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Chapter 3
I picked her up from her apartment fairly early Saturday morning. She jumped into my arms at the opening of her door then pulled back and smiled. “What are we doing today?” she asked. Her smile was bright, and she seemed a ball of energy.
“I figured we would check in with Tom and Marla. Then I thought I would take you home with me and torture you through the night,” I told her.
Melissa’s eyes went wide and she nearly knocked me down when she bounced into my arms. A sudden attack of kisses dampened my face and then she planted a deep kiss on my lips. She pulled back after the kiss, ran her hands through my hair and then kissed me again. “I love you!” she exclaimed and then kissed me deeper still.
Before leaving I had insisted Melissa wear another sundress, this time in red, and go without panties and a bra again. Her shoes I left to her; and she chose a simple pair of sandals.
As we drove I had Melissa rub herself. Several times I allowed her an orgasm, and by the time we arrived she was virtually dripping wet. Of course, I made her taste herself, before exiting the car, making her blush red.
“Do you think Marla will be wearing the stuff you made?” Melissa asked as we approached the front door.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I replied.
Melissa’s question was answered almost instantly. Marla opened the door, greeting us happily and wearing the same style of short-shorts and t-shirt she had been wearing before; it was her standard attire. “This is a pleasant surprise,” she said cheerfully.
I flashed an evil grin and laughed. “I just wanted to check in and see how the metal was working out.”
“I bet you did!” Marla laughed. “Turns out it was not as great an idea as it seemed.”
“Do tell.”
Marla turned and directed us to the living room. “Lemonade?”
“Yes, thanks,” I said.
As we entered the living room I saw that Tom was seated on the couch and having a heated discussion with Colin and James. After a quick greeting and handshake I introduced the two men to Melissa. Both seemed impressed, and Colin seemed to have difficulty removing his eyes from Melissa’s chest.
Marla came in with the lemonade and sat down beside us on the couch. Tom eyed us and then grinned. “Poker party?” he asked mischievously.
I smirked. “Not today, Tom,” I said. “I just thought I would check on how the equipment was working out.”
“Not so good in practice,” Tom told me. “It was impossible to sit or lay comfortably and enough movement really caused pain. It’ll be good for short term fun but not for long term.”
“Too bad,” I said. “But I do have something you might be interested in. Maybe Marla can be my crash test dummy?”
There was a “Crap!” from Marla that brought chuckles to everyone. Then James chimed in to ask what the ‘mad scientist’ had come up with.
Then to the men I announced, “Why don’t you girls get caught up on things. Me and the guys can head out to my car.”
Another “Crap!” from Marla garnered more laughs, and then Tom, James, Colin and I left our seats and made our way out the door.
“Why don’t you leave well enough alone?” Marla hollered after us, bringing another laugh to us all.
As we walked to the car I was met with words of approval, regarding Melissa, from Colin and James. Tom then asked if I had ‘sealed the deal’ yet. I nodded negatively and received a round of boos.
“How long has it been?” James asked.
Tom chimed in before I could answer. “Too long; Bill is the slowest moving bastard on the planet,” he told them. “He makes me sad.”
“You’re a funny guy, Tom,” I laughed. “Keep it up and you won’t get any of my shit.”
“But he’s good looking!” Tom added hastily.
“Okay,” I began as we reached my car. “About a year or so ago, I was reading about some new fabric for swimming suits that was supposed make swimmers faster. It was banned by some amateur athletic association. The article said it was like shark skin. That got me thinking about how fish scales (or scales in general) work. Rubbed one way it’s slick as you please; rub another and it’s rough. This gave me an idea. I had already heard of a fish that would expand inside the throat of a caiman and make it impossible to swallow. So I got to wondering what might happen if I combined that with a texture similar to shark skin.”
“So you invented an expandable shark that kills caimans?” Colin cracked.
“Asshole!” I shot back. “And no, that’s not what I did. What I did was use those ideas to make a plug.” Then I reached into a small bag and pulled out the first workable model of said plug.
“So...it goes in and doesn’t come out?” James asked. “That doesn’t sound like a great idea. I doubt if any girl would want to be permanently plugged.”
I shot James a disapproving look before continuing. “Look here,” I said, pulling a small hand pump and inflation tube from the bag and attaching it to a valve at the plug’s base. I handed the plug to James and had him run his hand back and forth along the plug’s length. “Smooth in both directions, right? He agreed and then handed it off to James who, after inspecting it similarly, handed it to Tom.
“Smooth,” they all agreed.
I gave the pump about four squeezes, mildly inflating the plug. “Now check it.”
One by one they inspected the plug, rubbing it back and forth as if masturbating. “Ah,” James said. “So it goes in and can’t be removed when it’s inflated; very cool.” Tom and Colin exchanged grins.
Retrieving the plug I unscrewed the center piece and held it up to reveal its hollow nature. “See this? You can install this bad boy, inflate it and pull out its core. So if you are into enemas you can do it with the plug in. Also, you cannot deflate the plug without the pump.” I unscrewed the inflation tube. “And, as you can see, the pump can be taken off entirely. In other words, if this has been engineered right, and I have yet to test it on a person, you can fill your girl’s ass and she can’t remove it until you deflate it.”
The three men stood staring at the plug as if it were an alien, almost fighting to inspect it again. Then Tom chimed in asking what they all wanted to be certain of. “I just want to get this straight; you’re telling us you made an inflatable plug that, once inflated, can’t be removed until its deflated, and it can’t be deflated without the pump attachment?”
“That’s the intent of the design,” I answered.
“I assume you’ve done some testing on it?” James asked, still inspecting the plug.
“Of course; and it passed all my tests,” I said. “But, like I said, I have yet to test it out on a human being.”
Colin took the plug from James’ hands and held it up, looking through it. “Are you going to test it on Melissa tonight?”
“I brought it over for Tom to test on Marla,” I answered.
Nearly in unison, James and Colin asked, “Do you have any more?” My nod to the negative was met with a unified “Boo!” from both men, followed by Colin reminding me to always bring enough to share with the rest of the kids.
“It’s gotta be tested, boys,” I said, grinning at their collective responses. “Once he gives the go ahead for production you can get yours.”
Upon returning to the house Marla and Melissa’s conversation came to a halt. Both had questioning looks, though Marla’s was tinged with worry. When we all had taken our seats again Marla turned to Tom and asked, “What new horror has he brought you today?”
Those of us in the know all smiled at one another; and then Tom displayed the plug. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, honey,” he told her.
“There’s a twist. I know there’s a twist,” stated Marla with authority. “What’s the twist?” She looked at me and flashed a look of distress.
After Tom explained the gist of the plug to her, she turned to Melissa with a grimace.
Tom quickly explained the basic gist of the plug to Marla, who flashed her displeasure with a grimace. Then, turning to Melissa, she said, “You should know that your boyfriend is evil. He comes up with horrible new ideas and lets Tom test them on me. This is one of the more mild experiments.” Marla turned to look at me and smiled sarcastically. “Thank you for allowing me to be your guinea pig, sir. It seems a bit long for a plug though. Don’t you agree?”
I smiled back a similar sarcastic smile. “Not if he wants to continue the experiment he wanted to try last week.”
Marla paled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not made to go all the way in. It’s made to stay out about an inch,” I informed her. “It should keep your tiny sphincter wide open, and since it’s hollow he can give you enemas without ever removing it from your plump little bottom.”
Marla looked to Tom, a pleading look on her face. He smiled and nodded. “I can install it now, love,” he told her. Then he looked around the room. “Would anyone mind if I installed it now?
Were it not for the sounds of the fauna outside and the mild breeze blowing through the trees there would have been utter silence. No one spoke and it seemed as if no one breathed.
“Get it wet first,” I said, breaking the silence.
A few minutes later Marla stood naked before us. Tom made her turn and bend over, ordering she clasp her ankles with her hands. Slowly he installed the already thick plug. When it was fully seated he attached the inflation tube and began pumping its gradual inflation. Many pumps later - far more than I expected - he stopped.
“How does it feel, honey?” Tom asked of his wife.
She breathed a deep breath. “It’s too big. I can’t take this for long. It really hurts.”
He turned the valve on the pump and allowed air to escape then asked again. He repeated this action several times until Marla reported a lack of pain. Satisfied, Tom disconnected the inflation tube, and then gave the plug a mild tug. Her sphincter pulled outward in an odd bulge I had never seen before, seemingly confirming my invention worked. A more firm tug pulled the girl backwards so she had to take a step or fall over.
“I want one,” Colin blurted.
“How long will it take to make more?” asked James.
I failed to answer the question. My eyes were firmly on Marla who had been ordered to her hands and knees while Tom continued to pull the plug experimentally. It did not budge. In fact, each tug of the device tended to make her sway backwards. Tom, seemingly satisfied, looked up from Marla’s behind and smiled. “One more thing to test out;” he said, leading Marla from the room. “I’ll be right back.”
Left to our own devices, I turned back to the group and smiled. “Seems to work,” I said.
“How long will it take to make more?” James repeated his question.
I looked over at Melissa who, seated beside me, was red faced, silent and glassy eyed, then over to James. “About a week,” I answered at last. “I have material for about three more but that’s it.”
“I’ll take one,” both Colin and James said in unison then laughed. James followed, asking the cost.
“Hmm, I can do it for around three hundred a piece,” I answered. Both men seemed shocked but both agreed to my price. “I may be able to sell them for less once I get the finer details worked out. You might want to wait.”
“Well, it still needs to be tested,” I told them, to which both men told me they didn’t want to wait for the testing.
“Not I,” James said quickly. Colin quickly followed.
Turning to my glassy eyed girl I put my hand on her thigh and asked if she was alright. She nodded without a word, gave me a sheepish look and smiled. I leaned over and kissed her cheek and she smiled again.
After several minutes of silence Tom and Marla, who was now clothed, returned to the room. Tom was smiling, while Marla was quite pale. “Gave her an enema,” Tom explained. “It works like a charm.”
After pulling a chair to the head of the coffee table Tom sat down and bade Marla to kneel beside him. He stroked her head as one might a dog and said, “Marla, tell them our plans.”
Marla looked up at him, distress showing on her face. “We are going to keep my ass plugged from now on.”
“Tell them everything,” Tom urged her.
Marla inhaled deeply and then sighed. Finally, and in a sad voice, she said, “Tom is going to inflate the plug every other day to enlarge my asshole. He will give me enemas twice a day. He wants you all to come back over in two months to see if I can close my asshole when the plug is removed.” A tear ran down her cheek.
A sad, sympathetic voice sounded in the room. It was Melissa, who herself had tears streaking down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?” she asked of Melissa.
Marla looked to her, sniffed and gave a sad smile. “Nothing is wrong,” she told Melissa. “I am a slave, and a slave happily does as her master wishes.”
“But you aren’t happy,” Melissa pleaded. “Why are you so unhappy?”
Tom spoke in soft tones, smiling at Melissa as he did, saying, “This is not something she wants. But it does not make her unhappy, as you suggest it does.”
“But she’s crying!” exclaimed Melissa.
“What you fail to understand is her need to please and make me happy,” Tom explained, smiling patiently.
Melissa seemed briefly at a loss. Finally she found her voice. “But she didn’t seem so upset last week when you were planning the same thing. Why is this different?”
Again Tom spoke for his wife. “After seeing the device Bill made she did not believe it was going to work. It was impractical and bulky; she told me as much after you left. So she took it lightly, knowing it would have to be used sparingly, and then only for short periods. The plug is different.” Then he leaned forward as he pulled Marla’s head back by her hair. Looking into Marla’s eyes, he asked, “Isn’t it?”
Marla nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s different.”
But Melissa was not through. Staring Tom full on and with anger in her voice she asked, “Why would you put her through this if you know she doesn’t want it?”
Easing back in his chair and stroking Marla’s head once again, Tom smiled. “Long ago, before Marla and I were married, I had expressed to her this fantasy and many others. In spite of her finding many distasteful she gave herself to me. We have explored many of those fantasies but this is one we have not.”
“But it still makes her unhappy; it’s obvious!” exclaimed Melissa. “Why would you make her do something that makes her as unhappy as this makes her?”
“Let me try a new tack; you are with Bill now, are you not?” asked Tom.
“What’s that got to do...?”
“Humor me, please,” he interrupted.
“Yes, I am with Bill.” came her answer.
“What would you think of Bill if he failed to enforce your status in the relationship between you?”
“I don’t know...we haven’t gotten that far, but...,”
Tom interrupted again. “How would you feel if you prevented him from experiencing one of his fantasies?”
Melissa looked at me and then at Tom. “I would like to give him as many fantasies as I can,” she said to Tom. “But that still...,”
“Has he told you about any interest that you do not want?” Tom asked.
Again, Melissa looked to me and then at Tom. “Yes.” Her answer was more subdued this time.
“And do you intend on fulfilling that fantasy?” he finished.
Melissa bowed her head, then looked over at me and answered Tom’s question; “I do.”
She turned back to Tom who smiled. “How would you feel if you prevented him from fulfilling his fantasies - as pertains to you two? I am not asking about other partners. That is another thing entirely. I am asking about you two. If Bill had a fantasy that was as distasteful to you as mine is to Marla would you fulfill it?”
A tear streaked down Melissa’s cheek followed by another. She was staring hard at me, smiling a sad smile. Her hand reached out for mine and she nodded. “I would. But this is different!” insisted Melissa.
Tom inhaled, frustration showing in his demeanor. “Given the choice, and should I so desire it, Marla would wear this plug for the rest of her life. In this case, as with so many, I have simply taken that choice from her. She prefers it this way.”
Obviously shocked Tom would make such a bold statement Melissa looked at Marla. “Is that true?” her voice was shocked with incredulity.
Marla nodded to the affirmative. “Yes, it is,” Marla answered. “I would do anything he asked, but I am glad I don’t have a choice in it. It makes it…easier.”
The air, so heavy for a moment, became less so. Melissa and Marla smiled at one another. Melissa sheepishly looked about the room and blushed, then apologized for her outburst. Most especially she apologized to Tom.
“Marla,” I said, gaining her attention. “Would you mind turning around and getting on your hands and knees?” She looked to Tom who nodded. Turning to Melissa I said, “I want you to go to Marla. Inspect the plug. If Tom doesn’t mind, I want you to pull it lightly and see how firmly it’s seated in her rectum.”
Melissa looked at Tom who wordlessly nodded approval. She went to Marla and knelt. Hesitant at first, Melissa reached out and took the inch-long portion of the plug and pulled it slightly. On my order she pulled it again; this time hard enough to bring about a more obvious bulge. Melissa turned back and looked at me questioningly.
“Do you think you can get it out?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not without hurting her.”
I smiled at her and bade she return to my side on the couch. “Would you like me to do this to you?”
“No,” was her simply reply.
“Like Tom, this is one of my fantasies,” I stated. “Would you, if I wished it, permit me to do this?”
It was as if the universe were empty but for the two of us. She stared at me, mouth slightly agape and with a sudden surge of tears. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she fell into a slump, her hands grasping at mine and then holding them tightly. Melissa pulled back and then slipped to the floor to kneel at my feet. “I’m your sex toy,” she whispered. “I can’t give permission. I do what you tell me.”
I leaned down and kissed her nose, and when I leaned back she crawled between my legs and buried her head against my left thigh, arms slightly wrapped around my waist. There she remained until Marla, at Tom’s urging, came to comfort her and then take her away to clean up.
After the girls had departed Tom turned to me and smiled. “I hope you feel for her as much as she does for you,” he said. “She’s a good soul, Bill.”
“I know,” was my reply. “I told you before; I think this girl is the one. I hope she didn’t upset you.”
Tom offered a smile, and then grinned at the other two men in the room, “Terribly!” he said in mock anger. “But it’s nothing a night of poker can’t cure.”
“Prick,” I mumbled.
“Indeed,” laughed Tom.
Marla and Melissa soon returned, whereupon Melissa, once again, offered her apologies to Tom. Soon after I decided it was time to leave and, after saying our goodbyes to all, we sped off in my BMW. Melissa was overjoyed when I reminded her I was taking her home with me.
My home is a simple layout. Having previously been office space, it had required only minor work. After knocking out a portion of wall in each office I created a long hallway along its northern wall, resized the windows to a more appropriate size and turned three of the offices into bedrooms, another into a living room and kitchen and the last room, more or less, into a storage area for some of my work.
The living room is sparsely furnished. Two large couches face one another, spaced between by a large area rug and a coffee table. On the wall that divides it from the kitchen is a very large LCD television with a small oaken media unit directly beneath.
The guest bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms, are located on the south side of the building and furnished relatively sparsely: two nightstands, a floor lamp and a king-sized bed. My own bedroom is the largest room in the house. The bed is a California King and housed in a four post metal frame with heavily braced crossing metal beams over the top. I’ve a large oaken armoire on the northern wall, two nightstands beside the bed and a deep closet on the southern wall, beside which is the door to the bathroom.
The carpet for each room was the same cream Berber, and the walls are painted white and simply adorned with photographs and paintings of classic automobiles. When Melissa saw it for the first time her first words were, “You are such a guy!” I chose to take it as a complement.
For the first hour after our arrival we sat talking on one of the couches. We spoke of everything that had transpired in our relationship thus far. Then we relived more recent activities, focusing most heavily on our recent visit with Tom and Marla; a topic that served to embarrass her quite a lot.
“I really stepped into it,” she told me. “I hope I didn’t upset them with my presumptions.”
Smiling at her, I suggested she had much to learn about their relationship, to which she fully agreed. “I think I have a lot to learn about that type of lifestyle,” she mused. “I mean, it’s the type of lifestyle I want to live.” Slightly red faced, she then told me she had hopes our own relationship might mirror that of Tom and Marla.
“When Marla took me away to clean up,“ Melissa began her confession, “she told me how much she loved and trusted Tom. She said he was everything to her and she knew it was the same for him. She told me he freed her when he took away her choices. I need that - the trust and control. I need it.”
“I know,” was my simple reply.
Melissa continued; “You know; Marla really loves you. She told me Tom does, too. She says you’re the best man she knows. Better than her father, better than Tom,” Melissa informed. “She says you’re honest to a fault and always do what you think is best for the people around you.” Melissa smiled, then added, “I knew that the night I met you. I don’t know how. But I did.”
I nodded and smiled at her comment. “Nice to know you trust me,” I told her. “But what does that mean for us?”
Melissa took a deep breath, and then returned my smile. “I think it means that…because I know you won’t hurt me; that I can trust you, you can do anything you want to do to me, and that I will do anything you want me to do.”
“That’s rather an interesting thing to say at this juncture,” I said.
“Why so?” Melissa asked.
“We haven’t really known each other very long,” I answered. “For you to say something like that indicates a level of trust that is usually only reached after a rather long period of time.”
Melissa gave a sheepish grin. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Why do you think you trust me so much?” I inquired.
“I think it has something to do with how you’ve done things so far,” Melissa answered. “You’ve been very slow and methodical. You haven’t pushed and even refused to fool around with me. Of course, the comments Marla has made haven’t hurt, either; she always talks about you as if you were the one that got away.”
“Well, we’ve been friends a long time,” I said. “But be careful; I do have an evil side.” I grinned at her.
Melissa laughed. “I know; that’s what I’m counting on.” There was a brief pause, and she pushed a stray hair out of her eyes. “Anyhow, I have fallen in love with you and I want to be your sex toy. I know I probably won’t live up to all your expectations, but I promise to try my best.”
I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. “That sounds like a proposal,” I told her.
“It’s not. It’s a request,” Melissa responded. “Please make me into your perfect sex toy. You said you would take my mind away once, make me think only of pleasing you. I want that. Please make me your mindless sex toy.”
Still smiling, and with a firm grip on her hands I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I will.” Then I kissed her deeply, and when we parted she smiled, nearly purring at me.
“Time for dinner,” I announced cheerfully as I stood. “I’m going to make us a nice dinner; then we’re going to take a long, hot shower. After that I am taking you to bed.”
Melissa was quite surprised by my skills in the kitchen, even offering comment that I knew my way around an oven far better than she. When we sat down in my small dining area to eat, she was even more impressed.
“This is amazing!” she gushed. “What is it?”
“Chicken Marsala,” I told her. “It’s one of my favorite dishes; and one I am particularly good at making.”
Melissa laughed, and then announced, “I guess we know who the cook in the family will be.”
The implications of her comment gave me hot shivers. I smiled broadly.
Later, after our dinner had settled somewhat and we were all but talked out, I led Melissa to my bedroom. She wandered the room inspecting the various furnishings and commenting on their uniquely heavy build. When she came around to the bedframe she seemed properly impressed, commenting on its sturdiness, and then asked, “Why did you make it so heavy?”
I grinned at her naiveté.
“You did make this didn’t you?” Melissa inquired.
“I did,” was my answer.
“Did you make the armoire and the other furniture?” she followed.
“No. I got those in trade for some work I did for a guy who does carpentry for a living,” I answered. “I can do it. But why bother if you can get a master craftsman to do it?”
Melissa came to where I stood near the bedroom door. Reaching out, she took my hand in hers and led me to the bed, pushed me to sitting on its edge and gave me a sultry smile.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you will do to me or what you’ll make me do. I don’t know how to act or what to think, even. And it isn’t like I’m a virgin. For some reason, though, I feel like one tonight.”
I pulled her close, wrapped my hands around her waist and smiled at her. “You know...I’m still taller than you and I’m sitting,” I mused, receiving a playful shove for my observation.
I pushed her back and told her to turn around. “I want to watch you undress. Do it slowly. When you’re finally naked I want you to cover your breasts and slowly turn around.”
Melissa stepped back and turned around, then glanced back at me, already red with embarrassment. She flashed a smile. After stepping out of her sandals she began to slowly pull her sundress over her head.
I watched, enthralled by the sight before me; the shapely calves, the tiny nook behind her knees and, soon after, the shapeliness of her large bottom and the two dimples above, the fine musculature of her back. She was flushed from head to toe, covered in goose bumps and shivering in spite of the warm temperature of the room.
She glanced back again, displaying a smile that was sultry, beautiful and anticipatory. Slowly, and with arms and hands covering breasts that were impossibly large on one so small, she turned to face me. Slowly then, she revealed her breasts to me.
I reached out and took her hands, kissing them, and then led her to the bathroom. Moments later, as the room filled with a cloud of warm fog, we stepped into the shower. Kissing passionately, we held each other tightly as ever we could, then fell to the floor of my large shower and there we made love for the first time.
She grunted as I entered her, emitting a slight cry of pain. Hesitating, I waited for her approval before continuing. Melissa nodded and I entered her more fully, knowing full well she would be unable to take the entire length of my sizable member. She thrust at me, first grimacing then smiling.
“I love you,” she whispered barely loud enough to be heard above the flowing water.
I returned her words of love with my own and then returned her thrust. Our next was in unison, suddenly bound together as one. Within minutes she was begging for release, her eyes pleading with me as her fingernails dug into my back.
“Sonar,” I uttered.
With back arched, and fingers seemingly trying to find my vitals, Melissa screamed out her pleasure. Her neck strained and she reddened noticeably. The orgasm passed and she was soon begging for another and then another. Suddenly I felt a tremendous pressure on my member; her vaginal muscles contracting tightly, gripping me with a pressure I had never felt before. Only by the strength of will was I able to stem the tide of my own building orgasm. But stem it I did.
Soon, our love making gave way to sensual caresses, and we washed each other, smiling and sharing loving glances and child-like giggles. When, at long last, we stepped from the shower we dried each other carefully, exchanging kisses and more loving glances and giggles.
In bed, our lovemaking continued at a feverish pace; covers, once warm and inviting became oppressive and we flung them from our bodies. Melissa found yet more orgasms while still I refused to allow myself the pleasure. At last, nearly exhausted from her pleasures, Melissa begged for mercy and we fell apart to lay panting and cloaked in sweat on sheets wet with the evidence of our lust. There it was that I lay, watching as orgasms, unbidden and unchecked, continued to ravage her body.
“Will it always be this way?” Melissa asked as her orgasmic waves subsided. Her face was a mask of worry and exhaustion.
I smiled and cupped her left breast, squeezed it and pinched her nipple. It drew her to yet another orgasm. “I don’t know,” I said, simply.
After a time, when it seemed she had recovered somewhat, Melissa rolled over. She bit her lip and then smiled. “You didn’t treat me like a sex toy,” she said. “Why?”
“You’ve the rest of your life to be a sex toy, but only this night to be a woman,” I said. “I wanted one night on equal footing; one night to pleasure you.” I paused, then reached out to her and stroked her shoulder. “You’re quite beautiful.”
Melissa smiled and blushed, biting her lip again, and then climbed atop my body, straddling me. She glanced at the clock, and then grinned. “It’s a new day,” she told me. “I think I’m ready to be a sex toy.”
Smiling, I reached out and grasped her waist with both hands. “Before that there are a few things I want to say,” I began. “Whatever I do to you, no matter what changes I may make in you, how you act, dress or look, you are beautiful as you are. Nothing I do should be mistaken as a reflection of a failure on your part. They are, in short, an expression of my own fetishes. Do you understand?”
There was a nod, and then a sweet and loving smile. “I understand.” Then she crooked her head. “But what changes would you make to me?”
“For starters; if I have my way, you will find thinking for yourself to be quite difficult,” I began. “You will forget yourself and who you once were.”
Melissa issued another smiled, then said, “I know that, silly. But what else would you change?”
“My fetishes have changed over the years,” I admitted. “There may come a time when your beautiful hair is shorn and you are made to wear various wigs at my whim. I may decide your breasts, large as they are, are too small. It could be that I have them enlarged. It is difficult to say. Fetishes change.”
“I can’t imagine bigger boobs,” Melissa told me. “But tell me what you know you will change.”
“You will probably have a similar experience, though not so extreme, as what Marla is enjoying,” I offered. “I like pierced nipples and I like tongue piercings. Otherwise I have no specific plans. Though there is something about long term bondage I like.”
Melissa was perplexed. “What do you mean long term bondage?”
“Like binding your arms behind your back for a month or more at a time,” I told her.
“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” said Melissa, frowning, following with, “Should I call you ‘Master’ or any other title?”
I grinned at her. “Bill is fine,” I said.
She cuddled against my chest, practically purring and rubbing her fingers on my lightly haired chest. “Things are going to change after tonight, aren’t they?” Her voice had a melancholy tone.
“Somewhat,” I answered. “Though not entirely. I will still love you; that won’t change. But many things will.”
Melissa took in a deep breath and sighed. “Part of me wishes it could be like this always. But a part of me wishes you would get on with it.”
I wrapped my arms round the girl and squeezed her against me. “Then be my sex toy, I whispered.
“How?” she asked.
“Find a way to please me,” I told her.
Melissa lifted her head from my chest and then sat upright, still straddling me. “What would please you?” she asked.
“I’ve told you some of my interests,” I told her. “You should combine that with what you know of men. I have spoken.”
“You have spoken? What does that mean?”
“It means that I will say no more on the matter,” I informed. “Now please me.”
She began by giving me light kisses over my chest and little nibbles on my nipples. With slow deliberation she made her way downward, slipping off of me as she worked lower. Before long Melissa’s tongue found its way between my legs, and with gentle hands she pushed at my legs, inviting me to spread them somewhat so she could lie between.
“You are big,” she commented before taking my semi-hard member into her mouth.
It was a wonder to watch my hardening member grow in her mouth. Moment by moment it forced her mouth ever wider. Melissa laughed as she struggled, commenting that she had never attempted to get something so large in her mouth. But she was determined, and though she failed to take my member fully she made every effort to do so.
Melissa briefly pulled away and turned her head. She opened and closed her mouth several times. “I don’t think I can please you with my mouth,” she said. “Not yet.” Then she slathered me with saliva and climbed atop my body, straddling me once again. She reached behind her, grasped my member and, after a few minor adjustments, began pushing it into her bottom.
Admittedly, I was surprised by this action. Even had she been experienced in this manner of sex I should have been surprised. Few of the women I had experienced had been willing to take me in this manner; the not inconsiderable size being always an obstacle. So when, without hesitation, she began working my cock into her nearly virginal bottom I could only watch mutely. Where my eyes could see there evidenced considerable pain. Melissa shook as she tensed with strain as she slid her bottom down the length of my shaft; arms, and neck seeming all sinew. But it was her face, red and dripping with sweat and tears, that told the true story of all she endured. But endure it she did; only halting when the pain became too great. But she did not pull back. Instead, she remained stock still with my cock half imbedded in her bottom. Her breath was ragged and she was sweating profusely as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Please don’t move,” she begged.
Too entranced for aught, I remained motionless and staring. Then, to my surprise, she began a slight and slow gyration of her hips. Accompanying it was a low, nearly silent chant I could not make out. Melissa began crying again as her motion brought her yet more pain. Then, as her chant grew louder, I realized it was a silent reminder of her status as a sex toy, though the exact words were indecipherable.
“Please don’t move,” she whispered again, then exaggerated her gyrations slightly.
Never had I seen a woman endure such obvious pain so willingly; nor had a woman been so willing to suffer in effort to bring me pleasure. No matter how my previous lovers had expressed their willingness to suffer their thresholds had been exceeded far too easily. That Melissa was so willing to suffer made my mind reel, and I was catapulted into wonderment at what might be possible.
A click seemed to sound from her throat, drawing me back to reality. Melissa’s eyes widened to owl-like proportions. “No!” she cried out. Her voice was full of pain and anguish and her entire body shook. “I...may...,” she cried, followed by a booming moan that seemed equal parts pleasure and pain.
I stifled my first reaction; to pull her from my cock and comfort her. Realizing that doing so might bring more pain I remained still, as enthralled as I was concerned.
There was a sudden and deafening silence during which her face screwed up into a terrifying mask of pain. I started to speak and then felt her sphincter tighten about my member; she was cumming yet again. Pressure built up within; threatening, impossibly, to push me from her anal canal. There came then a flood of warm fluid that virtually soaked my thighs and torso; evidence of a tremendous orgasm that seemed a recurring tidal wave.
“I...’m...sorry,” she cried out, and then began shaking anew as her face contorted and her eyes rolled white; another orgasm had seized control of her body. Time and again she was wracked with orgasms that seemed as terrible as they were pleasure filled. Then she threw herself against me and begged my withdrawal; “I can’t take anymore, please take it out!” she screamed. But at the first sign of withdrawal she begged me to remain still.
For nearly an hour more Melissa lay against me, clutching at my shoulders and digging her fingernails into my flesh, in a vicious cycle of pain and pleasure. Only when my own concern for her well-being over road my countering arousal allowed my erection to soften did her screams and orgasms dwindle. By then she was utterly exhausted and covered in sweat, as I was covered in the residue of her many orgasms.
Fearing any movement might trigger another onset of uncontrollable orgasms I was loath to move. Thus, I remained still but for a gentle stroking of her long, ebon hair. As I did so I was in wonderment that she had fallen into my life; never had I met another such as she. As I mused my good fortune there came a tiny whisper in my ear; Melissa was apologizing.
Still stroking her hair, I asked, “Why are you sorry?”
“I never asked permission to...you know...have an orgasm,” was her whispered reply.
“Worry not, my sweet,” I told her. “In this instance there was no choice in the matter.”
Melissa lifted her head from my chest and looked at me. She offered a brief smile and then slowly sat upright, uttering a slight “Oh,” as her movements caused my member to slip out of her bottom. Closing her eyes, she grimaced and in a voice tinged with hopelessness, she asked, “May I sonar?”
Soon as the words left her lips she shuddered, moaned, and then cried out as another orgasm seized her. There followed a lengthy series of uncontrolled orgasms that left her without breath, and when they at last subsided Melissa fell into a deep sleep. I was not long in following.
How long we slept I do not know; but when we woke it was dark and she was a tiny prisoner in my arms, curled up beside me.
Melissa made another attempt to please me that night. She labored considerably at pleasing me orally, but finding her abilities inadequate she tried once more to take me in her ass. The results were nearly identical as before, and we decided to leave it for another time.
Entire story published at http://www.a1adultebooks.com/ebooks/b6265-claiming-melissa.htm
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