Dec 31, 2006

Dress Rehearsal

I was in California for a conference. It was deathly dull and my evenings were filled with lonely hours at the hotel bar followed by flipping through TV, reading, and then bed. This was my routine only to be disrupted on the third evening by a knock at the door followed by a note being slid underneath.

"Oh, great, the hotel must think I’m checking out tomorrow," I thought, picturing some confused phone calls to the front desk.

Rather than a bill, what I found was a handwritten note: "In front of your hotel. 7PM. Red Camry. Male driver. Get in back. Speak when spoken to." It was signed "DW" and I knew who it was from. I also knew that I had to obey.

As promised, there was a red Camry outside of my hotel the next day at 7PM. I went to it and the rear passenger door opened. Crawling inside I was greeted by a taut, tanned, tiny woman with an amazing body and sparkling emerald eyes. Her driver was a large, well-hewn man with a long goatee. He kept his eyes on the road and pulled out once I had shut my door. It took a lot for me not to engage in pleasantries. I knew that I was in relatively "safe" hands as DW would never put me in harm's way. This was to be a long-distance lesson from her.

"My sources tell me that you're hiding something," the woman purred.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I replied truthfully.

"Okay, we can play it that way." She handed me a blindfold and I donned it. We sat in silence for a while as the miles ticked by. She told me that her name was Mistress C and told me that I needed to breathe deeply as she put something over my face, covering my mouth and nose. I heard a slight hiss and caught the unmistakable odor of nitrous oxide. My head felt very light and my eyelids heavy. I don't remember much after that.

When I awoke sometime later, I was sitting on a stage looking into an empty auditorium. Still bleary, I don't know what I realized first: that I was bound to a chair or that I was wearing a French maid's outfit. I struggled with my bonds, trying to see where I was bound and if I could get loose. My legs were tied to the legs of the heavy wooden chair. My arms were bound in a "sleeve" uncomfortably behind my back. Moreover, I found that I was not wearing anything under my skirt though something was clamped to my testicles.

A door opened somewhere behind me and I felt a tingle in my balls. Heavy heels clicked and each "clop" sent a jolt through me. What was happening? As the noise got louder, the sensation increased until it was bordering on pain. The voice returned, "I'm speaking to the person inside of Michael. Her name is Wendy. I want Wendy. I want Wendy to come out and play."

I felt something flowing through me, out of me. At the same time, I felt like a flower blooming, petals unfolding. Her words penetrated me and brought something out. Was that just nitrous oxide or some kind of hallucinogenic? Regardless, I was feeling less and less like myself. "Are you here?" she asked me, her breath hot on my neck.

"I am here," I replied, my voice higher and lighter than it ever had been before.

She laughed wickedly and came around to stand in front of me. Even more gorgeous than before, her long tan legs were bare up to her small leather skirt. Meanwhile, her bodice held up her bosom such that her "cups runneth over." She wore mid-calf leather boots that I got a good look at when she placed one on my chest, leaning her weight against it and pushing against me. She had me kiss the tip before putting it back on the floor with a clunk that sent shocks through me.

"Well, welcome, Wendy. I hear that you don't get out to play too often, is that true?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" I cried.

She tsked and corrected me. "I'm not your school teacher, I'm your Mistress. Now, try again."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"That's better. Well, I'm glad that you're here to play. I've heard a lot about you and I look forward to seeing if the rumours are true."

She laughed and clapped her hands twice. To my visible reaction she said, "Do you like my toy, Wendy? It's a TENS (Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation) device that I have set to react to sound. It's quite sensitive... ISN'T IT?" As she yelled the last two words I felt another bolt go through me and gritted my teeth in response.

"Yes, Mistress!"

She nodded and grabbed one of my nipples under my top and gave it a wicked pinch and twist. "Good... don't forget it." She held onto it, getting tighter before releasing me and laughing at my gasping pain.

She disappeared behind me again and I noticed her male sub was now in the auditorium, the sole member of the audience. She returned with a crop and started swatting at my bare thighs. The cracks activated the TENS, sending little shocks through me that seemed to meet those from my thighs like two sets of ripples meeting each other in a pond. She lifted up my top and started swatting my nipples, harder now. I tried to not cry out but couldn't help it. Each swat was a stinging agony as it accompanied the blast of electricity.

Without warning she plopped down on one of my legs, her thighs around mine and caressed my face. "Such a pretty face, Wendy. I love the way your makeup turned out with your Clara Bow lips. They'll look so sweet around my cock..." She laughed again and traced her fingernail over my lips before pushing her finger into my mouth. I sucked on it eagerly. Her other hand went under my top and pinched my nipple again. I sucked even harder at this added stimulation.

She got up and disappeared again. I saw that her slaveboy was stroking his cock while watching us. His cock was twice the size of mine -- both in length and girth. I could see that even at this distance.

When she returned she was wearing a long, thick black rubber strap-on dildo. She put a boot up on the arm of the chair and pulled my head down in order to kiss and suck on it. "Show Mistress how much Wendy likes to suck cock," she said. She saw that I wanted to take more into my mouth than I was able to get at this angle and laughed at what an eager slut I was. I almost embarrassed myself at how hungrily I was slurping on her rubber dick.

"Oh, this will never do," she said. "How am I to cum if you can barely reach my cock?" she asked in mock-desperation. She turned and addressed the "audience", "Slave, get up here and undo this bitch's bonds." Each loud word sent shudders of shocks through my loins.

Obediently, he came to the stage and untied my limbs. Stepping shakily, I was lead to a bench that stood about waist high with padding on top. Mistress C laid me over it and put a rubber dildo in my hands. "Go ahead; I know you like to have your mouth full. Show me how much." She laughed again, each vibration being caught by the TEMS. I whimpered and slid the rubber cock into my mouth, sucking it greedily.

I felt either she or her slave slather my exposed bottom with lubricant. I felt her hand on my shoulder, looking at her well-manicured nails bite into my flesh. With a unladylike grunt she thrust into me, the noise setting off the TENS yet again. I wondered if she could feel the shock through my body and into her or if the rubber from her cock protected her from the electricity streaming through me.

She drove into me hard and deep on her first thrust. I gasped around the cock in my mouth and squealed. "That's right, Wendy, feel this cock inside of your pussy. Feel how it is to be fucked. You sweet little girl." She started fucking me rhythmically, each slam sending more shocks through me. The pure number of sensations felt like it was overloading me. I don't know if Mistress C came from the rubber cock rubbing against her or if she felt I had had enough. She pulled out and allowed me to fall in a heap to the floor. She clomped away, each step shocking me with vigor.

After a few moments, she called to me, "Wendy, crawl over here for your reward."

I followed the sound of her voice, keeping my head down and crawling to her. She was downstage with her slave, naked, next to her. "I was going to allow you to suck my slave's cock but he's been bad. I know how sad this must make you but I'm not about to reward him with your mouth after he's been errant in his ways. However, I still want you to drink his cum."

She allowed her slave to masturbate. It didn't take long until he was asking her permission to cum as he had been stroking throughout the evening. "Yes, slave... cum on my cock." He grunted and unleashed his load on her black strap-on. "Now, Wendy... eat the cum off my cock." I positioned myself before her cock and took it deep into my mouth, licking the salty cum from the rubber and knowing that it was her gift to me.

I swallowed it all and kneeled back onto my heels, my head lowered.

"Would you like if I allowed you to cum yourself? To masturbate onto my boots?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please ma'am!" I said eagerly.

She snapped her fingers, a jolt going through me in response. "Too bad, Wendy... you just called me 'ma'am' again. That means that our time tonight is done. My slave will help you get dressed." She turned and started walking offstage. "Oh, and Wendy, the next time you see me the auditorium won't be empty. Consider this a dress rehearsal. When you feel the cold night air on your face, you won't be Wendy any more but you'll be back to Michael. Just promise me that Michael will let Wendy out to play more, won't he?" She laughed her wicked laugh that sent chills down my spine and shocks through my genitals.

Her slave proved particularly helpful as he helped me out of my outfit and gave me my bundle of street clothes along with some face cream to get my makeup off. After I had changed he drove me back to my hotel in silence. When I got back to my room there were a dozen roses waiting for me with a note that said, "You did well - DW."

I hope to get back to California again soon.

The Forest: A Recollection

One of the strangest nights I've ever had was one of the last times I saw Sally. It was a chilly Spring evening which was quickly turning into night. We took a rather sordid selection of wine, cheese, meat and crackers and headed to the nearby college town where we secreted our way into the university's arboretum.

We crept through the foliage, avoiding other couples and untold numbers of folks enjoying a joint in the fresh dark, and spread our blanket on a hillside. We indulged in some finger foods and wine (drinking from plastic cups) before settling back and making out for a while.

Sally had long expressed a fantasy that I was determined to fulfill that night. It was one that scared me half to death. Sally wanted to be taken by force. "I want to be raped," she had whispered to me as I made her divulge her deepest secrets. Even in play, this kind of fantasy took a lot of trust on both of our parts but, really, it took me a lot more time and trust than it did her. She knew I wouldn't hurt her too badly and that it was all in fun. For me, though, I had always been taught to respect ladies. Even calling her names was difficult for me when we first got together.

But tonight, as we were kissing there in the dark woods, I grabbed her arms at the wrist and held her down. She looked at me questioningly and tried to move her arms. My one hand held both of her wrists tight. I kissed her again, hard, and she tried to move her head away. I grabbed her head with my other hand and pulled her mouth to mine. I could tell by her breathing that she was getting excited. I could barely see her eyes by the moonlight but would have seen them wide if I could.

I kept one hand on her wrists. With the other I reached between us and undid her pants, pulling them down roughly. Her underwear came next. My knee went between her legs and pulled the jeans and panties down farther. Far enough so that I could enter her. Had it not been for her reactions and knowing that I was finally fulfilling one of her fantasies, I could have had a limp dick once I exposed myself to the chill night hair. But, I felt between her legs and felt her pussy wetter than it had ever been in our time together.

After donning a condom I had brought with me just for this purpose, I rammed into her hard and fast. She orgasmed with the first thrust. Knowing how her body worked, I kept fucking her and held her wrists tighter. She started to struggle again. The more she struggled, the more I "fought" back and the harder I thrusted. My mouth was by her ear and I grunted unpleasantries like, "I'm gonna fuck this cunt all night, you whore. You can fight but you're not going to get away, bitch."

This sent her over the edge again and she came loud, her cry echoing around us in the underbrush. As I grunted louder, getting more excited by her orgasms, she built up yet again. I could feel her pussy grasping at my cock and I knew when she would cum again. I managed to orgasm just as she was soaring over the edge again.

It took a lot for me to not apologize to her and make sure that she was doing well, coddling her afterwards. Instead, I rolled over and pulled her close to me. She was panting hard. Our sweat felt twice as cold in the chilly night air. I held her and brushed the sweat from her forehead as she slowly regained her normal heartbeat. There was no talking afterwards. She pulled back on her clothes and I redid my trousers before we rolled up the blanket and took our leave of the forest.

As I kissed her good night, she thanked me for helping to make another one of her fantasies come true.

Dec 28, 2006

Keep your Uma, your Julia... I'll take...

A Nice Picture

Devilish Boyscouts

The Girl In The Mirror

I played it very slow with Sally. I relished the process of learning about her passions and her limits. Rather than being one of those Masters who walks around with his dick out, commanding anything and everything around him to get down on their knees and suck him. No. I didn't even allow her to touch me over my clothes for the first dozen times we were together.

For me, it was about exploring her and "exploiting" her. I was more concerned about learning how to spank her and call her names. I wanted to make her orgasm more than me. It was a sign that she wasn't in control; that I was touching and manipulating her body. Also, I have a huge penchant for cunnilingus that I hadn't been able to gratify for the five years before...

When it came to sex I told her that good girls were fucked in the pussy while bad girls were fucked in the ass and that she was definitely a bad girl. I told her this for a while and made her earn the privilege to be fucked. Finally the time was right. Rather than meeting at her apartment, we met at a cheesy cheap hotel in order to get the atmosphere I wanted. I wanted her off balance and in a strange place.

I arrived first and set the scene. Candles lit the room and my bag of tricks was empty with all of the implements spread across the top of the low dresser at the ready. Wooden spoons, nipple clamps, lubrication, condoms, blindfold, crop, paddle, padded cuffs, rope, and other toys to tease and torture. When she arrived I had her get down on her knees to accept her collar. There was no small talk tonight. She was there for one purpose. Once the collar was on, she belonged to me. She lost her name and identity. She was now just "slut", "cunt", or any other name I chose to call her. I still remembered the day I had written "SLUT" large across her chest in indelible marker to remind her what she was. She slept with a bra on the following week to keep this from her husband.

I had her crawl to the side of the bed before standing and removing her clothes, putting them on the chair behind her. I had her turn around and prop herself up on the bed so that only her toes were touching the floor, her legs over the edge. This gave me a great view of the buttplug that she had been wearing all day for me, opening her up and keeping her distracted by thoughts of me. I pushed the bottom of the plug in and she moaned with a mix of pleasure and pressure. I ran my hand over her pale bottom, feeling her soft skin before pulling my arm back and smacking her across both cheeks, pressing the plug in hard enough to make her gasp. I started spanking her, two slaps on each cheek before moving to the other. After nearly a minute of this, I paused and leaned back to see my hand prints rising on her flesh. Two red splotches with the outlines of my fingers clearly visible.

I reached down and slid my finger inside of her pussy, feeling how wet she was. I took this finger out and move it to her mouth where she hungrily sucked it clean for me.

Normally I blindfolded her while administering punishment as it blocked out one sense and made the pain even more intense. Instead, today was all about looking. Across from her was a large mirror. I took her hair in my hands and moved her head to make her face the mirror. "There. Take a look. Watch your face as I paddle your ass. Watch the look of ecstasy that washes over your face." Now armed with a small paddle, I started working on her bottom again and down to her upper thighs. She was enraptured by the sight of herself being beaten.

Her ass was now so red that it looked purple. Yet, I knew she could take (and wanted) more. To "cool her down", I took a few cubes of ice from the ice bucket and rubbed them over her heated flesh. More than relief, this simply brought another intense sensation that caused her eyes to roll back into her head.

After a few minutes of this (and a few more handfuls of ice), she was whining and begging me to stop. "You can beg all you want," I said evilly, "but you know this is for your own good... and my pleasure. You know I like to hurt you."

"Yes, Sir," she said meekly and stuck out her rump to show that she would take more. This made me smile and made me smack her behind firmly, so much so that she screamed into the blankets of the bed. She caught her breath and weakly thanked me.

I knew she could take more and wanted to give her more. I got the wooden spoon and tapped it against the palm of my hand. I asked her mockingly if she was willing to take more pain for me. "Oh, yes, Sir!" she said, her eyes getting as wide as saucers. More than taking it, I knew she wanted it. She loved to suffer.

I had her count out and thank me after each blow, making sure that she was looking into my eyes in the reflection in front of her. After ten on each cheek I asked her if she could take another ten. Not only did she say she could, she asked for them. I was more than happy to comply.

I had her get down onto her knees and lean back, her cheeks on her heels. I sat down on the bed and undid my pants. This was one of the few times I took advantage of her warm, willing mouth. I took her by her hair and led her down onto my hard cock. I fucked her mouth gently and told her, "Get it nice and wet... that's all the lubrication you're going to get when I fuck your ass."

She gasped a bit and started licking the underside of my cock to wet it even more.

I let her get me close a few times before I slowed her down. Finally, I stood up and told her to get onto the bed, facing the mirror. While she got situated, I put on a rubber and lubed my cock with some of the KY jelly I had with me (out of her sight). With my lubed fingers, I had trouble grabbing the plug to remove it. I finally got a good hold and pulled it out much too fast for her comfort. Again, she cried out. I watched her asshole spasm as it tried to "come to terms" with the sensation.

Reassuring her, I put my hand on the middle of her back and said in a sotto voice, "That's right, look at yourself in the mirror." I got up behind her. "Watch how a bad girl looks when she gets her ass fucked."

I watched her face as well as I put the head of my cock against her rosebud. "Push back into me... I want you to show me how much you want this. How much you need it."

She pushed back, the head of my cock opening her and going inside. I moved my gaze from that to her face as she let out a gasp and shuddered. She set her chin with determination and I felt her pushing more of me into her. I smiled as I watched her pushing, pushing, pushing until I was all the way in. Then she practically panted.

I gave her a few seconds to adjust to my presence before I moved my hands to her hips and pushed her forward... and pulled her back. I started off slow, enjoying the waves of sensations that washed over her face. I started moving her faster now with a better rhythm. I felt the soft cushion of her behind on me, my hand prints still vivid on her. In and out I went. "You see her? See that bad girl getting her ass fucked?" I asked her. "That's you... you are that girl... you're my bad girl... you deserve all that I give you."

She nodded, her eyes not leaving her own. She was grunting like an animal as my cock drove deep into her. I could smell her sex in the air, mingled with the particular scent of KY. I reached out and grabbed her shoulders to thrust even deeper now. She cried out again and hissed, "Yesssss." I'm not even sure if she was conscious of this. She might have gone into her own space by then. I was going to take her out of it before filling her.

I reached beneath her and grabbed one of her nipples and pinched it unmercifully. Able to cum simply from nipple manipulation at times, this put her over the edge and as she screamed and came I unleashed my load inside of her, filling her as her ass gripped and spasmed around my cock while her hips rocked and shook.

Spent, she lay herself down on the blanket, her ass still in the air. I stayed inside of her as I felt my cock shudder and spit a few more times. I remained in her as I softened before finally pulling out. I told her to go clean up and bring back a cloth to clean me. Like the obedient girl she was, she wiped me nicely and used her warm breath to dry me.

That was my first time using her bottom, but it certainly wasn't the last.

Dec 27, 2006

New York After Dark

I was in New York for a Interactive Conference. It was a bore. I was complaining about the waste of my time to one of my Midwestern friends and she mentioned that she might have the perfect distraction for me. By 8 o'clock that night I had been essentially "set up" to meet a native New Yorker at the Angelica Theater down town.

"You'll like her," I was told. "She's funny and cute. I think you two will find you have a lot in common." This was not a date but more of a "friendship waiting to happen" in my friend's eyes. That we were meeting for a Todd Haynes film told me that this mystery woman had some taste. That she was writing a review of it for "Time Out New York" meant that she enjoyed writing, too. That she got paid for it was even more impressive.

We met in the theater, I could tell it was her by the way she was scanning the room the same way I was. I introduced myself and she she told me her name, Michelle. She was an African American woman with a close cropped haircut, voluptuous figure, and sparkling green eyes. She had a captivating smile and I instantly felt a spark of attraction upon shaking her hand.

The next few days we spent throughout Manhattan. I skipped my conference and we shopped, ate, and chatted extensively. I got a little sad each night as we said goodbye. I was having a great time hanging out. The day before I was scheduled to leave she invited me over for lunch at her loft since we were in the area doing some browsing at Tower Records. I noted with interest that some of the magazines she had bought were of rather questionable material including the latest Prometheus magazine from The Eulenspiegel Society, a New York BDSM group.

While she prepared lunch, I asked if I could look at some of the things she had picked up. "Sure," she said, "I'm not sure if there's anything you'll like but go ahead."

I started leafing through the pages of Prometheus and enjoyed seeing some of the highly attractive models in their fetish gear. When I turned a page to find a picture of Michelle in a black bodice and leather skirt I'm sure that my mouth fell open. I read the caption next to the photograph to learn that she was a member and chapter leader of TES. Is this why my friend thought we would get on well together? Do I wear my D/s proclivities on my sleeve? Or was this as much a secret to her as it had been to me until now?

I put away the magazine as she brought out sandwiches and iced tea to eat on her couch. We had a wonderful view of the Village from her tall windows. For the first time since our initial awkward silence before the movie a few nights before we were quiet. There was something unspoken between us now and I was determined to play the waiting game and make her speak first. This is quiet difficult for a chatterbox like me.

We were done with lunch and I was carrying the dishes to her kitchenette when she boldly asked, "Do you want to see my collection of floggers?"

As casually as if she had asked if I wanted to see her Hummel collection, I agreed. She went to a large case in the corner of her living room and lowered a protective black cover. Inside were over a dozen floggers of various shapes, colors, and materials. She ran her index finger along the top of them and selected a particular flogger.

"This was one of my first," she said fondly. "My late husband used it on me the night we met." She told me of her first Eulenspiegel Society event and how she had met the man that became her husband. The had played and stayed together for years. He had encouraged her to switch and be a Domme with select people. He groomed her to be the best submissive and Dominant that he possibly could before he passed away years ago.

Surprising myself I ventured, "I'd like to experience how it feels, if you don't mind." I stepped towards her, removing my shirt and slightly hunching over so that my hands were on the arm of her couch, propping me up.

"I'm not going to use that one for sentimental reasons but..." she trailed off, selecting something else. I heard the swish of material and felt the slap of a purple deerskin flogger over my shoulders. It warmed my flesh slightly and I could smell the fragrance of the flogger in the air. Down it came again, harder this time as she tested out my resiliance.

Harder again and varied, all across my back. I could hear her put it back and select another. This one had much more of a sting. She swung it around to get a whirring noise before striking me with it, raising welts on my back. "I need you to take your pants down so I can have more area to strike," she said matter-of-factly.

I lowered my pants and underwear, letting them bunch at my ankles. She now struck with abandon across my asscheeks. I muffled my slight cries as she battered my butt with that flogger and another that was even more sinister. Now I could feel welts raising on my posterior and could hear her switching to yet another flogger.

"Turn around," she said and I obeyed despite this sudden awkwardness of allowing this person who was becoming my friend to suddenly see my genetalia. I could see a line of persperation across her forehead and a devilish glint in her eyes. The flogger in her fist looked as if it were made out of hard plastic strips. She lashed out like a snake and swiped it across my flaccid cock. The sting was incredible and I sucked air through my teeth. I didn't complain, however. Rather, I stood back up even straighter after instincts had me bend over slightly to pull away from the pain.

My acceptance and desire for more definitely did right by her. She smiled, the light glinting across her smile, before swiping across my growing cock a second, third, and fourth time. She hung up the flogger and motioned that I should pull my pants back up. This was rather difficult as I had a raging hard-on by this time but I managed.

She went over and grabbed her coat and I followed quickly along. It was as if the entire time at her apartment hadn't happened. We went back to being the friends that we had been before and no mention was made of D/s or pain. However, rather than continuing to shop at rather "vanilla" stores, our path now took us to much more "alternative" venues which included fetish gear, pornography, and other interesting items. After a long day of walking, chatting, and shopping we got in a cab and Michelle gave a very specific address across town.

The restaurant that night was markedly different from the diners we had been frequenting previously. Lit only with candles and served by waitresses with chains around their waists that led to their hands and the trays they carried this was the first "fetish restaurant" I had ever heard of. When we got there, Michelle introduced herself by the name she used in Prometheus and said that she and her sub would be dining tonight. The waitstaff never looked at me, as if I wasn't there. She ordered all food and drink for me, not allowing me to interface with anyone but she. It didn't take long until she was down to brass tacks, asking me some very awkward and personal questions about my past experience as a submissive. She took it all in, making mental notes as the meal progressed.

I paid the tab and we left after dessert. Rather than going our seperate ways she told me that I'd be coming back to her place. When she got there she told me to strip and leave my clothes by the door. She had me kneel and she left the room to start a bath. Once she was in the tub she called for me to join her. She moved up in the tub and told me to get behind her. It was a luxurious tub and we both fit well. With my legs spread, she moved back to lean against my chest and continued to sponge warm water over her. Her head fit nicely under my chin and I could smell the scent of her hair. I know it sounds odd, but her hair fascinated me. I never had seen an natural 'do on an African American woman that close and I asked if I could touch it. She had me do one better and allowed me to oil it for her.

I wondered if she could feel the hardness of my cock against her ass as we sat and relaxed in the tub. She told me that she was glad we had met and that our mutual friend had done her right by sterring such a pleasant submissive her way. I still wasn't sure if our friend knew of our proclivities or if it had been a happy accident. Regardless, I was having a wonderful time, especially when she had me soap her up and rinse her down.

We toweled dry and she led me to the ladder that went up to her large, raised bed. I followed her up and found her on her back, her legs spread. She told me to please her with my mouth and I obliged willingly. She tasted different than anyone I had ever licked before. I let my tongue explore every fold and nook of her pussy, getting her wetness across my nose and cheeks. I felt her hard clit under my nose and began moving my head up and down, rubbing it, while my tongue went deep into her, tasting her stronger there.

She grabbed the back of my head and held me in place, her hips thrusting now and her clit harder under me. I could feel the walls of her pussy contracting around my tongue as I fucked her with my mouth. I could hear her moaning, high and shrill, and gasping every few seconds. Just then she started saying, "Oh!" Quietly at first and then louder and in closer succession. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Until it became one long, loud vowel as she bucked hard against me. I struggled to keep my tongue and face moving to coax her to completion and perhaps to tease a second orgasm from her. She wasn't having that, though, and pushed me away, panting for breath.

She had me crawl up next to her and take one of her nipples in my mouth as she stroked my head. We lay in silence for a short while until she cleared her throat and said, "I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" I asked, around her nipple.

"It's something that I don't tell many people... just a select few that I feel a connection with and want to get closer to."

Uh oh. What horrible thing was this going to be?

"I, uh," she said, "I drink people's blood." When I didn't react she kept going, "I'm a vampire."

Perplexed, I asked her to explain. We had been out in the daylight and I'd seen her eat garlic so maybe she wasn't the kind of vampire I was used to. It turned out that she had some kind of fetish for blood and taking it was a sign of sincerity. She even had two nasty canine caps made for her. They didn't pierce the skin but she liked wearing them.

"Do what you will to me for tonight I am yours and tomorrow I go back home." As if I had just given her a Christmas gift her eyes lit with glee and she grabbed a small silver box from the table next to her mattress. Inside was a small needle, a bottle of alcohol, and a few things I couldn't discern. She laid me on my back and used the alcohol dropper on my neck where I felt the cool of it on my skin. She then used it on her needle and poised it above me.

She looked down into my eyes, her vampire teeth showing in her smile, and said, "To feast upon you is an honor." With that, she pricked my neck and waited for the blood to well before lowering her mouth and sucking. It didn't feel bad... it felt like a long lost lover's kiss and the sensation put new vigor into my cock. When she was done feeding, she raised back up and smiled at me, licking her lips. She saw the newfound hardness in my cock and bent over it. As if it could also give her blood, she started sucking it. I could feel the sharp bite from her canines on my cock and it scared me... the fear made my heart race and between that and the senssations of her mouth my back arched and gave her more liquid nourishment. She stopped sucking but kept my cock in her mouth as she lay down between my legs, suckling on me gently.

She pulled a blanket across us and she fel asleep with me inside of her. I could feel her teeth scraping against my flaccid flesh as she breathed the deep breath of sleep. A few times in the night I awoke to find her suckling on my hardness but I'm not sure if she was awake or just doing it out of some subconscious need.

When I awoke the next morning, she was not my Vampire or my Domme but back to being my friend. She fixed me breakfast which I hurridly ate before my run back to my hotel and then to the airport. Unfortunately, once I got back to my home town the distance between us came into play and she called our relationship -- friendship included -- quits. She wanted more of the other stuff and didn't want any of it with someone hundreds of miles away. At least I had one night with my vampire lover and a week of friendship with a stranger to make my New York trip enjoyable.

Dec 26, 2006

Lonely in L.A.

I don't do this. I simply don't. But I was emboldened by the loneliness of being in a strange city without any friends around. I was taking my first trip to Los Angeles for an appearance on a game show. I'd be getting up bright and early the next morning and was spending the evening alone in a hotel restaurant. A group of what I could only guess were "regulars" were circled around the bar watching a basketball game and nursing their drinks.

It was a pretty sad group of people with the exception of a very attractive young lady. What she was doing among this group was a mystery. I was quickly becoming obsessed with the lines of her stockings and the shape of her neck as she turned to occasionally discuss the game with her neighbors.

"How ya doin', hon?" asked the waitress as she brought another beer. She'd been setting me up all evening without me having to ask. Emboldened by the alcohol, I asked if she could make sure that the young lady at the bar got another round of whatever she was drinking on me.

I didn't expect anything to come of it except maybe a wink and a nod. I'm not particularly good at being suave. I definitely didn't expect her to come over to my table, drink in hand, and sit down across from me.

"To whom do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, extending her free hand across the table, her long nails glittering in the light. I stammered my way through an introduction and managed to make some small talk with her. She had a voice like rust and told me her name was Harlow ("Just like the movie star," she said). The more we talked, the more we drank, and the more I got the feeling that Harlow was waiting to ask her back to my room.

Who was I to refuse such a pretty lady?

I felt like I had to be dreaming as we made our way to my cheap little room. Even though it was late, the L.A. air was stiflingly hot and the nearby traffic maintained its dull roar. Had I not known, I would have thought it was the drone of the ocean.

Once inside, Harlow plopped on my bed, nearly spilling the drink she got "for the road." Not wasting any time, she reached into her purse and took out a condom, placing it on the bedside table. With a lascivious wink in my direction, she asked if I minded making out first.

"Of course I don't mind," I said, sitting down next to her and taking her hand in mine. I looked into her bright green eyes and put my mouth to hers. She quickly slipped her tongue into my mouth. She took her hand out of mine and moved it behind my head, pushing my face closer to hers.

That kiss took my breath away but it was nothing compared to the sensation of her hand reaching down, unbuttoning my shirt, and finding one of my nipples between her sharp fingernails. I practically melted under her as she roughly tweaked my left nipple. I moaned into her mouth and she moaned back with the pleasure of knowing that I was falling under her spell.

That's what it felt like, too. It was probably the drinking mixed with lust but I felt like I was beguiled. With expert skill, she quickly had me out of my shirt and pants, leaned back on the bed over me, her tongue still exploring my mouth while her hands became familiar with my body.

I wanted her. I wanted to touch her the way she was touching me. And quickly she was ready to let me.

She stood up, towering over me while I lay on the bed, and lifted her skirt before straddling my face and putting her panties on my mouth. I could feel the warmth of her sex but immediately sensed that something was wrong. The sweet smell of pussy was replaced with something else something… masculine. I wasn't really sure what to do. I was dismayed but, at the same time, completely turned on by her. And, to tell the truth, with my arms pinned and legs hanging over the edge of the bed, I was in a rather precarious situation.

She sensed my hesitation and kneeled back on her heels. "What's the matter, baby? You didn't know what you brought home?" And, with that, she pulled her panties down and released her sizeable cock from her dainty panties. It was inches above my face as she started stroking it. Then she moved it down and placed it against my lips.

"Kiss it," she said. And, surprising myself, I did. I began kissing the head of her cock gently. She moaned and moved herself forward, pushing past my parted lips and putting more of her cock in my mouth. "That's a good little faggot. Suck Daddy's cock."

And with that, I was hers. Those words just melted me completely. I began bobbing my head up and down on her cock like I had had done to me a handful of times in the past. "Oh, that's good… Have you done this before?" she asked, and laughed.

She got off of me and laid back on the bed, her legs splayed. "Come here and suck Daddy some more," she cooed. I lay between her legs and started licking her hard cock again. I have her long licks, taking the length of it under my tongue.

"You like sucking Daddy's cock, don't you? Such a good little girl." It was so odd having her say this, having her call herself "Daddy" and calling me a "girl" but it all worked. It was all a turn on.

"Has Daddy's girl been fucked before?" she asked. Of course I had, but not in the way she was asking.

"No, Daddy," I said, between licks.

"Then lay on your back."

I rolled over and she moved off the bed. She took the condom from the nightstand - a condom I surely thought was for me not a half hour earlier - and rolled it down her long hard cock. My own cock was sticking straight up as I waited for her. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tube of Astroglide and applied some to her latex-clad cock and more to her hands.

She got onto the bed and had me lift my legs high, placing them on her shoulders. She started stroking my cock with her slick hands, relaxing me, preparing me for what was to come. It didn't take long before I felt the pressure against my anus of her cock. "Relax, baby. Let Daddy in," she said.

And, with that, she pushed past the ring of my sphincter and was inside of me. I was amazed at what little discomfort and what great pleasure I felt. I moaned and this fueled her to push harder and deeper. "You like that, little girl?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy," I said, moaning even louder. "Fuck me like a girl, Daddy, fuck me like a girl."

She began stroking me harder as she started bucking her hips, her cock going in and out of me. I couldn't take much more. She was taking me to the brink, and fast.

"Oh, Daddy, I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum!" I whimpered as she thrust deeper inside of me.

"Then cum, bitch!" she commanded. And I did, all over. And, as I came, I felt her give one more deep push before crying out, "Oh, yes!" She shuddered and I felt what could only be the condom inside of me filling with her hot spunk. She stayed in me a few second more, shuddering and shaking a bit before pulling out of me and removing her condom.

She flopped down on top of me before rolling off and lying beside me. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I caught my breath. I got the panicked feeling that she would get up and leave. "Please don't leave yet, Harlow, I need to play with you some more."

"Oh, honey, don't you worry. I'm going to be hard again in twenty minutes and you're going to feel what it's like when I cum in your mouth next."

I liked that even more.

More about Stephanie

There's a missing chapter here. After getting away from Sally Strumpet, I went on with my life but still had an urge to Dominate. Likewise, my itch for a male experience wasn't scratched. That's when I was lucky enough to find Stephanie. I can't even recall where or how we met, I do remember that we went out to dinner fairly early on in our relationship. I think that that helped build a lot of trust with her.

I was to be her Dom and she my sub, though we knew that it would be an occasional and non-exclusive thing. Both of us are sluts, it seems.

Stephanie is very much into pain and bondage. She's one of those people that will actually test the bonds that she's placed in and will try to escape, meaning that you'd better tie her properly! And, for pain, she could take what Sally could take plus more. She's the kind of girl that makes a person switch from using their hand to a paddle.

We met at her friend's apartment. It was a nice little hideaway. She was a very patient girl, helping me know when knots weren't tight enough and when I wasn't hitting her hard. She wasn't topping from the bottom as much as just being friendly and trying to put me at ease. It took a while before I felt comfortable hurting her and using her pretty mouth to give me pleasure. I found the most fun part to be her tied up and blindfolded with her legs spread and my hand upon her cock and mine, both of ours in my hands next to one another and rubbing, masturbating the both of us. And, while I had engaged in anal sex before, she was the first person I had ever been with that begged for it. I was more than happy to oblige.

We met at this apartment several times. Each time I felt more at ease. She helped me feel more comfortable administering pain and taught me some fun bondage tricks such as mummifying with cling wrap. Stephanie was always more extreme in her tastes than I was comfortable going. I think that the only time I managed to get to her level was the day when I introduced the "pain and pleasure gloves." These were a pair of leather golfing gloves. They were incredibly soft and smooth when I bought them. However, I modified one glove by turning it inside out and putting as many thumbtacks through the surface as I could before turning it back to its right way. Now I had one glove of soft leather and one glove of metal spikes...

Bound and over my knee, she never knew which glove would be used on her next. Soft or spikey. Grabbing onto her cock with the spikes proved to be very fun. And the spanking I administered... it actually drew blood. While this freaked me out a bit, I think it satisfied her.

During one of our online conversations, Stephanie mentioned switching in the past. This perked my ears and I felt out her out a bit. It would be a few months before this was brought up again but, when it was, she asked if I would like to be topped by her. With the agreement that we would engage in some roleplay it was decided.

Stephanie and I had done a lot of roleplaying; usually she was my errant daughter and I was the corrective father. This time she would be the horny aunt and I would be the naive nephew. This became our regular fantasy for the next few times we played together. It was even more fun serving her than it was topping her. I think that, of everyone I play with, I often feel most comfortable with her. I think that's because we think a lot alike and have very similar needs. We've been going back and forth via email recently and I hope that my next time with Stephanie happens soon...

A Very Bad Experience

I had been talking to a Domina, Mistress Ann, for a while during one of the times where I felt "unowned" and agreed to do a website for her rather than paying her for her services.

Max Fisch We agreed to meet at her place in order to discuss the site. I had asked her to go through various websites and pick out what she liked from color to style to various subsections. I also had a few things in mind myself as I had done a Domme's website years before. When first getting into web optimization and cross-browser coding I had taken on the site for Domina Verushka. She was, um, interesting in her requests and I did a fairly good job though I felt that I never quite got what she wanted and eventually resigned from the job.

Anyway, I met with Mistress Ann about a potential site at her house. Rather than a deluge of ideas, she has a dearth. It was just plain painful to watch her surf and try to pull up websites. Even my mother was more web savvy. She insisted that AOL is the only window to the world and had never heard of a "web browser" -- not even Internet Explorer. I won't call her a Luddite but it was incredibly frustrating sitting next to her as she struggled to find some of the websites she wanted to show me.

It was around this time that her boyfriend got home. I felt very awkward suddenly as I had been led to believe that after discussing her site that Mistress Ann would give me a taste of her professional abilities. That her boyfriend was here, and that he was as quiet as a monk, struck me as rather off-putting. Perhaps as a peace gesture, he came in and sat down with us and lit up a spliff. Not one to turn down a few free puffs at a joint, I didn't poo poo it when it was passed to me.

Eventually I tried to switch gears and get her to tell me what she'd like to see as her primary headline font. I love typography and sometimes a font can unlock a look and feel all on its own. To that end, I typed a few sample headlines and started going through the various fonts on my laptop. I have a few hundred fonts and she looked at and commented on each. Along the way she started talking about all of the features she wanted her site to have including e-commerce, a chat area, a tie-in to a phone service, and about two dozen other "pie in the sky" features. I kept trying to say that we'd look at each in turn but to worry about getting up a bare bones site first so that she could have a better web presence.

As I talked, I realized that I was speaking loud and fast. Was I nervous? No, I don't think so. Finally, it dawned on me that the marijuana was really affecting me. It was odd as usually it didn't do much for me and, when it did, it was more of a source of relaxation, not excitement. And, did it seem like the edges of my vision were getting a bit blurry? Was this just me getting tired and especially drained due to Mistress Ann going on about selling panties and other used items online?

I stopped talking and just listened for a while, my mind still reeling from the odd sensations. Maybe I could wait out this high... I had only taken a few hits and even the best weed that I ever smoked didn't last that long for me. However, things seemed to be getting worse rather than better.

Confounded and disoriented, I gathered up my notes and said that I had enough to go on for a starter site. I said my goodbyes, trying not to talk too much, and left. The cold night air slapped me in the face a few times and I hoped that it would get me out of my stupor. No luck. I got into my car, rolled the windows down, and started creeping through her neighbor out to the nearby freeway. Why I did this, I don't know. I think I just wanted to get away.

I had driven impared in my life. As a young man I had driven drunk a couple times in the wee hours and I had once even driven under the influence of LSD. Those were cakewalks compared to what I was doing now. I was paranoid, hyper, disoriented, and couldn't quite focus right. I kept having to step on the accelerator as I was allowing myself to get slower and slower. Finally I realized that I was either going to die or get arrested for my driving so I pulled over at the next exit. In an attempt to soak up whatever poisons may have entered my system, I went through the drive through at a Burger King and sat in the parking lot eating and trying to clear my head.

There's simply no way that the joint I smoked could have been just simple weed. To this day I'm convinced that it must have been dipped in something. More than scared, I started getting angry. It felt like they had "slipped me a mickey." Now I knew how Mike Hammer, Philip Marlowe or Sam Spade must feel.

I don't know how long I sat in that parking lot. More than getting sober, I was getting bored and frustrated. I finally started up and went the rest of the way back home, driving with caution. The strangest thing about this whole experience? I never heard from Mistress Ann again. She never inquired if I made it home okay or even about her site. I never heard from her again... I'm glad about that.

More about The Club

Just some clarifcation on The Club. I came up with the general feel and thin plot of "The Club" while stuck in rainy traffic listening to The Lords of Acid.

While this is a fantasy, like a lot of what I write, it takes a lot of nonfiction elements into its fold. Here we have a club that I used to attend when I was in high school and college downtown. Here, also, we have a Dominatrix named Mistress Lily. While I tend to change the names of folks in my tales, I kept this one the same as I didn't think it would do any harm. Consider it more of a tribute to 'the one that got away'.

I used to see Mistress Lily at various local Fetish events and she intrigued me greatly. She was a gorgeous, petite goth girl with a whipsmart personality. Some time later I became acquainted with her personally via We never met to play but went out to dinner several times. She was living in the city I was working and we'd meet, eat, and chat for hours at a time. Typical of my overgenerous self, I always paid for her dinner and usually gave her cash "donations" as she said she was in some financial straights. I thought we had a fairly good friendship going but around the time I changed jobs she moved and I haven't heard from her since. I hear she's married now and still in the scene but I don't go to fetish events any more and haven't seen her since.

But, just to clarify, I never engaged in any activity with Mistress Lily other than chatting and chewing. Maybe someday...

Dec 25, 2006

The Club: A Fantasy

I felt like a total chump. I was standing alone while the thump thump of the dance beat assaulted my ears. Apparently I had been stood up. I had driven down from university to meet some of my old high school cronies. Per their typical style, they were either extremely late or weren't showing up at all. This wasn't my idea of a good time. I'm not a dancer, and was only coming down for a few drinks and to find a corner where we might have a bit of conversation.

However, I was enjoying the scenery. Though the music wasn't really my style, the girls on the dance floor were extremely attractive to me. One in particular in a short skirt that showed a bit of creamy thigh between her hem and the top of her stockings really had my blood moving. She looked like she might have just as easily fit at a "fetish fashion show" as she did here at City Club. If it weren't for the trick of the lights, I'd have sworn she had caught my glance a few times.

It was later, as I stood by the bar waiting to get the bartender's attention, that I learned I was correct. I felt her even before I saw her standing next to me. She was burning a whole in the back of my head with her deeply radiant eyes. They were oddly indigo colored, perhaps enhanced with contact lenses, or perhaps natural. Regardless, they were eyes into which I could have fallen right there.

I knew that I should wait for her to talk first when I turned to look at her. "I saw you looking at me," she said matter-of-factly. "You enjoyed looking at me."

Even though she didn't phrase it as a question, I still felt obligated to nod. There was a moment of silence between us. I felt that she was looking inside of me with those piercing eyes and seeing things I didn't want seen. After what seemed like hours, she snapped her fingers and the bartender materialized. She ordered for us, not asking me what I wanted.

She stood about half a foot shorter than me - she would have been only about chest-high, had it not been for the extremely precarious heels she wore. Here indigo eyes were made brighter by the fact that her face was starkly pale except for the carefully glossed blood-red lips. Other men might have described her as "plump" while I found her simply voluptuous, even more so by the way her corset cinched her waist and made her breasts even more pronounced. I had taken in every inch of her that I could as she danced earlier. I didn't dare look at any part of her now, though, as we stayed locked in our own little world.

She watched me pay for our drinks and, as she sipped hers daintily, she said with a wry grin, "I know all about you." She saw my puzzled look and said, "No, we've never met. But I can read you like a book."

"I hope I'm a good read," I said, trying to be cute.

"Oh, it's one of my favorite stories. Even though I know how it ends, I go back and re-read it as often as I can. I'm constantly finding new twists in the tale."

I don't know what it was, but the way she said "twists" sent a visible shiver down my spin.

"Would you like to see me again?" she asked, taking me by surprise.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, but I'm hoping to see you again tonight. You can, if you do something for me."

"Whatever you'd like," I blurted out, sounding a bit desperate.

"Oooh, goodie. Those are words that I like to hear. You're going to regret saying them, though. Let me tell you exactly what you need to do, to prove that you're worthy to see me again…."

An hour later I was knocking on her door. She lived just a few blocks away from the club and I stood on her stoop, shifting my weight nervously from foot to foot. My face was still flush and my heart still racing. I couldn't believe the predicament I had gotten myself into with this woman. Was I being at all smart or had my hormones taken over? Or was she actually fulfilling some kind of need I never knew I had had?

When she opened the door, I realized that it was the latter. A flood of emotions welled up and, before I even knew what I was doing, I fell to my knees and kissed the tops of her boots. She didn't say a word, as if this were a daily occurrence. After I planted kisses on both of her patent leather boots, she merely said, "Enter," and walked into her abode.

As I got up and walked behind her, I thought of the things she had whispered to me at the club. Her mouth nearly pressed against my ear to push back the noise, her words had set my mind reeling. It was like looking to the solution to the toughest crossword puzzle you ever faced. Here she was, filling in all of the words I didn't know, answering all of the questions, and unlocking the secret to the puzzle. In this case, the puzzle was me. She seemed to know me better than I knew myself, telling me things about me that I never thought anyone knew.

She told me that she could tell that I was sexually submissive. "A subbie," she called me. She recalled my entire sexual history without me having to say a word to correct her. She said a few words, knowing that they would turn me on completely. It was if I was an instrument and she were playing me flawlessly.

She gave me a condom and told me that it was the key to make it past her threshold. "I need you to go into the bathroom and find someone to make a deposit. You can't fill this with your own cum, because I'll know. I want you to go to the third stall in and wait. Pretty soon you'll find someone who will let you suck them off."

She just about lost me right there. Though I had had bisexual fantasies, I had never acted upon them. And I had never done anything so lascivious as she was suggesting… commanding. She didn't say any more other than, "You know what you have to do" before getting up and leaving.

I sat there, stunned, for a long while. I knew that this was a turning point in my life. I also knew that it was something I had to do. Resolved, I walked into the bathroom.

"Did it take you long to find a volunteer?" she asked as she sat down on her divan and motioned for me to kneel before her.

"Surprisingly, no," I said.

"Surprising to you, maybe," she said with a grin. "Stall three has a bit of a reputation. And you might soon, too." She laughed. "Now, show me my prize."

I took the soiled condom out of my shirt pocket, tied neatly at the end.

Without knowing where it came from, she took a large, serrated knife and cut the end off of the condom. "Now, open your mouth wide," she said. "Stick your tongue out far."

Doing so, she took the condom and squeezed out its still-warm contents onto my tongue. When she was satisfied with the amount, she leaned over and brought her face close to mine. I loved her scent. She touched her tongue to mine, tasting the cum.

"Swallow," she said, her hand gently touching my throat, feeling my muscles work to down the load of cum on my tongue. Her touch made it all worthwhile, as I tasted the salty load, struggling to keep from gagging as I felt it slide down my throat.

"You can't fill it with your own cum, because I'll know," she had said. Those words wrapped themselves around the base of my brain, choking off all other thought. Of course, this was the first idea I had - I had never done what she had proposed. I hadn't seen another man's cock since gym class in high school and I had certainly never touched one, much less put one in my mouth. But, the idea that this act would gain me admission into her world, it certainly seemed like an extremely costly but easy price to pay.

Easy? What was I thinking? My mind was reeling as I sat in the third stall of the men's room. This had to be the most dimly lit restroom I had ever been in over the course of my life. The place reeked of marijuana and poppers. Before I had the chance to get up and run, the door to the stall opened. The twenty-something goth male who came in didn't speak a word. He merely looked down and nodded at me, reaching into his pants and taking out his cock. It looked as if it had already begun to grow. I knew that the condom was useless at this state; I had to get him harder. I got down on my knees, self conscious that my pants were touching the surely filthy floor. I hesitantly touched his cock with my hand and it reacted to my fingers as if I had shocked it to life. It began growing madly, getting bigger at an astounding rate.

I took it in my hand fully now, feeling the heat under my palm. I began stroking it like I like to be stroked. The man moaned and this turned me on, that I was giving him pleasure. I took the condom out of my shirt pocket and ripped it open with my teeth, using my left hand to roll it down the length of him while I did my best to keep touching him with my right. Fully covered in latex, I knew that I had to do next.

I took the head of his cock and rubbed it over my lips. I suddenly had a strange and shocking thought, "I wish that I could feel this without the rubber on." Was I enjoying this? I had to admit that I was. My cock was rock hard in my pants. I heard another moan and realized that it came not from the man whose cockhead I was licking but from me. I took more of his cock in my mouth, wondering if I'd be able to fit the whole thing in. Does that really feel better than just the tip? I had to wonder because I had never had this done to me - by either a man or a woman. I was twenty years old and still a virgin in quite a few senses of the word.

So, here I was sucking a guy's cock when I hadn't even "gotten my wick wet" as the saying goes. It felt so right, though, and so good. I was taking him as deep as I could, afraid of gagging. I didn't want to throw up! I just wanted to give this guy as much pleasure as I could. I began really sucking, making sure that my teeth weren't hitting him at all, making my lips smooth and taut as they went up and down on his shaft.

I couldn't believe it, but it felt like he was getting even harder and bigger as I moved my head up and down. And, suddenly, I heard him say "Oh, shit!" With that, he began bucking his hips, pushing himself deeper into my mouth than I would have liked, but I also felt the warm flow of cum filling the condom. He slowed and pulled his deflating dick from my mouth. He yanked the condom off and went to throw it in the toilet behind me. I had to stop him and tell him that I wanted a souvenir. "Whatever, freak," he said, putting his cock back in his pants and leaving.

"Now, let's see if you followed my directions," she said. "Strip, all the way down, and get on your hands and knees. Place your clothes on the chair over there." While I nervously unbuttoned my shirt, she got up and walked out of the room. I couldn't believe either how fortunate or how dumb I was - I had yet to make up my mind on that one - as I stripped in this relative stranger's house. It occurred to me then that I didn't even know her name.

Eerily, the first words out of her mouth upon her return were, "You may refer to me as Mistress Lily." And, with that, she menacingly snapped the rubber gloves she had donned.

I got down on my hands and knees, my cock hard and exposed. She ran kneeled down next to me and ran her latex-covered hands over me, inspecting me. I knew at that moment that I belonged to her and was powerless to do anything about it (not that I really wanted to do anything contrary to her wishes). It almost sounded as if she were purring as she gently touched and probed my body. "Very nice," she whispered to herself. When her hands found my cock she whispered, "Very nice indeed."

"Thank you, Mistress Lily," I responded, not sure if I should say anything but wanted to acknowledge her compliment.

Ignoring me, she began stroking my cock. While this may sound highly erotic - and it was - it also had an element of chore to it. She wasn't masturbating me so much as she was milking me - testing my reactions and pushing me. I was getting hotter by the second, listening to her breathing get faster as she worked her hand harder. It was when she slid a finger from her other hand inside of my tight ass that I couldn't take any more. "You must ask permission before you cum," she warned me, sternly. I knew that I didn't want to know or experience the consequences. So, as quickly as I could, I asked for permission.

"So soon? No, I'm rather enjoying this," she said, starting to pump her finger deeper inside of my ass, working now in time with the hand stroking my cock. I didn't want to disappoint her but she was taking me right to the edge of orgasm, and it felt like I was going to cross that brink. Without even realizing it, I started whimpering.

"Oh, poor baby," she said with open mockery. "Is this too much for you?" she asked, slipping another finger inside of me. "Does he like to get assfucked?"

I whimpered again, hating to admit how much I enjoyed the feel of her fingers violating my ass. "Does he?" she demanded.

"Yes, Mistress Lily," I admitted.

"Good…. I'm sure that I can help out with that. I've got a big dildo that I'd like to fuck you with… if you can prove you're a good boy. Prove it right now. Cum for me."

With those three words, I exploded, my cum hitting the wooden floor beneath me, her hands milking the last few drops from me. I hated to admit it, but when she removed her fingers from my bottom, I missed them. I wanted them back in me.

"Oh my, look at the mess you made," she said, removing her gloves and sitting back down on her divan. "That simply won't do. Get down there and clean that up. Don't swallow it all, though, leave some on your tongue."

I did as she said. It was difficult, tasting more cum. But I wanted to make her floors spotless. With a tongueful still present, I kneeled before her once again, my limp cock twitching as she leaned over to taste a drop.

"Mmmm…" she moaned. I told you that I could tell if you came in that condom. I'm glad to see that you didn't. I'm glad to know that I know own a cocksucking whore. You passed your first test. Tomorrow will be your second. But, now, you'll crawl behind me to my bedroom. We have a little more business before I need to sleep."

I knew that I needed to crawl, rather than walk, behind her as she made her way down the hall to her boudoir. I loved the look of her ass in motion as she walked before me, leading the way. I felt exhausted and exhilarated all at once.

Her bedroom was awash in candlelight. I wasn't sure if it was a vast or small space as everything quickly went off into blackness. The only light apart from the candles seemed to come from Mistress Lily herself; her skin so pale that it seemed luminescent. Without ceremony, she told me to kneel as she lowered her underwear from beneath her skirt.

"You did well tonight, subbie. I'm going to give you two rewards. Here is the first," she said as she draped her panties over my head, allowing me to smell her scent. I inhaled deeply, enjoying her aroma. All too soon, she removed them and threw them at her hamper.

She bent over the bed and raised her skirt. "Here's the other," she said. "Lick my asshole until I cum." This hit me in the face like a bucket of ice water. The idea of licking someone's anus seemed deeply repulsive to me. Wouldn't I get sick? Weren't there germs there? But, yet, somewhere inside of me, I knew that I had to do what she commanded. And, moreover, I knew that she wouldn't have me do something that would harm me. And, for some reason, I assumed that she, like all girls, kept herself very clean. Still unsure, I took her asscheeks in my hands and spread them wide. I looked down to see her pretty pink pucker and knew what I had to do.

I lowered my face and put my tongue against her tight sphincter. I began licking it like I had read that a man should lick a woman's vagina. I began with small circles and then darted my tongue into her quickly. It was after I heard her moan that I knew I was doing something right.

My repulsion soon diffused and was replaced by pure pleasure. I began licking her with abandon, pushing my tongue deeper and deeper. She actually tasted delicious, a bit like candy. I buried my face between her fleshy asscheeks. As I had felt lost in her eyes I was now lost in her ass. Time stood still for me. I felt that I could do this all night and into the next day. I was absolutely in love with the sensations I was experiencing and the knowledge that I was pleasing her.

It took me a while to hear the noise that I realized had been in the room for a while now. It started like a low purr but had turned into a higher pitched wail. At first I thought it was an air raid siren or a cat in heat. Instead, it was coming from Mistress Lily. I almost slowed but realized that she wasn't in pain but in extreme pleasure. I began tonguing her deeper and deeper - flicking my tongue around the entrance to her ass. I could feel her begin to shake, her legs coming up and going over my shoulders, pulling me closer, deeper inside. I could smell her scent again, fresh and overwhelming. I could feel the heat from her sex on my chin as I tongued her faster now.

Mistress Lily let loose with a string of muffled obscenities. Her legs began twitching and shaking like mad. I didn't stop and I didn't want to stop. I wanted to lick her forever. Finally, she moved her hand back and pushed my forehead back, removing me from her ass. "Good boy," she said, exhausted.

She crawled up onto her bed and patted the spot next to her, inviting me to join her. She reached into her bedside table and pulled something out. She handed it to me and told me to put it on. It was a short pink nightgown - I think it might be called a "baby doll nightie." In no mood to argue, and knowing that I shouldn't, I put it on over my head and lay down next to her. She wrapped her leg over me and soon fell asleep. I felt like I was in my skin for the first time.

Personal Trainer: A Fantasy

It was my first job out of college. I was a faceless wheel in the cog of Capitalism. The office I shared with a handful of other slackers was separated from the rest company by both attitude and distance as we were about half a block away from the rest of the offices. The only thing that united us was the crappy intranet site we logged into each morning. It was a repository of corny jokes, Dilbert comics, and the occasional missive from upper management.

The one thing I enjoyed about that site was the section for swapping. People traded books, CDs, lawnmowers and other, less tangible, goods. I came upon the idea one day while walking around the parking lot at lunch that I could really do for a walking partner. I needed to loose those extra pounds that I had gained at college and missed human interaction. When I returned to the office I placed a two line ad on the intranet.

No one beat down my door, of course. Most people spent their lunch hour loitering in the dank corners of the office park, dragging on cigarettes and gossiping about the people that weren’t there. Yet, a week later, a reply did arrive.


I expected to meet another overweight twentysomething but, instead, the person waiting for me in the parking lot that day looked more like he had just graduated from boot camp. He smirked when he saw me. Something about him scared me. It could be that he looked more like a bully who was there to punish me for some unforgivable crime against the pecking order than someone who was intent on helping me.

“How much do you want to lose?” he asked, jumping right over introductions and small talk.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Maybe 20 pounds?”

“Not enough. You could lose 50 easy and still use some work. You need toning and a lot of cardio,” he said, looking at me more like a piece of meat than a coworker or walking partner. I was a bit put off, to say the least.

“Come on. Let’s walk,” he said, starting out. I didn’t want to be rude so I fell in step with him as best I could. He was walking so fast that I started gasping for breath after a block. “You really are out of shape,” he sneered. “I can help you. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” I said, gulping for air.

He handed me a card. “Meet me here after work tonight. No excuses.” And with that, he was off and running (well, jogging), down the block, opening a distance between us.

At first, I thought that he was some kind of Gym recruiter. But, when I got to the address on the card, I was surprised to find that it was a residence. The garage door was open and there was a large, opaque screen in front of it. Unsure, I walked up to it and called out, “Hello?” I realized that I didn’t even know the name of this guy.

“Open up the screen from the side and come in,” he said. I was amazed. The inside of this rather innocuous garage looked like some kind of twisted version of Gold’s Gym. Benches, weights, and other odd implements of exercise filled the room. He lay on one of the benches, lifting a large barbell overhead. After a few reps he put down the weight and sat up, dabbing his sweaty forehead with a towel.

He looked me up and down, the corners of his mouth moving south with distaste. "You expect to work out in that?" he asked, scoffing. I had dressed in what I thought were workout clothes -- sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Go into the house. All the way down the hall is my bedroom. Third drawer down on the left in the tall dresser are some better clothes for you. Go on. Hurry up. I haven't got all night."

I felt like a spy, going into a stranger's house while he wasn't around. I could hear his grunts and the clang of metal as he continued to workout in the garage. I tried to avert my gaze and just walk down the hall but was too much of a snoop for that. I checked out his living room -- austere and neat -- and look around his bedroom a bit as well before looking in the chest of drawers. His bedroom was also immaculate. There were a few pictures on the top of his dresser of he and a very well-built woman. The looked to be at some kind of auditorium and both were smiling from ear to ear. The one item that looked completely out of place in the room was some device hanging from the ceiling. It looked to be ropes and pulleys and I imagined it to be either some kind of decoration or an exercise device.

The clothes he had wanted me to wear were much more skimpy than I should have liked. Tight lycra shorts and a mesh shirt. I was amazed when they fit (just barely) and very self conscious when I came back to his garage, my own clothes bundled under my arms as to not let them get too far from me.

He introduced me to a rather strenuous workout regimine and didn't hesitate from pushing me past my limits. The next day at work I was sore as hell. I saw him while walking at lunch but he either didn't see me or chose to ignore me. I had agreed to meet him three nights a week and, the next night, our routine was very much the same. I changed in his bedroom and came out to workout with him for an hour before retreating, worn out, back home.

This became our routine. He never seemed to enjoy my company or even looking at me. He treated me with contempt every time I saw him. This went on for months. Gradually, I noticed the pounds coming off and the soreness abetting in its intensity.

Weeks turned to months and I kept up with the program religiously. We never had a conversation, though I tried my best to engage him. Getting any kind of positive reaction out of him became something of a challenge. I worked harder, trying to please him with my determination.

A few more weeks passed and I found myself buying some new pants and feeling a lot better about myself. Still, he remained as dour. But I did notice one small thing. As I worked out, I noticed him moving closer to me than he had been before. I thought that I was imagining this but I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prick up as I worked with him behind me, his breath on me.

I continued to strive, pushing myself harder and asking if we could add more difficulty to the routines. With that, I noticed him moving even closer. He was starting to invade my personal space but I didn't really mind it. If anything, I liked it. I took it as a sign of approval and I hoped for more.

My routine got harder and it also changed to include some very uncomfortable and unusual exercises. More than simple weight training or aerobics, I was now doing some severe stretching. To that end, my dour instructor helped to twist, push, and pull me into some awkward if not slightly embarassing positions. All for my own good, he assured. Was I imagining a smile on his face as he was bent over me, my legs stretched up above my head? It was here that I was really glad for the one-way screen that covered the mouth of his garage. What would the neighbors think?

It was six months to the day that I had first visited his home. I came in through the screen, greeted him and took the long walk down his hallway to go change in his bedroom. He still provided workout clothes for me. He had changed the sizes of these clothes three times since I had "enrolled" in his program. Either it was wishful thinking or he liked seeing me in tighter clothes as each subsequent set was more snug than the last, despite the amount of weight I lost.

I finished changing and went back to tha garage where he was waiting. We started by doing the stretching. I stood in the middle of the matt and he helped by pulling my arms up into my usual, awkward position. But then, something snapped. I couldn't tell what the noise was I heard but when I went to lower my arms, I realized that they couldn't be taken down. I looked up to see a long chain coming down from the rafters with manacles on the end. These were secured around my wrists. I twisted to look at him and ask what was going on. When I went to face him, he grabbed my mouth and filled it with a gag that he got over my head with lightning speed.

I started protesting and he simply put his finger to his mouth to shush me. "None of that," he said simply. From his back pocket he produced a utility blade. I thought that he was going to cut me open and gut me like a deer there in his garage. My eyesight started dimming, as if I was going to faint, and he slapped me out of it. "No harm will come to you," he said and cut away my workout shirt. From there he moved down and cut away the shorts and underpants beneath them.

I was now without a stitch of clothing apart from my shoes and socks. He left these on as he secured two more cuffs around each ankle which were attached to chains on either side of the garage. I was faced out, looking outside of the garage seeing the picture perfect suburban summer evening while naked and bound.

He stepped in front of me and touched my face. "You have done well," he said, moving his hand down to my chest. "You've done all that I have required and remade yourself from a fat slob to a lean and well-toned machine. Are you ready to make the transformation complete? To be completely what I want?"

I had no idea what he was talking about. His hand went over my stomach and I got butterflies. His fingers found my cock. He looked down and spit. His spittle landed on my cock and he used this to lubricate his hand as he started masturbating me to erection.

He wrapped a thick rubber band around my balls and the base of my cock. "To keep you hard," he said before walking out of the garage into his house. It was a few minutes later that a car pulled into the driveway, stopping just inches from the screen that seperated me from my exposure to the outside world. Out of the car stepped the blonde woman I had seen for months. She was in the photograph in his bedroom. This whole time she hadn't been around but now, here she was. I could see her and study her as she got out and walked across the path to the front door.

After what seemed like an eternity, he came back out to the garage with her right behind him. They didn't say a word. She walked over to me and looked me over like I was a piece of meat in a butcher shop window. She looked from me to him and nodded before she went across the garage and pulled up a lawn chair to sit on. She nodded again at him and I felt something cold and wet on my asshole.

She spoke, "I've been gone for some time. I told my husband that when I got back he was to have a new slave for us. Someone he could mold into the perfect little bitch. He's shown me the progress of your body on the tapes from our bedroom. He also says that he's manipulated you to do whatever he wants in here as long as you get praise. Is that true?"

There wasn't anything false in what she said. While this isn't what I had in mind by trying to please him, I had done anything and everything he commanded in order to get a positive response. I wanted to articulate this but all that I did was nod my head.

"Perfect," she said. "He's going to fuck you for me and then release you. We're going to then see if you come back for more at your regularly appointed time. We hope you don't disappoint us." She nodded again and the cold on my asshole was quickly heated. There was pressure there as well. And then... a grunt of effort and my asshole was opened to him.

I wanted to scream and flail but, instead, I tried to hold my feet on the ground as he pushed into me, taking me, raping me, making me his. Opening me with his cock. He put his hands on my hips and started pulling me into him. I realized that this was exactly like part of our routine and I got into the rhythm. The difference was that during our routine he never had his cock inside of me. In and out, he rode me hard and I began to find pleasure in the sensations. I found myself pushing back to meet his thrusts and push him deeper into me. My eyes were closed until I felt the stare of his wife on me and I met her gaze as her husband plowed my back forty.

She had one hand in her pants, masturbating, as she watching me getting fucked. I felt him getting faster and more desperate. He was grunting like an animal and I was in heaven. I felt him push and jerk and could tell that he was cumming in me. Without a touch, I felt my own cock spraying its load as well almost as if he were cumming through me.

He held onto my hips for a few last thrusts before pulling out. I felt so empty without him in me and, suddenly, I realized that I would now do anything he asked in order to feel that sensation again. His wife left the garage and he undid the cuffs that kept me aloft and bound. Without a word, he left me there. I went back into their house and changed into my street clothes and left as she was starting dinner.

I replayed the previous six months in my head as I drove home, feeling the sticky lubrication under me. I thought about it when I got home and showered, masturbating under the hot spray and imagining the feel of him in me. I couldn't get it out of my mind that night or the next day at work.

The next evening, I was back at his house at my appointed time. Ready for anything.

Dec 23, 2006

High School Bully: A Fantasy

I had always been a little afraid of Tony Fox. He was a mountain of a kid -- as big and as quiet but not nearly as dumb. Though he was in my Advanced Algebra class, he didn't look the type. A football player of some sort, Tony had a look about him that said, "My mom let me dress myself today." He would have been an easy target to pick on if he didn't stand well over six feet tall and have arms the size of my thighs. As it was, I tried to stay clear of him.

Despite my typical stance of avoidance, Tony sought me out a late May afternoon in C Hall. "Hey, Mike," he said. Even in these words I found a slight bit of malice. "We need to talk... but not here. Come over to my house after school today. Be there by four." He shoved a slip of paper into my hand with his paw. I hadn't said a peep. Having seen some of his hallway violence against a Freshman the year before, I expected him to punch me just as much talk to me.

Surprisingly, the handwriting on the paper was anything but a Neanderthal cave scratching. It was in loopy, almost feminine, cursive. I checked the address again before going up to the stately manner in the good side of town to make sure I hadn't made a mistake. It was 3:55 PM and my heart was racing. What Tony Fox had to talk to me about... and not in school or with his fists... had me positively perplexed.

When he opened the door he didn't say a word. He just left the door open and walked back inside. I followed. I half expected him to turn around and be surprised that I was there. But he didn't turn. He just continued to walk with complete confidence that I was behind him. We went through a series of doors, down some stairs, and into what could only be described as a "rec room". Brown paneling, a pool and dart tables, beer lights and other accoutrement that just screamed "Americana!"

Tony pointed to a chair and I went over to sit. He turned and walked close to me, staring down at me, keeping me completely off guard. "Here it comes..." I thought, expecting a sock to the nose for discretions unknown.

"I know about the hardware store," he said plainly. For as calm as he was I was suddenly flushed with fear. I had been working at a hardware store for the last few months and in a fit of anger over the owner's distant relative being promoted over me, I liberated a rather expensive pocket calculator from the premises. How could Tony know about this? What was he going to do? Did this mean I'd get fired? My spine turned to ice.

He read the deluge of emotions that washed my face and smiled a Cheshire grin. "I'll keep my mouth shut, if you do some things for me."

Homework? Wash his car? Pick out his clothes? Whatever it was, the humiliation of being fired or even simply accused at work and the rumors that would fly around school were too much. Anything he required was acceptable.

"S-s-sure," I stammered. "Whatever you'd like, Tony, if we can just keep this between you and me."

"It's pretty simple. I just want you to take off your clothes and put on this outfit," he said with a wry grin, indicating a blouse and skirt that were laid out on the couch next to him. Were they here all the time? I realized that I hadn't taken my eyes away from him since I sat down. Looking up at him, the glare of the fluorescent lights behind him and partially masking his face in silhouette, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Could I do both? I really should do neither. I really should just do what he wants me to do. Why does he want me to do this? Is he gay? Would I be if I did this? How does this relate to the calculator? Will he really keep quiet? What happens after I put on those clothes? Have I already decided that I'm going to do it? I must have, my hands are unbuttoning my shirt. I'm standing up. He's back now and giving me room. Sitting down on a barstool and taking me in. Fuck. He probably sees naked guys all the time in the showers. He is a football player. Wait, he's not gay, he's got a girlfriend. I've seen him with Laura, the cheerleader. But why do this? This blouse feels cold against me. Is it the material? What is this material? I didn't look at the tag. I hope it fits. Why? Fuck.

Okay, part one is done... shirt's off, blouse on... Should I turn around while I take my pants off? Does he want my socks off too? Okay, socks off. If I turn around I'm showing my ass. If not I'm showing my cock. I've never let anyone see me naked before. Maybe this blouse will cover me up. How about I just follow my pants to the ground here and put the skirt next to it and try to just hope over so he can't see anything below the waist? Okay, I'll try... Fuck. This is more difficult than I thought. Okay.... pull up the skirt quick. Get it up and get it buttoned. This stuff fits better than it should. Did he know my size? Whose clothes are they? Laura's? His sister's? His mom's? This is just wrong. What the hell am I doing here? What is that he's got?

The light of a thousand suns crisped my eyes. At least that's how it felt. It was only a simple flash bulb from a camera but the shock of it and the implications left me stunned. Tony shook the resultant Polaroid and admired the image that shone through the fuzz of chemicals. "Very nice. I figured a prick like you had done something wrong at work. I don't care what it is. I just wanted to get this," he said, holding up the picture. "Let's call it 'insurance.'"

He snapped another picture of me and I felt a tear run down my cheek. "Don't cry, little girl," he said mockingly. He walked closer, snapping another photo, throwing he Polaroids randomly around the room as if to make them impossible to pick up if I tried to grab them all and run. Each flash brought more heat and more tears to my cheeks. I couldn't believe that I was crying... or that I was here in a skirt and blouse. What nightmare was this? Would I awake soon?

He grabbed my chin in his meaty hand and lifted my head up, making me look once again into his eyes. I saw something there that I had never seen before and it terrified me. If I had to put a name to it, I could only call it "lust."

"How many pictures did I just take of you?" He demanded to know. I shook my head and admitted that I had lost count. "That's right," he said, "You don't know. You'll never know if I've destroyed them all or have kept some to show around. All you can do is hope. Hope and agree to do whatever I tell you to do. Is that understood?"

I faltered and he asked again, "Is that understood?"

"Y-y-yes... It's understood," I said, admitting defeat.

"Good..." he said and chuckled. I had never heard Tony chuckle before and the sound was one I didn't want to hear again any time soon. It had a malicious tinge to it that bespoke of horrors I couldn't begin to contemplate. "Lift up your skirt," he said, sitting back down again.

I put my hands to the hem of the skirt and raised the material. It was then that I realized that I could see myself clearly in the mirrors behind his family's well-stocked bar. I was looking at myself looking at myself, the back of Tony's head also reflected in the expanse. What I couldn't believe -- I had to look down to confirm it -- is that my cock was completely engorged as if it had a mind of its own and found this whole situation to be a turn-on.

"That's what I thought I'd see... you little faggot," Tony said with slight derision. He snapped another photo and discarded the picture behind the couch to my right. He got up and sat on this couch and snapped yet another photo. My skirt was still up, I clutched that material in my hands, almost wringing it in embarrassment.

He leaned over and picked up a remote, turning on some music, and pushing the small table in front of him to the side, clearing the way. "Get over here and face me."

I turned and stepped forward, my skirt still up. He smiled. "From now on," he said, "I fucking own you. Every day after school you're going to come over here and you're going to put on what I tell you to put on or do anything else I tell you to do. Otherwise, those pictures are going to be plastered all over the place. You got it?"


"Good... Now get down on your knees in front of me."

More than a command, this was almost a relief as my knees felt like jelly. I practically collapsed between his spread knees. However, in my heart I knew what was coming next and I didn't know if I could take it.

Tony undid the button on his jeans and unzipped his pants. For as tall and broad as he was, the lump under his underwear didn't betray his size. He unleashed this beast and I gulped at the size of it. "Come over here... closer... and kiss my cock."

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, kissing his cock like my girlfriend's hand. I kissed it softly, amazed at how tender the flesh felt. I felt his hands cupping my ears and pulling me down. Without a choice, I opened my mouth and let him enter me. He pulled me down and down and down... the flesh of his cock entering me deeply. I kept my mouth closed, not wanting to admit that I was doing this.

I couldn't see anything, but I could hear a small moan escape from his lips as my tongue swirled along the underside of his cock. He pulled me back up and pushed me back down. I was glad he didn't try to pull me all the way down to take him all in -- perhaps Laura had taught him that his cock was simply too large for that. He began fucking himself with my mouth... up and down I went, being pulled and pushed by the ears. My hands rested on his thighs.

Faster and faster I went until, unexpectedly, he moaned loudly and filled my mouth with what seemed like an endless stream of hot, salty semen. I gulped this down, trying to get the taste out of my mouth as soon as I could. He pulled me down again and I sucked out the rest of his cum like I was sucking snake venom out of a wound.

He pulled me off of him and did up his pants in a hurry. He used his remote control again to turn off the music and turn on the TV set. There, on the set, was a framed close up of me with Tony's cock deep in my mouth being pulled up and down; an instant replay of the last fifteen minutes.

The taste of his cum still fresh in my mouth, Tony went over to the TV to pop out the VHS tape of my escapades and said, "In case the photos weren't enough motivation."

He left the room as I started changing back into my school clothes and I found my way out of his house, closing the front door behind me. It wasn't until the next day at school when I saw the grin on his face in Advanced Algebra class that I began to really believe that all of this had truly happened to me... and would again in just a few short hours.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5