Days of pleasure swam together blending into an endless stream of orgasms, punctuated only by hours of foreplay. Eventually I dragged myself back to objective reality enough to register for my summer school class and buy my books.
I can’t adequately describe the feeling of unreality that pervaded my excursion from Bel Air back to my former world of school and students my own age. First of all, my knees were constantly weak, as if I might faint at any moment. I seemed to be looking down on myself from a height above my head. I was observing as much as I was participating in my life. None of it seemed to matter a great deal.
I felt a sense of lack of memory, as if I had forgotten something, something that was right in front of me but I couldn’t think of what it was. A thrill of panic thrummed under every breath, under each mundane action. Something important was slipping past me, it was within my reach and I couldn’t even see it, much less catch it.
“Hi, you’re Jodie, aren’t you?”
I was walking from the bookstore back to the dormitory. I wanted to pick up some more clothes so I would have some variety for classes back at my master’s house, so I could spend even more time there. I was wondering if I would be able to find time to study between orgasms when the voice came over my shoulder and startled me back to campus and college life.
“Yes.” I turned. The boy was one I recognized but I couldn’t think of his name. “I know you, don’t I? You’re…”
“Art, Arthur Clark. We were in calculus together last semester.” His smile was shy and gentle. He reminded me of little puppy.
“I remember you,” I said, “you sat across the room from me.”
“That’s right, I was the one that stared at you day after day.”
I felt my cheeks turn red. I was surprised and pleased that I could still respond to people so seemingly naturally. “Why didn’t talk to me instead of just staring?” To my surprise, I found myself wanting to flirt with him.
“You were always walking with that fellow Brad. I didn’t want to interfere.”
“What made you decide to talk to me now?” I fluttered my eyelashes and tried my best to look demure.
“You’re not with Brad for one thing, and besides…” he hesitated.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know. There’s something different about you, now. You’re not the same as you were last semester.”
“How do you mean, different?”
“Sort of dreamy. You were always so intense last year, as if everything you did was for keeps. Now, you look sort of relaxed, as though you were playing a game.”
“I… I’ve gotten a job,” I said.
“It’s had quite an effect on you.” He looked at me affectionately. “Is your job connected with your major?”
“No, not at all.” I wanted to change the subject. My position with my master was too personal for me to discuss it with anyone. “But it is very demanding. I guess the change you see in me is the result of hard work.”
“Well, hard work certainly seems to agree with you,” he said, “you’re radiant.”
“Thank you.”
We were nearing the dormitories. The air between us was becoming charged with sexual energy. The simple fact of his youthful virility elicited a sympathetic response in my genitals. I pressed my thighs together as we walked, wondering if I should let him seduce me.
Would my master allow me to have other lovers? We had never discussed it. We never discussed anything. My master treated me like property, and I felt fulfilled by it.
It made no sense to me, this relationship that I had developed with a man whose name I did not even know. It was as though He wasn’t a person, He was a force, He was the personification of authority, He was to be adored and obeyed, not understood. My common sense rebelled at the demeaning nature of my subservience to Him, but I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pleasure at the mere thought of my beloved master. I started daydreaming about the thrill of excitement I would feel when my master wanted to punish me.
“Jodie, are you all right?”
“What? Oh…” He brought me back to the present. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “You had a funny look on your face, kind of hypnotized looking.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I must have drifted off. I’ve been working hard, as I said.”
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” I was torn, I wanted to say yes but my first response was no, as if I didn’t have the right to offer myself to anyone without my master’s permission. “I’d like to but I have to go back to my job tonight.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Honestly, Art, we’ll get together another time, I promise.” I hoped I was telling him the truth. I liked him.
“I’ll be back later this evening, my dear,” He said.
“I’ll wait up for you,” I said.
“That will not be necessary, my dear. Will you be able to amuse yourself while I’m out?” He stroked my hair and ran His fingertips along the line of my jaw. He tapped my chin gently.
I felt the power in His hand. It was strong and vibrant, held in check by His will. I wondered if I would feel it unleashed. My pussy itched when I thought of Him slapping my face, or my bottom.
“Yes, Sir, I’ll be fine.” All my speculation of that afternoon was forgotten. It was as though His influence obliterated all other thoughts. I could only think of how I’d greet Him on His return. I avoided all thought of His absence.
He was cool and elegant in His cream colored flannel suit. His tan skin and dark hair contrasted handsomely with the soft fabric.
He told me nothing except that He was leaving and would return. He looked at me steadily. His eyes were unreadable, their lids concealed His intentions under their lazy glance. I saw I was left to my own devises.
I managed to spend an hour preparing for my first class which was coming up in two days. Fortunately, I had no assignment to complete, my mind continually wandered. I couldn’t quite bridge my two realities. They tugged me in opposite directions, independence-subservience, self-assertion-self-debasement, and on and on. I tumbled through vast volumes of doubt and uncertainty.
I decided to take a shower in order to be ready for His return, should He want to use me for His pleasure. I noticed it was time to shave my pussy again, the pubic hairs were growing like whiskers around the lips. I scratched myself there, kind of like a cat would, it felt good.
I turned the water on full and stepped into the steamy spray. Then I shut off the water and covered myself with thick foamy suds, using a big loofa sponge to rub in almond oil and peppermint soap. I completely covered my body with the slippery, creamy soap suds.
Then I took a new razor and shaved my entire body. From neck to ankles, every square inch of skin was put to the double-edged blade and shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom.
I thought about shaving my head as well. I wondered if my master would like that, if He would appreciate my voluntary subjugation. I’m sure He would, I’m sure he’d like to see me temporarily disfigure myself for Him.
I tried to go to bed, to just not think about anything. I powdered myself and pulled my hair back in a pony-tail. I climbed between clean linen sheets but could not close my eyes. I craved some contact, some indication of direction. Should I give myself fully to my master, or should I develop my independent self? Could I even make a decision? Truly, it felt like I had no choice other than to submit completely to the strong, pervasive domination of my master.
I touched my pussy gently when I thought of Him. I dreamed of His arms, His lips, His long, strong penis. Around ten o’clock I started feeling restless. I knew I would have to resolve my ambivalence some time soon, but not now. Now I wanted to fuck Him and get fucked by Him.
I thought I’d go to the pleasure room and tie myself to the leather massage table. The wrist and ankle restraints attached to each of the chromium-plated legs were quite inviting. I’d feel ever so secure spread-eagled up on that table, open and vulnerable my master’s whims.
But He might not come to the pleasure room. I’d be tied up, alone, naked and cold all night. The prospect titillated me a little, but I decided it wouldn’t be worth it if He didn’t happen to find me in time.
I wondered if I should wait for Him in His bed. I could get under the covers at the foot of the bed. That way He would see that I was there but wouldn’t speak to me. He would get undressed and climb into bed, seeming to ignore my presence completely. He would keep His cock in my mouth all night long, making me suck and drink His come repeatedly.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I got up and put on some makeup, just some eyeliner and lipstick. Just enough to accent my full lips, to make myself look cheap and available.
I took a small red silk pillow from the couch and went to the front door to wait. I knelt on the pillow just to the left of the door, right where my master would step when He returned, my mouth on a level with His crotch, waiting for His presence.
My knees hurt a little after the first twenty minutes. In a half an hour my lower legs were numb from lack of circulation. My mouth was going dry, I needed a drink of water. I swayed a little, feeling slightly faint from the combination of mild pain and lack of movement.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I heard His car pull into the driveway and my heart beat faster. HE was back! But wait, two doors slammed shut outside. Two sets of feet walked up the steps to the door.
His key turned in the lock. I wanted to get up and run, hide myself — but I couldn’t. Was it that my legs were still asleep, or did I want to stay? Did I want to be punished? Was my masochism getting the better of me? Was it determining my actions now?
The door opened and my master stepped in. The cool evening air wafted over my heated body and raised goose bumps on every inch of exposed skin. He wasn’t alone. The other footsteps belonged to His companion, an attractive woman dressed in evening wear. My master, dressed in His casual summer suit of white flannel, looked warm and relaxed next to the severe dark formality of His companion’s attire. I wanted to look at the woman more closely but I couldn’t.
My master stepped forward, He hadn’t noticed me kneeling in His path. His pants pressed into my face. What I thought would be a sexy greeting was turning into a major embarrassment. Lipstick smeared from my lips and stained my master’s pants, right on His fly.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.
“What am I going to do with you?” He frowned down at me. There was no mirth in His voice, but I detected an evil twinkle in His eye.
“Who is this… person, darling?” Her voice was sweet, deep, and melodious.
“This creature aspires to be my servant.” He pulled on my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. “But instead of serving me, she has soiled my clothes with her filth!” He released my hair and with that same hand gave me a stinging slap across the cheek.
The force of the blow knocked me off my knees onto the floor. My face burned and my ears rang, I shook my head, trying to clear it. I heard soft laughter, it must have been her, she sounded pleased and excited.
“Come with me.” He grabbed my hair again and yanked me to my knees. He strode purposefully toward the stairs, dragging me behind Him. I stumbled and fell, banging my shins on the stairs, trying to keep up with Him but not succeeding.
She followed a few feet behind us, smiling placidly.
I was spread-eagled on the X-shaped massage table. My wrists and ankles were tightly secured in the thick, leather restraints. My head and my hips dangled in mid-air, my back arched uncomfortably over the table.
Distantly, I heard a footstep, it stopped outside. The doorknob clicked, three sides of a rectangle of light outlined themselves, then dazzlingly became the doorway. The image was upside down, because my head was hanging upside down, and in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, was she, looking down on me.
She closed the door and turned on a small light, casting a dim orange glow on the room. She was naked, as naked as I was. She walked to my side and ran her fingertips over my arms and legs. I think she was admiring the smooth hairlessness of my skin.
She ran her fingernails lightly over my skin. She scratched my armpits and my crotch, lightly, tickling me, making me squirm on the table.
“You like this, do you?” There was a no kindness in her voice. “You’re a randy little tramp, aren’t you?”
She pinched my nipple with her fingernails, hard. The pain shot through me, waking me out of my dreamy delirium. She dug her nails into the flesh of my breast, there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.
I gasped with pain, deliciously, squirming my hips.
The door opened again and I felt my pussy getting moist. It was my master, come to join us and make my pleasure complete. He was nude as we were. His member hung down, long and thick. I thought I saw some wetness on it, as if He had recently come.
She turned and kissed Him wetly on the mouth. I could see her tongue working. She fondled His penis lovingly, stroked it lightly, showed a familiarity that was lewd and inviting.
They walked to my head together, she might have been leading Him, it was hard to tell. She stroked His penis with her right hand and placed it in my mouth.
The familiar musky flavor was ambrosia to me. I loved the taste of His dick in my mouth. It swelled and hardened as I rolled my tongue around and over it. I kept my eyes open. All I could see were His balls, swinging inches from my nose.
Soon He was completely hard, long and thick. He pumped His hips back and forth, fucking me deep in my throat. I had to breathe through my nose or I would choke.
Meanwhile, the woman, who was she, anyway, I wondered, the woman stroked and scratched the most private, intimate parts of my body. She pinched and scratched my in my most sensitive spots. She played my senses like a musical instrument.
“You’re a little slut, aren’t you? Isn’t she, darling?” She addressed my master.
“She claims to be a student,” He replied.
“Let her speak for herself, darling.” Her voice was soft, yet commanding. “Tell us about yourself. What are you?”
My master pulled His penis out of my mouth and placed it on my face, letting His balls rub against my nose.
“I’m a student slut,” I responded.
“And a smart-ass, too.” She laughed and slapped me on the inside of my thigh. It stung and burned, I wondered if she’d leave a welt. “You like your punishment, don’t you, whore?”
“No, I… AAHHRRGG!”
She grabbed my pussy lip and dug her thumbnail into it, hard. I screamed in pain and tried to wriggle away from her, straining against the leather straps.
“You like it because you know you deserve it, don’t you, pig?”
“Oh, God, yes! Whatever you say, ah, aahh, aahhrrgghhaa!”
She built me to a crescendo but kept me from going over the edge. Again and again, she’d pet and stroke me until I thought I’d come, but then she’d hurt me severely, making me scream and writhe with pain.
My master let me lick His scrotum before sliding His cock into my mouth and down my throat again.
I thought I could hear her laughing quietly while I was having the most trouble breathing. Usually, when she hit me, it was just a pinch or a slap, but a couple of times it felt like she had at least broken the skin if not a small bone or two. I wondered what scars, if any, she would leave.
Eventually, after she had worked me into a good sweat, she and my master traded places. She stood over my face, while He amused Himself with my genitals.
There was something white and creamy oozing out of her pussy. She stood directly over me. She held my neck with both her hands, bringing my mouth up, into contact with her privates. I recognized the taste of my master’s come and licked it up eagerly.
I would have eaten her pussy anyway, and enjoyed it. Her pubic hair was luxuriously long and lustrous, deep red and sweet smelling. Her pussy tips, too, were long and full, swollen with excitement. Tasting my master’s delicious musky come along with her tantalizing scent made my head spin and my body throb with excitement.
As if in response to my unspoken wish, as though He knew my mind perhaps even better than I, my master placed His hands on my thighs. I moaned a little, communicating my excitement to the beautiful woman whose name I did not know, whose pussy tasted so good in my mouth. She jammed her hips harder against my face.
My master spread my pussy lips apart with His thumbs and inserted the head of His cock into my vagina. With just a few strokes He lubricated His entire shaft and rammed it deep into my cunt. My body shook and writhed on the table.
He held onto my pussy lips with His fingers, alternately spreading them open and pinching them, sending sharp pangs of excitement through me. He knew what I wanted, He knew how to not just excite me, He knew how to satisfy me.
“Go ahead and let yourself come, my dear,” He said, softly.
“Mmm, yes, if you say so, darling.” She groaned and ground her pussy into my mouth.
She thought my master was speaking to her. Hah! I knew He meant me. I knew He wanted me to come with Him. He wanted to feel my warm wet pussy juice mixing with His gooey, rich come.
He built and increased my pleasure, sending wave after wave of excitement through me. I pulled on my restraints for leverage and bucked my hips up and down against Him. He jammed His cock so deep in my cunt He hurt me when He battered the top of my uterus.
“Ooohhhh, hhmmmmnnngg,” I moaned into the woman’s cunt.
“You want me to come, too, slut?” she asked me. “You want to drink my come, you little tramp?”
“Mm hmm,” I grunted in acknowledgement. “Hmm, hmmm, hmmm,” I kept on grunting. She came in my mouth at the same time as my master filled my pussy with His come. Between the two of them I don’t think I could have stopped myself from coming if I had wanted to. But I didn’t want to stop myself. I let myself come as much and as often as I wanted to that night and every night that I lived in my master’s house.
Doctor Grant spent the next two days with my master and me in His house and His bed. She invariably treated me like dirt, enjoying inflicting pain on me and watching me writhe and squirm under her.
She was also the head of the romance language department at UCLA, that’s why I called her “Doctor” and “Ma’am”. I wondered why my master had brought her home with Him. What was His motive in bringing home this woman who could help me so much in my schoolwork?
I pondered that and similar questions when I was relaxing between orgasms, which wasn’t often. For almost every moment of those two days Dr. Grant and my master kept me constantly busy with one or both of their private parts.
My favorite came after we were done in the pleasure room. We all took a shower together and when we were done we covered ourselves and each other with olive oil. Then the three of us lay on a plastic sheet on the floor. I squirmed around over and between the two of them, tickling and titillating them with my hands and mouth.
At one point I was upside down between them, sucking my master’s beautiful penis while He nibbled on my clitoris. Dr. Grant was pressed up against my back, her pussy rubbing up against the back of my head and her breasts squashed into my back.
She was kissing and biting my ass. Her tongue left a trail of moisture circling my buttocks and up into the crack of my ass. She teased my rectum with the tip of her tongue, I came for her.
She and my master took turns licking my come juice out of my smoothly shaved cunt. Pressed between them as I was, I felt deliciously confined, as restricted as I had been on the table, but held by flesh instead of straps. I loved being trapped by their bodies with my master’s cock in my mouth, like an air hose or a lifeline to the realm of the pleasures of the senses.
Later the next day, after we had all slept, rested, and cleaned ourselves, Dr. Grant climbed on top of me for some sixty-nine when my master stuck His cock up her cunt from behind. I alternated sucking her clit and licking His balls until both they and I had all come.
That night I was under the covers in bed with them, servicing first one then the other I was drifting into a deep, lazy dream of sensuality from which I never wanted to awaken.
“I know what you want, and need,” she said, “you’ll be happy with me.”
“I’d have to ask my master’s permission first, Dr. Grant.”
“He’ll probably be glad to get rid of you, or at least be willing to lend you to me,” she mused while absently playing with my breast. “We’ll ask Him. I have a special treat at home that I’d like to share with you.”
I shuddered in anticipation. A special treat from her would probably involve permanent scarring. The only thing that had so far kept her from seriously maiming me was the moderating influence of my master. Without Him there to restrain her she might try to use a red-hot poker for a dildoe on me. Spending time alone with her was a pastime I wished to avoid.
She hooked my rhinestone dog collar around my neck and led me downstairs to my master’s study. He was at His desk, working, when she walked in unannounced, trailing me behind her on my leash.
“Darling,” she began, peremptorily, “why don’t you give this Jodie creature to tram for you? You’ll like her so much better when I’m done.”
“Give her to you?” My heart stood still. Would He give me away? He didn’t sound pleased with the idea. I stole a glance at Him. His brows were knitted.
“Would you like that, Jodie dear?” He asked me.
I didn’t say anything, I just looked down at my feet.
“Jodie, come to me.” He patted His knee, beckoning me like a dog.
I ran to Him and knelt at His feet, resting my head on His thigh.
“Would you rather stay here, with me?” He asked, patting my head.
In response I petted and kissed His crotch, feeling His member grow rigid within His pants.
“Shall I take that for a yes, my dear?” He laughed.
“Yes, please,” I said, unzipping His fly.
“Not now, my dear.” He stopped my hand from undoing His pants. “Dr. Grant, you seem to have upset my employee.”
“Your little tart, you mean,” she sneered. “You spoil her. I could train her properly fulfill her station in life.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” and there was sadness in His voice, “we seem to have reached an impasse with Jodie, here.”
She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I clung, naked and trembling, to my master’s knee.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” He said, gently stroking my hair, “I seriously misjudged the good doctor’s intensions. I had thought that a personal relationship with her might benefit your scholastic career. I fear I may have done you more harm than good. If so, we may have to find some way for me to make it up to you.”
“She’s gone now, are you happy?” He asked.
“Yes, Master. She frightened me.”
“There’s a quilt in that chest, spread it on the floor.”
He got undressed as I spread the quilt. Then He lay down in the center of it.
“Show me how happy you are,” He commanded.
I immediately knelt at His side and took His lovely long cock into my mouth. I had been wanting to suck it ever since entering the room but He had kept me waiting. Now I was able to lick and play with it to my heart’s content.
I licked up one side and down the other. I put the head in my mouth and rolled my tongue around it, feeling it throb and pulsate hungrily. Then I moved down and licked His balls, one at a time, nibbling gently on His scrotum.
At the same time I stroked His shaft up and down, making Him moan and squirm with pleasure. He had never before given me so much freedom in arousing Him and I didn’t want to disappoint Him.
I got up and knelt over Him, straddling His hips. I held His cock in my right hand and with the first two fingers of my left hand I spread my pussy lips apart.
I rubbed the tip of His cock against my clitoris. It got stiff and hard immediately. I looked at my master’s face. He was smiling at me peacefully. I knew no matter what trouble Dr. Grant might try to make for me, my master and I would find a way out of it.
I sat back on my heels and let His cock slide into my vagina. I was already wet and ready for Him. He slid in without any difficulty, completely filling my pussy. It felt so good, having Him there, where He seemed to belong, that I had to stop and catch my breath.
My master put His hands behind His head, I think so He could see me better, but otherwise didn’t move at all.
It made me all tingly and kinky feeling to think of putting on a show for Him, so I gave Him as good a show as I could.
I rubbed my breasts and pinched my nipples lasciviously, while I bounced up and down on His cock. I pressed down, stretching my pussy to the limit, tilling myself with His stiffness. All the while I frigged my clit, rubbing and tweaking it, making it stick out from the front of my slit, like a little miniature penis that I was masturbating while He watched.
“I’m coming now, Master,” I gasped, “can you come with me?”
For an answer He pressed upwards with His hips, piercing me yet deeper with His maleness.
I ground down onto Him and bounced up and down. My breasts and ass shook like jello. “Please, aahh, aaahhh, come NOW! PLEASE!” My orgasm started breaking, over me, wave after wave of liquid ecstasy flowing up and down through my body.
My master grabbed me by the hips and held me down tightly on His cock. I felt Him let one gooey squirt of come erupt from His cock and soothe the swollen walls of my cunt.
Before He finished coming, however, He picked me up and rammed me back down, this time sending His cock deep into my ass, filling and fucking my bowels.
“Oh! AH! Aahhrrgg!” Sweat beaded on my forehead, my clit got even bigger and more sensitive, I frigged it mercilessly. “COME NOW! Please, Master, please! Oh, oohh, ooohhh, aaaahhhh, hhnnggg.” I gasped and thrashed myself back and forth until I felt Him stiffen and then unload Himself into my bowels.
His cock grew and pulsed, throbbing His thick gooey come into my ass. I fell forward onto His chest, gasping and moaning, sobbing my pleasure over and over, wanting never to stop, never to have to leave this paradise of sensuality.
“Would you like to live here in my house with me?”
“Oh, yes, Master, if you’ll have me.” Two more days had passed since Dr. Grant had left my master’s house. Since that time my master had given me further instruction in the joys of anal intercourse. He determined that I was becoming sufficiently expert in oral sex to be able to expand my horizons, (and, incidentally, my anus), and receive His pleasure rod in my nether orifice on a regular basis.
Although I derived a great deal of masochistic enjoyment from judiciously administered doses of pain, I found that dry-ass butt-fucking was simply too unpleasant a sensation to be able to withstand it on a regular basis. Now my master allowed me to keep a quantity of K-Y jelly in my rectum so as to be ready for Him in case He should grace me with the pleasure of an ass-reaming. I enjoyed the cool, gooey sensation I got when inserting it into my rectum. I would slip my finger in and out several times, just to remind myself of the lovely feeling of my master’s cock, fucking me there.
When this conversation took place we were lying in bed together. We had just woken up a few minutes earlier and I had just finished giving my master His early-morning blow-job. His come was still fresh and warm on my tongue.
“Since you’ve been here for a few weeks already, and since I’ve had to seriously discipline you on only two occasions, I think we can take a chance and try you out as a live-in maid.” He always talked like that, pompous and self-important, but I didn’t mind. I was willing to forgive Him many things, in light of His wonderful handling of me.
“Thank you again, Master,” I said. “It seems I’m always thanking you for one thing or another. I hope you don’t mind my sounding like a broken record.”
“It’s all right, my dear.” He stroked my hair and scratched me lightly behind the ear. “You’re still a little unsure of yourself. You still have some adjusting to do, I understand.”
“My summer school class ends in two weeks, Master, then I’ll have to register for a full class schedule for the fall. That won’t interfere with my working for you will it?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure we can find time to let you attend class and do your homework without neglecting your duties here, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it.” I wrapped my arms around His waist and kissed His penis up and down, using just my lips, the way a little girl would kiss her daddy.
“That’s enough, Jodie. Now, get up and get dressed. You have a lot to do before I leave.” He swatted me playfully on the behind and sent me back to my room.
Once there, I showered and dressed quickly in my standard black-and-white: heels, hose, garters, and uniform in black; collar, cuffs, and apron in white. I gave my butt a fresh squirt of K-Y jelly and examined the finished product in the mirror.
There was no question in my mind that I was looking healthier and happier than ever before in my life. My new regime of service and discipline was agreeing with me profoundly. My cheeks, (those on my bottom as well as those on my face), had a rosy glow to them and my eyes sparkled with clarity and aliveness. There was a spring in my step and I woke up each morning with new energy and enthusiasm.
The door opened and He entered the room.
“Ah, Jodie, you look marvelous in your uniform,” He said. “It really does suit you, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it does,” I answered.
“I’m glad you’re fitting in so well. I will miss you while I’m away.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“Just two days, but what will you do while I’m gone? Would you like to go home or would you prefer staying here?”
“I… I’d like to stay here, Master. Would that be all right?”
“But what would you do, my dear? You will have no one to keep you company.”
“I feel so safe here, so secure. I’m afraid if I leave something will happen… I don’t know… I’ll get lost, or you’ll find someone else. Please, Master, just let me stay.”
“There, there, my dear,” He patted my arm reassuringly, “you may stay if you wish. However, the cleaners will be here tomorrow and I’m afraid they would not understand our arrangement. Do you comprehend?”
I nodded my head.
“So, it would better if they were not to see you, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“So you will spend all of tomorrow in the pleasure room.”
“Yes, Master. I understand.”
I spent the rest of the day in my room, preparing my French homework. The irony of my studying the French language at the same time that my master was giving me such painstaking instruction in French love was not lost on me.
That night I made myself a light supper in the massive downstairs kitchen. Just a little salad and cold cuts was all I could eat. As happy as I was living in my master’s house, I nevertheless felt a little intimidated being in it alone. It was so big, so forbidding, I was afraid of breaking or spoiling something by accident.
I quickly retreated back up to my own little quarters. I felt safe and secure there. I felt as though they were my own home, my own little nest. I got undressed and snuggled down in my bed to watch a little television before drifting off to sleep. I was as happy as I’d ever been.
The house seemed less intimidating in the daytime, more manageable. I munched a bowl of cold cereal while the coffee was brewing. Absently, my hand cupped my breast and tweaked my nipple while late.
My new-found sexual freedom was a revelation to me. I had always enjoyed sex before, but it was like dessert, something special that I gave myself only occasionally. Now, under the tutelage of my new master, sexual pleasure was quickly turning into the main course of my life’s banquet. I was becoming a hedonist, a libertine and I liked it. It was completely against all my training.
Like most girls my age I had been taught that sex was something dangerous and dirty. If you did it too much you either got pregnant, venereal disease, or, at the very least, a bad reputation. This new freedom my master had given me was intoxicating to me. I wondered if, as it seemed, He was willing to let me fully explore this new freedom, or if He wanted to fully control me.
I went to the front door and retrieved the morning paper from the stoop. I peeked out through the peep-hole before opening the door. I was still naked and didn’t want anyone to see me. There was no one in sight. I brought it back in and was just sitting down to read it over my second cup of coffee when a sudden noise made me freeze.
I listened carefully. An automobile was pulling into the driveway. I looked out the window. Of course! It was the cleaning crew. He told me they were coming that day, I just hadn’t expected them to be so early. I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just as they were coming through the back door.
I ran to the pleasure room and locked myself in. Leaning against the door I tried to catch my breath and be completely silent. My pulse was racing. I don’t know why I was so scared. I had every right to be there. I belonged in that house as much as or even more than they did. Nevertheless, my knees were shaking as if I were a thief.
Gradually I calmed myself down. I decided to try to distract myself until the cleaners left. Unfortunately, there were no books in the pleasure room, only some magazines.
I sat down in the armchair and leafed through the magazines. I had never seen anything like them before. There was no text, only pictures. They showed men and women, mostly women, engaged in love-making. They were doing things I was familiar with, some other things I had only just learned about from my new master, and some other things I had never even imagined.
In one magazine, beautiful young women were shown making love to one another. I thought about my afternoon with Mandy. I was pleased and relieved that my master apparently enjoyed seeing women loving one another. I wondered if Mandy would like to come for a visit, probably not. I wondered if He knew any women like Mandy, probably.
A second magazine had pictures of what I would call “straight” sex, men and women exploring each other’s bodies in every conceivable way, with their mouths, with their genitals, everything. I had never considered feet to be particularly erotic, but one series of pictures showing a young man kissing and sucking his partner’s toes got me very excited. I was intrigued, I wondered how it must feel to have a warm, wet tongue playing in the cracks between my toes. In the final picture of that particular series, we were shown the woman masturbating the man with her feet. There was no mistaking the look of pleasure on her face as she manipulated, (podipulated?), him to orgasm. There was equally no mistaking his obvious pleasure because the camera had caught him in mid-ejaculation.
Another magazine had pictures of other women, these were not so pretty as the first two. In fact, they looked like what I imagined whores and prostitutes must look like, tired and uninterested in what, to anyone else, would be either fascinating or disgusting. I was torn between the two emotions. The women were, how can I describe it, making love to animals. I wanted to put the magazine down, tear it up, burn it, anything, but I could not. I was held in awe. How could anyone do such a thing? What looked natural and exciting between two women, or between a man and a woman, in this context was repulsive, and exciting, nevertheless. I was horrified at my fascination with this perversion.
My mind drifted back to morality, what is perversion? How much is too much? What is normal? If I had already drifted this far into the realm of the senses, what was my destination? When and where would I stop? Would I one day enjoy what I now despised?
I tried to will my consciousness to drift out of my body. I wanted to fly away with the birds, to have no thought but to live my life with no control, no thought, no judgment. I closed my eyes and concentrated my attention on the feel of the sun on my skin. I relaxed into the nurturing warmth of it. I heard my breath sighing in my ears, the wind rustled the trees. I let my vocal chords hum with my breath.
Another humming crept into my consciousness without my awareness, a soft, steady, droning hum. Gradually it increased in volume until I became aware of it as an intrusion. Simultaneously I had the sensation of being watched. I felt someone’s eyes on me.
I opened mine slowly. I peered through the narrow slits of my eyelids at the shimmering green lawn before me. Near the house, holding a pair of electric shears, was a young man with dark skin. He was looking directly up at me. I froze there, numb and startled. For some reason, unknown to myself, I was afraid.
He was just the housekeeper, after all. I was a guest more than an employee, wasn’t I? Didn’t I have a perfect right to be there? Why was I edging slowly away from the window? Why was he watching me like that? Why, oh, why had I let him see me? Why did I stand in the window?
I pulled the curtains shut and leaned against the wall, trembling. I was breathing hard, as if I had just run around the block. With shaking knees I walked back to the chair and curled up with my knees to my chest.
In a few moments I heard the sound that I had dreaded, and expected. Footsteps softly climbed the stairs and padded down the hall. They stopped at my door. The doorknob turned silently. The door rattled softly, telling the intruder that it was locked.
The turned back and I heard a scratching sound, then a click, then the knob turned again. This time the door opened. He had a key! I knew it must have been him.
“Go away!” I screamed.
He jumped into the room and closed the door. At first I thought he was Latino but he had an oriental look about him as well. He was bare-chested and his skin was streaked with dirt. The muscles on his chest and arms shone with sweat.
“Get out of here or I’ll scream!” I said.
“Scream your head off, no one will hear you.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a leering smile. “This room is virtually soundproof.”
“I’ll tell your boss, he’ll fire you.”
“Tell him what you want, lady. He sent me here.”
“But, but… I’ll call the police.”
“No one will believe you.”
He strode directly toward me.
“What do you want?” I was still curled up in a fetal position and felt the fear that my body reflected.
“What I want is the only thing you’re good for, bitch.”
I got up and ran to the wall, trying to evade his approach. He spread his arms and continued advancing, grinning all the while.
“Don’t try anything,” I tried to sound as threatening as I could, “I know Karate.”
He kept on coming at me. I tried to dodge around him to his left but he just reached his arm out and grabbed me, effortlessly, as if this were something he did every day.
I tried to pull away from him but he just laughed at me. He held me around the waist with his left arm while he grabbed my jaw with his right hand. It was rough and callused, there was dirt under the nails.
He brought his leering face down over mine and our lips met. The sweet smell of fresh sweat filled my nostrils while he pried my jaw open and forced his tongue into my mouth.
I was terrified. Was it just sex he wanted? No, he was lying when he said my master had sent him. He lied when he said the police wouldn’t believe me. He didn’t want to just rape me, he intended to kill me as well, I was sure of it.
I reached up and dug my nails into in face. I drew down and left four parallel trails of blood from his cheek to his chest.
He screamed in pain and pushed me back, away from him.
He touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his hand, looked at me, down on the floor where he had pushed me. He grabbed me by the lapels of my robe and pulled me to my feet. I tried to kick and scratch my way free of him, but to no avail. He balled his fist and punched me, once, in the mouth, hard.
I tasted blood. Pain shot through my head and took all my strength away. I looked at him in horror. He was grinning again.
“So the bitch likes it rough,” he said. He hit me again, not as hard this time but in the same place. It hurt even more. My knees gave way completely and I collapsed on the floor at his feet.
He reached into his pocket and took out a six-inch buck knife. He opened the blade and held in his mouth, biting on the blade like a grinning pirate.
He opened his pants and kicked off his shoes, in a moment he was standing over me, naked, the knife in his hand, laughing at me. I could see now he wasn’t Latino, he was Polynesian. Almost six feet tall, with muscles like a body builder, he was a good-looking boy and under other circumstances I would have enjoyed getting to know him, maybe even this way. But not now, not like this. His cock was hard and stuck straight out, pointing at me like an accusing finger. He looked at me with hate and anger in his eyes and voice. He ran his thumb over the blade of his knife.
“So this is the bitch who looks down on poor honest people working in the garden.”
“No… I…”
“Shut up!” He reached down and slapped me across the mouth with the back of his hand. “This bitch thinks she’s better than other people. She thinks she can order them around. She’s not so high and mighty now, is she?”
“Please… don’t hurt me. I was just looking… I didn’t…” I felt a trickle of blood and saliva run down my chin.
“You didn’t. You wouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Fuck you, bitch!”
He knelt down and touched the knife to my throat. My body went stiff, rigid, as if I had been touched by an electric wire.
He laughed at my terror, a quiet, monotonous, crazy, keening sound. He pressed the blade against my larynx, the cold, sharp steel pinching my flesh. My breath shook in my lungs and my arms trembled. He pushed me back until I was lying on my back on the floor.
“Go ahead, bitch, fight me. I like it when they struggle.” He laughed a little louder, a little more sanely, I thought.
He let the point of the knife rest on my throat under its own weight. He drew it down from my throat to my chest. My skin trembled and shook under the cold steel. He traced the inner curves of my breasts. Then he pushed the robe open, exposing my breasts to his leering gaze. I could see the appreciation in his eyes.
He held the knife more gingerly now. He traced the full roundness of both my titties. He flicked my nipples ever so lightly with just the tip of the knife. A cold, burning sensation, I had to look to make sure he hadn’t drawn blood.
Despite myself, I was beginning to get aroused. My nipples crinkled up and got hard under his wicked play.
He turned the knife and with a flick of his wrist cut the sash of my robe. He slipped the robe away from my body.
“Look at the little whore!” he laughed loudly, “the bitch shaves her pussy.”
I pressed my legs together. “You have no right to…”
“You know what you’re gonna get, don’t you, bitch?”
“Please, don’t.”
He slapped me again, the pain flashed warm through my head and chest. It started to reach down into my stomach. My blood was salty in my mouth. I licked my lip and tasted more.
He leaned over me menacingly. He pressed the knife under my chin. I stretched my neck, retreating from the weapon.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Think you can get away from me?”
I shook my head slightly, trying to move as little as I could with the knife still pressed under my chin.
“What if I didn’t have this knife?” He took it away and laid it on the floor next to my head.
I breathed a little easier, but not much. It was still right there where he could reach it. As if reading my mind he pushed the knife across the carpet, sending it eight feet away. One of us could lunge for it and get their before the other. He was toying with me.
“Go on, get up,” he said.
I got on my knees next to him. The robe was an encumbrance so I let it fall from my shoulders. My pale skin contrasted sharply with his.
“If you had the knife, what would you do? Would you cut me?” He said it mockingly, as if I were incapable of such a thing.
I looked at him. Maybe I would cut him, I thought. He has no right to terrorize me. He should know what it feels like to be scared.
“Go on, I’ll give you a head start.”
He was looking me up and down, imagining fucking me. When I saw his eyes drop to my pussy, I lunged for the knife.
He laughed and grabbed my left arm, twisting it behind my back. I made a fist with my right and landed a solid punch on his eye. His grip on my arm slipped and I made another try for the knife.
This time he knocked me down with an open-handed chop to the side of the neck. He dragged me back away from the knife and threw himself on top of me.
I squirmed and twisted under him. He had to hold both my wrists to keep me from scratching and hitting him. I had my legs together and wouldn’t let him get his knees between mine. I started feeling cocky, like maybe I could take this bozo. I brought my leg up sharply and kneed him in the balls.
He doubled over in pain. I tried to get out from under him again, but couldn’t. He was stronger than me. He reared up and gave me a stinging blow to the side of the head. Then he reached down and with his strong right fist, punched me squarely on the pussy!
The pain exploded all through my body at once. A great red halo enveloped me, paralyzed my body, and filled my senses with ringing, stinging pain.
He fell on me. I was limp, stunned beneath him. He penetrated me in an instant. With no thought of me or my pleasure, he pushed his prick into me to prove his dominance over me. He didn’t even want sex, he just wanted control.
My pain concentrated itself in my cunt. Its heat warmed my vaginal walls as he pushed his prick into me. I got wet again, against my will. This pig had won. He had beaten me. Now he was using sex to degrade me. I hated him. And at the same time, no matter how much I willed not to, I was getting aroused by him.
His cock wasn’t as long as my master’s but it was thicker, and wedge-shaped. The head was only about an inch across at the tip, but the base looked like it was three inches in diameter at least, if not four.
My cunt was still sore from his punch, the humiliation of having him jerk himself off in me, just using me like an object, sent burning waves of shame through me to mix with the pain. And both of them combined with sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt, got my orgasm started.
I couldn’t stand the added humiliation of having him know I was enjoying him, so I took my pleasure and turned it into struggles. I fought and twisted under him. He held my arms and laughed at me.
“Fight all you want, bitch. I like the way you move.”
I twisted and pulled back and forth. Each movement forced his cock in and out of my cunt. I couldn’t disguise the hot wet pussy juice that was flowing from my cunt all over his cock.
He pressed further in, stretching my pussy lips apart. I pulled away, almost dislodging him. He thrust in. He put all his weight on my chest to hold me still. He shoved himself all the way in me. His cock stretched my pussy lips painfully. Tears formed in my eyes.
He pumped in and out, hard, fast, insistent. I turned my head to one side and started crying. Sobbing in great gasps, tears splashing on my cheeks, wailing my humiliation to the world.
His cock throbbed and spurted, filling my cunt with his hot, creamy come. I sobbed and moaned and let my own orgasm flow through me at the same time. I was relieved, embarrassed, appalled, ashamed, filled with satisfaction.
I was still lying on the floor, crying, when he put on his pants and left the room, locking the door behind him.
I cleaned myself and the room so there was no trace of him or what he had done to me. First I vacuumed and shampooed the rug. Then I drew a bath for myself in the master bathroom. The huge tub allowed me to thoroughly submerge myself in warm, healing, sudsy water.
The pain of the rape, the violation, was too deep, too agonizing to be pleasurable. I tried to wrap myself in healing water, to soothe my pain and regroup my forces.
My tears ran down my race and into the water. I sobbed uncontrollably, abandoning myself to the mind-numbing agony of my humiliation. I sank beneath the surface and contemplated drowning. I doubted that I could drown then, I was too angry.
“Very well, thank you, Sir.” I curtsied for Him in my dress black uniform. I had gone to great pains to do my hair and make-up just right. I wanted just the right blend of innocence and lewdness with which to greet Him on His return. “Welcome home.”
“How did you spend your time while I was away, my dear?” He asked.
“I did some homework, and I did some housework,” I said. I was following behind Him into the living room, carrying His jacket and briefcase. These I took to the closet, from which I got His slippers and went to Him where He sat in His easy chair.
“That’s nice, my dear.” He was looking through His mail and giving me hardly any of His attention.
I took His shoes off His feet and kissed His toes before covering them with His slippers. “I met your gardener as well.”
He looked down at me. I had His attention now. “How did you happen to meet Kimo? I thought you were going to remain in your room.”
“I was in the pleasure room when He came in after me. He had a key.”
“He did what?” He looked intense, but not surprised or upset. Yes, I thought, He might have orchestrated the entire incident. He might even have video-taped the entire episode and already reviewed it before seeing me. He was capable of anything, I thought.
“Sir, do you remember,” I said, changing the subject slightly, “when Dr. Grant offered to teach me greater discipline?” I took His shoes to the closet and deposited them inside.
“Yes.” He was non-committal.
“I wonder if she would be interested in performing that same service for Kimo?”
My master gave me a long, slow, knowing, accepting smile. “She might be, I’ll have to ask her.”
“That would be nice,” I said dreamily. I knelt at my master’s feet and caressed His thigh with my arms. “I might even have another friend who might like Dr. Grant.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think so,” I was drifting off into a haze of sensual fantasy. I rubbed my master’s cock gently through His pants, feeling it grow stiff and rigid. “Maybe Dr. Grant will let me learn from her as well. I’d like to be her apprentice, in case I ever have servants of my own that I need to discipline.”
“My dear, you reveal undreamed of depths.” He placed my hand on His zipper. “We may have to take you shopping very soon. I think you may need some new outfits, something more… severe… shall we say?”
I took the hint and undid His pants. His cock sprang forth, long, smooth, and hard. I put the top half of it in my mouth, savoring the taste.
Yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant again, especially now that we’d be on a more nearly equal basis.
I was looking forward to introducing her to Mandy. I wondered if they’d hit if off right away. I wondered if Mandy would like the disciplining Dr. Grant was certain to want to give her. Would she submit or would she resist.
If she fought back, would Mandy overpower Dr. Grant? And if she did, what would happen then?
Oh, yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant and Mandy, and I was especially looking forward to seeing Kimo again, in circumstances of my design.
Yes, a new wardrobe was definitely called for. I was learning more about myself by the minute.
I can’t adequately describe the feeling of unreality that pervaded my excursion from Bel Air back to my former world of school and students my own age. First of all, my knees were constantly weak, as if I might faint at any moment. I seemed to be looking down on myself from a height above my head. I was observing as much as I was participating in my life. None of it seemed to matter a great deal.
I felt a sense of lack of memory, as if I had forgotten something, something that was right in front of me but I couldn’t think of what it was. A thrill of panic thrummed under every breath, under each mundane action. Something important was slipping past me, it was within my reach and I couldn’t even see it, much less catch it.
“Hi, you’re Jodie, aren’t you?”
I was walking from the bookstore back to the dormitory. I wanted to pick up some more clothes so I would have some variety for classes back at my master’s house, so I could spend even more time there. I was wondering if I would be able to find time to study between orgasms when the voice came over my shoulder and startled me back to campus and college life.
“Yes.” I turned. The boy was one I recognized but I couldn’t think of his name. “I know you, don’t I? You’re…”
“Art, Arthur Clark. We were in calculus together last semester.” His smile was shy and gentle. He reminded me of little puppy.
“I remember you,” I said, “you sat across the room from me.”
“That’s right, I was the one that stared at you day after day.”
I felt my cheeks turn red. I was surprised and pleased that I could still respond to people so seemingly naturally. “Why didn’t talk to me instead of just staring?” To my surprise, I found myself wanting to flirt with him.
“You were always walking with that fellow Brad. I didn’t want to interfere.”
“What made you decide to talk to me now?” I fluttered my eyelashes and tried my best to look demure.
“You’re not with Brad for one thing, and besides…” he hesitated.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know. There’s something different about you, now. You’re not the same as you were last semester.”
“How do you mean, different?”
“Sort of dreamy. You were always so intense last year, as if everything you did was for keeps. Now, you look sort of relaxed, as though you were playing a game.”
“I… I’ve gotten a job,” I said.
“It’s had quite an effect on you.” He looked at me affectionately. “Is your job connected with your major?”
“No, not at all.” I wanted to change the subject. My position with my master was too personal for me to discuss it with anyone. “But it is very demanding. I guess the change you see in me is the result of hard work.”
“Well, hard work certainly seems to agree with you,” he said, “you’re radiant.”
“Thank you.”
We were nearing the dormitories. The air between us was becoming charged with sexual energy. The simple fact of his youthful virility elicited a sympathetic response in my genitals. I pressed my thighs together as we walked, wondering if I should let him seduce me.
Would my master allow me to have other lovers? We had never discussed it. We never discussed anything. My master treated me like property, and I felt fulfilled by it.
It made no sense to me, this relationship that I had developed with a man whose name I did not even know. It was as though He wasn’t a person, He was a force, He was the personification of authority, He was to be adored and obeyed, not understood. My common sense rebelled at the demeaning nature of my subservience to Him, but I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pleasure at the mere thought of my beloved master. I started daydreaming about the thrill of excitement I would feel when my master wanted to punish me.
“Jodie, are you all right?”
“What? Oh…” He brought me back to the present. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “You had a funny look on your face, kind of hypnotized looking.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I must have drifted off. I’ve been working hard, as I said.”
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” I was torn, I wanted to say yes but my first response was no, as if I didn’t have the right to offer myself to anyone without my master’s permission. “I’d like to but I have to go back to my job tonight.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Honestly, Art, we’ll get together another time, I promise.” I hoped I was telling him the truth. I liked him.
*****
After dinner that night, my master called me into His bedroom. He was dressing to go out.“I’ll be back later this evening, my dear,” He said.
“I’ll wait up for you,” I said.
“That will not be necessary, my dear. Will you be able to amuse yourself while I’m out?” He stroked my hair and ran His fingertips along the line of my jaw. He tapped my chin gently.
I felt the power in His hand. It was strong and vibrant, held in check by His will. I wondered if I would feel it unleashed. My pussy itched when I thought of Him slapping my face, or my bottom.
“Yes, Sir, I’ll be fine.” All my speculation of that afternoon was forgotten. It was as though His influence obliterated all other thoughts. I could only think of how I’d greet Him on His return. I avoided all thought of His absence.
He was cool and elegant in His cream colored flannel suit. His tan skin and dark hair contrasted handsomely with the soft fabric.
He told me nothing except that He was leaving and would return. He looked at me steadily. His eyes were unreadable, their lids concealed His intentions under their lazy glance. I saw I was left to my own devises.
I managed to spend an hour preparing for my first class which was coming up in two days. Fortunately, I had no assignment to complete, my mind continually wandered. I couldn’t quite bridge my two realities. They tugged me in opposite directions, independence-subservience, self-assertion-self-debasement, and on and on. I tumbled through vast volumes of doubt and uncertainty.
I decided to take a shower in order to be ready for His return, should He want to use me for His pleasure. I noticed it was time to shave my pussy again, the pubic hairs were growing like whiskers around the lips. I scratched myself there, kind of like a cat would, it felt good.
I turned the water on full and stepped into the steamy spray. Then I shut off the water and covered myself with thick foamy suds, using a big loofa sponge to rub in almond oil and peppermint soap. I completely covered my body with the slippery, creamy soap suds.
Then I took a new razor and shaved my entire body. From neck to ankles, every square inch of skin was put to the double-edged blade and shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom.
I thought about shaving my head as well. I wondered if my master would like that, if He would appreciate my voluntary subjugation. I’m sure He would, I’m sure he’d like to see me temporarily disfigure myself for Him.
I tried to go to bed, to just not think about anything. I powdered myself and pulled my hair back in a pony-tail. I climbed between clean linen sheets but could not close my eyes. I craved some contact, some indication of direction. Should I give myself fully to my master, or should I develop my independent self? Could I even make a decision? Truly, it felt like I had no choice other than to submit completely to the strong, pervasive domination of my master.
I touched my pussy gently when I thought of Him. I dreamed of His arms, His lips, His long, strong penis. Around ten o’clock I started feeling restless. I knew I would have to resolve my ambivalence some time soon, but not now. Now I wanted to fuck Him and get fucked by Him.
I thought I’d go to the pleasure room and tie myself to the leather massage table. The wrist and ankle restraints attached to each of the chromium-plated legs were quite inviting. I’d feel ever so secure spread-eagled up on that table, open and vulnerable my master’s whims.
But He might not come to the pleasure room. I’d be tied up, alone, naked and cold all night. The prospect titillated me a little, but I decided it wouldn’t be worth it if He didn’t happen to find me in time.
I wondered if I should wait for Him in His bed. I could get under the covers at the foot of the bed. That way He would see that I was there but wouldn’t speak to me. He would get undressed and climb into bed, seeming to ignore my presence completely. He would keep His cock in my mouth all night long, making me suck and drink His come repeatedly.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I got up and put on some makeup, just some eyeliner and lipstick. Just enough to accent my full lips, to make myself look cheap and available.
I took a small red silk pillow from the couch and went to the front door to wait. I knelt on the pillow just to the left of the door, right where my master would step when He returned, my mouth on a level with His crotch, waiting for His presence.
My knees hurt a little after the first twenty minutes. In a half an hour my lower legs were numb from lack of circulation. My mouth was going dry, I needed a drink of water. I swayed a little, feeling slightly faint from the combination of mild pain and lack of movement.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I heard His car pull into the driveway and my heart beat faster. HE was back! But wait, two doors slammed shut outside. Two sets of feet walked up the steps to the door.
His key turned in the lock. I wanted to get up and run, hide myself — but I couldn’t. Was it that my legs were still asleep, or did I want to stay? Did I want to be punished? Was my masochism getting the better of me? Was it determining my actions now?
The door opened and my master stepped in. The cool evening air wafted over my heated body and raised goose bumps on every inch of exposed skin. He wasn’t alone. The other footsteps belonged to His companion, an attractive woman dressed in evening wear. My master, dressed in His casual summer suit of white flannel, looked warm and relaxed next to the severe dark formality of His companion’s attire. I wanted to look at the woman more closely but I couldn’t.
My master stepped forward, He hadn’t noticed me kneeling in His path. His pants pressed into my face. What I thought would be a sexy greeting was turning into a major embarrassment. Lipstick smeared from my lips and stained my master’s pants, right on His fly.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.
“What am I going to do with you?” He frowned down at me. There was no mirth in His voice, but I detected an evil twinkle in His eye.
“Who is this… person, darling?” Her voice was sweet, deep, and melodious.
“This creature aspires to be my servant.” He pulled on my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. “But instead of serving me, she has soiled my clothes with her filth!” He released my hair and with that same hand gave me a stinging slap across the cheek.
The force of the blow knocked me off my knees onto the floor. My face burned and my ears rang, I shook my head, trying to clear it. I heard soft laughter, it must have been her, she sounded pleased and excited.
“Come with me.” He grabbed my hair again and yanked me to my knees. He strode purposefully toward the stairs, dragging me behind Him. I stumbled and fell, banging my shins on the stairs, trying to keep up with Him but not succeeding.
She followed a few feet behind us, smiling placidly.
*****
The room was dark and silent. At least one hour, possibly two, had already passed. I was completely alone. The only sound to be heard was the soft rasp of my breath. My eyes were open but no image could be discerned in the pitch blackness. The taste of my own blood lingered on my tongue.I was spread-eagled on the X-shaped massage table. My wrists and ankles were tightly secured in the thick, leather restraints. My head and my hips dangled in mid-air, my back arched uncomfortably over the table.
Distantly, I heard a footstep, it stopped outside. The doorknob clicked, three sides of a rectangle of light outlined themselves, then dazzlingly became the doorway. The image was upside down, because my head was hanging upside down, and in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, was she, looking down on me.
She closed the door and turned on a small light, casting a dim orange glow on the room. She was naked, as naked as I was. She walked to my side and ran her fingertips over my arms and legs. I think she was admiring the smooth hairlessness of my skin.
She ran her fingernails lightly over my skin. She scratched my armpits and my crotch, lightly, tickling me, making me squirm on the table.
“You like this, do you?” There was a no kindness in her voice. “You’re a randy little tramp, aren’t you?”
She pinched my nipple with her fingernails, hard. The pain shot through me, waking me out of my dreamy delirium. She dug her nails into the flesh of my breast, there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.
I gasped with pain, deliciously, squirming my hips.
The door opened again and I felt my pussy getting moist. It was my master, come to join us and make my pleasure complete. He was nude as we were. His member hung down, long and thick. I thought I saw some wetness on it, as if He had recently come.
She turned and kissed Him wetly on the mouth. I could see her tongue working. She fondled His penis lovingly, stroked it lightly, showed a familiarity that was lewd and inviting.
They walked to my head together, she might have been leading Him, it was hard to tell. She stroked His penis with her right hand and placed it in my mouth.
The familiar musky flavor was ambrosia to me. I loved the taste of His dick in my mouth. It swelled and hardened as I rolled my tongue around and over it. I kept my eyes open. All I could see were His balls, swinging inches from my nose.
Soon He was completely hard, long and thick. He pumped His hips back and forth, fucking me deep in my throat. I had to breathe through my nose or I would choke.
Meanwhile, the woman, who was she, anyway, I wondered, the woman stroked and scratched the most private, intimate parts of my body. She pinched and scratched my in my most sensitive spots. She played my senses like a musical instrument.
“You’re a little slut, aren’t you? Isn’t she, darling?” She addressed my master.
“She claims to be a student,” He replied.
“Let her speak for herself, darling.” Her voice was soft, yet commanding. “Tell us about yourself. What are you?”
My master pulled His penis out of my mouth and placed it on my face, letting His balls rub against my nose.
“I’m a student slut,” I responded.
“And a smart-ass, too.” She laughed and slapped me on the inside of my thigh. It stung and burned, I wondered if she’d leave a welt. “You like your punishment, don’t you, whore?”
“No, I… AAHHRRGG!”
She grabbed my pussy lip and dug her thumbnail into it, hard. I screamed in pain and tried to wriggle away from her, straining against the leather straps.
“You like it because you know you deserve it, don’t you, pig?”
“Oh, God, yes! Whatever you say, ah, aahh, aahhrrgghhaa!”
She built me to a crescendo but kept me from going over the edge. Again and again, she’d pet and stroke me until I thought I’d come, but then she’d hurt me severely, making me scream and writhe with pain.
My master let me lick His scrotum before sliding His cock into my mouth and down my throat again.
I thought I could hear her laughing quietly while I was having the most trouble breathing. Usually, when she hit me, it was just a pinch or a slap, but a couple of times it felt like she had at least broken the skin if not a small bone or two. I wondered what scars, if any, she would leave.
Eventually, after she had worked me into a good sweat, she and my master traded places. She stood over my face, while He amused Himself with my genitals.
There was something white and creamy oozing out of her pussy. She stood directly over me. She held my neck with both her hands, bringing my mouth up, into contact with her privates. I recognized the taste of my master’s come and licked it up eagerly.
I would have eaten her pussy anyway, and enjoyed it. Her pubic hair was luxuriously long and lustrous, deep red and sweet smelling. Her pussy tips, too, were long and full, swollen with excitement. Tasting my master’s delicious musky come along with her tantalizing scent made my head spin and my body throb with excitement.
As if in response to my unspoken wish, as though He knew my mind perhaps even better than I, my master placed His hands on my thighs. I moaned a little, communicating my excitement to the beautiful woman whose name I did not know, whose pussy tasted so good in my mouth. She jammed her hips harder against my face.
My master spread my pussy lips apart with His thumbs and inserted the head of His cock into my vagina. With just a few strokes He lubricated His entire shaft and rammed it deep into my cunt. My body shook and writhed on the table.
He held onto my pussy lips with His fingers, alternately spreading them open and pinching them, sending sharp pangs of excitement through me. He knew what I wanted, He knew how to not just excite me, He knew how to satisfy me.
“Go ahead and let yourself come, my dear,” He said, softly.
“Mmm, yes, if you say so, darling.” She groaned and ground her pussy into my mouth.
She thought my master was speaking to her. Hah! I knew He meant me. I knew He wanted me to come with Him. He wanted to feel my warm wet pussy juice mixing with His gooey, rich come.
He built and increased my pleasure, sending wave after wave of excitement through me. I pulled on my restraints for leverage and bucked my hips up and down against Him. He jammed His cock so deep in my cunt He hurt me when He battered the top of my uterus.
“Ooohhhh, hhmmmmnnngg,” I moaned into the woman’s cunt.
“You want me to come, too, slut?” she asked me. “You want to drink my come, you little tramp?”
“Mm hmm,” I grunted in acknowledgement. “Hmm, hmmm, hmmm,” I kept on grunting. She came in my mouth at the same time as my master filled my pussy with His come. Between the two of them I don’t think I could have stopped myself from coming if I had wanted to. But I didn’t want to stop myself. I let myself come as much and as often as I wanted to that night and every night that I lived in my master’s house.
Doctor Grant spent the next two days with my master and me in His house and His bed. She invariably treated me like dirt, enjoying inflicting pain on me and watching me writhe and squirm under her.
She was also the head of the romance language department at UCLA, that’s why I called her “Doctor” and “Ma’am”. I wondered why my master had brought her home with Him. What was His motive in bringing home this woman who could help me so much in my schoolwork?
I pondered that and similar questions when I was relaxing between orgasms, which wasn’t often. For almost every moment of those two days Dr. Grant and my master kept me constantly busy with one or both of their private parts.
My favorite came after we were done in the pleasure room. We all took a shower together and when we were done we covered ourselves and each other with olive oil. Then the three of us lay on a plastic sheet on the floor. I squirmed around over and between the two of them, tickling and titillating them with my hands and mouth.
At one point I was upside down between them, sucking my master’s beautiful penis while He nibbled on my clitoris. Dr. Grant was pressed up against my back, her pussy rubbing up against the back of my head and her breasts squashed into my back.
She was kissing and biting my ass. Her tongue left a trail of moisture circling my buttocks and up into the crack of my ass. She teased my rectum with the tip of her tongue, I came for her.
She and my master took turns licking my come juice out of my smoothly shaved cunt. Pressed between them as I was, I felt deliciously confined, as restricted as I had been on the table, but held by flesh instead of straps. I loved being trapped by their bodies with my master’s cock in my mouth, like an air hose or a lifeline to the realm of the pleasures of the senses.
Later the next day, after we had all slept, rested, and cleaned ourselves, Dr. Grant climbed on top of me for some sixty-nine when my master stuck His cock up her cunt from behind. I alternated sucking her clit and licking His balls until both they and I had all come.
That night I was under the covers in bed with them, servicing first one then the other I was drifting into a deep, lazy dream of sensuality from which I never wanted to awaken.
*****
I was forced awake, however, when Dr. Grant asked me to leave my master to go with her.“I know what you want, and need,” she said, “you’ll be happy with me.”
“I’d have to ask my master’s permission first, Dr. Grant.”
“He’ll probably be glad to get rid of you, or at least be willing to lend you to me,” she mused while absently playing with my breast. “We’ll ask Him. I have a special treat at home that I’d like to share with you.”
I shuddered in anticipation. A special treat from her would probably involve permanent scarring. The only thing that had so far kept her from seriously maiming me was the moderating influence of my master. Without Him there to restrain her she might try to use a red-hot poker for a dildoe on me. Spending time alone with her was a pastime I wished to avoid.
She hooked my rhinestone dog collar around my neck and led me downstairs to my master’s study. He was at His desk, working, when she walked in unannounced, trailing me behind her on my leash.
“Darling,” she began, peremptorily, “why don’t you give this Jodie creature to tram for you? You’ll like her so much better when I’m done.”
“Give her to you?” My heart stood still. Would He give me away? He didn’t sound pleased with the idea. I stole a glance at Him. His brows were knitted.
“Would you like that, Jodie dear?” He asked me.
I didn’t say anything, I just looked down at my feet.
“Jodie, come to me.” He patted His knee, beckoning me like a dog.
I ran to Him and knelt at His feet, resting my head on His thigh.
“Would you rather stay here, with me?” He asked, patting my head.
In response I petted and kissed His crotch, feeling His member grow rigid within His pants.
“Shall I take that for a yes, my dear?” He laughed.
“Yes, please,” I said, unzipping His fly.
“Not now, my dear.” He stopped my hand from undoing His pants. “Dr. Grant, you seem to have upset my employee.”
“Your little tart, you mean,” she sneered. “You spoil her. I could train her properly fulfill her station in life.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” and there was sadness in His voice, “we seem to have reached an impasse with Jodie, here.”
She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I clung, naked and trembling, to my master’s knee.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” He said, gently stroking my hair, “I seriously misjudged the good doctor’s intensions. I had thought that a personal relationship with her might benefit your scholastic career. I fear I may have done you more harm than good. If so, we may have to find some way for me to make it up to you.”
*****
She left shortly after that. I was still at my master’s feet, under His desk while He worked, when I heard an automobile arrive and the front door open and close. When the car left again I heaved a sigh of relief.“She’s gone now, are you happy?” He asked.
“Yes, Master. She frightened me.”
“There’s a quilt in that chest, spread it on the floor.”
He got undressed as I spread the quilt. Then He lay down in the center of it.
“Show me how happy you are,” He commanded.
I immediately knelt at His side and took His lovely long cock into my mouth. I had been wanting to suck it ever since entering the room but He had kept me waiting. Now I was able to lick and play with it to my heart’s content.
I licked up one side and down the other. I put the head in my mouth and rolled my tongue around it, feeling it throb and pulsate hungrily. Then I moved down and licked His balls, one at a time, nibbling gently on His scrotum.
At the same time I stroked His shaft up and down, making Him moan and squirm with pleasure. He had never before given me so much freedom in arousing Him and I didn’t want to disappoint Him.
I got up and knelt over Him, straddling His hips. I held His cock in my right hand and with the first two fingers of my left hand I spread my pussy lips apart.
I rubbed the tip of His cock against my clitoris. It got stiff and hard immediately. I looked at my master’s face. He was smiling at me peacefully. I knew no matter what trouble Dr. Grant might try to make for me, my master and I would find a way out of it.
I sat back on my heels and let His cock slide into my vagina. I was already wet and ready for Him. He slid in without any difficulty, completely filling my pussy. It felt so good, having Him there, where He seemed to belong, that I had to stop and catch my breath.
My master put His hands behind His head, I think so He could see me better, but otherwise didn’t move at all.
It made me all tingly and kinky feeling to think of putting on a show for Him, so I gave Him as good a show as I could.
I rubbed my breasts and pinched my nipples lasciviously, while I bounced up and down on His cock. I pressed down, stretching my pussy to the limit, tilling myself with His stiffness. All the while I frigged my clit, rubbing and tweaking it, making it stick out from the front of my slit, like a little miniature penis that I was masturbating while He watched.
“I’m coming now, Master,” I gasped, “can you come with me?”
For an answer He pressed upwards with His hips, piercing me yet deeper with His maleness.
I ground down onto Him and bounced up and down. My breasts and ass shook like jello. “Please, aahh, aaahhh, come NOW! PLEASE!” My orgasm started breaking, over me, wave after wave of liquid ecstasy flowing up and down through my body.
My master grabbed me by the hips and held me down tightly on His cock. I felt Him let one gooey squirt of come erupt from His cock and soothe the swollen walls of my cunt.
Before He finished coming, however, He picked me up and rammed me back down, this time sending His cock deep into my ass, filling and fucking my bowels.
“Oh! AH! Aahhrrgg!” Sweat beaded on my forehead, my clit got even bigger and more sensitive, I frigged it mercilessly. “COME NOW! Please, Master, please! Oh, oohh, ooohhh, aaaahhhh, hhnnggg.” I gasped and thrashed myself back and forth until I felt Him stiffen and then unload Himself into my bowels.
His cock grew and pulsed, throbbing His thick gooey come into my ass. I fell forward onto His chest, gasping and moaning, sobbing my pleasure over and over, wanting never to stop, never to have to leave this paradise of sensuality.
“Would you like to live here in my house with me?”
“Oh, yes, Master, if you’ll have me.” Two more days had passed since Dr. Grant had left my master’s house. Since that time my master had given me further instruction in the joys of anal intercourse. He determined that I was becoming sufficiently expert in oral sex to be able to expand my horizons, (and, incidentally, my anus), and receive His pleasure rod in my nether orifice on a regular basis.
Although I derived a great deal of masochistic enjoyment from judiciously administered doses of pain, I found that dry-ass butt-fucking was simply too unpleasant a sensation to be able to withstand it on a regular basis. Now my master allowed me to keep a quantity of K-Y jelly in my rectum so as to be ready for Him in case He should grace me with the pleasure of an ass-reaming. I enjoyed the cool, gooey sensation I got when inserting it into my rectum. I would slip my finger in and out several times, just to remind myself of the lovely feeling of my master’s cock, fucking me there.
When this conversation took place we were lying in bed together. We had just woken up a few minutes earlier and I had just finished giving my master His early-morning blow-job. His come was still fresh and warm on my tongue.
“Since you’ve been here for a few weeks already, and since I’ve had to seriously discipline you on only two occasions, I think we can take a chance and try you out as a live-in maid.” He always talked like that, pompous and self-important, but I didn’t mind. I was willing to forgive Him many things, in light of His wonderful handling of me.
“Thank you again, Master,” I said. “It seems I’m always thanking you for one thing or another. I hope you don’t mind my sounding like a broken record.”
“It’s all right, my dear.” He stroked my hair and scratched me lightly behind the ear. “You’re still a little unsure of yourself. You still have some adjusting to do, I understand.”
“My summer school class ends in two weeks, Master, then I’ll have to register for a full class schedule for the fall. That won’t interfere with my working for you will it?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure we can find time to let you attend class and do your homework without neglecting your duties here, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it.” I wrapped my arms around His waist and kissed His penis up and down, using just my lips, the way a little girl would kiss her daddy.
“That’s enough, Jodie. Now, get up and get dressed. You have a lot to do before I leave.” He swatted me playfully on the behind and sent me back to my room.
Once there, I showered and dressed quickly in my standard black-and-white: heels, hose, garters, and uniform in black; collar, cuffs, and apron in white. I gave my butt a fresh squirt of K-Y jelly and examined the finished product in the mirror.
There was no question in my mind that I was looking healthier and happier than ever before in my life. My new regime of service and discipline was agreeing with me profoundly. My cheeks, (those on my bottom as well as those on my face), had a rosy glow to them and my eyes sparkled with clarity and aliveness. There was a spring in my step and I woke up each morning with new energy and enthusiasm.
The door opened and He entered the room.
“Ah, Jodie, you look marvelous in your uniform,” He said. “It really does suit you, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it does,” I answered.
“I’m glad you’re fitting in so well. I will miss you while I’m away.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“Just two days, but what will you do while I’m gone? Would you like to go home or would you prefer staying here?”
“I… I’d like to stay here, Master. Would that be all right?”
“But what would you do, my dear? You will have no one to keep you company.”
“I feel so safe here, so secure. I’m afraid if I leave something will happen… I don’t know… I’ll get lost, or you’ll find someone else. Please, Master, just let me stay.”
“There, there, my dear,” He patted my arm reassuringly, “you may stay if you wish. However, the cleaners will be here tomorrow and I’m afraid they would not understand our arrangement. Do you comprehend?”
I nodded my head.
“So, it would better if they were not to see you, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“So you will spend all of tomorrow in the pleasure room.”
“Yes, Master. I understand.”
*****
He left that afternoon after packing some clothes and His papers from His office. I said good-bye to Him at the front door and He kissed me on the mouth. I was too thrilled for words. He had never kissed me before. I took it as a gesture of acceptance as well as affection. My life and relationship with Him were both looking up.I spent the rest of the day in my room, preparing my French homework. The irony of my studying the French language at the same time that my master was giving me such painstaking instruction in French love was not lost on me.
That night I made myself a light supper in the massive downstairs kitchen. Just a little salad and cold cuts was all I could eat. As happy as I was living in my master’s house, I nevertheless felt a little intimidated being in it alone. It was so big, so forbidding, I was afraid of breaking or spoiling something by accident.
I quickly retreated back up to my own little quarters. I felt safe and secure there. I felt as though they were my own home, my own little nest. I got undressed and snuggled down in my bed to watch a little television before drifting off to sleep. I was as happy as I’d ever been.
*****
The next morning I got up with the sun. Bright, clear rays of sunshine were slanting into the room, the clock said six-thirty and I felt marvelous. I yawned, stretched and jumped out of bed. I pulled a soft silk robe over my shoulders and skipped down the stairs to fix myself some coffee and cereal for breakfast.The house seemed less intimidating in the daytime, more manageable. I munched a bowl of cold cereal while the coffee was brewing. Absently, my hand cupped my breast and tweaked my nipple while late.
My new-found sexual freedom was a revelation to me. I had always enjoyed sex before, but it was like dessert, something special that I gave myself only occasionally. Now, under the tutelage of my new master, sexual pleasure was quickly turning into the main course of my life’s banquet. I was becoming a hedonist, a libertine and I liked it. It was completely against all my training.
Like most girls my age I had been taught that sex was something dangerous and dirty. If you did it too much you either got pregnant, venereal disease, or, at the very least, a bad reputation. This new freedom my master had given me was intoxicating to me. I wondered if, as it seemed, He was willing to let me fully explore this new freedom, or if He wanted to fully control me.
I went to the front door and retrieved the morning paper from the stoop. I peeked out through the peep-hole before opening the door. I was still naked and didn’t want anyone to see me. There was no one in sight. I brought it back in and was just sitting down to read it over my second cup of coffee when a sudden noise made me freeze.
I listened carefully. An automobile was pulling into the driveway. I looked out the window. Of course! It was the cleaning crew. He told me they were coming that day, I just hadn’t expected them to be so early. I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just as they were coming through the back door.
I ran to the pleasure room and locked myself in. Leaning against the door I tried to catch my breath and be completely silent. My pulse was racing. I don’t know why I was so scared. I had every right to be there. I belonged in that house as much as or even more than they did. Nevertheless, my knees were shaking as if I were a thief.
Gradually I calmed myself down. I decided to try to distract myself until the cleaners left. Unfortunately, there were no books in the pleasure room, only some magazines.
I sat down in the armchair and leafed through the magazines. I had never seen anything like them before. There was no text, only pictures. They showed men and women, mostly women, engaged in love-making. They were doing things I was familiar with, some other things I had only just learned about from my new master, and some other things I had never even imagined.
In one magazine, beautiful young women were shown making love to one another. I thought about my afternoon with Mandy. I was pleased and relieved that my master apparently enjoyed seeing women loving one another. I wondered if Mandy would like to come for a visit, probably not. I wondered if He knew any women like Mandy, probably.
A second magazine had pictures of what I would call “straight” sex, men and women exploring each other’s bodies in every conceivable way, with their mouths, with their genitals, everything. I had never considered feet to be particularly erotic, but one series of pictures showing a young man kissing and sucking his partner’s toes got me very excited. I was intrigued, I wondered how it must feel to have a warm, wet tongue playing in the cracks between my toes. In the final picture of that particular series, we were shown the woman masturbating the man with her feet. There was no mistaking the look of pleasure on her face as she manipulated, (podipulated?), him to orgasm. There was equally no mistaking his obvious pleasure because the camera had caught him in mid-ejaculation.
Another magazine had pictures of other women, these were not so pretty as the first two. In fact, they looked like what I imagined whores and prostitutes must look like, tired and uninterested in what, to anyone else, would be either fascinating or disgusting. I was torn between the two emotions. The women were, how can I describe it, making love to animals. I wanted to put the magazine down, tear it up, burn it, anything, but I could not. I was held in awe. How could anyone do such a thing? What looked natural and exciting between two women, or between a man and a woman, in this context was repulsive, and exciting, nevertheless. I was horrified at my fascination with this perversion.
*****
I put the magazine down and went to the window, wanting to clear my mind. Outside, it was clear summer day in Southern California. I opened the window and drank in the cool morning air. Goosebumps prickled on my skin and I crossed my arms over my breasts. Birds sang their sweet serenade oblivious to civilization and its discontents and uncertainties. I leaned back against the window frame, enjoying the sun and air on my skin and face.My mind drifted back to morality, what is perversion? How much is too much? What is normal? If I had already drifted this far into the realm of the senses, what was my destination? When and where would I stop? Would I one day enjoy what I now despised?
I tried to will my consciousness to drift out of my body. I wanted to fly away with the birds, to have no thought but to live my life with no control, no thought, no judgment. I closed my eyes and concentrated my attention on the feel of the sun on my skin. I relaxed into the nurturing warmth of it. I heard my breath sighing in my ears, the wind rustled the trees. I let my vocal chords hum with my breath.
Another humming crept into my consciousness without my awareness, a soft, steady, droning hum. Gradually it increased in volume until I became aware of it as an intrusion. Simultaneously I had the sensation of being watched. I felt someone’s eyes on me.
I opened mine slowly. I peered through the narrow slits of my eyelids at the shimmering green lawn before me. Near the house, holding a pair of electric shears, was a young man with dark skin. He was looking directly up at me. I froze there, numb and startled. For some reason, unknown to myself, I was afraid.
He was just the housekeeper, after all. I was a guest more than an employee, wasn’t I? Didn’t I have a perfect right to be there? Why was I edging slowly away from the window? Why was he watching me like that? Why, oh, why had I let him see me? Why did I stand in the window?
I pulled the curtains shut and leaned against the wall, trembling. I was breathing hard, as if I had just run around the block. With shaking knees I walked back to the chair and curled up with my knees to my chest.
In a few moments I heard the sound that I had dreaded, and expected. Footsteps softly climbed the stairs and padded down the hall. They stopped at my door. The doorknob turned silently. The door rattled softly, telling the intruder that it was locked.
The turned back and I heard a scratching sound, then a click, then the knob turned again. This time the door opened. He had a key! I knew it must have been him.
“Go away!” I screamed.
He jumped into the room and closed the door. At first I thought he was Latino but he had an oriental look about him as well. He was bare-chested and his skin was streaked with dirt. The muscles on his chest and arms shone with sweat.
“Get out of here or I’ll scream!” I said.
“Scream your head off, no one will hear you.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a leering smile. “This room is virtually soundproof.”
“I’ll tell your boss, he’ll fire you.”
“Tell him what you want, lady. He sent me here.”
“But, but… I’ll call the police.”
“No one will believe you.”
He strode directly toward me.
“What do you want?” I was still curled up in a fetal position and felt the fear that my body reflected.
“What I want is the only thing you’re good for, bitch.”
I got up and ran to the wall, trying to evade his approach. He spread his arms and continued advancing, grinning all the while.
“Don’t try anything,” I tried to sound as threatening as I could, “I know Karate.”
He kept on coming at me. I tried to dodge around him to his left but he just reached his arm out and grabbed me, effortlessly, as if this were something he did every day.
I tried to pull away from him but he just laughed at me. He held me around the waist with his left arm while he grabbed my jaw with his right hand. It was rough and callused, there was dirt under the nails.
He brought his leering face down over mine and our lips met. The sweet smell of fresh sweat filled my nostrils while he pried my jaw open and forced his tongue into my mouth.
I was terrified. Was it just sex he wanted? No, he was lying when he said my master had sent him. He lied when he said the police wouldn’t believe me. He didn’t want to just rape me, he intended to kill me as well, I was sure of it.
I reached up and dug my nails into in face. I drew down and left four parallel trails of blood from his cheek to his chest.
He screamed in pain and pushed me back, away from him.
He touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his hand, looked at me, down on the floor where he had pushed me. He grabbed me by the lapels of my robe and pulled me to my feet. I tried to kick and scratch my way free of him, but to no avail. He balled his fist and punched me, once, in the mouth, hard.
I tasted blood. Pain shot through my head and took all my strength away. I looked at him in horror. He was grinning again.
“So the bitch likes it rough,” he said. He hit me again, not as hard this time but in the same place. It hurt even more. My knees gave way completely and I collapsed on the floor at his feet.
He reached into his pocket and took out a six-inch buck knife. He opened the blade and held in his mouth, biting on the blade like a grinning pirate.
He opened his pants and kicked off his shoes, in a moment he was standing over me, naked, the knife in his hand, laughing at me. I could see now he wasn’t Latino, he was Polynesian. Almost six feet tall, with muscles like a body builder, he was a good-looking boy and under other circumstances I would have enjoyed getting to know him, maybe even this way. But not now, not like this. His cock was hard and stuck straight out, pointing at me like an accusing finger. He looked at me with hate and anger in his eyes and voice. He ran his thumb over the blade of his knife.
“So this is the bitch who looks down on poor honest people working in the garden.”
“No… I…”
“Shut up!” He reached down and slapped me across the mouth with the back of his hand. “This bitch thinks she’s better than other people. She thinks she can order them around. She’s not so high and mighty now, is she?”
“Please… don’t hurt me. I was just looking… I didn’t…” I felt a trickle of blood and saliva run down my chin.
“You didn’t. You wouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Fuck you, bitch!”
He knelt down and touched the knife to my throat. My body went stiff, rigid, as if I had been touched by an electric wire.
He laughed at my terror, a quiet, monotonous, crazy, keening sound. He pressed the blade against my larynx, the cold, sharp steel pinching my flesh. My breath shook in my lungs and my arms trembled. He pushed me back until I was lying on my back on the floor.
“Go ahead, bitch, fight me. I like it when they struggle.” He laughed a little louder, a little more sanely, I thought.
He let the point of the knife rest on my throat under its own weight. He drew it down from my throat to my chest. My skin trembled and shook under the cold steel. He traced the inner curves of my breasts. Then he pushed the robe open, exposing my breasts to his leering gaze. I could see the appreciation in his eyes.
He held the knife more gingerly now. He traced the full roundness of both my titties. He flicked my nipples ever so lightly with just the tip of the knife. A cold, burning sensation, I had to look to make sure he hadn’t drawn blood.
Despite myself, I was beginning to get aroused. My nipples crinkled up and got hard under his wicked play.
He turned the knife and with a flick of his wrist cut the sash of my robe. He slipped the robe away from my body.
“Look at the little whore!” he laughed loudly, “the bitch shaves her pussy.”
I pressed my legs together. “You have no right to…”
“You know what you’re gonna get, don’t you, bitch?”
“Please, don’t.”
He slapped me again, the pain flashed warm through my head and chest. It started to reach down into my stomach. My blood was salty in my mouth. I licked my lip and tasted more.
He leaned over me menacingly. He pressed the knife under my chin. I stretched my neck, retreating from the weapon.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Think you can get away from me?”
I shook my head slightly, trying to move as little as I could with the knife still pressed under my chin.
“What if I didn’t have this knife?” He took it away and laid it on the floor next to my head.
I breathed a little easier, but not much. It was still right there where he could reach it. As if reading my mind he pushed the knife across the carpet, sending it eight feet away. One of us could lunge for it and get their before the other. He was toying with me.
“Go on, get up,” he said.
I got on my knees next to him. The robe was an encumbrance so I let it fall from my shoulders. My pale skin contrasted sharply with his.
“If you had the knife, what would you do? Would you cut me?” He said it mockingly, as if I were incapable of such a thing.
I looked at him. Maybe I would cut him, I thought. He has no right to terrorize me. He should know what it feels like to be scared.
“Go on, I’ll give you a head start.”
He was looking me up and down, imagining fucking me. When I saw his eyes drop to my pussy, I lunged for the knife.
He laughed and grabbed my left arm, twisting it behind my back. I made a fist with my right and landed a solid punch on his eye. His grip on my arm slipped and I made another try for the knife.
This time he knocked me down with an open-handed chop to the side of the neck. He dragged me back away from the knife and threw himself on top of me.
I squirmed and twisted under him. He had to hold both my wrists to keep me from scratching and hitting him. I had my legs together and wouldn’t let him get his knees between mine. I started feeling cocky, like maybe I could take this bozo. I brought my leg up sharply and kneed him in the balls.
He doubled over in pain. I tried to get out from under him again, but couldn’t. He was stronger than me. He reared up and gave me a stinging blow to the side of the head. Then he reached down and with his strong right fist, punched me squarely on the pussy!
The pain exploded all through my body at once. A great red halo enveloped me, paralyzed my body, and filled my senses with ringing, stinging pain.
He fell on me. I was limp, stunned beneath him. He penetrated me in an instant. With no thought of me or my pleasure, he pushed his prick into me to prove his dominance over me. He didn’t even want sex, he just wanted control.
My pain concentrated itself in my cunt. Its heat warmed my vaginal walls as he pushed his prick into me. I got wet again, against my will. This pig had won. He had beaten me. Now he was using sex to degrade me. I hated him. And at the same time, no matter how much I willed not to, I was getting aroused by him.
His cock wasn’t as long as my master’s but it was thicker, and wedge-shaped. The head was only about an inch across at the tip, but the base looked like it was three inches in diameter at least, if not four.
My cunt was still sore from his punch, the humiliation of having him jerk himself off in me, just using me like an object, sent burning waves of shame through me to mix with the pain. And both of them combined with sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt, got my orgasm started.
I couldn’t stand the added humiliation of having him know I was enjoying him, so I took my pleasure and turned it into struggles. I fought and twisted under him. He held my arms and laughed at me.
“Fight all you want, bitch. I like the way you move.”
I twisted and pulled back and forth. Each movement forced his cock in and out of my cunt. I couldn’t disguise the hot wet pussy juice that was flowing from my cunt all over his cock.
He pressed further in, stretching my pussy lips apart. I pulled away, almost dislodging him. He thrust in. He put all his weight on my chest to hold me still. He shoved himself all the way in me. His cock stretched my pussy lips painfully. Tears formed in my eyes.
He pumped in and out, hard, fast, insistent. I turned my head to one side and started crying. Sobbing in great gasps, tears splashing on my cheeks, wailing my humiliation to the world.
His cock throbbed and spurted, filling my cunt with his hot, creamy come. I sobbed and moaned and let my own orgasm flow through me at the same time. I was relieved, embarrassed, appalled, ashamed, filled with satisfaction.
I was still lying on the floor, crying, when he put on his pants and left the room, locking the door behind him.
I cleaned myself and the room so there was no trace of him or what he had done to me. First I vacuumed and shampooed the rug. Then I drew a bath for myself in the master bathroom. The huge tub allowed me to thoroughly submerge myself in warm, healing, sudsy water.
The pain of the rape, the violation, was too deep, too agonizing to be pleasurable. I tried to wrap myself in healing water, to soothe my pain and regroup my forces.
My tears ran down my race and into the water. I sobbed uncontrollably, abandoning myself to the mind-numbing agony of my humiliation. I sank beneath the surface and contemplated drowning. I doubted that I could drown then, I was too angry.
*****
“How are you, my dear?”“Very well, thank you, Sir.” I curtsied for Him in my dress black uniform. I had gone to great pains to do my hair and make-up just right. I wanted just the right blend of innocence and lewdness with which to greet Him on His return. “Welcome home.”
“How did you spend your time while I was away, my dear?” He asked.
“I did some homework, and I did some housework,” I said. I was following behind Him into the living room, carrying His jacket and briefcase. These I took to the closet, from which I got His slippers and went to Him where He sat in His easy chair.
“That’s nice, my dear.” He was looking through His mail and giving me hardly any of His attention.
I took His shoes off His feet and kissed His toes before covering them with His slippers. “I met your gardener as well.”
He looked down at me. I had His attention now. “How did you happen to meet Kimo? I thought you were going to remain in your room.”
“I was in the pleasure room when He came in after me. He had a key.”
“He did what?” He looked intense, but not surprised or upset. Yes, I thought, He might have orchestrated the entire incident. He might even have video-taped the entire episode and already reviewed it before seeing me. He was capable of anything, I thought.
“Sir, do you remember,” I said, changing the subject slightly, “when Dr. Grant offered to teach me greater discipline?” I took His shoes to the closet and deposited them inside.
“Yes.” He was non-committal.
“I wonder if she would be interested in performing that same service for Kimo?”
My master gave me a long, slow, knowing, accepting smile. “She might be, I’ll have to ask her.”
“That would be nice,” I said dreamily. I knelt at my master’s feet and caressed His thigh with my arms. “I might even have another friend who might like Dr. Grant.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think so,” I was drifting off into a haze of sensual fantasy. I rubbed my master’s cock gently through His pants, feeling it grow stiff and rigid. “Maybe Dr. Grant will let me learn from her as well. I’d like to be her apprentice, in case I ever have servants of my own that I need to discipline.”
“My dear, you reveal undreamed of depths.” He placed my hand on His zipper. “We may have to take you shopping very soon. I think you may need some new outfits, something more… severe… shall we say?”
I took the hint and undid His pants. His cock sprang forth, long, smooth, and hard. I put the top half of it in my mouth, savoring the taste.
Yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant again, especially now that we’d be on a more nearly equal basis.
I was looking forward to introducing her to Mandy. I wondered if they’d hit if off right away. I wondered if Mandy would like the disciplining Dr. Grant was certain to want to give her. Would she submit or would she resist.
If she fought back, would Mandy overpower Dr. Grant? And if she did, what would happen then?
Oh, yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant and Mandy, and I was especially looking forward to seeing Kimo again, in circumstances of my design.
Yes, a new wardrobe was definitely called for. I was learning more about myself by the minute.
1 comment:
Order a Sparkling White Smiles Custom Teeth Whitening System online and SAVE BIG!
* Up to 10 shades whiter in days!
* Results Guaranteed.
* Better than your dentist.
* Same strength Teeth Whitening Gel as dentists use.
Post a Comment