. “You seemed to enjoy it a lot.”
“It was almost as good as getting fucked,” she told me with a gleam in her eye. “The feel of you going into me, it was — well, orgasmic. I want more.”
We both looked down at my deflating penis. I’d already cum three times that evening, which was normally about my limit.
“Please fuck me again, Lloyd.”
I proceeded to make perhaps the stupidest decision of my life, before or after. Whether it was the lure of a beautiful vixen, hormones, the liquor, my own hubris, or more likely a combination of all of them, I closed my eyes and focused inward.
Forgetting that I’d admitted to myself that I had nearly no control or understanding of my ability, and glossing over any distinction between mental desire and physical aptitude, I sank into the glow of my own mind. I thought about my hard organ, the way it felt sinking into Susan, desire for her and Alexandra, and every girl that had ever prompted an erection, and tried to find that peculiar twist that could propel those thoughts.
The next thing I remember was lying flat on the floor with Susan leaning over me asking, “Lloyd! Are you all right?”
I looked down the length of her fire-lit body from her hanging jugs to the hidden juncture of her thighs, above my jutting tool. “Oh yeah,” I said, ignoring the return of my headache, and grabbed for her.
“Oh no you don’t!” she giggled, eluding me. “I left my condoms upstairs!”
We raced back to my room, laughing, and if Susan let herself be caught just short of the bed, I recovered enough to wait for her to cover my throbbing meat with a condom before throwing her backwards onto the bed and covering her. There was no finesse, but she was so wet that none was needed; I sank into her like a hot knife in butter.
We rutted like animals. Susan moaned and shrieked her way through another wracking orgasm, but like a machine my cock remained stubbornly rigid; there just wasn’t enough sensation through the condom. I wanted to be inside her, flesh to flesh. All the same, the point of the condoms hadn’t completely escaped me.
Abruptly, I pulled out of Susan and stripped off the condom.
“What are you doing?” Susan panted.
“Something different,” I told her. “I need more sensation.” I grabbed the tube of Brylcreem from my nightstand and squeezed a generous amount into my hand, then began coating my cock with it.
“I don’t want to get pregnant,” Susan protested half-heartedly. I probably could have just fucked her and she would have let me, but my mind was on a different path by that point.
“You can’t get knocked up this way,” I assured her, kneeling on the bed. “Have you ever had anything up your ass before?” I rolled her. She started kicking and screaming, but I had the advantages of surprise, size, and position. My cock was harder than a tire iron as I pressed it between her cheeks and began forcing myself into her tight anus.
It was the sensation I was looking for. I pressed harder, burying myself deeper inside her. Susan was lying quietly now, crying, but I didn’t need her active participation. I pulled nearly all the way free and then reversed my stroke.
“You bastard,” she sobbed, but her butt rose to meet me as I skewered her again. I smiled and picked up the pace. A few minutes later I’d hauled her to her hands and knees, making it easier to fondle her tits, and we were both pounding away with abandon. I finally climaxed, but not before Susan had shuddered and nearly collapsed beneath me from the force of her own orgasm.
“Don’t ever force me again,” Susan told me flatly after I pulled out and she could roll onto her side to look at me.
I ducked my head guiltily. “I’m sorry, honestly. I think I screwed us both up a little bit.” She was looking at my cock, which was still hard, and seemed to force herself to look up.
“I can’t pretend I didn’t like it, by the end. Just remember I’m not your toy.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Can you fix things?”
“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “You want to get cleaned up first? This is sort of…” My voice trailed off.
Susan gave me a small smile. “I’d like that. I feel unclean.”
I led her to the bathroom and dug an extra set of towels out of the linen cupboard. “Do you want to go first?”
She considered. “How’s the hot water supply?”
“You won’t have a problem,” I answered. The least I could do was avoid mentioning that the second shower might be problematic if I wasn’t quick. My self-induced lust, or whatever it was, was fading and I felt increasingly bad about raping Susan — there really was no other way to describe what had happened.
“Come in with me,” she decided, “you’re already naked.” I hesitated, and she reached out and hauled me to the tub. “Don’t be an idiot. I forgive you.”
What followed was a lot of soaping and fondling, followed by a stand-up ass-fuck when Susan lowered herself gingerly onto my revived tool. We both orgasmed again, Susan more colorfully than I, and we just had time to clean ourselves before the fading water temperature chased us back to my bed.
We snuggled together under the blankets and quilt, this time face-to-face. “I just wanted us to both enjoy sex,” I explained to Susan. “I’m not sure if I can reverse it or not.”
She gently kissed me. “I trust you, Lloyd. Still. Just do your best — if nothing happens, well, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the glow of her mind. I watched it swirl and pulse, resistant to my cautious attempts, but kept trying. At some point, I fell asleep.
Alexandra swayed before me, her hair swirling gracefully in a breeze I couldn’t feel, her body barely concealed beneath a filmy negligee. I moved towards her, naked and rampantly erect, and her ruby red lips formed an “O” of awe as she admired my manhood.
Neither of us shifted position, but somehow she was lying on a bed or large couch and I hovered over her. I drifted closer, the tip of my organ pushing white fabric before it into her sex. She pulled at her nightgown, the sodden material forcing me out, but I pressed it back in again. We embraced, locking our bodies together, and she breathed, “Lloyd,” in my ear as our hips thrust against each other.
I woke as my balls clenched and I jetted into Susan. She had her face buried in a pillow, which served to muffle her shrieks of ecstasy so only I could hear them.
“Good morning,” she greeted me with a wide smile after dropping the pillow.
“Good morning,” I replied, followed a moment later by, “oh, God,” as my mind stumbled into action. I didn’t know what to be panicked about first. It was light out, the Wagners surely must be awake, the bedsprings weren’t muffled, I’d just cum inside Susan, and I hadn’t succeeded in changing us back.
“No, just Susan,” she quipped, disengaging herself from my cock. She relieved one of my anxieties by removing a condom from my erection and discarding it out the side of the bed.
“I wasn’t able to do anything last night,” I confessed.
Susan’s hand tightened about me. “I gathered as much; we’ll both live.” She flashed a grin and disappeared beneath the covers; a moment later I felt her mouth sucking on my heated flesh.
The mental picture of her servicing me this way reignited my carnal desires. My dick felt a bit raw, but jabbing it into Susan until her nose nestled near my balls felt even better. I felt for her body and started fingering her sopping pussy, not that she really needed it, and suddenly it seemed we were in a quiet race to see who could make the other climax first.
“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.
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.
Lloyd’s Angel: Birthday Presents
We kissed, and my cock was hard against my stomach. I was more than ready to continue, but she eeled out of my grasp and stood up. I expected her to strip herself or me, but she surprised me by just standing there and grinning.
“Angel!” I protested. “I can’t believe this; it’s my birthday!”
She wrapped her arms around herself and twisted back and forth. “I want it more than you do, trust me; but you can have me every day, and we haven’t done presents yet!”
Angel nodded. “It’s a big day. You’re 75, and technically I’m 2!”
I frowned repressively and stood up, too. “I thought we just agreed, Angela, that technically you’re 27 and some change, and I seem to recall you had a birthday party, which you quite enjoyed. It sounds like you’re double-dipping.”
She stuck out her tongue at me. “We both know that party was for Angel. And you. Angela didn’t get to do anything at all, except stand up Rose.” Putting her hands on her hips, Angel declared, “it seems only fair that if Angel can have a sex party on Angela’s birthday, Angela should be able to have a sex party on Angel’s birthday.”
I grinned. “Okay, already; you’re making my head hurt. Where is this party?”
“Upstairs — I hope.”
“Rose?” I’d almost forgotten her until Angel mentioned her. “Isn’t this a little abrupt?”
Angel grinned wickedly, and I realized I was still as hard as an eighteen-year-old. “I don’t think so; if I’m wrong, we’ll just have to behave ourselves during dinner and fuck ourselves blind afterwards. Now, if you’ll just grab the wine?”
I was enjoying this newly assertive side of her, and decided to relax and let her drive. I retrieved the bottle from the side table and followed Angel out the door. I thought again about how good the slacks looked on her, and realized the extra length of her legs came from the heels she was wearing. It was tempting to think about leaning forward and goosing her, but visions of broken legs in the stairwell dissuaded me.
We walked along the hall to what I presumed was Rose’s apartment. Angel peeled a post-it off the door and flashed me a triumphant smile as she held it out for me to read: “come in.” She whispered, “Be quiet; it’s a surprise,” and opened the unlocked door.
“It’s Angela,” she called softly while I locked the door and set the bottle down on the kitchen table.
Rose’s voice sounded from the bedroom. “I’m in here.” I thought she sounded a little tense.
Angel gestured frantically for me to follow her, and together we walked over to the bedroom doorway. “Rose!” she exclaimed as we looked inside.
“Oh my God!” screamed her friend. Rose was stretched out atop the bed, completely naked, with her wrists handcuffed to the headboard. She writhed in a futile attempt to conceal herself, obviously embarrassed. Her blush spread all the way to her chest.
I admired her tits, slightly larger than Angel’s, and figure, which I found only slightly less pleasing to my eye. She sported a pierced navel and a small landing strip above her copiously flowing pussy; the covers beneath her were soaked and I could smell her desire from the door. Out of the side of my eye I could see Angel making the same examination I was; my cock felt harder than ever.
“I’m so embarrassed,” moaned Rose, tugging on the cuffs again. “Can you unlock these now?” She looked at the nightstand and Angel, unwilling to meet my gaze for even a second.
Angel seemed disinclined to move, so I took it upon myself to walk over and pick up the key that was sitting atop a sheet of folded paper on the stand. The cuffs I recognized as standard issue. I unfolded the paper and read a brief note in Angel’s handwriting: “If you’re ready to take a chance, be sure these are all you’re wearing. 6:30PM. Love, Angela. PS: Make sure the door is unlocked.” I looked over at her and bounced the key in my hand. “Well?”
“In a minute,” Angel told me. She crossed in front of me and sat on the edge of the bed beside Rose. “I’ve always wondered,” she said softly, looking down, before leaning forward and kissing her friend. It was a long kiss, and Rose’s arms strained against the cuffs. Judging by moans I heard, she didn’t want to push Angel away. The women finally came up for air, both gasping. “More fool I,” Angel said cryptically, but I could guess her thoughts. “Well, no time like the present,” she said more cheerfully.
I held out the key, but she waved me away. “No, I want to know what the big secret in this nightstand is.”
“No! Angela!” Rose screamed. “Don’t you dare open that!” She thrashed energetically but had no way to interfere as Angel opened the top drawer. It was a measure of her desperation that she resorted to calling on me. “Lloyd, can’t you stop her? Do something!”
What I wanted to do was stick my cock in something, but I was afraid if I even adjusted myself I’d shoot my load in my pants. I settled for watching Angel’s methodical search of the nightstand.
The top drawer held odds and ends, including a small wand vibrator and a tube of lubricant, along with some condoms. They were hardly worthy of notice. The next drawer was lingerie, which Angel sifted quickly aside before producing an egg-shaped vibrator with an external battery pack and a string of beads. Those went on the top of the nightstand with the other toys.
Rose was blushing again, but both Angel and I had searched enough people carrying contraband to know that whatever she feared, we hadn’t come to it yet. That became apparent when Angel removed a set of flannel pajamas from the bottom drawer and exposed a gigantic double-headed dildo that looked like it had been stolen from a horse. Even bent nearly double, I was surprised it fit in the drawer.
“You use this? By yourself?” Angel inquired, resting one end between Rose’s breasts and then slowly pulling it so the head dragged from her cleavage to nearly her crotch before it was lifted away. Rose watched it like a bird transfixed by a snake. “Tonight, I’m afraid you’ll have to share.”
Setting the dildo aside for the moment, Angel selected the egg vibrator and turned back to Rose.
Rose clamped her legs together and moaned, “Come on, Angela, can’t you just release me?”
“A little help please,” my beautiful vixen requested. It never occurred to me to refuse or, for that matter, convince Rose to stop resisting. I knelt at the foot of the bed, bracing one foot against my knee, and spread Rose’s legs apart. They were muscular, but she put up only token resistance.
Once her objective was revealed, Angel slid the egg slowly into Rose without turning it on, and then pulled it out again, slick with moisture. She adjusted its positioning, and began pressing it against Rose’s ass. “Come on, Rose, open up for me; you know you want it.”
Rose shook her head, but she drew her knees wider apart and I saw fresh drops of dew appear on her labia as the egg was swallowed up by her sphincter.
“What a greedy little ass you have, Rose,” purred Angel. She lifted the battery pack to where Rose could see it, leaned down, and gently blew on her friend’s pussy while she thumbed on the vibrator.
All of us were surprised by what happened. Rose’s hips seemed to levitate off the bed and I thought she might break the headboard as she wailed and climaxed explosively. A fraction of a second later, Angel cried out in surprise and bucked so hard she lost her balance. She actually bounced her head off Rose’s stomach before falling off the bed. I would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so erotically charged.
Both women orgasmed again before Angel could find the remote and switch it to its lowest setting. “Rose,” she gasped, “I had no idea!”
The redhead didn’t look embarrassed now; she looked, well, hungry. “I’ve been here for an hour and a half, just in case you got here early. I spent it all fantasizing about what might happen, getting hotter and hotter with no way to get off.”
I slipped off my jacket. “I think we’ll be having dinner late,” I told the ladies when they looked at me.
Rose’s eyes were wide, but Angel leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Rose closed her eyes and nodded briefly, and then the two of them kissed again.
“Could I have a word, Angela?” I asked, once they’d parted. We walked out of the bedroom, just far enough Rose couldn’t hear us. I looked at Angel, who was nearly bouncing with anticipation. “What’s up? I don’t want to force Rose to do anything against her will, and I thought you weren’t that into other girls.”
“It’s Rose,” she told me, as if that explained everything. “She needs a good fucking — didn’t you see how excited she is?” Angel slowly pulled my tie free, using body language that had me ready to chuck the entire discussion. “I want to fuck her, too. I just imagined your voice telling me.”
That probably should have sounded alarm bells, but most of my spare blood supply was below my waist and nobody was home upstairs. “But she’s okay with this? I know she didn’t expect two of us.”
Angel aimed a devastatingly smoldering look at me. “I reminded her she’d do anything for me.”
How had she figured that out? I gaped, but she was already walking back into the bedroom, working her hips with every stride. “Screw it,” I decided, following; there’d be another day.
In the course of her time at Home Run, Angel had learned to sell a striptease like nobody else I’d seen. Perhaps I was biased, but Rose watched from the bed like she was living in a fantasy. Her slit was leaking condensation like a cold glass on a warm summer day.
I’d watched Angel disrobe before, but that didn’t mean I was tired of it. She hadn’t done a tease for somebody else in my presence for a while, but the occasional glance in my direction reassured me I wasn’t far from her thoughts. I stripped without affectation, looking forward to quenching my desire in her body.
Finally, all of us were naked. I watched Angel for a hint about what to do next; it was refreshing not to be driving for a change. Rose looked back and forth between her friend and my erection.
Angel broke the tableau and knelt on the bed between Rose’s legs. “Have you ever shared this with anyone?” she asked, picking up the double-headed monster again. Rose blushed in response. “Tell me what you want, then.”
“Make love to me,” Rose whispered, barely loud enough to hear, and darkened even more.
“Is this for making love?” Angel asked, bringing one end to her face and kissing it. I had no doubt she could have deep-throated an astonishing length of it, but it was too wide to fit in her mouth. “Or is it for fucking?” She ran a finger down Rose’s stomach, laughing lightly as her friend raised her hips in a vain effort to increase the level of contact. “Did you say something?”
Rose bucked, trying to hook her legs around Angel and pull her in, but the teasing brunette was just far enough down to deny her the required leverage. “Fuck!” she panted. “Just fuck me, already!”
“What?” Angel dangled the cock so one end rested on Rose’s mound just above her creaming gash, but lightly enough that Rose’s struggles didn’t succeed in forcing it between her glistening lips.
“Fuck me, oh, fuck me now!” Rose screamed, loud enough I began to worry about the neighbors. “Fill me up!”
After shooting me a quick triumphant glance, Angel rose on her knees and spread them slightly. She proceeded to work one end of the dildo into herself and twisted until nearly half its length had disappeared inside her. Given its girth and the speed with which she’d impaled herself, I knew Angel had to be dripping with excitement, too.
The tube of rubber hung obscenely between her legs as Angel crawled closer to the redhead chained to the headboard. Rose had already drawn up her knees and spread them wide, offering herself eagerly. This time, when she rocked her pelvis upwards, the head of the artificial cock sank into her, and she let out something that was halfway between a gasp and a sigh.
The gap between their flexing bodies steadily lessened until it disappeared, and then Angel drew smoothly back and began to repeat the process. I realized it was the first time she had been with somebody without my cum marking her. It was a little unsettling, and my erection urged me to remedy the situation.
I knelt on the bed behind Angel, admiring the play of muscles that led up to her tight buns.
“Fuck my ass,” she ordered me. “I want to feel you exploding inside me!” She slowed her thrusts and arched her back, exposing her clenched sphincter and giving me an aiming point.
God, she was tight, especially with that monster filling her womb, but I slid right in. I didn’t inquire about details, but ever since that first night, Angel kept her ass cleaned and lubed for use at a moment’s notice. Rose gasped as I rammed all the way home and pushed Angel into her.
I withdrew slightly, balancing on one hand so I could reach around and grab a breast with the other, and let Angel do the work. She rocked back and forth, alternately impaling herself on me and the dildo, and I felt her heart racing beneath my hand.
The reach was a little harder, but I moved my hand to Rose’s bobbling breast and kneaded it. I twisted her nipple and felt her buck underneath us, biting her lip and moaning. The slick heat of Angel’s rectum gripped me as her body writhed against mine. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and didn’t want to be the first to pop. It didn’t sound like Rose was far behind, and I wasn’t worried about Angel.
My eye fell upon the forgotten battery pack lying beside Rose. With a devilish grin, I let all my weight fall on Angel, pressing us together in a sweaty flesh sandwich. Both girls gasped in surprise, but my hand was free to grab the remote and thumb it to high, while holding on for dear life.
Rose bucked like a bronco, screaming, “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!” as the added stimulation pushed her into a mind-numbing orgasm. I knew how strong it was because Angel climaxed too, shuddering as her bowels convulsed around my throbbing cock. She felt like heaven, and I panted as my load pumped into her ass.
That, of course, set Angel off again before she could even draw breath. She cried out incoherently, and only the intruders pinning her in place fore and aft kept us from tumbling apart. Rose was looking frankly a little frenzied, so I switched off the vibrating egg. All of us panted wordlessly a moment longer.
“Happy birthday,” I told my incomparably sexy companion, and then leaned forward to kiss her on the back of her neck. I leaned back, withdrawing from her ass, but paused a moment to wipe myself on her cheeks as her rosebud reluctantly closed. All felt right with the world again.
Any thoughts we might be finished were quickly dashed. I was still admiring the view when Angel pulled herself off the dildo, leaving the other end impaled within Rose, and reversed direction to face me. “Suck me clean,” she demanded, and sat on Rose’s face.
I was a little nonplussed, initially. “Come on, Rose. Get going! Get that tongue of yours way up inside my ass and lick out all that tasty cum!” Angel wriggled and seated herself more firmly atop her friend, while Rose’s legs kicked uselessly.
The kicking stopped, and Angel’s breathing deepened. I reminded myself that she wouldn’t be doing this unless Rose wanted it, since only her partner’s orgasm could release her own.
“Come here, wise guy,” Angel beckoned, and reached out to draw me forward by my cock. She took me in her mouth, without any expectation of milking me a second time, but rather in the near-ritual cleaning she performed almost every time we made love.
I felt no regrets about pulling free a few minutes later and enjoying the view. Angel, her hair spilled out of its confining twist, rocked slowly atop Rose, her eyes closed. On impulse, I walked around the bed to the nightstand and used the key to unfasten the cuffs on Rose’s wrists. Immediately, her hands came up to pull on Angel’s thighs.
Angel’s eyes flew open and she shifted slightly, bending down to focus on Rose’s stuffed pussy. The pair began a frenzied sixty-nine; their tongues attended to swollen clits while Angel began pistoning the dildo into Rose again. Rose’s fingers found their way to Angel’s dripping cunt and asshole.
Their breathing gave way to rough gasps and short keening cries, and then both bodies tensed and relaxed in another simultaneous orgasm. For once, I felt no temptation to meddle.
Perhaps, at long last, I’d received a birthday present after all: patience. I lay down beside them, caressing Angel’s flank, and didn’t worry about my physical capacity. Later — maybe that night, and maybe not — I’d be ready again; and when I was, my Angel would be there for me.
I decided I’d better see what Rose had in her freezer; I didn’t think either of them would be moving from the bed for the rest of the evening.
We’ve been fucking for nearly three months. Today, he fucked me twice. This evening, after strapping me with his belt until I cried, it was over his desk; his hips grinding into the mulberry marks. I have just come out of the shower, where he was slightly more benevolent but my breasts were kneaded into the the cold porcelain and my head was held forcibly skyward nonetheless.
I am tracing the welts and bruises, admiringly, in front of the bedroom mirror and listening to him brush his teeth. I let him beat and bond me; I have crawled and cried for him but I know he wants more.
I slip into his bed and conceal my nude body under the covers as I watch him stride through the room to a chest of drawers, before he turns to face me.
I curl my leg over the top of the duvet and he snatches my ankle, snapping a cuff around it. I seize it back and roll over to look at him, looming at the foot of the bed. The restraint maintains its clutch.
‘No. I’m tired.’ I say, my eyes narrowing in challenge.
He reaches over the bed’s base and a paw-like hand grabs my calf, dragging me down the sheets like an old Christmas tree.
‘You can sleep once you’ve told me which way you want to be cuffed: on your belly or on your back?’ He replies, evenly.
Panic and nausea ripple through me; I know he’s showing me that I’m captured. I think I want this but I am nineteen and scared.
‘I asked you a question: answer it.’ He snarls.
My mouth is paralysed but I slowly twist my body until I am lying prone again.
He tugs at my ankle and begins to secure it to the bedpost but, again, I bolt. I try to claw and wriggle back up to the pillows but a dead weight immobilises me. When we’re upright, he feels twice my height and, now, on top of me, I am reminded he has triple my strength. His arms cover mine and his hands encircle my wrists. His stomach crushes my abused flesh. I can feel his unyielding cock nudging my slit.
I throw my head back, desperately trying to topple him. He responds by releasing my arm and pressing my head into the mattress. My emancipated limb flails behind me, attempting to strike or scratch him. My other arm is freed as both his hands snap around my neck and squeeze, the force of his vexed body depressing me further into the bed.
‘It’s futile fighting me, little slut.’ He hisses into my ear.
His fingers flex around my throat and I’m starting to feel faint. One of my legs slips from under his and kicks upwards and backwards, despairingly. He laughs, mercilessly, his grip resolute.
I thrash as I feel my energy sapping and my consciousness ebbing away.
‘You are mine. I own you.’ He draws each word out slowly. His hands relax around my neck.
He’s made his proclamation and stated his cause. I’ve been expecting it but the words still cut an icy path through my heart. I drink in the oxygen, greedily.
He rolls off me as I pant, my ribcage rising and falling shakily. He draws a soft trail down my arm with his finger and I am nonplussed by his tenderness. I look at him, warily, and see his eyes are steely.
‘Are you going to stay still whilst I fasten the cuff?’
I break away from his impenetrable gaze and nod my head.
‘Say it.’ He commands.
‘I will stay still whilst you fasten the cuff.’
I know what he his trying to coerce out of me but I will not satiate him. I clamp my mouth shut.
He continues to stare at me for several seconds, waiting, before he returns to the foot of the bed. My ankle is secured.
I’m staggered by his observation. I’ve been consumed by genuine fear of him yet he still arouses me. I become aware of the sultry stickiness between my thighs. I scarcely notice him open and close a drawer.
A crack I hear before I feel refocuses me. I recognise its bite as that of the paddle. He has only used it on me once, on unmarked skin. I could barely endure it then.
My hips begin to buck irregularly as he strikes me on flushed flesh. He’s hardly hit me five times before I’m begging him to stop.
‘Please…please, Sir…I can’t…stop! Please!’
I’m still breathless from his suffocation and the pain engulfs me. I’m incoherent and inarticulate. Tears flee from my closed eyes.
The paddle falls rhythmically, each smack harder than the last. He continues until my rear feels aflame and I’m no longer pleading, just sobbing and breathing in convulsive gasps. The implement drops onto the bed, by my feet. He appears by my head and strokes my hair.
‘Kiss your owner’s cock, pet.’ He whispers, his voice soft but insistent.
I attribute my actions to wanting to appease him but I know they stem from desire. I lean towards him and caress the head with my lips and plant lustful kisses down to its base. I open my mouth and strive to take him in but he pulls back. I raise my head, questioningly, but he is already mounting the bed and straddling me. The heat is radiating from my cheeks and collecting between us. His cock pushes against my cunt, gently. He drags the head over each lip, gathering moisture. His hand curves under me and he traps my clit between thumb and forefinger. He pinches and manipulates it in circular motions and I moan. I fold my leg towards my torso, like a pirouetting ballerina, to expose myself to him further. My back arches and my hips start to undulate. I try to push myself back and onto him. Still torturing my clit, he shoves decisively inside and holds himself there. I want to rock forward but he wraps his free arm around my waist and debilitates me. He draws out gradually and completely. I vent a frustrated sigh at being left hollow.
I feel him trail my wetness up to my virgin rosebud. I’m anxious but willing. He rubs more fervently as he urges himself forward into my narrower opening. Pain sears through me. He thrusts slowly as I become accustomed to the unfamiliar sensation and the soreness evolves into a perverse pleasure. The fusion of his ministrations to my bud and his increasing pace bring me swiftly to the brink. He feels me tense and demands:
I focus on impeding my orgasm. I try to desensitise myself and disconnect my head from the thrill building and overwhelming me. Despite myself, I begin to fall over the edge. His cock stiffens and spurts. Plunging into our shared euphoria, he descends onto my back and bites my earlobe.
‘Who do you belong to?’
I am overcome by desire and gratification. I am conquered.
‘You…I belong to you.’
He laughs, happy and satisfied. Yet he compels me further.
‘Who owns you?’
I sigh, defeated but elated.
“You, Master. You own me.’
He kisses my neck, straightens to unfasten the restraint and then snatches me up.
I smile to myself as he carries me back to the bathroom, amused at how quickly I need to be cleaned up again. He washes me, lovingly, and the man of just minutes before is a stranger. I love the duality.
‘I want to show you something before I re-cuff you to the bed.’
He steers me to the mirror by my hair. We both scrutinise my reflection, his hand still nestled in the locks at the nape of my neck. His red-purple hand prints are still livid on my throat, enclosing my neck.
‘Look at that, pet, you even have a collar.’
Natalia was a beautiful young girl of twenty three. She lived most of her life in Russia until moving with her mother, her only known family, to the United States at sixteen. Her English was not the best but that only helped her when it came to sex. That was never hard for the slender woman to find. She had dark brown hair that was almost black that ran straight down to her mid-back. Her eyes were a light blue, almost white as crystals. Her tone was feminine but stern.
Natalia spent her Thursday like any other. She would get dressed, drive to work, and go to the bar after. The next day she would repeat, except she’d spend the night at the club with her friends rather than some downtown bar. The bar was her escape. Her friends knew nothing about it and she wanted to keep it that way.
That morning she dressed in a simple white blouse and tight black skirt and heels. She worked as an administrative assistant for a big law firm in town. Work was the usual, her employers hitting on her left and right and she flirted back. She had occasionally slept with the head lawyer in the firm, a good looking forty year old man. She had even sucked the dick of another one of the lawyers who was new and incredibly attractive.
Before she left, later than anyone else, she slipped into the bathroom at 7:25pm. She slid out of her clothes and into something new. She wore a tiny tight red dress and clipped on a silver necklace and bracelets. She brushed her hair out some more and put on some dark makeup around her eyes. She walked out, locked up and got in the car.
On the way to the bar she was driving down the highway. It would be at least a fifteen minute drive with no traffic. She leaned over, pulling a small silver vibrator from her purse. She smirked. She turned it on and kept her eyes on the road as she drove her other hand sliding under her skirt. She gently pressed the vibrator to her clit. Instantly, her legs tensed a little. She pushed it a little harder, rubbing the smooth silver top over her clit up and down as it vibrated intensely. She gulped, her breathing roughened. She squirmed a little in her seat. It felt too good; she couldn’t resist her legs twitching. She rubbed harder and faster, occasionally slipping the small silver vibrator into her tight pink pussy. She felt her juices rushing out and onto the car seat. She moaned to herself, in her own private world inside the car as she began to smell the aroma of her juices. Finally her legs squeezed together, she shifted to the side and she felt her pussy pulse in an orgasm.
At the bar, before she got out, she made sure to use napkins to wipe herself off so nothing would leak from her pantie less crotch. When she was finished she headed inside. Instantly she found the attractive man at the counter, with his shaved scalp and dark brown eyes.
“Hello, darling. Room three tonight.” the man said with a wink and handed her, her usual – jack on the rocks. She simply smirked and headed for the backrooms. Back there it was dark. The lights remained dim at all times. There were three doors on each side, each one a tiny room. She walked to the third door on the right side that held a black letter three. She opened it up and stepped inside, observing the decor. She hadn’t been in this room yet in the three months she had come to the bar.
“Not bad.” she said in her deep Russian accent.
The room was small like the rest, lit by a purple light. The bed was circular and white in the middle, a bar was up on the ceiling where her hands could be cuffed, and on several sides of the bed there were straps for her ankles. The walls were dark purple cushion, or maybe they only looked such a color due to the light. She ignored that and looked at the items on the wall. There was several vibrators of different sizes, a few sets of anal beads again in different sizes, whips, cuffs, and lube as well.
“Won’t need that.” Natalia laughed.
Suddenly, the door opened. A younger man, probably in his late twenties, came in. Natalia immediately observed him. He dressed incredibly casual in black shorts and a plain black t-shirt. You could tell he just wanted to strip to nothing and have some fun. He had dirty blonde hair, short but styled and she could tell his eyes were not brown but she couldn’t tell in the lighting if they were green or blue.
“Well now I’m not so mad about the price he made me pay for this.” the man said. “Names Todd, that’s all you need to know. Now, undress.”
Todd walked to the corner where a circular black chair was and sat down. He undid his shoes slowly but kept his eyes on Natalia who did not say a word. She smirked in a sexy manner and slowly rocked her body back and forth, sliding the dress down over her slender physique. Her large breasts were revealed, then her tight stomach, and her clean shaven pussy. Her dress dropped to the ground and she stepped out.
“Heels too.” Todd said calmly, his shoes socks and shirt all off by this point and in a neat pile on the ground. Natalia obeyed again, her heels easily kicked off and without needing the order she climbed onto the bed and stood, legs sprawled, arms up, ready to be locked up tight.
“That’s a good girl, aren’t you?” Todd said pleased. He stood up and quickly locked her ankles far apart and her wrists above her head. She looked too good to pass up. Todd stood and observed her for a moment, his hands finding her breasts and squeezing. She had to be at least a 36C. He pinched her nipples causing her to flinch back but she liked it.
“If that hurt, wait till you see what happened later.” Todd laughed.
“I can’t wait.” Natalia replied, winking. He smacked her hard, leaving a pink mark across her cheek. He got close, his face lingering inches from her own. He held her chin tightly with his thumb and index finger.
“Don’t you dare fucking speak unless i ask you a question. And you will call me master at all times. Do i make myself clear, you fucking slut?” his eyes glared.
“Yes, master.” she panted a little scared by the random act of violence. Out of the sixteen men who had used her, and the one woman, she hadn’t ever been treated like that.
Todd stepped down and backed up, pulling off his shorts and boxer briefs. His dick was already hard, which was not abnormal. He was a good size too. Seven inches, possibly a little more, but very thick. He kept himself trimmed too.
He turned to the wall, eyeing the toys. But he grabbed nothing and returned. He climbed up on the bed and dropped to his knees. His eyes were directly in front of her perfectly shaven pussy. Slowly he reached his tongue out, touching her clit. With the very tip of his moist tongue he licked her clit. He didn’t stay slow for long and was soon moving his tongue up and down at an incredible speed, his hands grabbed her ass and squeezed. His tongue began going over her pussy lips then deep inside of her. He licked fast and hard, making Natalia moan softly.
He didn’t stay for long; soon he was standing up and pressing his body against her’s. His hands ran up and down her sides, admiring her curves and her ass as well as her breasts. His lips met with her neck where he bit her so hard it instantly left a mark. He kept nipping and sucking at her neck as his fingers made their way into her. He penetrated her pussy with three fingers and felt how tight Natalia was. He was impressed.
“Oh!” Natalia moaned as he pumped his three fingers deep inside of her. He removed them, backing up a little and shoving them into her mouth.
“Suck on that, slut.”
Natalia did as she knew she must and she sucked on his fingers, cleaning up her own juices and tasting herself for the very first time. It turned her on even more. And it turned the handsome man on as well. She could feel his thick cock up against her soaked pussy. He smirked, looking down as his hand grabbed his dick. He rubbed the head over her lips. She was soaked and he loved it. With no warning as all one arm wrapped around her lower waist, pulling her close into him as his dick sunk deep inside of her. Natalia’s head fell back and she moaned loudly.
“Ah!” she gasped, feeling her pussy widen as his cock slid deeper inside until there was no more left. He held her waist still as he thrusted inside of her, not even going slow for a moment. He was rocking her body back and forth, keeping his rock hard dick deep inside her at all times.
“Yeah, you like that bitch?” he asked breathing hard.
“Oh… I… oh!! Yes! Yes, master.” she moaned, her legs tensing as juices leaked down her bare well worked legs.
One of his hands moved from her waist and slapped her ass, again forcing her pussy closer to his pounding dick. She yelped in pain and pleasure. Then his hand continued to slide down until it went between her well rounded cheeks and found her tight black hole.
Natalia was nervous, knowing he hadn’t rubbed her juices on her asshole and he hadn’t used lube. She never had a dry finger go inside of her ass. But she had no time to complain or to plead, his index finger slid inside of her. Todd struggled to get it in but with force he managed, his cock still banging in the front of her.
“Fuck!” it slipped from Natalia’s mouth.
Todd reached his spare hand up and slapped her.
“What the fuck did you just say? Didn’t i tell you not a word?” he yelled. He leaned forward and bit her neck hard, drawing some blood. Natalia flinched away with tears in her eyes. “Didn’t i?” he screamed again.
Natalia gasped and moaned; still his cock would not let up on her swollen pink pussy.
“Yes… ma. Ma…master. I’m…I’m sorry, master.” she pleaded.
“Now you need to be punished. You think one dry finger is bad? Just wait.” he laughed as he began inserting two more fingers at the same time. Her ass stretched wide as he slid three fingers her, thrusting as hard as he could while still thrusting his hips. His cock slid in and out, his balls slapping back and forth while his fingers made her ass sore and red.
He was close to cumming and so was she. Natalia couldn’t believe in such pain she was still about to get off. Todd could feel her pussy squeezing around his dick now. He used his free hand to rub her clit hard. His thumb pressed her clit, rubbing up and down. Natalia began to shake, shifting side to side in her restraints. Her legs were weak and barely able to hold herself up.
Finally her head tipped back and she moaned, breathing hard as her pussy tightened and pulse around his dick. “Oh, master. I’m cumming, master.”
“That’s… a good…oh, a good girl.” he moaned back, panting now. He pulled all three fingers from her ass, thrusting harder now if that were even possible! At the last second he yanked his dick from her pussy, juices flying everywhere and he came, shooting it off the bed and onto the ground. He massaged his dick as he came, panting. Natalia wanted to fall limp on the bed but she couldn’t from her wrists being tied up above her.
Todd stepped down and began to clean and dress himself.
“What about me?” Natalia asked, wondering if he forgot.
“The owners my good friend. I’ve got you for the next twenty-four hours and I’ve got a few friends I’d like you to meet.” he winked, walking over with an open bottle of water and putting it to her lips. Natalia looked terrified, her eyes wide. She refused the water. “Your loss. You’ll want it later, i promise.” he laughed his evil laugh, walking out of the room.
Right before he left he turned and said, “My friend Anne is coming in next. You and her will put on quite a show for me.” he winked and left the room. For now…