Aug 21, 2007
I had traveled for over two hours to the remote farmhouse. There were no other cars on the same road for the last half hour of my journey. The more miles that passed, the more I came to realize just how isolated my destination was.
I had been sent here as an assignment -- a test of faith.
Greeting me at the side door of her large house, Mistress Alicia's outfit didn't match the rustic setting. She was in a black bustier with silver chains strung down the front. Her long legs were encased in thigh high stockings. There was a slight bulge in the black satin panties, telling of Mistress Alicia's trans sexuality.
She welcomed me into her home. As much as she lacked in pleasantries, she made up for in looks. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, ending at the top laces of her bustier. Her golden locks played nicely off of her toned and tan skin.
Mistress Alicia lead me to a large room in the back of her house. The decor went from quaint rural abode to terrifying torture chamber as soon as I crossed the threshold. The walls of her work room were lined with a dizzying array of sex toys, torture devices, whips, chains, floggers, dildos, and too many things that I couldn't even recognize. There was a shelf along one wall that was lined with mannequin heads, each wearing a leather hood of a different configuration. She chose one of these for me -- it was a full-head hood with snaps available to cover the mouth and eyes. For now, neither of these were in place.
My head now encased, she instructed me to remove all of my clothes and kneel on the coir fiber floor mat before her ornate throne. The prickly fibers bit at my flesh as my bare legs kneeled on them. While I waited, I began to hear the faint sounds of music. Hearing anything in the hood was a bit of a challenge and I was afraid that I might miss something she might say.
Mistress Alicia soon joined me, sitting before me on Her throne. She allowed me to kneel down and kiss her boots before she had me stand and move to the large bondage playpen that was the centerpiece of the room. Standing approximately ten feet tall, the playpen looked like a overly large bed with straps and buckles instead of a mattress. On every post were series of hooks and cuffs that dangled freely. She placed each of my wrists into one of these and did the same for my ankles. I was now helpless and exposed. My physical reaction to this and to her hot breath on my neck was to pump more blood to my nether regions. I was scared and aroused at once.
She began scratching her nails, long and red, down my back. This felt wonderful at first (I can never have my back scratched enough) until she started putting a lot of pressure behind her hands. Her nails started tearing into me. It felt as if she was rending my flesh with her talons. Just when I thought she'd stop, she began all over again -- raking her nails up my arms, down across my buttocks, across my chest. No place was safe.
After a momentary pause (while I was gasping for breath), Mistress Alicia's hands came around me from either side. I felt her pinching my nipples, getting them hard enough to then place small rubber clamps on each of them. The pain from these tiny, biting clamps was excruciating. And that paled in comparison to the sensation that came from the weights that she attached to the chain that ran between the two.
Going back behind me, I began to feel the small pricks of a Wartenburg Wheel on my flesh. First one and then a second one. The tiny but powerful points of pain felt as if they were overloading my nervous system. Mistress Alicia began rolling them over me in time with the music that was now starting to pick up pace.
I was crying out behind my mask but was muffled as Mistress had blocked the slit for my mouth. I was taking in as much air as I could through my nose and felt myself struggling against the bonds that held my hands and ankles. Already it felt as though my strength were giving out. I felt like a rag doll that Mistress Alicia was taking apart stitch by stitch.
Just when I thought that she was done with the Wartenburg Wheel, she would start again. I imagined my flesh as being dotted with a thousand pin pricks.
I was almost grateful when I felt the first blow from the flogger on my back. This was followed quickly by a barrage of blows. The music from the unseen stereo began to be as much of a presence in the room as Mistress Alicia. It was Gustav Holst's "The Planets" and "Mars, The War Bringer" was beginning to crescendo. Blows from the floggers in her left and right hands criss-crossed across me. Each beat of the music was accompanied by a slap of leather on skin.
The cries under my mask were building. I knew that I was struggling and squirming, despite my desire to be a good slave to Mistress Alicia and take what she was giving to me. I wanted to stand straight and take each blow but I couldn't do it. I was in agony and there was no sign of it stopping. It was only building, bigger and bigger.
Harder and harder she beat me. I was pulling against the leather and steel that held my limbs in place. I wanted to escape from the pain but nothing was allowing me. Tears were streaming from my eyes under the leather mask. It became a syncopated symphony of pain as the leather straps crossed my flesh.
Finally, the music reached its apex and the beating concluded in a flurry of unmerciful blows.
I feel as if I blacked out a bit. I have no actual memory of Mistress Alicia releasing me from my bonds. The next thing I can recall is being bound across the free-hanging straps of her combination swing / bondage bed. Not giving me much time to relax or acclimate myself to a world without pain, she removed the nipple clamps quickly, allowing the blood to flow back fast. I screamed behind my leather mask.
The world went black as the eye mask was secured and everything felt like a dream (or a bit of a nightmare), being suspended as I was. Without warning, I began to feel the bite of coldness on parts of my flesh. It felt as if I was being iced from head to toe. The feel of cool wetness was pleasant at first but that changed rather quickly.
A low hum and a crackle. I could smell the ozone before I felt the sharp prick from what had to be a violet wand as it applied to my legs.... and thighs... and chest... and stomach... and prick.
I was thrashing against the bonds that held me, but they held me tightly in place. Over and over, she touched the electrical device to my wet skin. The water transmitted the pain with great intensity. My body still shook and twitched with each zap of the wand and the pain still screamed through me, but my mind had started going off, escaping from the torture.
Thoroughly broken, Mistress Alicia released me from my bonds, allowing my feet and knees to touch the floor as I kneeled once again before her.
"You are allowed to pay tribute to my feet," she said. "You may give your seed to me there, and then clean them with your mouth."
I began stroking myself, completely enamored by this person who had taken me so far past my limits of pain. It only took a few strokes before I was spewing my spunk across the black leather of her boots. After shaking off the final drops of my ejaculation, I got down on all fours and began slurping the semen off of her while she leaned down and petted my head like a poodle.
Once her boots were clean, Mistress Alicia had me stand up and she used a cold cloth to wipe my body down, cleansing me of everything. She allowed me to dress again and bid me farewell.
I never came down that dusty road again. I had been sent there by my owner and She had wanted me to spend an afternoon experiencing the harsh hand of Mistress Alicia. I was thankful for her time.
Aug 13, 2007
i've always prided myself on being very clean. i shower every day, soaping up every nook and cranny. Washing, rinsing, and repeating until I'm squeaky.
However, Mistress can't abide my hair. i have far too much hair in all the wrong places. She likes to have my balls and "pussy" shaved smooth. The last time i came to her, She found that i was far too overgrown for Her liking.
"This just won't do," She chided as i lay on her gynecological table, my feet bound into the stirrups and a spreader bar between my knees. She tsked at me, lifting up my balls with Her riding crop. Blindfolded and bound to the table, i was unable to see her. Within moments i heard the sounds of her phone.
"This is me. Yes. Good girl. Yes. I need you over her. Yes. Bring your kit. Oh, and bring a bottle of Chablis."
i smelled Her scent, close to me now, and felt Her breath hot on my ear. She whispered to me, "My pet, you are not fit to serve Me today but I'm going to make You that way. Now, I know that you hate to be left alone but you deserve to be punished and I find this to be proper. Do you agree?"
i always loved how fair She was with me. She was pushing one of my hard limits but with good cause. i nodded as i was unable to answer verbally; a plastic O-ring kept my mouth open, making me look like a living sex doll.
"Good boy," She said and placed a pair of headphones over my ears. My eyes and ears covered and completely immobilized, i felt completely helpless. Without warning, i felt a tight pinching sensation along the length of my flaccid cock. Almost as soon as i felt this came the words of my Mistress, flooding my ears through the headphones.
"You are now powerless before Me, as you should be, as you always are. My pet, My property, My toy..." As She spoke, my body felt lighter, the bonds tighter against me, enveloping me in her presence. Behind Her voice i could hear a small, tinny piano and what sounded like running water or waves. She continued on, Her words taking hold of me even stronger as She spoke.
"You have chosen this life, living under My rule. You know that this is best for you. You have realized that you are weak and that your life only has meaning through being part of My life; being one of My servants. After you made that decision, you gave up all free will. There is only My will. My needs. My desires. My whims. My fancies. There is only My joy and My pleasure that concern you now. You are but a plaything, a tool which I may use or abuse as I see fit. You don't even bear a name, apart from the one I granted you after I saw fit to do so."
my mind went back to my early days with Mistress and how She only called me "slut toy." It was only after much testing and training that She deigned to give me a name; one only that She and i know. One, when uttered, that would cause me to re-evaluate myself at every turn, to make sure that i was being the best slave to Her that i could be. One that She uses sparingly and powerfully. One that often sent me directly to my knees before Her.
The pinching sensation on my member seemed to intensify as Her voice continued to fill my ears. i wondered if there was anyone else in the basement dungeon with me. Completely helpless and cut off from the world as i was, there could have been a cavalcade progressing a few feet away or the heat of excitement i felt could have come from studio lights for a live webcast. i didn't know and i couldn't think about it much more as Her words continued to take me away.
"I will never stop pushing you to be better. you say that you have limits but all of them will crumble before Me. All of your shame, your fears, your barriers; they will yield to Me. They will crumble before Me. There are things that you may dream that you would never do but you will for Me; gladly and without question. Go ahead, let your mind wander. Think of those things that scare you; the things that you don't feel possible."
As the piano music played in the distance, i did what Mistress told me to do. Had i not been bound tightly to the table, i would have shuddered as a flood of mental images overcame me. i pictured all of the things that Mistress had had me do that i once thought impossible and now did for Her on a regular basis. i thought about how i degraded myself for Her, wantonly, whenever She desire.
It was at that moment that i felt something strange on my nether regions. It felt cool, like something was being slathered on to me.
"Doesn't that feel nice?" Mistress asked in the headphones. Was She talking about what i was to think about or what was going on down below?
"That is my slut toy Liz. I have instructed her to shave you clean. Every inch of you little balls and pussy. I want your pussy as clean shaven as hers. Clean enough to eat. I have her using a straight razor. That's the hard, cold metal you can feel now, scraping at your tender flesh like My nails across your back."
Had everything been a recording until now or had Mistress been speaking to me live the whole time? i wasn't able to contemplate this as She kept speaking.
"liz will make every inch of your pussyass completely hairless like the little sissy I like you to be for Me. It's no secret that I like keeping you in that area between masculine and feminine. To Me, you're not man enough to be a man and you're not good enough to be a woman. Therefore, you're neither one. The best you can aspire to be is to be a sissy and to serve Me. That is all that will give your life meaning and purpose.
Mistress began describing to me in detail every slide of the blade as it went over my most tender flesh. Feeling and hearing but not seeing created its own sense of unreality. Likewise, i had only heard Mistress mention slut toy liz but i had never seen or met her and here she was now, inches away from my genitals with a naked blade. Moving from my balls to my asscheeks made me feel even more vulnerable now as she spread me wide and began running the blade there.
Mistress gave a stroke by stroke tally, describing my pale naked flesh that She was glad to see. Hot breath warmed my newly denuded flesh as the razor moved in concentric circles toward my tender asshole. Mistress began interjecting Her description now with pleasant memories of our time together, recalling the times that She left me bruised and battered physically but stronger and better emotionally for Her.
The shaving stopped and i felt a cool mist over every inch that had been shaved followed by a towel drying me off. Mistress's words filled me again, "I have chosen to be generous with you today and to give you a special treat now that you're all good and clean."
Often, things that are a "treat" to Mistress induce quite a bit of pain for me and i steeled myself for an invasion of my bare "pussy." Without warning, i was invaded... but it was a sweet feeling. It wasn't the hard tip of Her cock but, instead, something soft and moist.
"It was three years ago today that you agreed to serve Me. I don't take that gift of submission lightly. The reward I give is that you are allowed to serve Me. But, as you know, that comes with perks. Consider this a big one."
There was no mistaking that the sensation i felt now was clearly a tongue swirling around my denuded rear entrance. Mistress was gracing me with the gift of slut toy liz "eating my pussy." The sensation was unbelievable. On top of that, the pinching of my now-swollen penis ceased, providing me with a great deal of relief.
The pinching became pressure which built and ceded, built and ceded.... building to a steady, mechanical rhythm that massaged my growing hard-on while slut toy liz continued to push her tongue deeply inside of me, swirling and sending me into orbit. Into my ear poured a low chuckle from Mistress.
"Of course, I know. Better than you know yourself. And I know that your mind is spinning right now; that you're trying desperately to picture what's going on. If only you could catch a little glimpse. If only I would describe what things are being done to you. Awww, poor baby. I like keeping you in the dark. Today, literally."
Into my mouth, still held open wide, came a flood of liquid. The surprise of this made me choke a bit. i began swallowing, instinctively. As i did, i began processing what was in my mouth. With Mistress i could never be sure. The tart and tangy taste began to register. She was treating me to a few sips of Chablis, knowing that my mouth had gotten dry from being held open for so long.
The grab and release on my penis coupled with slut toy liz's tongue was getting to be too much, too intense. my tongue started lolling as i tried to form the words, asking for permission to orgasm. i tried pushing the sounds from my throat to no avail. Into my ears came, "Shhhh, shhhhh... no talking. No asking today. Just let it happen."
And, with that, i was over the edge. my legs contracted as much as they could while strapped to the stirrups. My asshole clenched around slut toy liz's tongue and i felt my balls begin to pump spunk out of me until i was completely drained.
The pressure around my penis ceased and i felt the cool basement dungeon air now on my skin. Into my mouth slid the gloopy cum that had collected in whatever had encased me. i drank it all, taking every drop for Mistress as i had been trained to do. The rest, which still covered my deflating penis, was being being taken care of by the warm, wet mouth of slut toy liz.
After a while, the mouth was gone and i was alone again in the dark with nothing there but the faint piano music in my head. A little while later, i was released from my bonds by unknown hands. Mistress's voice informed me that i was to count to 200 before removing my blindfold, getting dressed, and leaving through the rear entrance of Her abode. When i left, i didn't see anyone else around. i was alone and content with my role as property of Mistress and thrilled with the gift that She had given me that day.
Aug 12, 2007
Aug 10, 2007
I was between her legs for at least a half an hour. I knew this because I heard "Weather on the 8s" four times before I was able to bring her to orgasm with my tongue. Afterwards, I wanted her to relax and lay her head on my chest.
Instead, she went from my chest to my pants and quickly got me out of them. She took me into her mouth and that's when the whole litany started.
Every time a woman goes down on me, these are the thoughts that go through my noggin in a continuous loop:
"Am I taking too long? Is it okay to cum in her mouth? "Will she know when I'm about to cum?" "Am I taking too long?" "What if I can't cum this way?" "Do I really want to cum this way?" "Am I ready to cum now?" "Would it be okay to cum inside of her?" "What if she really wants to make me cum this way?" "Am I taking too long?" "Am I groaning too loudly?" "What if it's not okay to cum in her mouth and I don't give her enough warning?" "Do I really want to cum this way?" "Will I be able to cum this way?" "I need to stop thinking like this. I'm distracting myself." "Am I taking too long?"
Take that and multiply it by about a hundred and you have everything that ran through my head as she gave me head. I finally decided that it was going to be okay to cum in her mouth and that I was going to relax and enjoy the pleasure. Just about as soon as I did that, I actually managed to climax.
This isn't an isolated case. This happens to me every time a woman takes me in her mouth. That whole mental litany. It's like the rosary of insecurity.
I wasn't quite done with my orgasm and she was off the bed like a shot. Running to the bathroom where I heard a litany of spitting, gargling, brushing, gargling, peeing, and so much more. I just laid there, my cock still dripping, not feeling as good about everything as I would have liked to.
Aug 6, 2007
Aug 5, 2007
I'm having trouble with the film THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE. I watched it last night and just can't get it out of my head. It seems so haphazard and even hypocritical that it's an itch at the base of my brain.
The troubling thing about bio-pics is that the audience must always wonder, "Did that really happen or was it just a dramatic device?" And then we see when dramatic devices in a bio-pic just don't work at all. In this case it's the majority of the movie being framed by Bettie waiting to testify before a Senate subcommittee meeting about the ill effects of pornography. Rather than giving heart-stirring testimony in a moment of triumph, Bettie's simply told that she isn't needed and not to bother coming back.
Co-written by Guinevere Turner and Mary Harron (who also directed), the film is reminiscent of the "girls in trouble" exploitation movies of the past, albeit in reverse. The film begins with a teenage Bettie (Molly Moore) as a victim of sexual abuse by her father. However, she seems incredibly well-adjusted despite this. Likewise, an older Bettie (Gretchen Moll) is (easily) duped and raped by a gang of men but this doesn't seem to phase the plucky go-getter either. These scenes of brutality appear to justify Bettie's later lot in life as a fetish model and pin-up girl.
Had not Bettie been victimized, would she have not "suffered at the hands of pornographers"?
Meanwhile, fetishism and bondage are treated strangely. Despite the film being made in 2005, the attitudes toward the men interested in seeing pictures of pretty girls trussed up or spanking one another feels positively stuck in the '50s. We're told by photographer Paula Klaw (Lily Taylor) that the men interested in too-high heels are lawyers, doctors, and judges -- important men who need to blow off steam in their own way. Yet, the only men we see buying/looking at Paula and Irving Klaw's products are creepy -- sometimes to the extreme (Jared Harris). When Bettie's boyfriend, Scotty (Dallas Roberts) sees some of the pictures that Bettie's been in, he describes them as "disgusting." Apparently, Bettie must agree with him as this doesn't end their relationship.
In short, THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE feels decidedly both anti-fetish and anti-woman. Quite a strange combination for a celebration of a fetish model.
Aug 4, 2007
A lot of the fantasies I share on this blog have at least a kernel of fact at the heart of them. When I sat down to write "The Spring Formal," I knew that I wanted to further explore the cuckold idea and that was about it. I had in mind a story I read a few years ago about a man whose wife picked up some burly guy at a bar and was making out with him in plain view of her husband. He later drove them home while she sucked this other man's cock in the back seat. The biggest turn-on of the story came at the end when she told her husband that she'd be seeing a lot more of this other man and that her husband would be expected to act as this guy's "fluffer," getting his cock hard before he fucked this man's wife.
I suppose it was the forced bi-sexuality coupled with the main character's complete subjugation and humiliation that turned me on the most. But I digress. I wanted to discuss the truth of "The Spring Formal."
When I was in high school, I managed to have one steady girlfriend. She came from an Italian Catholic family and was incredibly naive about the ways of the world. She claimed to have never masturbated and the idea of doing so disturbed her. I really wanted her to, just so she could teach me what made her feel good. Even then, I needed to know what buttons to push to give a woman pleasure. She wasn't much of a help.
I worked hard to be sexual with her, to little avail.
We went out for almost two years but a few things changed and we drifted apart. First, she got a job working retail. She was working with a gal that I didn't really care for. A major flirt that thought every boy she talked to her was in lust with her. Secondly, I refused to take her to Junior Prom.
I was a pariah in high school. I hated just about everyone in my classes and their social structures. That said, the idea of participating in an overly-expensive soiree with those creeps--even with my gal on my arm--was a no-go. I told her that I'd take her to the real prom but Junior Prom was a sham.
That pretty much broke us up.
I quickly lost track of her during our Senior year. The last I heard of her, she was going out with one of her co-workers and I just knew, in my heart of hearts, that he was getting what I had been unable to get.
Those three people; my ex, her girlfriend, and my ex's boyfriend, all became characters in that story. I didn't know they'd be there before I started out but I suppose that I still feel rather dumb and humiliated by the whole thing. Oh, those awkward teen years, they still come back to haunt me.
Aug 3, 2007
When I showed up at Mr. & Mrs. Del Vecchio's house the night of the Spring Formal, they seemed rather surprised to see me. I had been away at college for the last eight months but fully expected that the Del Vecchios would have known that I'd be by to pick up Vickie, their daughter, for the big dance. She and I had dated all throughout high school and I had promised her long ago that I'd take her to this dance when she was a Senior, despite me graduating a year ahead of her.
Mrs. Del Vecchio disappeared upstairs for a bit while Mr. Del Vecchio regaled me with stories of cleaning his gutters. When Vickie came downstairs, she looked like something out of a storybook. She wore a long, yellow dress. Her hair was up with ringlets playing at the side of her beautiful face. She wore opera gloves with a corsage on her wrist. This gave me pause as I looked at the corsage I was holding in my hands for her.
Something seemed different about Vickie. When I left her in the Fall, she still seemed like an innocent. This new Vickie had a harder edge about her. I could tell by the steely look in her eyes and the set of her jaw. She noticed the corsage and rolled her eyes ever-so-slightly before saying, "Looks like my ride is here. I was wondering if you'd show up. Otherwise, I'd be driving myself to the dance."
Mrs. and Mr. Del Vecchio exchanged some awkward pleasantries with me before Vickie grabbed her wrap and started to leave. The Del Vecchios started for their camera but Vickie told them that she wasn't in the mood for pictures. "Though, I will take your camera," she said, liberating it from her mother.
Vickie stood by the door of my car, waiting for me to open the door for her, apparently. I did so, though she gave me a reproachful glare as if I hadn't done it fast enough.
She remained rather quiet despite my attempts at conversation and she outright refused to give me a hello kiss. It took a while before she was ready to talk.
"I wondered if you'd have the guts to show up," she said. "I don't know if you're crazy or stupid or both."
I had no idea what she was talking about. It was as if she had had a conversation with me sometime in the past that I couldn't recall. She seemed like she was in such a bad mood, though, I didn't want to set her off. I assumed that she had to be PMSing and knew that I was in for a long night.
Coming back to my old high school definitely felt strange. I was so beyond this place. Yet, there I was with my old high school sweetheart and all of the other kids who were one year younger than me. But, there was someone else there that stood out like a sore thumb.
Standing up as we came in, he stood a little over six-feet tall and had the face of a man, not a boy. Something in the way he held himself betrayed that he was uncomfortable wearing a suit. He was smiling broadly when we walked in and I looked behind me to see if he was looking at someone back there. Rather, he held open his arms and Vickie ran to him, greeting him with a big hug and an open-mouthed kiss that took me aback.
I was stopped, dead in my tracks. I felt a hand on my elbow. It was Deana, Vickie's best friend and coworker. I had always shared a mutual dislike with her. She lead me over to Vickie and her, uh, friend. I was hoping for Deana to introduce this man as her own boyfriend.
"Mike," Deanna said, her voice dripping with disdain, "this is Anthony."
The big man offered me his hand and shook it firmly. He pulled me close to him during the handshake and said quietly, "I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad you showed up."
Perplexed, Anthony took a seat with Vickie to one side and Deana to the other. The three of them were thick as thieves. I sat across from them at our little table and wondered what the hell was going on.
Anthony reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask which he used to freshen the girls' drinks, along with his own. He tipped it toward me, to offer me whatever it was, but I declined. I had never seen Vickie or Deanna ever drink before; they had both been ardent members of S.A.D. (Students Against Drinking) when last I saw them. Now they were guzzling their spiked soft drinks and going back to Anthony for more.
Vickie was a little tipsy when she and Anthony left for the dance floor. It was so loud in the hall that I couldn't hear anything that they said and now I strained to hear Deanna as she yelled across the table to me.
I only managed to hear snatches of what she said. I tried hard to catch everything but only came away with, "both of us," "more than enough," "a month after you left," "finally satisfied," and what sounded like, "truckload." She leaned back after her tirade with a self-satisfied grin on her face. She looked like a lioness who had been batting around her food and now was enjoying the damage she had inflicted.
I felt absolutely helpless as I sat and watched Vickie and Anthony out on the dance floor. She was grinding against him and he was grinding right back in a lurid display. Even though she was dancing with another man, my feelings of lust overcame my sense of jealousy. Vickie had never been overly sexual with me. She was raised Catholic and always hesitant to go further than "first base" with me. I wheedled and whined enough to get a few hand jobs from her and even rubbed my finger along her vagina (only on the outside) once. The thing she loved to do, now that I thought about it, was grind up against me. She would give herself fabric burn from her jeans as she rubbed herself to orgasm against my leg in my parents' basement.
I watched now as she ground her pelvis against Anthony and knew that she had gone much farther with him. There wasn't a doubt. And, from what Deanna had said, it sounded like Anthony had gone as far with her as well. Deanna had once had a crush on me but I wasn't able to reciprocate since I couldn't stand her. Ever since then she had played the vicious flirt with me, always being inappropriate around anyone I was going out with. She had gotten her claws into Vickie shortly before I left for college and it looked like this new relationship with Anthony was her doing.
I don't know why I didn't just storm out of there. This was humiliating beyond measure. Yet, I was riveted. I don't know if it was some kind of masochistic drive that kept me there but I needed to see what would happen and felt, somewhere, that this was all justified. I had left Vickie and Deana seemed to swoop in while I was away and turned her into... this.
When Anthony and Vickie returned to the table, they were both visibly winded and aroused. The lump in Anthony's trousers was almost as big as the lump in my throat that I tried hard to swallow. "Let's go," Anthony said and the four of us left the hall. Vickie led us straight to my car.
"You drive," Anthony told me. He and Vickie got into the back seat while Deanna sat next to me. Deanna started giving me directions. In my rear view mirror I watched as Anthony and Vickie started making out. Her hand went to the front of his trousers immediately and she began rubbing him through the material of his pants the way she used to do to me only months before.
What happened next had never happened between us. Vickie fished Anthony's cock out of his pants, her hands still in her elbow-length gloves, before she hunched over to take it into her mouth. Deanna looked from that scene to my face before telling me that I should keep my eyes on the road at least half of the time. "Plus, there'll be plenty of time to watch Vickie sucking on Anthony later."
Without quite knowing where I was going (but somehow listening to where Deanna told me to turn), the four of us ended up at the luxurious Hilton Hotel near the convention center a few cities over. Anthony already had a room reserved, though I was the one who ended up putting it on my credit card as we checked in. While I waited for the clerk to process my paperwork, Deanna, Vickie, and Anthony stood nearby; his beefy arms around the pair of them as they whispered and laughed together. Vickie's hair, still piled high on her head, had begun to come unraveled a bit, thanks to Anthony holding her mouth down over his cock in my backseat.
The threesome stayed as thick as thieves as we took the interminable elevator ride up to our suite. As soon as we entered, Anthony produced his flask again and filled two of the glasses atop the mini-bar for Deanna and Vickie. He dry swallowed a blue pill while the two gulped their drinks like the unsophisticated teens they were before Anthony told them, "All right girls, it's show time."
Without further provocation, they both fell to their knees, their formal dresses billowing out around them. Deanna and Vickie began kissing passionately in a flurry of hair, hands, and tongues. Soon their dresses were off of them and they were pressing their bare breasts together. Anthony was obviously enjoying the show as he reached into his pants and unleashed his aroused member. He began stroking himself with one hand, his flask in the other, as Vickie and Deanna topped onto their sides in a heap of Sybaritic passion.
I couldn't help but get turned on, too, as I saw Deanna putting her hand under Vickie's skirt and hearing my "date" squeal with delight.
"Oh, man. I've got to put my dick in one of you," Anthony moaned as he stroked himself. "Get Vicki ready to fuck," he told Deanna. Then he added, "Get him to help."
Deanna lead Vicki to the room's king-size bed and stripped her completely. I couldn't think of a time before this that I had ever seen Vickie undressed all the way. She laid the tipsy Vickie onto the bed and helped Vickie hold her legs up high over her head. Addressing me, Deanna said, "Get over here and lick this whole for Anthony's pole."
A chance to lick Vickie's pussy--no matter what the circumstances--was something I had always wanted. I kneeled between Vickie's legs, Deanna next to me, and leaned over to taste Vickie's pussy.
"No!" Deanna yelled and pushed my head away from Vickie. "You're not to touch there! Vickie is a virgin and no one is to touch her there. You never got that, did you? You were always trying to get in there and that will never happen. That's sacred. You need to lick here," she said, indicating the pink rosebud of Vickie's anus. "This is the only place we enter her."
I was hesitant to put my tongue anywhere near that spot and this showed as I slowly moved my head back down near to Vickie's sex. As I stuck out the tip of my tongue, Deanna grabbed the back of my head and pushed me into Vickie's tight anus. Vickie squealed again, and I realized that this was where Deanna had been playing a few minutes before.
"That's it," Deanna hissed in my ear. "Lick her good. This is the first time you've ever made her feel good. And do you know why you're licking there? You're getting her nice and ready for Anthony's dick. He's got a real man's dick, not that little excuse that you have between your legs. Vickie told me all about it. She told me about all the times you tried to finger her and when you tried to get her to 'kiss your penis,'" she guffawed. The hard-on in my pants was quickly shrinking, horrified by the idea of Vickie sharing any and all intimate details of our past with Deanna.
I continued to lick and lick. I could feel Vickie's anus grasping at my tongue as she wriggled and cooed on the bed. I then felt Anthony's presence on my other side and could see the shadow of his hand stroking his dick. I'd never been so close to another man's penis and knowing that he would be putting it where I was licking... and in my "girlfriend"... was freaking me out. What disturbed me even more was the feel of Deanna's hand loosening my belt and lowering my trousers.
"You need to get him away from there," Anthony moaned. "Now!"
Deanna pulled me away in time for Anthony to push his cock into Vickie's wet anus. She gasped and he grunted as he began pumping her tender tush full of him. I watched in fascination and horror as Anthony did what I only had done in my wildest masturbatory fantasies. Vickie mewled like a cat in heat, her painted nails clawing at his back as he thrusted in and out of her.
Deanna held me tightly and from her breathing I could tell she was excited about what she was seeing. She reached down behind me and I felt a finger invade me. I tried to pull away but she wrapped her other arm around my neck and hissed, "Stay still!" She was choking me slightly as she pushed a finger inside of me. It hurt and I felt incredibly awkward with her doing this to me. She began pushing her finger in and out of me in time with Anthony's thrusts into Vickie. I couldn't believe, however, that I felt my penis getting hard again despite my horror and this whole scene.
As Anthony got closer to climax, Deanna seemed to insert another finger, and another, until it felt like I was about to be torn apart below. As she did this, Deanna whispered into my ear, "Yes... yes... look at how he fucks her. I love watching him take her. The only thing I like more is when he fucks me, too. When he goes back and forth between us, seeing how long he can go before he cums. And whenever I get his cum, Vickie cleans me out. Your 'girlfriend' has a talented tongue. Oh, here it is!"
As if on cue, Anthony's body tensed and he emitted a low howl as his whole body began to shake. "Oh, shit!" he screamed as he emptied his load into Vickie. I felt Deanna's fingers tense in time with Anthony, as if channeling his orgasm into me.
Anthony withdrew his cock from Vickie's bum and took a seat in a nearby chair. He was breathing heavily and simply nodded at Deanna. "Now it's time to earn your keep," she said to me. She pulled her fingers out of my bottom and, oddly, I almost wanted them back in me. "Your job is to clean Vickie up," she said as she pushed against my back. I fell to my hands (already on my knees) and crawled the remaining few inches to the bed where I kneeled and put my mouth near her now stretched-out anus. Anthony's cum was spread across the entrance and slowly dripped down the tender slope of Vickie's ass.
As I steeled myself before beginning my work, I watched Deanna crawl between Anthony's legs and clean off his spunk-covered, still-hard cock with her tongue. His head lolled back as she licked from cock-head to balls and back again.
I could smell the strong scent of Anthony's spunk before my nose even got close to Vickie's asshole. It smelled like anchovies -- like sea salt and something else. It tasted worse. I tried to suck in the spunk without tasting it but that was difficult. I slurped it into my mouth and swallowed as quickly as I could. The closer I got to Vickie's asshole the warmer the spunk and the less-disgusting it was. I finally locked my lips over Vickie's anus and began to suck. I couldn't believe how much spunk Anthony had put into her. The harder I sucked, the more Vickie began to moan. Giving her pleasure was a unique side-benefit of this obscene task.
Vickie's moans were suddenly muffled. Looking up, I watched Deanna continue to settle her vagina over Vickie's mouth. Deanna caught me watching and yelled, "Get back to work!"
I went back to sucking and licking Vickie's ass clean as Deanna rode my 'girlfriend's' face. I thought back to how Vickie had been grossed out by the girl-on-girl scenes of Tony Scott's THE HUNGER; and now she was bringing Deanna to a screaming orgasm. It didn't take long for Deanna to climax, her body shuddering as Vickie got her off.
I felt a hand on the back of my head as Anthony pulled me away from Vickie and said, "Let's see how you did." He pushed a thick finger inside of her and examined it after he pulled it out. "Looks clean. Good job." He patted my head like a dog before he moved up onto the bed to lay with Deanna and Vickie (who finally lowered her legs).
The tang of Anthony's cum still filled my mouth. I sat on the floor as the three of them relaxed. Anthony off-handedly tweaked Vickie's nipples as he asked, "Is this everything you wanted your Spring Formal to be?"
Vickie nodded vigorously. "This was perfect," she said.
I sat patiently as the three of them kissed and cuddled. Eventually, Vickie got up and put her dress back on. Offhandedly, Deanna told me to get ready to leave.
Driving Vickie home, she didn't say anything to me until we were just a few miles from her house. "I'm glad that you agreed to do this."
"Agreed?" I said, my voice cracking. "What do you mean, 'agreed'?!"
Haughtily she countered, "I described everything that you would be required to do in my letter."
I gave her a blank look. "Letter?"
"The one I sent two weeks ago," she chided.
"Vickie, did you send it to my school address?"
"I was in Germany for the last month and came straight from the airport to your place after getting my tux," I reminded her.
She sat, stunned, for several minutes. She looked out the window without saying anything, watching the lights of the houses we passed until we got to her parent's place.
I got out of the car and opened her door for her.
After she got out, she stood in the moonlight, a queer look on her face. She reached up and kissed me, the taste of Deanna still on her lips. "You did a great job," she said. "When you go back to school, read my letter and let me know what you think of my letter. If you agree to my terms, I think that there are a lot of fun things on the horizon... for both of us."
I stood and watched her go inside before I started the long drive back to school. I wondered what door I had just entered and if I would be up to continuing down this path.