Part 1

“Thanks Miss,” a young woman accepted a sheet of paper from her hand and exited through the door at the back of the room, following the rest of the students out to break time.

“Mr. Reign,” she took a step back, instantly recognising him in his trilby and steampunk sunglasses. They had been chatting online for some time, and really got to know each other. She had expressed a deep longing to meet him in person, so here he was.

“Audrey,” he bowed his head. He shut the door, then twisted his fingers and the lock engaged. He drew the blind down over the window set into the door, and made his way across the back of the classroom, to the long row of glass panes that looked out onto the campus.

She was standing at her desk, watching him with her mouth open and no words coming out. He was really here, in her room, and her legs suddenly felt weak. She wore a white shirt over a black bra, small pearls lining her collar-bone, with a black pencil-skirt that reached her knees. Her high-heels were a creamy-grey colour, stockings rising from them to match the tone of her skin. Her hair was long and somewhat curly; deep-auburn near her scalp, transitioning to a reddish-pink towards the ends. Her eyes were slightly made up with a small cat eye, but otherwise she had obeyed his first rule.

“You look fantastic, by the way,” his hand rose to the toggle of the first window, and the blind fell down over it to block the world from view. He moved to the next blind. “Are you aware that most of your male students, maybe even some of the females, probably masturbate while thinking of you?”

“I’m an attractive older woman with large breasts and a slim figure. I realise that I am a crush for many of my students. None of them compare to you, though. They do not have your mind.”

“Please do bursa escort elaborate,” he lowered another blind, the lights in the ceiling keeping the room well-lit.

“Sir, you are not much older than my students, yet you have a maturity… a wiseness about you that I find so arousing. Your words have a power over me, even through messages on my phone, that soak my soul as well as my panties. The way you describe the things that you do to me in the Descriptive World, I am always a quivering mess for you. I only request, with the greatest respect, that you do those things to my physical body.”

He finished shutting the last blind, “Where are your manners?”

“Please, Sir, will you dominate me?”

He turned to her and she bit her lip, her juices starting to trickle down her thigh. He had shown her photos of his face, but nothing compared to seeing him in person, and now his facial expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts. It had her guessing, wondering what blissful torture he was planning to bestow upon her body. He took a step forward and her knees went weak. She leaned against the front of her desk. He came in close and her hands shot behind her for support. She was wearing high-heels, but even so, he was six foot tall and looming over her. The top of her head was level with his lips, but his right foot planted behind her legs and she felt so small. Her breath hitched as he leaned down and she arched backwards. She could feel his heat. His left leg planted so that he was almost straddling her. Her eyes closed and her lips parted in anticipation. Finally, he was going to kiss her. His hands reached down to the desk.

Part 2

The shadows faded from her closed lids as he stood up, and she opened her eyes with disappointment. He çanakkale escort was still leaning against her lap, grinding subtly on her tight pencil skirt, and in his right hand he held a deep-red apple. He bit into it, taking in a huge mouthful of crunchy deliciousness, and she stared longingly at the juice that dripped over his lips. She wanted it to be her juices, but she knew to not complain. If she had learned anything about him, it was that he always had a plan. She would just have to trust that he would eventually have her writhing in his arms. He removed his hat and glasses and rested them on one of the student’s desks.

He sank his teeth into the juicy orb again, only this time he did not bite all the way through. Both of his hands were free, the apple gripped in his jaws, and he combed his left fingers beneath the back, right side of her head. He tightened his hold on her hair, his right hand on the desk for support, and he came in as if he were going to kiss her. They had shared quite a connection online, and to an extent she felt like she knew what he wanted. Now she could see his thoughts in his eyes. As he came in she closed her eyes slowly, and she opened her mouth wide to accept the fruit. He watched her lips suckle around the blood-red skin, spilling with saliva and juice in an arousing display of lust. With his left hand he grabbed the apple, placing it on the desk.

“Good girl,” he groped her breasts through her shirt and bra. She hummed at the pressure, wanting so desperately for him to touch her properly. That was what he did, though. He teased her, tortured her with foreplay, until she was brimming with lust and begging for release. She crunched on the apple, eyes closed, juices gulping down her gullet that made his penis rize escort bounce. He squeezed her breasts hard and she hummed louder. “You like that.”

“Yes, Sir. Please kiss me, Sir.”

Their lips met harshly and he groped her breasts in every direction. He leaned harder onto her lap and her hands clenched the edge of the desk. His right hand rose to her cheek, his fingers cradling her jaw, and her hands caressed his hips. She felt his chest, running her fingertips up to his shoulders. Their nostrils flared, their tongues danced, their faces turned over each other. She started trying to undo the buttons of her shirt, but he grabbed her wrists and forced them down.

“Hands back on the desk,” he said in a deep tone. She whimpered, but obeyed, and he kissed her cheek, her jaw, and worked towards her ear.

His breath was heavy and loud, a light nibble of her lobe making her squirm. Her heart pounded in her ears, in time with his breath. His full weight was now grinding against the front of her body, chest to chest, his penis grinding on her lap, his left arm hugging her right and his right hand rubbing her left thigh. Her forearms were trapped against his shoulders, hands on top and clamping down.

“Your body belongs to me, and you do not have permission to touch it.” No words came to mind so she just giggled, and was not disappointed when it earned her a bite on her neck. She squealed, hands still trapped on his shoulders. She was hungry for his touch, he was hungry for her breasts, and neither of them were done with their tongues. They were a perfect match, knowing what the other wanted without the use of words. He brought his head back up, her hands held his face, and while his fingers unbuttoned her shirt she did her best to suck the passion from his mouth.

—

If you enjoyed this story, please do not be afraid to comment. If you liked a particular bit, you enjoyed something specific that happened, please tell me. I am open to constructive criticism, too, but that would be constructive; please keep your comments civil at all times. I value feedback, as it tells me what I am doing well and what I should improve.

Copyright 2017. No reproduction in whole or part is permitted without prior permission of the author.

Author’s note: This story is 58,943 words long and is Book

of The House of Scarlet series. It deals with BDSM, domination, blood, fire, and martial arts.

One

Detective Steven Howell opened the door to the small tattoo parlor. As he entered the shop, a woman, barely more than a girl, briefly looked up before looking back down to continue on the tattoo she was doing for a beefy biker type. They were seated together in a small cubicle, him on a reclining chair, her on a wheeled stool with a small rolling tool chest nearby. Power cords, bottles, and several shiny hand sized machines were on the top of the tool chest. From the looks of it, the chest was where she kept the tools of her trade.

“Be with you in a minute.” The girl called out to Howell as she concentrated on her color application to the nearly finished tattoo. The buzz of her tattoo gun resuming as she returned to work.

Howell wandered about the shop looking at the images on the walls. Flash was what the pictures were called. He remembered that from his visits to other similar shops over the years. Well, similar in the fact that they all were tattoo parlors. This one, however, was different. There were green plants in ceramic pots while the walls were painted in soft colors. A beige leather sofa created a small waiting area near the front window which, wonder of wonders, didn’t have paint covering it up.

There was even a small half round table with a coffee urn on top. Nearby was a sign that said ‘Help Yourself.’ Styrofoam cups, a low crystal bowl of non-dairy creamers, and a box of plastic spoons were nearby. All in all, the shop was light and airy. Well lit with both artificial and natural light. It definitely didn’t have that seedy feel that most tattoo parlors had. It was more like an artist’s studio or gallery than the tattoo parlors he was familiar with. Neutral to attract both men and women but bordering on feminine. Very pleasant.

Howell poured himself a small cup of the coffee adding a single creamer to it before taking a seat on the leather couch to wait.

After some time, the buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. Both the man and the girl walked to the rear of the shop. Howell heard a cash register beep. The two talked for a few more moments before the man left. The girl followed him to where Howell was seated on the sofa. Howell took in her appearance as she came near. Asian. Small boned. Thin but fit. A definite exercise buff. Her face was framed in a pixy haircut. She probably wore it that way to keep it out of the way when she was working. It did frame her face nicely. The short dark hair really set off her eyes and cheekbones. Eyes that were intense while seeming to miss very little of what was going on around her.

“Callie M.” The girl introduced herself. “What can I do for you officer?”

Howell stood up from the couch offering his hand. “It’s Detective. How did you know I was a cop?”

The girl, Callie M., shook his hand briefly before dropping it. “We see a lot of officials. Health inspectors, fire marshals, city inspectors, license bureau, uniformed police, undercover Narc’s, we get a good exposure to official types who are here on business. You learn how they look real fast. Mostly they don’t look like they are into this lifestyle. Too out of place. Uncomfortable. Too Vanilla.”

“Vanilla?”

“It’s an expression. It means plain or ordinary. Not kinky or living an alternative lifestyle.”

“Oh. Well, I’m here because I’m working on a murder case. I’m hoping you might have information for me. The victim had a distinctive tattoo, at least I think it’s distinctive, I’m trying to find someone who can identify the tattoo. Maybe that way we can get a name for the victim. Right now he’s just a John Doe.”

Howell handed the girl a close up picture of the tattoo he was talking about.

“Decent line work. Not great, but decent. Shading and color seem off some too. That may be an effect from the lighting though.

“Don’t know the artist. Which isn’t that unusual since almost anyone can get a tattoo anywhere in the world. Sorry.”

“Well, it was worth a try. I’m going to go ask some other shops, but you were recommended for me to try first. Apparently you have a reputation as someone who is very good at tattooing.”

Callie smiled but didn’t comment. She knew her art. She was a specialist in lines and shading with gray. She did color work too, like on the guy who just left. However, her real talent was black and gray. There were very few in the area who could match her in design, ability, and execution. None who were better than she. She knew it. She could say it without arrogance, no one was better.

“Can I make a copy of this? I can ask around. I can also show it to the other artists here. Might get something. Probably won’t though, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“There are other artists here? I thought you were the only one?”

“There are bayburt escort three of us. I’m covering the shop while they’re at lunch today.”

“Oh. Making a copy is fine if you want.”

“Great.” Callie walked to the back of the shop. In an alcove no bigger than a double closet, Howell saw a small color copier and other office equipment along with the cash register he’d heard earlier. Callie put the photo face down on the glass plate of the copier before pushing the button. Shortly after some machinery humming, the copier spit out a color copy of the photo.

“I’ll show this around. Maybe I’ll get lucky for you. Don’t bet on it.” Callie handed him the photo back.

“Well, if you come up with anything, please give me a call.” Howell stuck the photo inside his jacket then pulled out a silver plated business card case from his shirt pocket opening it one handed. On one side was clipped a red card with gold numbers on it. That card was dog eared and worn. Pulling a card from the other side of the case he handed it to her.

“What’s that?” She indicated the red card even as she put his card in her pocket.

“Why? Have you seen something like that before?”

“Well, it looks interesting. The red really catches your eye. Pretty. With only the numbers on it, you either know who it’s from or you don’t need to know. It’s like a secret.” A short laugh of apology. “Sorry. I’m into mysteries, reading them that is. That card looks like something from that sort of thing.”

Howell handed the card to her. “It’s from the same case. It was in the victim’s wallet.”

Callie ran her fingers over the embossed numbers. “Hmm, that’s real gold leaf. Somebody has money if they can spend it on something like this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The card is a throwaway. It has no value other than the number on it. Otherwise it’s really just wastebasket fodder. It takes some big money to make something with real gold on it for others to potentially just throw it away. I just had a bunch of cards printed for the shop here, so I pretty much know the current price for business cards. This is expensive. Top level expensive.”

She looked up at him. “Did you call the number?”

Howell didn’t know why, but he was intrigued with the tattoo artist who was obviously more than she appeared. Intrigued enough to give out information. Anything that would lead to solving this murder would be a help. He was almost at a dead end.

“Yeah. Someone answered but said nothing. I started to introduce myself. As soon as I did, whoever was on the other end disconnected. I tried calling back. The number came up as not in service.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. I had it traced. Nothing. Number not assigned. Which is crazy since I know someone was on the other end of the line at that number.”

Howell’s frustration came through with that statement. Callie grinned at him. “Well, it wasn’t me,” she said as she handed back the red card.

Howell apologized. “Sorry.”

Noise assaulted them as the front door opened. Two girls and a younger man walked into the shop. All three were wearing jeans and T-shirts.

“Ok, Callie, you can go to lunch now.” One of the girls called out to them as she walked over to the first tattoo cubicle. The young man followed her to sit in the reclining chair.

The other girl came all the way to where they were standing. Short and thin, with medium length glossy straight black hair, she had a strong resemblance to Callie. She looked first at Callie, then Howell. A quizzical expression appeared on her face.

Callie rolled her eyes. “He’s not a date. Stop trying to fix me up.”

“Mama’s going to be on your case for grandkids if you don’t get it together.” The girl scolded her. “This one looks nice. In a suit even. I like men in suits. Yummy.”

“He’s a cop. He’s looking for help to solve a murder. Stop drooling over him.”

Howell looked from one to the other as the byplay went on as if he wasn’t there. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“T Rose. I’m her sister.”

“Tea Rose?”

The girl grimaced. “Yeah. Mama, our mama, is an artist. She likes flowers. Paints them on canvas, wood, walls, you name it. She gets commissions for them. She likes flowers so much she named her kids after them. Tea Rose for me. Calla lily for her. T, just the letter, Rose for short for me. Callie for her.” T Rose curled around him hooking her arm in his.

Callie rolled her eyes again before grabbing her sister pulling her away from Howell. “He’s not interested. He’s here on a case.”

“So?”

“So, the only thing he’s interested in right now is a tattoo. He has a picture of it. He came in hoping I’d seen it before. It’s on a dead guy.”

“A tattoo? On a dead body? Ewww.”

“It’s just a picture of the tattoo. Not the whole dead guy.” Callie told her sister.

“Ok, let me see the picture.” T Rose held out her hand after a moments thought.

Callie handed her the color copy. T Rose looked at the copy bartın escort turning the paper clockwise in ninety degree intervals.

“I’ve seen this.”

Howell was instantly alert. “You have?”

“Yeah. Let me think.” T Rose stared at the paper without seeing the image there. “Someplace. Recently.”

Snapping into a walk T Rose began to pace holding the photocopy in front of her. She was not seeing the image on the page. Instead, she was looking at images in her mind.. Callie pushed Howell out of the way placing her finger in front of her lips for silence.

After a few repetitions pacing the length of the shop, T Rose stopped pacing. She confronted Howell.

“It’s on the wall of a shop down on second street. It’s next to a club called ‘The Pit’. It’s a picture of someone who has the tattoo. Not flash. I don’t know the person in the picture but the shop owner probably does.”

“How do you know that?” Howell was suspicious. This was too easy.

T Rose shrugged. “I remember things. Lots of things.”

“Photographic memory.” Callie explained. “Especially when it comes to art.”

“We all have it.” T Rose smirked. We all get it from mama.”

“We all?”

“Oh, we have 2 more sisters and a brother.”

“Are you all tattoo artists?” Howell was still suspicious.

Both girls laughed. “Poppy is only eleven. Tulip is fourteen. They’re too young to do anything except go to school. Henry is the oldest. He’s a hair stylist.”

“Wait. I thought you said your mother named you all after flowers. How did your brother get to be named Henry?”

“Dad put his foot down. He told mama while girls might be flowers in their mother’s eyes; sons were not. Son’s have to grow up to be men. Not flowers kept in the house or garden.”

“Speaking of Henry, I have to go.” Callie reminded her sister. “He’s cutting my hair today. He also says he is going to doing something else as a surprise. He won’t tell me what. If I don’t get going I’m probably going to be late. Don’t forget, I have my class this afternoon too. I probably won’t be back.”

Rose nodded that she remembered.

“I teach Karate.” Callie said in an aside to Howell as he looked on. “I have a class two days per week at a friend’s dojo. Mostly little old ladies who want to learn to defend themselves against purse snatchers.”

“Ok. See you later then.” T Rose talked right over her sister’s explanation. She waved a languid good bye at Callie before hooking her arm through Howells elbow again.

“Why don’t we see if we can find something you’d like for a tattoo? I’m sure we can find something you’d like to have on your body.”

Callie tore her sister away from Howell. “You don’t have time for that. You have to finish last months bookkeeping before it becomes this month’s bookkeeping. Besides, the Detective probably needs to go talk to someone about his case.” Callie pushed Howell behind her, waving at him to leave while she dealt with her sister.

“Spoilsport. You’re the one who knows about that stuff. Not me.”

Callie stuck her tongue out pointing to a closed door at the back of the shop. “You can thank mama for that later. Right now, you’re the one who needs to learn it. So get learning!”

Howell left as the two girls were arguing. He was sitting in his car at the curb considering his next move when the girl, Callie, came out of the tattoo shop. She was buckling a helmet onto her head as she headed toward a pink Vespa parked in front of the tattoo studio. Inserting a key she started the scooter, checked traffic before quickly zooming off. Probably to her hair salon appointment, Howell thought to himself.

The picture she made as she zipped away on the scooter was cute. Tight. Rigid. Sitting on the scooter’s saddle with perfect posture in her spine. Straight up vertical. She disappeared in the traffic as she motored down the street. Putting her out of his mind, Howell went back to thinking about what to do next.

Two

Henry chattered as he usually did while cutting Callie’s hair. He liked to talk about all the things he saw, the people he met, while working at the day spa he owned. Situated in the center of the GreenWood mall he had a lot of foot traffic go past his door. Exclusive shops meant that the potential clientele were well heeled. Client’s who, more likely than not, wanted and could afford a trip to a day spa to make themselves feel pretty.

Henry did all right for himself Callie thought for the millionth time. Hopefully her little shop would eventually turn out to be a good investment too.

“There’s this woman whose hair is like liquid silver. I swear. It is.” Henry stopped snipping. He placed his hand on his chest to show he wasn’t pulling her leg as Callie looked at him in the mirror.

“Honest. Most platinum blondes are more in the pewter range. But, she’s really silver. With natural waves and soft ringlets. She’s really, really beautiful. She also works for the company that owns the mall.”

“So? ığdır escort Are you trying to date her or something?”

“Oh no. She’s married. She comes in weekly to the spa. I like her. Very nice. She’s very sophisticated. She seems to be really happy all the time. Smiles and laughs a lot. Though I do think something bad happened to her recently. She didn’t used to, but now she has two bodyguards who follow her everywhere. Even into the back. I think she got some serious death threats or something. They’re super scary. Even you might have a problem with just one of them let alone both.

“They wanted to be in the room with her while she got a bikini waxing. I put my foot down about that. They might be in charge of guarding her body; that doesn’t mean they get to ogle it. Strangely, she didn’t seem to care if they saw her naked. I care though. I made them wait outside. I would have preferred that they wait in the lounge. They insisted, and she agreed, that they be in the hallway outside the door as the furthest distance away from her. Which tells me something really bad happened to her. I don’t know what.”

“She won’t tell you?”

“I’m not going to ask. I told you, those guys are super scary.”

“I bet. Being a body guard is probably really hard. Probably boring too. I don’t know that I’d want to do that.”

“I don’t know that I’d want my little sister doing it either. From what I’ve seen, they have to be hard as nails. Mean. Really mean. Look at Miss Karen.. She lives in a bubble. No one gets within 10 feet of her. Even out there in the mall, people cringe to get out of the way.

“When she walks in, there’s this empty space around her. Everyone gets quiet. No one even wants to look at her. The way the guards stare at you is really unnerving.”

“Miss Karen?”

“Oh, she’s the woman I was talking about. The one with the silver hair.”

“You said she was married. How can she be married and still be a Miss?”

“I don’t know. That’s what everyone calls her. I mean everyone.”

“Weird.”

“There, all done.” Henry finished working on her hair. He whisked off the apron covering her before Callie could ask any more questions.

“Oh.” Callie was surprised. The dark blue color wash that Henry had almost forced on her made her highlights shine blue instead of reddish gold.

“I told you. It’s perfect for you. Just like I said it would be. Different enough for you to be noticed but not so different that you look like you’re making a statement of rebellion.”

Callie laughed. “Mama would kill both of us.”

Henry grinned companionably. “Yep. You can say thank you now.”

“Oh, thank you big brother. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Callie’s laughter didn’t quite cover the rumble from her stomach.

“I heard that. Have you eaten? Today, I mean. Since breakfast?”

“Hey, it was my turn to watch the shop over lunch. This cop came in. I had to deal with him. He was asking questions about a dead guy with a tattoo. So, no I haven’t had anything. No time.”

“Well, you are going to eat now.”

“I have a class.”

“So? Eat now, teach later. It’s easy. I’ll even pay. Let’s go to the food court to grab something. I need a break anyway.”

They went arm in arm to the food court. Standing in line arguing about what to eat, they made their choices. Henry opened his wallet to grab a twenty. Callie caught a flash of red.

“Henry? What is that?” Callie snatched the card from her brother’s wallet. A red card with only a number embossed in gold on it. Turning to show to him she lowered her voice to almost a quiet hiss. “Do you know what this is? Where did you get it? Who gave this to you?”

“Whoa. Easy. I thought this was lunch not the inquisition.” Henry finished paying for the food. Lifting the tray, he held it between them as Callie advanced on him.

“If you want to beat me up then you’ll have to buy your own food from now on. Give me that back.”

Henry held the tray one-handed swiping with the other to try to retrieve the card. Callie twitched it away before he could grab it.

“I want to know.”

“Why?” Henry gave up trying to get the card while holding the tray. He walked to a nearby table putting the tray down before he sat. “It’s just a card.”

“It’s not just a card. The cop who came to my shop today had one just like it.” Callie sat down opposite her brother.

“It’s just a card. A red one. Maybe the one you say that the cop had just looks like this one.”

Callie narrowed her eyes at him giving him a look. She silently pointed from herself to him and back again.

“Ok, Ok. Sorry. It was the same. I believe you. Now give it back.”

Callie handed the card over. She watched as Henry put it back in his wallet.

“I want to know. Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?”

“No one ‘gave’ it to me. I found it in the shop.”

“‘Found it’?”

“I had a customer. Before she came in, it wasn’t there. After she left it was. I don’t know that she left it. Anyone could have. It was just there on my counter where I keep my scissors. Anything else you want to know that I can’t tell you?”

Callie knew her brother wouldn’t say anything more. Once he got that crabby look on his face, no one was getting anything out of him. Giving up for now about who gave him the card, she grabbed her burrito off of the tray.

“I know this is all you can ever think about, whore,” he said. His hands were holding her wrists, keeping them pressed above her head against the shower wall, and he gave them a squeeze to emphasize the final word. “I know how much you want to be constantly full of my cock.”

“Yes Sir!”

He was fucking her fast and deep and the feeling was so overwhelming it was all she could do to keep standing. The hot water streaming over their bodies intensified the feelings of pleasure. She had always associated showers with sex, going all the way back to her earliest masturbation experiences being with a removable showerhead in the house where she grew up, and there was always something so exciting about being taken by him there.

But at the same time that she loved the feeling of his cock slamming into her, part of her was struggling with what she knew would come next. She knew he was going to have an orgasm and she wasn’t. He’d already told her that her next orgasm wasn’t coming any sooner than a year after her previous one, and she still had a month to go. The feeling of almost unbearable frustration that she knew would well up within her when he filled her pussy with his cum but left her aching was something she both craved and dreaded.

When he came in her mouth it was different. When he came in her mouth she floated off into the magical realm of subspace, blissful and calm and beautifully sated. Having her own orgasm was of no importance whatsoever when he came in her mouth. She was perfectly happy already.

But when he came in her pussy, she was all revved up with no possible release, and it was brutal. She would do anything in the world for an orgasm in those moments. But she simultaneously was more turned on by knowing she wouldn’t have one than she was by anything else. For all her struggling against it, nothing made her feel better than her denial. The fact that she could both love and hate her denial in equal measure was a paradox she’d never quite artvin escort managed to wrap her head around.

He kept fucking her. She tried to focus on the pleasure she was feeling and, more importantly, the pleasure she was making him feel, rather than getting preoccupied with the fact that she wouldn’t be getting the ultimate form of pleasure. Most of the time she didn’t have very much trouble with that, but for some reason today it was much more difficult. Orgasms filled her head. Maybe it was knowing the one she’d been waiting for so long would be finally happening without too much more waiting that had the idea of having one on her mind so much.

He moved his hands from her wrists to her tits and started squeezing them so roughly that it was painful. She guessed that this meant he was about to cum. He loved hurting her as he came.

Sure enough, a moment later he was cumming, digging his nails deeply into her tits at the exact moment he shot his load into her. Her head was swimming with all the intense emotions she was feeling-the deep pleasure and pride at having pleased her Master, the pain, her own frustration. It was all completely overwhelming. She was just grateful that now that it was over she would have some time to calm down. Right now she wanted to cum desperately, and it would take her awhile to get past that feeling, but she knew she would be able to manage it eventually.

She was shocked by the feeling of her Master suddenly putting his right hand between her legs and beginning to rub. His left remained on her tits, which he started squeezing again.

She moaned and closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure. He never touched her after he’d fucked her. His cock inside her felt so good, but his hand gave her something his cock couldn’t, which was attention to her clit. He knew exactly how she liked to be touched, and it felt incredible.

But only half of her brain was overcome aydın escort with the feeling of pleasure. The other half was in full-on panic mode. She already knew for sure he wasn’t going to let her cum, because he’d told her she would have to wait at least a year. And there was only one thing he ever made her do with his hand besides cum: edge.

She hated edging, absolutely hated it, and was grateful that he hardly ever made her do it. There had been times she’d cried when he’d made her edge because the level of frustration went past her ability to handle it. It was hard enough dealing with having her pussy being touched at all when it wasn’t going to end in an orgasm. But actually getting right up to the precipice, getting so close that another second would bring her to the orgasm she wanted so badly, was too much. She couldn’t do it without losing her mind. But she was going to do it, because it was what her Master wanted her to do.

His fingers felt so good on her, much too good. He kept alternating between squeezing her tits and digging his nails into them with her other hand, which just made the pleasure even more intense.

With how good she’d already been feeling from having him fuck her, it was only a matter of minutes before she was getting close.

“Your slut is getting really close to cumming, Sir,” she said, secretly hopeful that knowing she was close would be enough for him and he would stop before she was actually right on the edge.

“Very good. But I’m not going to stop until you’re just on the very edge,” he said.

“Yes Sir,” she replied, resigned to her fate.

It only took another minute. She felt the orgasm filling her up, felt it right there, ready to wash over her in just another second. She felt a tiny impulse to lie and tell him it had come on so fast she hadn’t been able to tell him to stop in time, but she knew if she did that she’d feel so guilty she wouldn’t balıkesir escort even be able to enjoy the orgasm. So instead she just said “Stop!”

He did. She took some deep breaths and tried to steady herself. She felt sure that there must be a section of Hell that consisted of this particular sort of torture. The orgasm had been so fucking close, and getting that close and then stopping made her feel ready to punch a hole through the wall.

She felt an unexpected emotion filling her then: anger. She felt a very unsubmissive urge to tell her Master he was a son of a bitch. He knew how hard edging was on her. So why the fuck had he made her do it? It wasn’t fair.

She sat down on the floor of the shower, wrapping her arms around her knees. She was scared by how angry she was at him and wanted to feel small somehow because it made her feel safe.

“Do you want to cum, slave?” he asked.

“Very much, Sir,” she said, managing to hold herself back from the “What the fuck do you think?” response she wanted to give.

“I want you to tell me why I’m not letting you,” he said.

“Because you’re a son of a bitch” was her imagined reply, but she knew she could most definitely not say that. She struggled to overcome the anger and find the part of her mind where the right answers he was looking for were.

“Because it makes you happy, and pleasing you is the most important thing your slut can do, more important than getting pleasure herself. Because it reminds your slut of her place. Because your slut is a dirty slut and needs her pleasure kept under strict control. Because it helps your slut be more obedient and submissive for you.” She paused. Somehow saying these things out loud to him calmed her down. She knew everything she was saying was true, and being reminded of all the reasons, suddenly it seemed as if having him make her edge was just the right thing for him to have done. So she had to give him one final reason. “Because it’s exactly what your slut needs.”

“That is exactly why,” he said. “I know edging is hard for you, and I’m glad to hear you can still remember why things need to be this way even now. I’m proud of you.” She nuzzled her head against his knee. He was proud of her! No orgasm in the world could compare to the feeling of hearing those simple words.

In part one I revealed how the relationship with my current mistress went from co-workers, to friends and roommates, to finally a point where my submission is solidified. Part 2 describes how that relationship moved into the next phase, and how I received my collar.

It’s hard for me to say exactly when I became submissive to Tiffany, because it seemed to be a gradual transition. It started with subtle commands that took the place of requests, and continued until she was calling me “Pet” and I was calling her “Mistress.” All of this took place at home, of course. For obvious reasons we kept it out of the workplace or as Tiffany called it, the “vanilla world.” With both of our incomes we were very financially stable, but neither of us made enough money to live very well without the second income. So even though I felt myself slipping tighter and tighter under her control at home, it never impacted the work place. That is, of course, until the day she followed me into the ladies room.

I was wearing a business appropriate dress that was hemmed at the knees. Tiffany waited just inside the door while I relieved my bladder and washed my hands. She moved behind me at the sink and stood there for a moment, looking at my reflection as I looked at hers. “Take your panties off, Pet,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but a command. I froze.

“But… we’re at work,” I stammered back in response. The dress was long enough that I could probably get away with it, but I knew I would be self conscious the rest of the day.

“Relax, Pet,” she told me. “I’ll give you something to wear.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I had done two things wrong. One, I didn’t call her “Mistress.” Two, I hesitated from a direct order. I didn’t know at the time, but I would pay for both later. I reached up under my dress and slid out of my panties, then handed them to her without turning around. Something about the way she was looking at me told me that she didn’t want me to turn around or do anything else unless she told me to so.

She put a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward, then lifted my dress. “You may wear this!” With that she slapped my right ass cheek so hard it nearly made my eyes water. “And this!” She struck my other cheek equally hard and pulled me upright by my hair.

“We’ll discuss your lack of respect for me later,” she said. With that she turned around and walked out, leaving me with no panties and two well defined hand prints on my ass that absolutely burned. I still had three hours to go, which meant sitting at my desk as if it was business as usual. Although Tiffany had spanked me during sex, I had never been spanked as punishment before. I knew it was going to happen that evening. I knew I could stop this any time I wanted to, but the deeper I got, the hotter it got. It was like I had unlocked a burning need to be dominated that I never knew I had.

The work day was about an hour short of completion when my cell phone vibrated, indicating that I had a text message. My desk sits at the back of the office so I never have eyes peering over my shoulder unless someone walks up, so I wasn’t worried about reading the text. It read, “Slide your finger into your pussy and taste yourself. – Mistress.”

I hesitated. There was no way I was going to do that, even if the chance of being caught was very low. Three minutes later the phone buzzed again. This time the message read, “I’m watching you. Do it.” I glanced up immediately. Tiffany didn’t work on this floor, but there she was; outside of the office looking in through the window glass. She was staring right at me. I looked around, hesitantly.

The phone buzzed again. This time the message read, “Now, Pet!”

I brought my left hand up and sucked on my finger for a moment. Then, looking to see that nobody was watching me, I lowered my hand beneath the desk. I used the heel of my hand to push the dress up and without hesitation I slid my finger into my pussy to the second knuckle. I was wetter than I thought I would be. There was an element of danger that turned me on almost as much as having Tiffany… or Mistress Tiffany as I referred to her now, command me to do it. I looked up at her through the window and slid my finger into my mouth. Nobody noticed me sucking on my finger. Their backs were to me and they were working. I wanted more, but it would have to wait.

The next text message came five minutes later. It read simply, “Good job, Pet.” I must have been beaming at this, because the boss walked by and said, “You’re all smiles.” I told him, “Thank you,” but didn’t elaborate as to why. If he only knew.

The ride home was uncomfortably silent. Mistress drove, since she now drove everywhere. I attempted to start a conversation a couple of times, but my efforts were met with a simple, “Shhhh.” She was either mad or disappointed with me. I began to feel kırklareli escort guilty, thinking what I may have done wrong. I thought about my hesitation in obeying her, and figured that had to be the case. Twice today she had given me orders and had them not immediately obeyed. I began to think that maybe she was going to tell me I wasn’t fit to be her sub. That thought sickened me. By the time we got home, I was a nervous wreck.

When we walked through the door, Mistress finally spoke to me. “Take your clothes off, Pet,” she said. “From now on, unless we have company, when you’re in this house you are nude.”

I closed the door behind me and let out a sigh. “Yes, Mistress, of course,” I said as I hurried out of my clothes. At least she wasn’t walking away from me. There wasn’t much to remove other than my dress and bra because she already had my panties in her purse. She waited until I was undressed and then pointed to the far corner of the room.

“Corner,” she said. “Now!”

I went to the corner and stood with my nose to the crease. I was a little nervous about what was going to happen, but at least it wasn’t going to be Mistress packing up and leaving me. I always hated standing in the corner when I was young, and it wasn’t any better now. It made me feel like I was a naughty girl again, which of course was the point.

When I had been there about ten minutes, Mistress came up behind me and said, “Give me your hands.” Without moving from the corner, I reached them behind me. She secured them in the leather cuffs. Then I had to stand for another twenty minutes or so before she walked up behind me and reached up to grip me by the hair.

“Get over here,” she said. With that she led me by the hair and pulled me over to the sofa. She held my head down so I had to walk in a stoop. I knew what was coming when she sat down. She pulled me over her left leg, hooked her right leg over my legs and pushed me down with her left hand. I was now bent over her knee with my hands securely cuffed. She didn’t hesitate. Her right hand slapped against the right side of my ass hard. This was punishment, so I wasn’t going to get any warm up. I jumped and cried out, but I was held securely so that I barely moved. The next strike came immediately on my left side.

I cried out each time I was struck. The punishment rained down on my ass and there was no escaping it. She held me immobile and spanked me again and again. I could feel the hand prints forming as my skin burned. I tried my best to take it, but I was crying by the tenth strike. The blows came about one per second, so there was no time to react and no time to prepare.

By the time she finished, I was crying like a baby. She released me, stood me up, and walked my back to the corner by my hair. I could barely stand. I’d never felt anything that hurt as bad as that spanking did. I was later told that I had only received 60 strikes, but it sure seemed like more than that.

“I don’t know why you fight me,” she said as she stood behind me. I was blubbering in the corner, but her words were very clear. “I give you a simple command and you disobey. You hesitate. You think that your will is stronger than mine. You think that you don’t have to obey me. You’ll never earn a collar that way.”

Her words stung almost as much as the spanking did. I wanted so much to be her sub and to wear her collar. I knew I hadn’t earned it yet, but I hoped that someday soon I would. Other subs with their masters and mistresses wore their collars with pride. My neck was naked. I knew it was going to take a lot of work to earn it. I had just received my first spanking from Mistress Tiffany. There would be many, many more to follow.

Over the course of the few weeks I began to get more comfortable allowing Mistress to control all aspects of my life. I had my paychecks direct deposited into a joint account that she controlled. At work we remained professional for the most part, and when we weren’t we were careful. When we came home, I stripped at the door and remained naked unless we had company other than those we knew who shared our lifestyle. If another master or mistress came over I was to be completely subservient just as I was with my own mistress. My body was offered for their pleasure just as one might offer a cool beverage. I had absolutely no say about what services I would perform; whether it was oral sex, vaginal sex or anal sex. When Mistress had sex, I cleaned her with my mouth and tongue. I was her slave. I was her lover. I was her pet.

When I displeased Mistress I was spanked. Usually the spankings were done by hand, but sometimes she used a belt. I knew she had other implements at the house, but she had never used them on me. I was still in training, and hadn’t yet earned the right to experience such things.

When afyon escort she finally asked me if I would wear her collar, I was so happy I cried. Tears of joy streaked my face as I dropped to the floor and kissed her feet in gratitude. She explained that as part of the initiation I was going to receive the most severe spanking of my life. She told me I would be allowed to wear a choker at work, but as soon as I got into the car to go home the collar would replace the choker. She explained that I would be her property and that pleasure and pain were hers to dispense as she saw fit. I agreed eagerly. I had been longing for this day.

Mistress asked when I would like to perform the collaring. “Can we do it now?” I asked. “Please, Mistress? I’m been waiting so long.”

Some subs waited for years to get their collar. It was at the discretion of the master, of course. I was overjoyed that I was offered the collar so quickly. I most assuredly wasn’t going to wait any longer than I had to. I was tired of being the girl with the bare neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready, Pet?” she asked me. “There will be no safe word, and if I’m forced for whatever reason to stop, we’ll have to start all over again.”

“Yes, please Mistress,” I answered. I was excited and anxious to wear the collar. I knew that there would be a lot of pain before that happened, but I was willing to go through it. “Okay, Pet,” Mistress said to me. “Lie over the sofa.”

She walked into the bedroom to get the things she was going to use on me while I draped myself over the back of the sofa. Our sofa has a very well padded back to it. We keep small chains attached to the legs in front at either end and to all three legs in back. Usually when I receive a punishment spanking my legs are together, but I’m always secured.

Mistress returned and placed her items on the table in front of the sofa. They consisted of a thick leather belt, a riding crop with a flexible shaft and a small leather patch at the striking surface, a rattan cane, and a thick leather paddle with air holes in it. It looked positively brutal. I began to tremble in spite of all attempts to remain calm. I’d felt the leather belt before, but none of the other things. My skin was already sweating against the naugahyde sofa.

Mistress very carefully attached the chains to my wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. After testing each to make sure they were locked into place, she walked over and picked up the leather belt. A moment later I felt it resting on my exposed ass. “I chose tonight because the neighbors have gone out for the evening,” she said. “So you can yell if it makes you feel better. We have no need to use a ball gag. We both know it’s going to hurt, and we both know that I’m going to continue to spank you.”

She lifted the belt off my ass and said, “Last chance to change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind, Mistress,” I told her. “I’ve waited for this day for a long time.”

I no sooner got the words out than I felt a searing pain across my ass. The sound of the slap seemed to echo off the walls. I cried out in shock and pain. Again the belt slapped against my exposed flesh. It felt like a hot iron had been laid on my ass. I had experienced belt spankings before, but Mistress had never hit this hard. She put her hand on my back and continued to whip me with the belt. Every new strike brought a fresh and searing jolt of pain. I was help immobile by the chains as it continued. After twenty hard strikes, I was informed that I would be required to count the last ten.

It was all I could do to choke out, “One; thank you, Mistress. Two; thank you, Mistress.” I just knew my ass was bleeding. I could feel it running down my thighs. It wasn’t, of course. I was feeling my own sweat running down my legs. This continued through number ten. It took me three attempts to get the words out.

When she put the paddle down and picked up the crop, I thought to myself, One down, three to go. I can get through this. As it turned out, the crop was a lot less intense. Each time I heard the swish of the crop a new welt appeared, though they were only the size of a quarter. These were placed on the sides of my ass and on my upper thighs. I cried out each time the crop struck my body, but comparatively speaking it was not that bad. I actually found it kind of an erotic pain.

Mistress then picked up the cane and whipped it through the air a few times, letting me here it whistle. I knew this was going to leave marks. I felt her push a finger into my pussy. An instant later, the cane whistled and struck me on my already dark red ass.

“Slut!” she said to me. I cried out and was whimpering now after the cane burned a clear mark into my skin. “I’m beating your ass and you’re WET?”

I was. I knew I was. I started to say something amasya escort to the effect of “I’m sorry, Mistress,” but the cane whistled again and I screamed. She was swinging it as hard as she had swung the belt, but the cane was thinner. The marks from the cane would be deep and would last for days.

I felt Mistress put her fingers under me and begin to gently rub my clit. “I can’t believe you’re wet, slut,” she told me. The cane whistled again and seared across my ass. I knew that in response to the pain my body was releasing endorphins, and that the endorphins had the immediate effect of helping me to deal with what was happening. I knew, though, that I was going to be sore for days. “I want you to cum,” she commanded. “And I’m going to beat your ass until you do.”

One thing I knew about Mistress. She meant what she said. Her fingers gently massaged my clit and every few seconds she lashed out with the cane. I had heard about girls cumming from being spanked but I didn’t expect to be one of them. Her fingers on my clit helped, though. I soon came furiously. Spurred on by the endorphins and the painful humiliation, I had such a powerful orgasm I must have passed out.

“You did well,” Pet,” Mistress told me when I opened my eyes. She unhooked me from the chains and reached out to help me off the sofa. My ass was on fire and every movement brought tears to my eyes. “Kneel down, Pet,” she said. I nearly fell getting down, but I managed to kneel. A few moments later I felt the warmth of the leather collar encircling my neck. By now I was crying tears of joy. I kissed her feet and said, “Thank you, Mistress, thank you Mistress. I could tell she was satisfied.

“Come, Pet,” Mistress said to me. She pushed me forward, on to my hands and knees. As I started forward, I felt the harsh leather paddle slapping against my bottom, which I was sure must look like hamburger. I gasped but tried not to cry out. I had my collar now. I had to show that I was worthy.

The crawl to the bedroom was accompanied by several more hard swats; one of which put me on my stomach in tears. Rather than tell me to get up, Mistress simply swatted me again until I forced myself to get up and complete the trip to the bedroom.

“Knees, Pet,” Mistress told me. I sat up on my knees and reached back to gently touch my burning rump. I could feel the marks from the cane and paddle most of all. I knew this was going to take a few days to heal. Fortunately, it was a Friday night. Maybe by Monday I would be able to sit without too much discomfort.

Mistress attached the leather harness for her strap on, or the strappy as she called it, and stood in front of me. I immediately began to suck on it and slobber over it like it was a real penis. “Get it good and wet,” she said. “You’ll want it as wet as possible.”

I knew what that meant, of course. I found it hard to believe that after the intense spanking I had just received that I was going to have to submit to anal sex, but I wasn’t going to question Mistress. I got the dong as wet and slick as I could. When commanded, I climbed up on the bed, lay on my stomach and pushed a pillow under my hips. Mistress climbed up onto the bed, pushed my legs apart roughly and leaned over me. I felt her positioning the tip of the dong against my anus. I gripped the sheets and closed my eyes, but I tried to keep my muscles relaxed.

I felt the pressure increase until my muscles yielded to the pressure. I was no stranger to the sensation by now. Mistress made sure that all of my openings were used regularly. The worst was yet to come. When she pressed into me all the way, I felt her body pressing against my inflamed and welt covered rump. I whimpered at the pain and bit into my pillow to keep from crying out.

Mistress gripped my hips, pulled back, and slammed into me. I screamed! She pulled back again and once more drove into me. It was almost more intense then the paddling had been. “Take the pain, slut,” Mistress growled. She pulled back my hair with one hand, and reached around to massage my clit with the other. I saw stars as she pounded into me. Still, I was very, very wet. After about five minutes of hard, rough anal sex, I came so hard that when I finished I could barely breathe.

Mistress knelt between my legs, letting me recover but keeping the dong inside me. After a few moments she began again. I still felt the pain of the spanking, but I began to care less and less. She rolled over and I rode her, slamming my rump against her just to feel the intense pain. She continued to urge me on and continued to massage my clit. I came three more times before I simply had no energy left.

Mistress had not cum. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any energy left. She straddled my face and I did as well as I could, licking her pussy and her clit. She was incredibly wet, which helped a LOT. I was finally able to help her cum. She rewarded me my giving me a deliciously wet face. I was glad when she came, because it meant I could roll back on my stomach and get the pressure off my burning ass. She put some lotion on it before we went to sleep, but it still burned. At that point I didn’t care. I was officially Tiffany’s slut. I could not have been happier.

Chapter One: The Masochist T.A.L.E. of Pain

It was Wednesday, which along with Monday and Friday, was one of my short days. I had two classes, a four hour shift working janitorial at the school and one more class before coming home and cooking the dinner that greeted Kristy when she got home from her three classes working, her 1-5 shift in the school guidance counselor’s office, and her daily workout. I was brushing my teeth and Kristy was putting on her nightgown, when she asked, “Honey, guess who I ran into today?”

“Pwho?” I muttered with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Adam!”

I spit. “Oh yeah? What’s he up to?”

“He’s working at the coffee shop. He said he was just getting ready to get off just as I came in.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, he looked pretty dejected, so I invited him to join me for lunch. I bought him some lunch since he said he didn’t have any money.”

“Up to his old tricks, I see. Just using you.” The previous semester of this year, Adam was my roommate, and, I thought friend, until he swept Kristy off of me and I returned the favor after he cheated on her.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear. He’s really down on his luck. He’s being evicted next week and needs a place to stay until the end of the semester.”

“You can’t be saying what I think you are…”

“Why not? It’s only a month!”

“Are you serious? Because he’s your ex and we don’t get along…”

“Come on, baby. You two used to be close. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still probably be! But, that fight is over. You won! Please, baby, do it for me?”

“Fuck! You know you’re asking for the impossible, right?”

“Not impossible, baby. Just hard. Doing the right thing, forgiving somebody usually is. But, he forgave you for stealing me off of him…”

“He stole you off me, first!”

“Come on, I wasn’t really yours, then. We only went on one date!”

“Yeah, but I wanted more. You knew that. You both did.”

She laughed, “That was pretty obvious when you made that crazy promise to me ON OUR FIRST DATE!”

“I was just kidding, you know that.”

“No, I don’t and I don’t think you were. I think you meant every single word.”

The summer before freshman year, I met Adam on an online forum looking for roommates. From my research, I learned that, as long as you had a car, getting an apartment off campus was far cheaper than staying in the dorms. After some correspondence, we decided to get a small two bedroom in a rundown area of town. Somehow, based on our conversations, I expected him to be a short, skinny, nerdy type guy. So, I was pretty shocked to meet a 6’5″ guy with ripped muscles, black hair, and these big bright green eyes met me at the door of our apartment. I’ve never really paid much attention to eye color on a guy, but these were weird, almost alien. I came out and asked him if they were colored contacts one day. He laughed and said, “No, all natural. And the girls love them!” There was no denying they loved something about him. He got laid almost every night that first month with at least a dozen different girls.

I didn’t get laid at all, but then I was working the long game. I met Kristy when she sat next to me in my first class. It was Introduction to Logic. For me, it was the easiest course I ever took, but Kristy seemed to struggle with it. She would ask me questions in class at first, but eventually just came out and asked me to be her personal tutor. We both knew she was beautiful; 5’6″ with golden blonde hair, sky blue eyes, an elongated neck, ample breasts, a tight waist, long legs, and a perfect bubble butt from her addiction to the stair-climber. So, of course, I agreed to do it and not just for the classes I was taking, but all of the ones she needed help in, even if I had to spend my nights studying the material. I found out she hadn’t dated since she broke up with her boyfriend of four years, her high school’s star running back. She broke it off with him July 4th after she caught him getting oral from her best friend. Apparently, there was an argument. Her friend said she didn’t understand what the big deal was since he had slept with the entire cheerleading squad. Then he laughed at her saying he enjoyed every one of them even more knowing she was staying faithful to him and thought he was doing the same.

So, when I finally got her to agree to a date with me, she let me know that she would only accept a boyfriend if she knew he was going to be faithful to her no matter what.

Jokingly, I said, “Okay, from this point forward until the end of my days, I shall be faithful to you and you alone.”

I expected her to laugh, but instead she got real serious. “Slow down, okay? This is only our first date. Are you trying to creep me out?” I tried to explain I was joking, but the damage was done.

Back in our studio apartment April of our freshmen year, I just blushed and made my way towards the bed.

“You know, though, I kinda like that you meant it?”

“Really?” I stopped, looking down at her in that silky gown as she slid into our bed.

“Of course. Since the day we met, you’ve been completely faithful bilecik escort me. Even when I was fucking your roommate in the bedroom next to yours and you could probably hear every moan I made and probably even his grunts, you were keeping yourself for me. I could hear you jerking off on that creaky old mattress, you know?”

“Wait, you heard that?” I asked, flushed with embarrassment, but for some reason starting to stiffen.

She slid up her nighty and glided her hand down into her panties. “Of course. You heard his bed creaking as he fucked me, right?”

I frowned and nodded.

“You know, when we heard you in there playing with yourself, he’d always whisper in my ear that you were in there getting your benefits,” she rubbed herself faster as she said this. “That was a little inside joke. He would call you my girlfriend with benefits behind your back, because you’d drive me around, take me shopping and to the beauty salon and the all the other things he was too macho to do and the only benefit you got was jerking off while he fucked me!” She laughed.

My face showed I was hurt by her words and she quit laughing. “You know it wasn’t like that! Sure, I wanted you, but I did those things to spend time with you. I thought we were friends!”

She looked up at my face and then down at my fully aroused prick where her gaze remained, “We were friends. We are friends. I get that now. But I didn’t quite understand that then. I thought you were just a pathetic jerk off boy I could manipulate into doing whatever I wanted.” When my prick bounced, she giggled.

“What are you doing? Why are you trying to hurt me?”

“You don’t look hurt,” she replied still watching my crotch. “You look to be very happy and every time I say something that should hurt your feelings, you get even happier!”

I slipped off my boxers, crawled into bed and whispered, “Can we fuck now?”

She gave me a dirty look, “Ah-hem.” She pointed to my bare prick. Kristy always insisted I wear a condom when I penetrated her. She was adamant about not wanting a child until after she finished grad school and she wasn’t willing to rely on oral birth control alone.

I put on the condom and got back into bed, going down on her first. She resumed our previous conversation as my mouth was occupied. “If you want to fuck me, I want you to agree to let Adam stay here for a month.” I pulled away to answer, but she put her hand on my head and pushed me back into her wetness. “This apartment is big enough for three people and we have a couch for him to sleep on. If you’re worried about sex, it shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s seen me naked before. It might bother him a little if you fuck me in front of him, but beggars can’t be choosy and he deserves a little payback, don’t you think?”

Smiling at the thought, I kissed her pussy in response. She was quiet for the next few minutes and I could tell she was nearing orgasm. That’s when I did something I’d never done before and backed away.

“What the hell are you doing?” she cried.

“I want to make you come with my cock,” I whispered.

“Okay, but hurry! I was almost there, damn you!”

I rushed to get myself inside her and began thrusting in a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” she growled. “It passed. You better make me come this time.”

“I will. I promise.”

After about a minute, she asked, “Do you know he fucked me right here in this bed?”

Not knowing what she was talking about but realizing what she wanted, I thrusted harder and faster.

“That’s better. Yep. It was before we were really official, before I took your virginity. He came over looking for you and said he was going to beat you senseless for not only ratting him out in order to steal me, but also stiffing him with the rent on that two bedroom just because he trusted you enough to sign the lease on his own. Realizing he was serious, I pleaded with him not to hurt you. The only thing that worked was when I offered to suck him off.”

I was hurt and pissed, but I took it out on her pussy, which she seemed to enjoy.

“And, then, over the course of the next few weeks, he fucked me seven times right, oh yeah, right, oh fuck yeah, right here in our, o-o-o, mmmmmmmm…”

She caught her breath, “Yeah… he fucked me right here in our bed. Seven times. Before you ever got the chance.” With that final sting, I came myself.

“Wow, baby, you were amazing. You’ve never fucked me that good before. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” lying back with my head still spinning from the heightened sexual energy, orgasmic bliss, and sting of all the hurtful things she had said. “Can we discuss this tomorrow when we have clearer heads?”

“Sure,” she leaned over and kissed my lips. “I love you. You know that right?”

“Yeah… I think. But I’m too tired to think anymore. I love you too. Good night.”

She started to read as she always did after sex with me. I didn’t quite understand it, but, somehow, sex with me invigorated her and I took pride in that.

In the morning, I still wasn’t ready to discuss what occurred manisa escort the night before. I wasn’t that night either, considering it was Thursday which, like Tuesday, was my long day. That included three more classes, a four hour shift, and a two and a half hour once a week evening class. I was taking extra credits to fulfill the requirements for my double major and the extra hours two days a week wore me down.

Even though I wasn’t in the mood to talk, she was. “So, I stopped by the coffee shop today and told Adam you said yes. He’s moving in tomorrow.”

I was watching tv after eating my reheated dinner. She had just come out of the bathroom and it took me a minute to realize what she had said. “You what? He’s what?”

“You heard me. And don’t try to change your mind now. You said yes last night.”

“I did not. I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you kissed my pussy. That was good enough. We both know what you meant.”

“But I never said yes,” I continued to argue pointlessly.

“Listen, Michael. I don’t want to fight and I don’t want to play games. Do you remember our first real date, on Valentine’s Day, when you told me you always wanted me to be open and honest with you no matter what and we both promised to be faithful to one another or break it off, first?”

“Yes, of course. But you had already been unfaithful.”

“No I wasn’t! There was no promise of fidelity just because you were paying half the rent. You were sleeping on my couch!”

“But I was faithful to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you want me to truly be open and honest with you, then you can’t hold me accountable for anything I did before we made our promises. Are you going to be a jerk just because I wasn’t a virgin like you? Or do you want me to be honest? Which one? You can’t have both.”

“I want you to be honest. Brutally honest, if need be.”

“Good. I know you’re feeling guilt and shame for getting so aroused last night by the things I said to you that would fill most men with rage. You’re probably thinking that if you show any more of your true feelings, I’ll reject you. But nothing could be further from the truth. Speaking of truth, I want to play truth or dare again!”

I shook my head, “Truth or dare?”

“Yeah, like we played last night. I told you the truth and dared you to fuck me better than you ever had before!” She giggled.

“Okay,” I smiled, tired, but always horny.

“But I want the truth from you, too,” she grabbed my arm and led me over to the bed. I lay on my back. She climbed up, got on her knees and sat back on her calves right near my waist. “As a future psychologist, I have a theory about you and I want to know if I got it right.” She unbuckled my belt and slid my jeans and boxers down to my knees.

“Now, you’re first girlfriend cheated on you, right?”

“I already told you the story.”

“Just humor me,” she said with her eyes focused intently on my soft prick. I was a little embarrassed knowing I was much more of a ‘grower’ than a ‘shower’, but I said, “Yes, she did.”

“And she cheated on you with your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever get to feel the inside of her tight little pussy like he did?”

“No.”

“Did she ever give you a blow job like she did him?”

“No.”

“Did she ever give you a hand job like she did for several other guys she considered to be just friends?”

“No.”

“Did she ever even let you get to second base, to touch those big plump tits of hers?”

“No.”

“She wasn’t really your girlfriend, was she? She was just using you to get rides back and forth from work, wasn’t she? When you found out she was gangbanged by five guys at a party and stopped seeing her, you knew you were just used, didn’t you?”

By now, my dick was throbbing and bouncing uncontrollably, “Yes, I knew.”

“And I bet you even liked it, getting used. I bet you jerked off thinking about it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered reaching my hand to stroke myself.

“No, no, nooo. It’s time to rest for a bit. Close your eyes. Think happy thoughts. Let your erection go back down.”

For the first few minutes all I could think about was that girl and how I’d hear about her messing around with another guy, refuse to believe, but later those nights, I’d jerk off thinking about her doing those things. What made it worse was I had tried to get to second base on four separate occasions, but she pushed me away every time. I probably would have dumped her after hearing about the drug induced gang bang, but her stepdaddy sent her away and I never saw her again. Kristy knew all this, except the jacking off part, and I wondered what kind of game she was playing. Eventually I cleared my head and my penis shriveled back down to its thumb sized version.

“And what about your second girlfriend? Did you ever get to feel or even get to see that sweet little shaved pussy of hers?”

“Please, I think I’ve had enough of this game.”

“Too bad. I want to play. And the only reason you knew it was even shaved was because you mersin escort became friends with the guy she dumped you for, right?”

“I told you this.”

“Do you realize how pathetic that is?”

“Yes, okay. Please stop.”

She was silent for a moment when her words didn’t have the desired reaction on my penis. I guess I had drifted off for a minute when she woke me up fully nude with her breasts hanging in my face and her hand stroking my cock. “Baby,” she pleaded, “I want to hurt you.”

“Wha-what?” I inquired a bit startled.

“Come on, baby. I need this. You need this. Let me hurt you.”

“Wh-why?”

She returned to her previous position near my waist, her eyes once again fixated on my now, thanks to her soft hands, semi-erect penis. “Let’s talk about you second girlfriend, that pussy you could only dream of while other guys got to see it, to feel it. How many were there?”

“Three, I think.”

“Three that you know of for sure, but how many others? Think of all those guys you worked with who used to snicker behind your back because she was flirting with them when you weren’t around and even when you were but she thought you weren’t looking. How many of them do you think fucked her? Or at least got a blow job or a hand job or got to feel her perky little tits like you didn’t?”

I still couldn’t understand why she was doing this. I told her these things in confidence because of her stories about her ex-boyfriend, not so she could use them to manipulate me or whatever this was, but, still, I was completely aroused and I answered her question, “I have no idea.”

“Guess,” she commanded bitingly.

“Nine, maybe ten, maybe more.”

“Oh, I hope it was more, don’t you?”

“Um, no?”

“Baby, I want you to take yourself back to those days when you jacked off thinking about her cheating on you. I want you to think back to those times you made out with her. How many other guys would settle for just a kiss?”

“Not many, I guess.”

“That’s right and we both know she kissed a lot of them. I bet there were times when she’d go off with one of them at work while his buddy watched out for him. She’d suck him off, swallow his cum, pop a piece of gum in her mouth and then get you to the side and French kiss you. And everyone would laugh at you. You know that happened, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“And aren’t you glad it happened? That she humiliated you like that in front of everyone all the time?”

“Yes, I guess I am.” I was so horny by this point I’d have probably agreed to anything she wanted me to say, but I couldn’t help feeling like there was some truth to it. I had masturbated many times out of jealousy after seeing her flirt with another guy and it happened more times than I can possibly remember. I also knew that people were laughing at me behind my back every time I believed one of her bullshit stories.

“That’s it, baby. Take the pain. Accept it. Love it. Enjoy it.”

“Huh?”

“Think about what happened, how bad it hurt in your chest but how good it felt in your groin. You loved it, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Once again, she remained silent and let my erection fade. Then she took my arm and placed my hand on her breast, “You know, it doesn’t matter if you got to second base with them, you got there with me, and to third, and even home.”

As I gently squeezed her breast, the thought occurred to me that if things worked out, this would be the only pair of breasts I’d ever get to touch. That thought saddened me at first, then it aroused me, and then, it somehow comforted me. I whispered, “You know, they hurt me but they led me to you just like the guys who hurt you led me to you.”

She leaned over, glided her lips back and forth over mine several times before our mouths opened and we twirled tongues. I never wanted that moment to end, but when it did, I was surprised at what she said, “You know I’m just like them, though. You know I love hurting you, don’t you?”

I was saddened and looked up with her with glazed eyes, “Really? Just like them? Are you going to cheat on me?”

“No. No. Maybe not JUST like them. I won’t cheat. I promised. But, baby, last night I discovered something profound, not just about you, but about me, too. I wanted to test it here tonight and I’m now certain that what I researched in the library today was absolutely correct. I know exactly what you are.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re just not wired like a normal straight guy. A woman’s body doesn’t arouse you the way it should if you were. You’re obviously…”

“Now, wait just a minute,” I interrupted, “Just because I’m different doesn’t mean I’m gay. I don’t care what those stupid books say.”

She started laughing. “Honey, I’m a psychology major, not an ignorant inbred redneck idiot. I’m well aware that the world is neither black and white, nor straight and gay. There are many facets of human sexuality that sometimes cross the wires of sexual orientation, but that’s a different set of wires entirely. You’re not wired like a normal gay guy or a normal bisexual guy, either. I’m not talking about who you like; I’m talking about what you like. Most guys, most PEOPLE are wired to seek pleasure. That’s normal; that’s what we evolved to seek as our primary pathway to sexual gratification. They may enjoy a little pain because it heightens the senses, but most people are aroused by pleasure because that’s the only way to insure genetic reproduction.”

The phone buzzes on Elizabeth Ann’s desk. It isn’t much of a desk; just a small stand big enough to hold the phone and a note pad. But then her job as an order checker doesn’t require much more.

Beth picks up the receiver, “Warehouse, shipping.”

“Hey Elizabeth, this is Amy from personnel. Would you like to go to lunch with me? I know a great little deli that has the best fried shrimp sandwiches you have ever eaten.”

“Thanks that would be great Amy. I just have two more orders to check and then I’ll be free. I’ll meet you out front.”

“OK I’ll see you in a bit,” Amy Michelle answers her.

It is Beth’s third day on the job working part-time as an order checker in the large medical supply warehouse. She is in graduate school majoring in paleontology; a subject that has fascinated her ever since her father bought her a book about dinosaurs when she was a little girl.

She has a grant which helps pay most of her tuition, books and living expenses but it does not cover all of her bills. So in order to pay her car note, auto insurance and give her some additional spending money Beth took a job at a department store working 35 hours a week. But when she heard about the opening here working just 30 hours a week she jumped at the opportunity. Not only is the pay better but she also has weekends off.

As she checks the last order Beth tells herself that it will be nice not to have to eat lunch all alone. Up till now all her coworkers in the warehouse have treated her as though she has some kind of contagious disease. True, she is always on the stock boys for pulling the wrong stock. But that is the job she was hired to do.

She is supposed to tell the order pullers — all kids from the local university — where they have made a mistake. She doesn’t make a big deal of it. She just tells them what stock they pulled and then tells them what stock they should have pulled. That’s what Kevin, her boss, told her to do. That’s what Amy told her the job would consist of when she was hired. If they didn’t like it then they should take it up with him or with her.

She wonders if her being the only white female in the warehouse has anything to do with the way those horny college studs treat her. Probably not, she is sure that they would fuck any woman that offered it to them and she is not about to do that. The next man she goes to bed with, she has told herself since high school, is going to have to offer her more than a hard dick and a one night stand.

What Beth doesn’t know is that Amy has two reasons for asking the twenty-two year old to lunch. Amy had interviewed all the prospective job seekers for the order checker position and she chose Beth for the job. She did it not only because Beth was qualified for the position — the qualifications were only a high school diploma — but also because of something Beth revealed about herself in the interview.

Amy revealed to Beth that if she were hired she would be working with several college students who might try to get her in bed or sexually harass her. But Beth told her that she was not worried about that. She said that although she was practically a virgin, only having had sex with one guy and one girl during high school — something she has since regretted — she could handle herself. It was also the way she said it that perked Amy’s interest in her.

During the interview Amy was able to get Beth to talk about herself, to reveal herself. Amy has that ability with people. She could see that Beth was nervous. So to calm the young woman down and to further help her relax, Amy sat right next to Beth, not across the desk from her as she did for the other applicants.

Amy told Beth that she was the only female who applied for the position. She also told Beth that she wanted her to tell her about her likes, her dislikes, her favorite type of music, television show and things of that nature.

This made Beth feel more relaxed. She was so relaxed and felt so at ease sitting next to Amy that she started talking about herself and she revealed some things about herself that she had never told anyone else.

She said that her father died when she was little and that her inflexible mother did not allow her to date until her senior year in high school. Having no experience dating boys, she had sex with a guy that year who she thought loved her.

It was only after he fucked her that she found out that he was only going out with her and had sex with her in order to win a bet with a friend of his.

Then in a backlash she had sex with a girl she barely knew. They were in the school library when she confided in the girl what the boy did to her. The girl told her that she would be better off sticking with women; a woman wouldn’t use her as the boy had done.

The next day Beth saw the girl in the girl’s locker room and asked her what she meant. The girl then grabbed her shoulders and kissed her hard on the lips, shooting her tongue deep into Beth’s mouth. Beth didn’t fight her. Her emotions took over and she let the girl ardahan escort have her way with her.

At the time Beth was in the gym and getting dressed for her next class; she was clad only in her panties and bra. She pushed Beth’s bra up and began to fondle her breasts and nipples. Then she pulled Beth’s panties down and began to lick her pussy lips. Beth opened her legs wider and soon the girl was licking and sucking on her clitoris.

Beth just sat on the bench and let the girl continue. She was giving Beth pleasures that she had never before experienced with another person. Within minutes Beth had a tremendous orgasm. It was her first orgasm with another person.

Beth revealed these things about herself in a very demure almost embarrassed fashion. She told Amy that she doesn’t think that she is frigid toward men or that she’s a lesbian or anything. She even asked Amy if she thought that she was frigid or a closet lesbian or something. Amy told her no.

She also revealed to Amy that, in her opinion, she is very liberal in her sexual views. Indeed, she enjoys using an electric vibrator on herself every now and then. Although she now believes that sex is not for high school students — they are not mature enough according to Beth.

Nor is she saving herself for mister right. She wants to have sex with a man but doesn’t know how to discern whether someone is in it solely for his own pleasure or if he wants to please her also.

Further, she doesn’t believe in going to bed with some guy just because he takes her out on a date. She just wants to feel something, have some kind of passion, for the next guy she goes to bed with. She also wants him to have some kind of feelings for her other than just another point on his score card or another notch on his bedpost.

Amy has no intention of becoming someone who will just use Beth for their own personal sexual gratification.

During the interview last week, Amy perceived that Beth is a sexually repressed young woman. She saw too that Beth had only one thing on her mind while they were talking and that was making a good impression in order to get the job. Beth did not notice the fascination Amy had for her or the “chemistry” that existed between them. Unbeknownst to Beth, Amy took an immediate liking to her and hoped to become good friends with her; her first reason for inviting Beth to lunch.

She also hoped to eventually introduce the sexually deprived young woman to the world of BDSM and sexual slavery. It was with these thoughts in mind that she invited Beth to lunch.

Amy is waiting for Beth in the parking lot. It is a windy day. As Beth walks toward Amy’s car a sudden gust catches Amy’s skirt and blows it up, revealing long, slim legs. The sight of Amy catching her skirt and holding it down reminds Beth of the famous scene with Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch, where she is standing over a street grating and a gust of wind blows up her dress. The scene has always invoked a feeling of sensual joy in Beth. She smiles as she approaches Amy.

Although Beth is eleven years younger than Amy she feels at ease with the slightly older woman. “Thanks for asking me to join you Amy. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“No of course not, I’m always happy to help out. Look Elizabeth, I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be the new kid on the block. So tell me how are those horny toads in the stockroom treating you?”

“Horny toads, is that what you call them?” she laughs. “They’re no bother. Oh and call me Beth, OK?”

“Sure thing Beth,” Amy responds as she opens her car door for Beth.

The ride to the deli only takes about five minutes and another five or ten minutes to get their sandwiches. The two women fill the time in small talk about work. After getting their orders Amy directs Beth to a seat in the rear of the deli.

“Do you come here often,” Beth inquires?

“I try to come about once a week. They also have great roast beef sandwiches. So tell me, what does a beautiful, single woman like you do for fun on weekends?” Amy is trying to find out what Beth does for sexual enjoyment.

“Oh, if I don’t have a date — I frequently don’t because I refuse to go to bed with a guy just because he takes me out — then I usually spend my time reading romance novels or I go to a movie or I work on my hobby.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re going to think that I’m crazy or something.”

“No I won’t,” Amy says. “Unless your hobby is scuba diving naked in the Arctic Ocean or wrestling mountain lions or something just as weird.”

“No, it’s nothing that drastic. I like to draw women’s lingerie, particularly sexy lingerie.”

“What’s so crazy about that? I love sexy lingerie. I’ve got twenty-five or thirty different types of teddies, nighties, bodices and other such sexy outfits. I wear them often in order to get my husband, Richard excited. Are your drawings any good?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve only been drawing them in adıyaman escort my spare time since I started graduate school. It helps me relax.”

“I’d like to come up to your apartment and see some of your drawings and maybe get some ideas about some new and different kinds of lingerie.” She pauses and looks into Beth’s eyes. Then playfully says, “Hey! Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to invite me up to see your etchings with something in mind other than showing them to me?” Then she laughs.

Beth laughs with her and tells her that she has several dozen drawings but none of them are good enough for publishing or getting her a job as a fashion designer. Beth admits that she is not an artist, especially when adding faces and bodies to her drawings; she just likes to draw lingerie. She also tells Amy that she is welcome to come and see her drawings anytime she likes. Amy makes a mental note to do just that as soon as possible.

They finish their lunch talking about work, the hottest Hollywood sex symbols and other such small talk; although it is Amy who directs the conversation in the direction of Hollywood sex symbols.

She gets Beth to admit that she would love to be ravished by a famous movie star, regardless of that person’s sex. She gets Beth to divulge this because she wants to confirm what she already suspects of Beth: That she is a sexually repressed, closet bisexual young woman who is just waiting for someone to come along and unlock her wanton desires and make a sex slave out of her.

The following evening Amy goes to Beth’s apartment and knocks on her door. Beth is surprised to see her; she didn’t expect the personnel manager to come so soon. She apologizes to Amy for the mess her apartment is in. She explains that she was at the university studying some fossils and hasn’t had time to clean up.

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Amy says to her. “I’ve come to see your drawings, not your apartment. Here, I’ve brought you a chilled bottle of rose’ wine. Now why don’t you put that back on ice before it gets too warm and get me those etchings of yours. I’m dying to see them.”

“How sweet of you Amy but you shouldn’t have gone to such an expense.”

“Nonsense now let me see your etchings.”

They spend the evening sipping wine and looking at Beth’s drawings of women’s lingerie. Amy tells Beth that she has quite a talent producing different kinds of lingerie but she has to agree with Beth that her drawings, while very good, are not star quality. She advises Beth to take some art lessons, that by investing in her talent, she could become a real good fashion designer in no time.

By the time Amy is ready to leave Beth is quite tipsy from the wine. At the door Amy gives her a big hug and kisses her on the cheek. Then she looks into Beth’s hungry eyes and gives her a very light peck on her lips. Beth blushes and casts her eyes down but Amy reaches out, picks up her chin and gives her a big smile.

She tells her that she really likes her and that she hopes that they can become good friends. Then she kisses Beth on the lips again and quickly turns around and heads for her car, leaving Beth to ponder Amy’s kissing her on the lips.

Beth didn’t think about it too much. But that night after taking a hot shower, she went to bed in the nude. Then she fucked herself with her vibrator for 45 minutes, giving herself numerous orgasms, before finally, blissfully falling to sleep.

The next several months see the two women become close friends. They often spend an afternoon together at SAMS Spa in one of the saunas there or an evening together enjoying a glass or two of wine, usually at Amy’s house where she introduces Beth to her husband, Richard.

All too frequently their conversations are about dating and sex. To help Beth open up sexually, Amy reveals to Beth that she and Richard frequently have other men and women over to have sex with them and that sometimes their sex parties last all weekend long. This revelation takes Beth totally by surprise. It causes Beth to perceive Amy with an aurora of mystique, which draws her closer to the slightly older woman.

At Amy’s urging and as their conversations become more detailed, Beth divulges her innermost secrets to her. Beth partially blames her overly strict mother for her lack of knowledge about men and dating. It wasn’t until her second year at college that she really got into the dating scene. Even then it was mostly casual.

Beth freely admits that she is inexperienced when it comes to having sex. She complains that every time a date touches her intimately she freezes. She wants to make love but cannot let herself go. This causes her a lot of frustration. She wishes she could relax with a date the way she does when she is with Richard and Amy.

To help Beth relax and overcome her downcast mood over sex and dating both Richard and Amy offer her an occasional hug and a “comforting shoulder” which causes Beth to become quite fond of them both.

Amy karabük escort is ever so slowly drawing Beth into her confidence and helping her to release her pent up emotions. Once while Richard is off visiting a friend for the evening Amy has Beth take off all her clothes. Then she gives Beth a sensuous massage. Later, when Beth got back to her apartment, she fucked herself with her vibrator until she was completely exhausted.

Another time when Amy visits Beth at her apartment she has Beth paint a pink baby doll negligee’ on her naked body. She tells Beth it’s a surprise for Richard, which is true. But her secondary motive is to get the younger woman feeling comfortable touching another woman’s naked body. The entire incident is very sensuous for both women. Before she leaves Amy suggests to Beth that she masturbate with her vibrator. Beth fucks herself for over two hours after Amy leaves.

Sill another time on a Saturday afternoon when Richard is exercising at SAMS Spa, the two women relax in the nude in Amy’s hot tub in the back yard. Amy tells Beth that she has a very beautiful body especially noting the perfect amount of hair on her Venus mound; it is just thick enough to cover her pussy lips. When Richard comes home unexpectedly Amy asks him to join them in the hot tub.

Standing next to the hot tub, Richard takes off all his clothes in front of Beth and steps into the hot tub. Beth is taken aback by this and looks to Amy to see if she is going to object to Richard’s actions. But Amy just reminds Beth that she and Richard are very liberal sexually. She then comments to Richard what a beautiful pussy Beth has. This causes Beth to blush deeply. Amy notices this and playfully tells her not to be so modest. Then she commands Beth to stand up and show herself to Richard.

At first Beth objects. But after some coaxing from Amy and assurances to the younger woman that she would be doing nothing wrong, and in fact would be insulting Richard if she didn’t show herself to him, Beth stands up and shows her naked body to Richard. She blushes again and gives him a demure smile when he too comments on how beautiful she is.

One particular Friday evening, as Richard supplies frequent refills to their glasses of wine, Beth discusses her latest dating failure with a guy she met at the university center.

“I wish I knew how to please a man sexually. I’m tired of getting it from my vibrator,” she complains. “I would give up completely and go join a cloistered monastery or something but I need the intimacy I could get from someone who loves me. Assuming I can find such a person.”

She is slightly tipsy from the wine. “I need to meet someone and get fucked by someone who cares about me and who would make sex incredible for me. But I don’t know how to go about finding such a guy.”

“Well Beth there is only one way to get experience . . .”

“I mean look at the two of you,” Beth interrupts Amy, “you’re made for each other and you have a great sex life.”

Both Amy and Richard enjoy Beth’s hints and subtle flirting. Indeed, Amy wants Beth to flirt with Richard. She wants Beth to feel comfortable being sexual in his presence. Amy and Richard have a strong, loving relationship. Richard has no doubts about Amy’s feelings for him, and she has no doubts about Richard’s feelings for her. Besides, neither is a possessive or jealous type of person.

Then Beth says, “I guess if I get too horny I can always masturbate with my vibrator while visualizing Richard in the nude or imagining that it is Richard who is fucking me.”

Not wanting to encourage or discourage her neither Richard nor Amy gives Beth a response to this.

But Beth suddenly blushes deeply, believing that she has said something wrong. Amy notices this and tries to reassure Beth that she has not said anything wrong, that her speaking out is a normal reaction to the all wine and conversation. But Amy’s bolstering has no effect on the embarrassed, young woman. She quickly excuses herself, thanks them for a lovely evening and goes home.

After she leaves Amy turns to Richard and says, “She is just over reacting to all the wine. She’ll come around. But at least now we know that she wants you to fuck her and she wants to be a sex slave. She just hasn’t acknowledged it yet.”

Richard nods his approval, picks up the wine glasses and heads for the kitchen; Amy heads for the shower.

Elizabeth Ann drives home with tears in her eyes. She believes that she almost destroyed a beautiful relationship with her new friends. But she cannot deny the emotions running rampant through her body; she has strong feelings for both Richard and Amy Michelle. She shoves her hand down between her legs and finds that her vagina is wet with her juices.

As soon as she is home she goes to her bedroom. Crying, she strips naked and begins fucking herself with her electric vibrating dildo. She repeatedly fucks herself, unable to stop the persistent rush of thoughts that make her long to be made into Richard’s sex slave and to experience uninhibited sex with Amy.

She wants to feel that she is loved and appreciated by them and that they desire her as much as she desires them. But she is torn between her wanton desires and her wanting to remain their good friend. She believes that if her relationship with them turns sexual they will tell her not to come over any more.

I used to be able to sleep. I used to look forward to bed time, a time for relaxation and rest and recovery from the stress of the day. I would fall into bed and drift off, leaving the day behind.

Now, I’m almost afraid to go to bed. No matter how exhausted I am, when I get into bed I just can’t shut down. My thoughts race, I worry about the day past and the day to come, and neither breathing exercises nor attempts at meditation have aided me.

I don’t want to use drugs. I think it’s unhealthy to have a dependence on a taken substance in order to sleep. Besides, whenever I cave in and take an anti-histamine or melatonin the sleep that I get isn’t restful. I just blank out and wake up groggy. As opposed to the rest of the time when I get fitful spurts of rest that barely enable me to make it through the day.

I want, I need, something that will help me reset my sleep cycle and get back into being able to sleep. I can’t afford a new bed. I can’t afford anything expensive. The decision to step into the herbalist shop that I used to sneer at is one of pure desperation.

A tinkling bell heralded my entrance into the ill-lit shop. Most of the light came from the sun streaming through dingy front windows. It smelled musty and stale, a faint hint of marijuana and tobacco immediately finding my nostrils. I almost walked right back out again, rather than explore this dump, but it was too late. I had been spotted by a clerk appearing from the back. I was now firmly trapped by politeness.

She had fair hair, wrapped up into a multitude of braids, which was in turn swept up into a pile atop her head. Shorter than me though I’d say at least 5’2″ tall. She wore what I thought of as hippie clothing, all natural looking fibers and dull colors, flat sandals on her feet. Her face was adorable though, elfin and sprightly were the words that popped into my head at the mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. A smile that I couldn’t help but return drew my eyes to her very red lips. Despite my prejudice, I felt myself wondering what she looked like out of all that baggy clothing. Would she be curvy or athletic? I thought she had a good sized bust, but it was hard to tell. I had no idea why I wished she were showing some cleavage so that I could see more of her creamy skin.

When I realized she had been talking to me, I started and shook myself.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I tend to zone out a bit. That’s actually why I came in. I don’t want something that will just put me to sleep, I’m looking for something to help me regain a natural sleep cycle. Do you have anything like that?” My voice raised into a pleaful yet skeptical tone at the question. I didn’t think they would, or if they did, that I’d be able to afford it.

Still smiling, she replied, “I might have just the thing. First, I want to ask you a few questions to determine if we can help you. First of all, my name is Penelope. What’s your name?”

Her presence was relaxing to me, and even the smell of the store wasn’t getting on my nerves anymore.

“My name is Helen. Helen Browder.”

“Nice to meet you Helen. Come with me, we’ll go sit down and talk about what we can do for your issue.”

She led me to the back of the store where there were two threadbare couches upholstered in a ghostly red shade. I almost didn’t sit, fearing the couch would be home to rats or mice or spiders even, if not cockroaches, but I was, unsurprisingly, quite tired and they did look soft.

It helped that Penelope sat gracefully down on one and nothing came skittering out.

I sat on the other couch and faced her. She leaned towards me and I found myself inexplicably wishing that she were wearing a shirt with a lower neckline.

“I think it is wonderful, first of all, that you don’t want to become dependent on drugs to help you sleep. Sleep is a natural part of our lives and we should all be able to do it, without any extra chemical aids beyond what our own bodies produce. Besides, adding extra chemicals into our bodies never really lets us have the right kind of sleep, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed and stifled a yawn. The couch was quite soft and comfortable and, at this moment, felt a whole lot better than my bed had in months.

“How much sleep are you getting each night, on average, without any added chemicals? I use the word chemicals rather than drugs, because most people don’t realize that alcohol, for example is a drug. Anything that we ingest into our bodies can be considered a drug. What we ingest, whether it be chocolate or morphine, has a real chemical effect on our bodies. So, what I’m asking is how your sleep is on nights that you neither drink alcohol, nor take anything specifically to aid your sleep.”

Following her words was difficult. Partly it was that she spoke quickly and her voice was low pitched. She also jumped from subject to subject, explaining one clause before she finished the whole thought. Yet another kastamonu escort aspect was my ever present tiredness that seemed to be getting worse each passing minute. I took a moment to think about what she had asked.

Then I woke up. I knew from painfully gotten experience that I hadn’t been out for long, but it was still embarrassing.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “Um, I think I’ve been getting like four hours per night, but it is all in little spurts like that where I drop off and wake up. At least, I feel like I’m awake at least one minute for every minute I manage to sleep.”

“No worries,” Penelope replied, her face reflecting concern. “I think from that vivid demonstration I can recommend something for you.

“The owner of this shop holds sleep retreats on weekends when there are enough people interested to fill a class. Usually we have a long wait time as we gather enough participants, but I just had a last minute cancellation for the one he is holding this weekend. Since it is a cancellation, I can give you a great deal on the price, and truly Hun, I think you need this.”

I asked what was most important to me first. “How much is this great deal going to cost?”

“$100, which is discounted from the normal price of $400. It includes meals from Friday dinner to Sunday lunch, lodging, activities and a money-back guarantee that your sleep will begin to improve immediately,” she explained. I knew a sales pitch when I heard one, but the money-back guarantee did make it a relatively safe bet. Maybe.

“What does the workshop involve? Like, what would I be doing there?”

Her eyes crinkled as she grinned.

“Well, I can’t tell you everything of course as it is a proprietary method, but you will be learning how to sleep. You’ll be getting in touch with the side of yourself that knows how to fall asleep and rest and renew yourself. He guides you through finding the key to your sleep issue,” she exhaled and looked a little embarrassed. “He did it for me. At one point in my life I was getting two hours of sleep a night at most. But Mr. Mendoza changed all that for me. He can do it for you, too, Helen,” she reached over and touched my hand, holding eye contact.

She looked so sincere. I had a tinge of worry about the worshipful way she spoke of this Mr. Mendoza character, but I had confidence in myself as well. Sure, I had a problem, but I wasn’t some naïve child to be recruited by some cult, if that’s what it even was. She might just have a crush on him for all I knew.

$100. It was about the limit of what I could afford after trying so many things to get to sleep. Her hand was cool and dry on mine. It felt so good simply to be touched by someone. My love life had taken a dive with this sleep problem. But I was sure she didn’t mean anything in that way, she was just one former sufferer comforting a current sufferer.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” I replied heavily. She squeezed my hand and bounced in place.

“You won’t regret this, Helen, I promise you!” she squealed at me. “Follow me to the counter and I’ll get your information. Our shuttle will pick you up from your work or home Friday evening, you don’t even have to drive yourself! It is all part of the service, so not a word of protest,” she grinned back at me as she led me by the hand to the front of the store.

I gave her my information and requested to be picked up from home. I got a list of what to bring and what to leave behind for the weekend. She told me that the payment should be in cash and that they could collect it when they picked me up in two days.

***

After two more fitful nights, I felt ready to try anything, no matter how silly or new age it might seem. I had my cash, and my bag, which included no “extraneous distractive devices, such as cell phones, music players or video game systems.” The shuttle would be arriving any moment now.

Sitting on my couch in the front room, I kept nodding off, but never for long. A knock on the door got me to my feet and when I opened it, Penelope was there grinning at me.

“Surprise!” she yelled to my dumbfounded look. “I forgot to tell you that I’m Mr. Mendoza’s assistant now at the workshop. Oops,” she told me, sounding not at all sorry.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I replied lamely as she enveloped me in a big hug. Her breasts felt huge and firm against my stomach. Her height put her face almost directly into my cleavage and her face was cool against the sudden heat of my skin.

“Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll be learning how to sleep again,” she said in a more serious tone. She grabbed my bag and led me away, cash still clutched in my hand. Bemused, I followed her to a nice looking though non-descript shuttle bus of the type I always saw on ride share ads.

I must have been the last one to be picked up, as all but two of the seats were filled with women who looked like kayseri escort I felt. I assumed the empty driver’s seat was for Penelope, and took the empty front passenger seat beside her. Penelope took the cash I was still clutching from my hand and smilingly placed it into a deposit bag.

“Alright ladies, our next stop is the workshop location. Being out in nature is the only way to get back to your natural sleep rhythms, so the drive will be about two hours from here. For now, enjoy yourselves, talk, relax, sleep if you can, and I’ll put on some soothing nature sounds for us all to enjoy,” Penelope spoke with authority now, none of the sprightliness coming through in her official announcement. She touched a button on the dash and the, to me, highly irritating sounds of nature began to play.

I never liked listening to the nature sounds CDs, in part because they felt fake to me, and in part because the idea of trying to force relaxation on myself rubbed me the wrong way. This one was no different from any other I’d ever overhead and I wanted to talk to Penelope instead.

However, she looked utterly absorbed in her task of driving, which made me feel disinclined to disturb her. Instead I turned to look at the other insomniacs. They all looked… the same. Haunted eyes, make-up barely making a dent in the dark circles under their eyes. Different hair colors, skin tones and clothing, but it was as if they were all based on the same template of sleeplessness. I’m sure I looked no different, but I couldn’t see myself to compare.

No one was talking, most were staring out the windows. I saw one woman jerk up in a familiar motion. I knew just what it felt like to do that fall-asleep-wake-up thing, and now I got to see how I looked to others. No wonder I got so many pitying looks.

I turned back to the front and looked out the windows as the nature sounds played on and the scenery rolled by. We were headed out into the forest and I hoped that the facilities wouldn’t be too primitive. I hadn’t even thought to ask about that. I was too desperate for a cure to care at the time, but now I was fiercely hoping for flush toilets.

I nodded off for a few minutes during the ride, but most of it was just spent looking at trees and listening to ocean waves. I had no idea where we were, other than in a forest on a road that hardly deserved the appellation. I now didn’t want to disturb Penelope for fear that she would crash if she took her attention off the road.

The fear of going off the road and flipping over and dying kept me wide awake for the last half hour of the ride, so I got to see the workshop facility as we drove up. A cluster of cabins surrounding a barn-like structure, all made of wood, were in the middle of a cleared area. I could see a water pump, and I hoped it was merely decorative.

The cabins did at least look clean in the waning light, and the clearing wasn’t overgrown though it was natural looking. Penelope pulled up close to the barn-like structure and stopped the van. The abrupt end of the nature sounds got everyone’s attention.

Penelope turned and addressed the group. Sitting in the front passenger seat, I felt a bit left out of her attentions as she explained that she would be taking our bags to our assigned cabins and that we should proceed into the central meeting room where Mr. Mendoza would be waiting for us.

Doors popped open and we all trooped out through open wooden double doors to what appeared to be a single large room inside the “barn.” I felt myself relax at the sight of carpets and cushions in cool soothing colors arranged in various sized groupings. There was a sideboard laden with food and several urns, probably coffee though I didn’t smell any. There was a central light hanging down and brightly illuminating only the center of the room, which would explain why I didn’t notice Mr. Mendoza in the back of the room until he stepped forward and greeted us.

“Welcome ladies. For the first part of our retreat, we will be in a large group. Please find your name card and have a seat here,” he gestured to a semi-circle of cushions and trays directly under the light.

Looking at him, a cliché came to mind immediately. He was tall, dark and handsome. His voice had a light trace of an accent, but was clear and articulate. It was the kind of voice that a news anchor might have, authoritative, persuasive and trustworthy. For the first time, I really believed that this might have been a good idea.

There were eight of us insomniacs, and nine cushions set up. I felt distanced again when I discovered that I was seated at the far left on the other side of Penelope, according to the name cards. We sat, and Mr. Mendoza stood at the center of our semi-circle. Penelope slipped in beside me before he began to address us again.

“Now, I know that all of you are here because you refuse to become dependent on drugs for the natural kıbrıs escort process of sleep. I commend you all, and I believe as you do, that sleep should be natural. For some reason, each of you has forgotten how to find your sleep. Your minds are refusing to allow your bodies the sleep that they know how to get. To that end, we will be taking a ‘drug’ this evening, but not one that will force us to sleep. Instead we will be drinking this herbal tea that will put off our bodies need for sleep. We are staying up all night tonight.”

His words were compelling, and I found myself agreeing. What better way to reset our sleep schedules than to really break them off and start fresh? Penelope brought over a teapot and poured everyone a cup.

“You can drink as much of this as you like, but you should drink at least one cup every two hours in order to stay completely awake,” Penelope explained as Mr. Mendoza stood back and sipped at his own cup.

“Now, for introductions. My name is Hector Mendoza, and I must insist that you all call me Hector,” he said as Penelope finished pouring. “I have a degree in naturopathic medicine with an emphasis in sleep studies. I have been holding these retreats for five years now, and I haven’t had to issue a refund yet,” he continued with a smile. “You all have different reasons for being here, and we will get into them tonight, but for now please just state your first names. Let’s start over here,” he pointed at the woman on the other end from me.

As the women to my right stated their names I found myself zoning out. I realized I needed to start drinking the tea, and managed to get the cup to my lips just as it was my turn to state my name. I gulped, sputtered, turned red in the face and spoke my name three times before it came out clearly.

Hector smiled at me anyway, and I felt a rush of a different kind of warmth. I firmly attributed it to the gulp of tea and paid attention to Hector’s lecture. He was talking about different reasons that we learn how not to sleep and the various things in our modern culture that contribute to insomnia.

I listened to his words, but I was also preoccupied with how awake I felt. It had been a long time since I had felt anything but tired. Now, my mind was calm and alert; my body felt relaxed but also ready. Hector’s words made sense to me, and I could see the other women nodding as well. We were all interested; we all agreed.

There were no clocks, and, per the instructions, I wasn’t wearing my watch. I had no idea how much time was passing. At one point Hector invited us to go get some food, and to continue to do so as the we felt the need. I reveled in how delicious the strawberries tasted. They were perfectly ripe, sweet and juicy. Practically orgasmic.

Where had that thought come from?

Hector began to ask us questions. What did we think about when we tried to sleep? When had our insomnia started? He skipped randomly through the group, not letting anyone talk for longer than it took to answer his question. I found myself revealing that I hadn’t had sex for months. No answer was lingered on, we simply spoke and then he asked another question.

I found myself feeling as if the words the other women spoke were my own. Their answers were so similar to what I myself would have said. I realized that we were all related in a way. We had a common culture and a common reaction to it.

“Julie, how have your masturbation habits changed since your insomnia?” Hector asked. I froze at the mention of masturbation. To me, it was one thing to talk about sex in a vague way, but to talk about sex with oneself was wrong. I never even liked to think about the fact that I had ever masturbated, even when I was doing it. I felt myself withdraw internally.

“Well, I used to masturbate regularly, but not a lot. Now, I find myself lying awake in bed and just touching myself. The weird thing is that it doesn’t feel good anymore,” Julie answered without a trace of self-consciousness. My discomfort increased at her matter-of-factness. Even though Hector turned on to other subjects, I still felt stiff and awkward.

The talking session, as promised, went on all night. I never felt as connected as I had before the things turned so frankly sexual though. I felt aloof from the group. It was as if I could see them all bonding, shutting me out in the process. I kept drinking my tea to stay awake and answered questions when I was asked. I got caught up in dreading being asked something so sexual that I wouldn’t be able to answer, but somehow Hector never asked me those questions.

“We have been awake, aware and alert all night ladies. We have discovered that we are not so alone as we might have thought. Each of you has discovered that it is our modern culture that causes us to forget how to sleep. Today we will have some group activities outdoors as well as some one-on-one sessions. Feel free to talk with each other and counsel each other. You all know how to sleep; help each other relearn.” Hector finished speaking and walked to the back of the room, disappearing into shadows.

Penelope hopped up and grinned at us. “Alright, go to your cabins, get showered and change clothing. When you’re done come back here for breakfast. Your room numbers and keys are on the reverse of your name cards.”

It was another night, another of the delightful and dark nights that set free the reeling evil spirits. He spread his wings and when he rose into the stormy sky he felt the dark power of his evil Mistress fill his heart. Shadowspawn was what the humans called him, and that he was – a creature of darkness and doom, forged from the shadows in the abyss of the Dark One’s prison, his claws made from deadly steel hardened in cauldrons of blood, and his wings woven from the spider webs that were gathered in the dungeons beyond Raven Castle. He was a creature in the sense of the word, he had been created by a mistress in her trade to become a bearer of evil in perfection.

And tonight he was set free to hunt again. It had been too long since he last had been sent to haunt the sleepy quarters of this corner of the world, and even longer since he had been given an assignment as delicate as was this one. As he spiralled up into the pitch black sky he licked his lips in anticipation, and his Song of Death started to emerge from deep within his soul.

Lost in memories of ancient ages and hunts in long lost realms he crossed the land, oblivious to the fear his giant shadow provoked in those on the ground, unaware of the insignificant humans that cuddled together in corners and didn’t really care whom he was after just as long as he wouldn’t descend on them. Strange as it may sound, göztepe escort the Draghkar was happy and when he burst into a joyful laughter it sounded like the chiming bells from the long lost towers of Atlantis. But soon a slight change in his composure could be noticed, his senses becoming more alert as before him he saw white towers rise like sun bleached bones against the velvety black night sky. There was his destination – and a sorceress’ destiny to be fulfilled.

His eyes scanned the ground as he circled the spires of the White Palace, sensing his prey in one of the upper chambers in the central tower. When he drew closer he started his enchanting song again, the Song of Death that is so sweet to the heart and soul of those who listen and so deadly at the same time. It did not take him long – his instructions had been detailed and precise – to spot the balcony that would give him access to his victim’s chamber and with a few strokes of his wings he had soon covered the distance and perched on the cold stone of the Palace. Like fine lines of spun mist his song wrapped around him like a cloak, and soon the first fine threads crept towards the closed doors, towards the sorceress inside who was not even aware that her senses had already been dulled by the mighty Creature of Darkness outside.

Tigana was çorlu escort standing in front of the high mirror, getting ready for the night. Her golden hair hung down her back in a heavy braid that was held together with a simple white ribbon, and her night gown fell loosely down over her shoulders and chest, covering her perfect body to the feet. The soft shining material reflected the flickers of the candlelight as Tigana started to turn in front of the mirror. She did not know what made her do it – but she felt the urge to move as if dancing to a song only she could hear. Little did she know that in fact there was someone else partaking in the deadly music that started to deprive her of all her defensive abilities and that with wicked burning eyes the Shadow’s minion enjoyed the show she was subconsciously putting on. He was an expert in weaving the tones of his Song and he was not out for a quick kill tonight, too long had he been deprived of pleasures like this to end it too fast. The Draghkar was delighted – his Mistress had promised him a good night – and he sure was enjoying this assignment.

Tigana’s body was covered with a soft golden glow as the weaves of the deadly song intruded deeper and deeper into her thoughts and soul and she slowly started to raise the gown in her dance, displaying perfect little feet and ümraniye escort delightfully slim ankles before revealing her firm thighs and perfectly rounded hips to the lurker outside. Her flat belly and lusciously curving breasts were breathtaking as she finally lifted her arms over her head to then let her gown slowly slide to the ground, falling around her feet like a puddle of woven moon light. Watching her stretch and finally caress herself there in front of the mirror in the soft glow of the flickering candles was finally more than the Draghkar could take. He wanted her – and he wanted her now.

A small change in the barely audible tune and Tigana turned away from the mirror and like a sleepwalker approached the balcony. With a deeply contented smile on her face she opened the door’s wings to face her destiny, never really being aware that her end was approaching. The Draghkar perched on the stone wall that surrounded the balcony and when she took the first step out into the chilly night air he opened his wings to embrace his victim. With a happy moan she parted her full shining lips as she clung to the creature’s neck to receive his kiss – his Kiss of Death. He wrapped his ebony wings around her – and before he ended her life he had her die many little deaths, each of them gratefully embraced by the once strong and mighty sorceress, who now was nothing more but a toy for the winged night stalker.

When he rose into the sky again, a cry of triumph shattered the Palace’s tranquillity. The desirable body of Tigana was as cold as the stone floor she lay on, but on her face was the ecstatic smile she shared with all his other victims that betrayed her as the woman she was behind her serene magic armour.

Sarah was late again, it was not her fault, nor was it her new husbands fault but she knew all actions carried a consequence.

Her new husband, Jon, had been brought up in a very strict and loving Baptist, home, as had she, and had spanked Sarah on only their second date for being late for an evening out. On their way home he had taken her down a quiet side street, explained her lateness had incurred a punishment.

He rested his foot up on a step, beckoned her over his raised knee and gave her 20 or 30 hard spanks, to tears on top of her knickers but with her jeans to her knees.

Sarah was trembling as Jon told her to lower her jeans then tapped his knee for her to drape herself over.

As the spanks rained down on her knicker clad bottom, her trembling became excitement and her excitement, pleasure.

The incident was never mentioned again and little did she know it would be the mainstay of her future life with Jon.

********** It was date night and Jon had called for her from home 10 minutes early, nothing new, he was a stickler for punctuality and put that down to his upbringing.

She too had learnt the lesson of punctuality and always tried to be ready 15 minutes before time. The last time she was late was when she was going out with her parents to the theatre, just a matter of months ago, she completely misread her phone when checking the time.

6.30 time to go and she was still in the bath, actually just getting out when the door opened, it was dad, he was so cross when he told her the time, he took her by the wrist and downstairs into the lounge, naked, her young tits bobbing about as he stumbled down each step.

“Wooden Spoon Mother” batman escort her dad said, she had read his mind and passed it to him as he laid her over settee arm, a position she grew up knowing.

He gave her 50 or 60 hard swats and had her screaming her apology.

He stopped as she began to rise, he put his hand in the arch of her back, you stay there miss, we will be back by 10 and be ready for my belt girl.

Her mum left with dad mumbling, “20 year old and still earns a spanking for being late, whatever next.” Mum also knew she was in for it when they got home for not hurrying Sarah along.

Just on 10 they arrived home, mum to the kitchen to put the kettle on and dad in the hall way taking off his coat and changing his shoes for slippers.

She had moved just once, she needed a pee, and told him as he came in, good girl, stand up.

Had she been let off, no, her dad rubbed his hands over her tummy and tits feeling the ridges of the settee arm, something he always did.

She went back over the arm and took a hard leathering on top of her already tanned hide. Her mind was racing, with so many different feelings.

The spanking stopped and her dad sat on his armchair and called her over, she sat on his lap and he cuddled her like a baby for a good 10 minutes still her tears stopped. She apologised again as she headed for the door to the stairs, her mum was just coming through in her dressing gown. She heard her dad tell her to take the same position and she had not got to her room before the first cut of his belt connected with her bottom.

She lay on her bed as she listened to her mums spanking, yalova escort it was nothing new, she rarely saw anything but often heard her being punished, or sent from the lounge with dad following undoing his belt.

Before she knew it she was playing with her pussy and had cum after cum.

She slept on top of the covers that night, and the night after, naked.

Dad popped in on his way to bed and she kneeled up and cuddles him, he rubber her bottom as he kissed the top of her hair.

*********

They walked to the restaurant he had booked it was a celebration, their third date and they had been together a whole 2 weeks, worth celebrating.

She had left the restaurant table after her starter, he thought to go to the ladies, and then saw from the corner of his eye her returning back from outside by a side door. Main course came and went, and so did Sarah. Just before they finished their sweet, Jon excused himself. He went outside where he saw others from the restaurant, smoking, and bang on cue Sara came out and lit up.

On their way back to Sarah’s home she linked up with him and rested her head on his shoulder. They got to her gate and he asked if he could come in with her, she readily agreed.

Once in the hallway Sarah’s father came out of the lounge, he walked over to Jon and greeted him.

He asked Sarah to make tea and take it into the lounge.

“Have you had a good night Jon?”

“Well, food wise yes, but, well, i was a little taken aback by some of your daughter’s actions!”

Brian, Sarah’s father, was intrigued, “Actions?”

“Yes, did you know, she smoked?”

They discussed the evening’s ordu escort events.

Sarah brought in the tea and saw the 2 men talking.

“Sarah, bring your handbags here this minute.”

Sarah knew she was in trouble and passed it to her father, who emptied it on the coffee table. 10 Consulate Menthol cigarettes and a box of matches.

“Sorry Daddy, sorry Jon, i was just trying to be grown up.”

“Well, we will see how grown up soon enough, go to your bedroom, undress and lay over the end on your bed, we will be up in a few minutes.”

She heard the ‘We’ and realised how bad it must be if Daddy is going to wake mummy up for her spanking.

She headed upstairs, into her bedroom and stripped naked, it had been a long time since her Daddy had seen her naked.

Doing as Daddy said she leaned over the bottom of her bed, a position she had become accustomed too over the past years.

She heard the stairs creaking and the door opening, and stretched out her arms and clasped her hands to try and stop her rubbing her bottom.

She heard the buckle of his belt undo, and the drawing of it off his trousers and before she could blink 10 hard cuts in rapid succession across her pure white bottom.

Sarah burst into tears, not only through the pain, but also the fact she had let the 2 most important men in her life.

“Your turn Jon.”

Sarah’s heart missed a beat.

Jon walked to the head of her bed and picked up her 2 pillows, “Stand Sarah and lay over these, i want to spank your sit spot, so hard, you will remember this punishment for quite a few days.”

Sarah stood, her breast on show to the 2 men in her bedroom beating her, yet, it seemed so natural.

She lay on the pillows and Jon doubled her daddy’s count, the pain was such she was screaming, she heard the door close as Jon was finishing her off.

Her bottom was crimson, her mind was racing, her love for Jon was absolute, the beginning of a long HoH relationship.

Runner’s High

Step.

Step.

Step.

The monotonous rhythm of my feet on the forest floor hardly registered anymore. I felt my heels sink a little in the soft ground then my body moved forward and pressed the balls of each foot until finally my toes touched the ground and I pushed off to make my body maintain its speed. Slight pain registered in my legs, indicating that I had been running for a while now, but that wasn’t something to worry about yet. I felt drops of sweat on my back as I perspired faster than it evaporated, even on this warm day. My hair seemed to be continuously plotting to block my vision; I kept pushing it away but it came back as soon as I did.

I heard birds around me but only occasionally saw one. Oh look, a squirrel! And…

Oh my!

It’s the guy who takes the same route I do. We have been seeing each other during runs now for the past few weeks, occasionally making small talk and I have been getting more and more interested in him. He looks okay, not overly handsome, but he has a certain aura around him that attracts me to him. I’m not sure what it is. I took my usual position next to him, ready to talk about the weather and daily events. I had been debating whether or not to take it a little further but did not have the courage yet to ask. He might say no.

“Want to try a little competition?”

His words pulled me out of my daydreaming and I looked at him. He had a playful smile on his face that I had not seen before; he was clearly up to something.

“What kind of competition?”

“Who is fastest getting to the parking lot at the end?”

“Okay, I can do that. So what does the winner get then?”

“Mmmm, interesting question,” he said. “You know, I have been looking at you for karabük escort quite a while now. The winner gets the other for one hour.”

“Say what!”

“Hey, just an offer; I noticed how you have been looking at me. It’s just a fun idea to spice things up.”

“I wasn’t angry,” I said. “Okay, let’s do it. I am going to win you know!”

“Well, let’s go then. Ready, steady, GO!”

While I accelerated I just thought about how I’d gotten myself into this. I liked the idea though, having him for myself for one hour, ha-ha! This was going to be fun. I felt the excitement running through me while I ran. I had started a little faster and I heard him breathing behind me. It stimulated me immensely to just try to run a little harder and create some distance while in my mind ideas started to form; what I could do with him when I won or…what he would do to me if he won. Oh the possibilities, this was going to be so much fun.

When I passed a bunch of trees close together the forest slowly opened up. There! I could see the parking area. I was going to win; he was going to be mine.

SLAM!

My face hit the dirt before I realized I’d fallen on the slippery slope on the way to the parking lot. I quickly got up only to get some extra mud in my face due to him passing by. I ran after him, approaching him fast, but he made it just a few seconds before me. He looked back and smiled.

“I won,” he said.

“Yes you did,” I replied.

“Time for my reward then; you’re mine.”

“Okay, okay, just let me catch my breath.”

“You are dirty with mud.”

“Yes I know.”

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

“What! Here?”

“There is nobody here at this hour osmaniye escort and you know that. Take them off and put them in the car.”

I did as he asked; I was scared, but on the other hand excited. Nobody had been that firm with me before and the thought of being seen not only made my heart race but excited me. Next he told me to run after him, back into the forest. Feeling the wind on my skin, touching my nipples and playing with my pussy got me so horny. I could have just jumped him here but I did as asked and followed him.

He told me to get on my knees before him. I did and looked up with big questioning eyes. What would he want with me? Well I could see what he wanted; he was getting a huge hard-on in front of my eyes. I did not wait and started to strip down his pants and grabbed his erection in my hands. I kept it pointed up and started to lick and nibble on it. That met with his approval. He placed his feet in a more steady position and started to enjoy his moment of victory. I teased the top, playing with my lips and my tongue. “Do it,” he said and I took him in my mouth, sucking at it until I could hear him moan at the touch of my tongue.

He made me stop and took me to a tree that had fallen and lie on it. He got between my legs, which I put on his shoulders for balance. His eager tongue drilled inside my pussy. I closed my eyes, relaxing beneath the touch of his mouth. I could hear the buzz of insects in the forest, activated by the early heat of the day. His tongue found my clit and started to play with it while his fingers closed in and penetrated my pussy. The trunk of the tree rubbed my back; I liked the sturdiness of the bark. A slight wind played with my exposed breasts. The marmaris escort thought of anyone passing by and what they would see got me so excited. That thought and the touch of his tongue pushed me over the edge and I screamed as he brought me to a very intense orgasm.

He pulled me up and turned me, putting my hands on the tree. He grabbed my hips and pushed his cock inside me. I watched the forest, remembering that the path where I tend to run wasn’t that far from here. Other runners could pass us by and I might actually see them. I had another orgasm just thinking about being so exposed, with him moving inside me. I could not help but moan and moan. Please let nobody hear it, please!

He groaned and moaned; I could feel his hands tensing up and his rhythm changed as he came inside me. We sat on the tree for a moment, still touching each other. Then he got up.

“Wait here, I will get your clothes.”

While he went to get my clothes I was reliving the events. I remembered slowing down just before the parking lot. I could have won the race even after the fall, yet I did not. Why? I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to let him win, to see what he was going to do. I looked in the direction of the parking lot and could vaguely see him moving between the trees.

As he walked towards the parking lot, he looked back for a moment and took another look at his prize. Wow, she was something! He got another erection just thinking about what they had just done. On his way to the car he retrieved the bucket that he had used to water down the slope this morning. It had worked quite well to win the game. That and the fact that he had not actually run the whole way; he had taken a shortcut to the spot where he knew she would be.

I know, I cheated, he thought, but the result was worth it.

He got her clothes out of the car and walked back to the spot where they’d had sex. “Here you are. Same time next week? You might win this time?”

“We’ll see,” she laughed. “You did well; I could hardly keep up.”

“May the best runner win and claim the prize! See you next time.”

“Bye!”