The Fall of 19_: Chapter 2- The Morning After
Jon: The next morning I awoke in a state of shame and anger. I couldn't believe
what had happened. I couldn't get out of my mind the horrible images of the
assault nor the verbal humiliation I suffered at Alex's hands. When Sara went
off to work I broke down and cried.
My mouth had been raped by that rich sadistic bastard! The outrage grew in me
until I thought that I would burst from it. He was everything that I despised
and, although I had fallen for some of his appeal, the fact remained that he had
forced me to perform oral sex on him, physically forced me to, rammed his cock
into me, used my mouth as simply a vessel for his pleasure, even, I thought with
tears streaming down my cheek, enjoyed the violence and degradation he inflicted
on me.
I downed a coffee and even smoked a few cigarettes. I had to call him and tell
him what I thought of him. No, I thought, I had to go and see him and tell him
to his face. I thought of how I would fight him, beat him senseless and kick
him in the balls so that they would never work again, so he could never fuck
anyone else again, the monster! Or at the very least how I would verbally shame
him as he did me the previous night. After an hour of stewing and hesitating, I
reached for the telephone, my fingers trembling, my heart pounding.
When his voice came on the line my strength waned. Still I pressed on, full of
indignation. "Alex? This is Jon". "Oh yes", his voice came back to me, full of
cocky arrogance, "I knew I was going to hear from you again. I just didn't
think it would be this soon". "Well you guessed wrong", I blustered, not
realizing how stupid that sounded. "I want to see you to talk to you about what
you did last night and I want to see you right now". "You sound upset", he
cooed. I couldn't believe his audacity. "You're fucking right I'm upset and
we're going to settle this this morning!" My voice grew assured, steady, but he
was nonplussed. "Well I wouldn't mind Jon", he said, as though nothing in the
world was wrong, "but I'm all tied up today".
"Look", I hissed, my voice full of menace, "You committed a very serious crime
last night against me and if you don't see me right now to set things straight
I'm going to the police!" He laughed into the phone. "I don't think it was so
bad. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too from what I could see, and feel,
when it was all over". I sank with shame at the memory of it, the sole of his
shoe against my pitiful hard cock. The sick bastard only wanted me to feel it
all again. I tried to muster my strength. "I demand to see you this morning!" I
repeated weakly. The fucker merely replied with a bored tone, "Well I really
can't and frankly, Jon, your hostility isn't making me more inclined to see you
now or ever".
I felt my position slipping. He was playing it so cool. Of course I was never
going to the police. How could I think I could ever intimidate such a bastard?
Panicking, feeling like I had to see him, I heard my voice sink into pathetic
submissiveness. "Please", I heard myself say, the absurdity of the word hitting
home too late, a plaintiveness in my voice that ruined any pretence of
aggressiveness, "Please see me today. I have to talk to you". "Okay, settle
down, Jon. I'll see you at noon sharp in my office". Then he hung up.
I sat there, shaking, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He was such
self-assured asshole! But at least now I was going to get to see him and get my
revenge. He thought he had me, thought he didn't have to see me, but my fake
plea softened him and he relented. There would be no pleading done, except by
him, when I saw him at noon.
I spent the morning rehearsing my part. I had to be rock steady, cool and
confident, merciless. I would fight him if it came to that, but even if I lost
I would regain my dignity.
My sexual masochism wasn't going to be handed out to just anyone. It was, after
all, just a game to play, a way to relieve the tension of always having to put
up a strong front. I was comfortable with my queer submissive side and I would
give myself over like that to men that I respected and who, when the fun was
over, respected me. I had my limits. With that in mind I dressed to go, slipping
on underneath my jeans my favourite pair of sexy black panties, as if to say, "I
don't deny this side of myself but he will never see it again". I relished
telling him off, even beating him up and he never knowing that beneath my tough
exterior I was clad in silky panties. What satisfaction that would bring! I
finished dressing and out the door I went, heading for the subway, a man on a
mission.
He kept me waiting. Noon turned into 12:30 and still his secretary said he was
too busy. I wanted to burst through his door but the thought of there being
others there with him kept me back. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to
know anything.
Finally, at 12:45 his secretary said I could go in. I knocked on his door and
entered without an invitation. He was on the phone, joking and laughing with
somebody about what was obviously not business. He gestured to me to sit down.
His office was huge, the whole fascist business boy's playground. Big desk,
leather chairs and couch, big windows with a big view and of course, the
stand-up bar. He was just a fatuous cliche, I told myself.
"I had this gorgeous woman the other night", I heard him laugh into the phone,
"The 'princess' wife of Stephen Gould. You know him? Yeah. Name's Lisa. I got
her at one of those cocktail parties at his office, he's a big advertiser with
us you know, and she was going on and on bragging about how successful he was
and how great their two teenage daughters were and how fabulously rich and happy
they were. So I thought I'd take her down. I just started in with the b.s. and
before you knew it I had her in the janitor's room down the hall tied to the
overhead pipes". I couldn't believe what I was hearing. There was literally no
end to his arrogance. "She was begging for me to fuck her. Standing there in
her heels, panties and bra, Dior dress and pantyhose in a pile on the janitor's
floor and her wrists tied over her head begging for me. What could I do? I had
to leave her there. Ha! Yeah! I went out the door, she pleading for me on the
one hand and threatening me on the other, left her in the dark, hanging there.
"So back at the party and old Stephen is wondering where his wife is. Nobody
knows. We left the room at different times so nobody thinks anything of me. I
tell him that I think I saw her getting on the elevator but I'm not sure. So he
takes off, his composure lost for all to see and I have a drink and a chat with
his daughters who happened to be there and are left behind by daddy who's gone
to chase mommy down. They're both gorgeous too, about 15 and 17. They're very
interested in modern art so I make arrangements with them to come and see the
works in my office. I have a few Concettis, so they're coming this Thursday
after school, isn't that precious?
"Then I go off again, it's been about half an hour, to check on mommy, who's
still hanging in there. When I come in the janitor's room she's just about out
of her mind, which is the way I like them. She wants to kill me, a very good
sign, because after I calm her down she's hotter than before by about tenfold.
I pull her panties down slowly and when I slide my fingers down the crack of her
ass toward her cunt I find she's sopping wet. She's writhing there, begging for
it, but I know she'll come on the spot so I just brush against her clit a few
times, driving her crazy. She's turning her bottom to me, trying to press it
against me as I'm standing there behind her.
"So I fingered her ass with her cunt juices, making it all nice and wet. Her
moans are loud as hell, echoing around that little room. So I spread her legs
apart and I fucked her ass while she stood there. Then I spun her around and
shoved it into her cunt. Just a few strokes because I felt her coming. Then I
spun her around again and did her ass again. Over and over like this until I
couldn't take anymore. She of course had passed that point long before. She was
hysterical, crying, screaming, begging to come. So I shoved it into her pussy
and we came together right away, her legs wrapped around my back. She just hung
there from the pipes, bucking me. She was drooling; she was so insane with it,
screaming over and over. I don't know how nobody came in. I was kind of hoping
to see Stephen come through the door, finding his wife at last. I just untied
her and walked out, left the building. So the daughters are coming by in a few
days, no doubt with mommy's blessing. What she told Stephen for an excuse I
don't know but it was sweet, the whole thing."
With that he told the person that he had to go and hung up. I was in a daze.
His story had so transfixed me with its eroticism and depravity that I had lost
my aggressive mood and he hung up so quickly afterwards that I just sat there
dazed on the plush leather couch staring at him as he rose from behind his desk.
"So, Jon, what can I do for you?" he asked, still playing the innocent, but with
such a sarcastic tone that the insult was obvious. I stood up but was once
again struck by the physical presence of the man; he towered over me as we stood
facing each other. He came close to me and I had to tilt my head up to look him
in the eyes.
"Look, I can see you're a busy man", I said with sarcastic bluster, but he only
smiled as if he was in on the joke, as if he didn't care, which he didn't. "I
want to tell you a few things and then I want you to tell me something", I said
sternly. "Go right ahead", he said, his voice calm, a little mocking in its
playful tone. It was a chess game of will and emotion and I knew I was in the
hands of a master. I had to concentrate on what I was saying and not think at
all about his subtle moves or I would be trapped with my own planned offensive,
my queen lost in his end, her attacks impotent and her death imminent.
He stayed right where he was, his large figure looming over me from a few feet
away. I decided to hold my ground, thinking that to back up would give him a
sign of my weakness. I'd made the first mistake of the game, already.
As I tried to speak, my voice became all the more unsteady and unsure. There
was something in the way that he stared down at me, his face an ironic mask of
concern and sensitivity. There was something devastating in that strategy of
sarcasm. On the one hand I could feel some part of me believing him as he stood
there so erect and handsome in his posture of benign concern. On the other hand
the sting of his mockery weakened me and I wavered under his gaze, my own face a
mask too, of nerve and strength and power that were not there.
He knew, as I did too, deep down in the dark side of my torn soul, that I was
not really there to fight. So, in the end, my pose was more fraudulent than his
and he was just playing the game out to its inevitable end, toying with me.
I tried to tell him how much I hated him and his kind, my rehearsed speech
sounding all the more so for every rehearsal I'd done that morning. I tried to
tell him I could go to the police. I tried to tell him that I was a little
emotionally upset lately with the fate of the magazine and that led to my
vulnerable state of the night before. I tried to tell him that I wasn't
interested in anything like that and especially not with him. I tried to get
him to say that he'd done me wrong.
He just stood there and let me flounder in my pathetic strategy, my queen
disappearing deeper into his lair. Now it was the endgame. The end of my life
as I'd known it up to then.
He smiled at me. He reached out with one arm and rested it on my shoulder.
"Don't", I said, meekly, but I didn't push his hand away and he didn't remove
it. "Jon", he started, "You just don't know yourself. You're so handsome, so
bright. There's so much more life can offer you". I squirmed inside, lost
under his spell. I tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out.
"You're so beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen a man with such exquisite
features. I wanted you from the first time I saw you last night."
"Don't", I stammered, looking away from his eyes, his hand caressing my shoulder
now, making me weak. "Such bullshit", I stammered. "No it isn't", he said
sternly. "I only spoke to you that way last night because I wanted to light a
fire inside of you. I wanted to see you burn a little. I think I see in your
eyes how the ennui in your life is killing your spirit, a spirit that I see as a
magnificent and rare one indeed. I see it now too. You're very brave coming
here today. I want to get to know you. I want us to help each other take
something out of life, something I think you really need. An awakening to
experience."
His words were hitting home. Each little bomb of loaded meaning exploding in my
soul. He took advantage of my obvious weakness and moved in for the kill. "My
god, you're so pretty!" he whispered, his voice low and seductive. That word,
so hurtful the night before and now so arousing; yet both times it was used to
break me down and he used it now to toy with me, knowing the effect its
reverberations would have inside me, knowing it would both arouse and humiliate
me, and arouse me again even more because of the humiliation. I shook inside
from his mastery of my pathetic masochistic lusts. His hand came off my
shoulder and caressed my cheek. I was passing into another realm, all my
intentions lost. He seemed like a god to me then, all-knowing, all-seeing.
When I bent my cheek to his caress he knew he had me.
He stepped into me. His arms went around me and mine around him. I bent my
weary but wanting face up to his and we kissed just as we had the night before
but this time there was passion in it. I opened my lips up wide for him, his
stirring words in my heart, the compliments, the proffered hope, the power. Our
tongues pressed together as his strong arms wrapped all the way around my slim
back. We moaned together. I was hard down below, aching for his sex.
I wrapped my arms around his broad back and held him tightly as we kissed. His
hungry lips pressed hard against me, pushing my head back, arching my back. I
moaned. I felt the stirrings of something that I recognized as love. I
couldn't believe that it was turning out so beautifully. I was blissfully
seduced in the arms of this masterful man. I moaned deliriously with desire to
make love to him as a woman would, my asshole quivering with expectant want,
needing to feel him there, filling me up.
His hand went to my cock where it bulged at the front of my jeans. I cried out
a sound of girlish desire. He growled and licked my neck and ears, biting them
softly. I was swooning in ecstasy, wanting him as I've never wanted anyone. I
tossed my head back, pressed my crotch against his and cried out as our cocks
pressed together. He turned me around. His hands pulled my t-shirt off in a
quick swoop upwards and he played with my nipples. I panted like a schoolgirl
slut and arched my back, pressing my ass against his hard torso. When he pushed
back I thought I might come from the sheer mental arousal of it. "Oh Alex," I
cried, "Oh yes!" He pinched my nipples. At first I thought it was the
beginning of the end of his pleasantness but when he followed that up with a
soothing caress I knew that things would be different this time, that he really
wanted me. "Oh, baby," he cooed, "you've got such a pretty little ass!" I
squirmed and panted from the words. I wanted him so badly!
He pushed me from behind over to his big desk and bent me over it, face down. My
hot breath panted into the wood, making little clouds of fog in it. He bent
over me, his cock pressing against my ass, and kissed the back of my neck and
the tops of my shoulders. My hands were pressed flat against the sides of the
desk as he worked his sexy magic on me, my hard cock pulsing harder against the
top of the desk with every wondrous increment of pleasure. When he pulled my
hands behind my back and clasped them together at the wrists I groaned, feeling
my nipples against the cool hard wood.
Suddenly things changed. I felt cold metal around my wrists as he held them
pinned behind my back. "Alex?" I said, plaintively. I tried to pull my wrists
apart but they were held in place. He had handcuffed me!
"Just be quiet, baby", he said, his voice laced with menace. "What are you
doing to me?" I asked submissively, still turned on, panting. Quickly, he
pulled off my shoes and socks. He reached under my stomach and undid my jeans.
Suddenly I remembered: I was wearing panties! I held my breath in expectation
as he grasped the sides of my undone pants and yanked them down. He laughed
maliciously as he saw what he had uncovered. "Ha!" he cried out. "I knew it!
Such pretty panties too! Don't they look lovely on your sweet little ass!" I
squirmed on top of the desk but he held me down with one hand pressed against
the small of my back. "No!," I cried. With the other he pulled my jeans off of
my legs, leaving me naked but for the silky black panties that encased my
squirming bottom. "Let me go!" I cried out, "I don't like this!" But he only
hissed at me, "Shut up, bitch! You aren't going anywhere!" That word stung me to
my core. Then I knew that I had been had and that this sick bastard was going to
do me again in whatever manner he wished. Still my cock was hard beneath me,
shaming me with the arousal I felt with each weak attempt to set myself free.
He leaned against my lower back, forcing me down on the desk. I felt his hands
on my ankle. I struggled to free it from his grasp but he was too strong. I
felt a rope slide around my ankle. It was pulled tightly against the leg of the
desk and as he released me I felt it tied there, helplessly bound. Now he was
free to casually move over to the other leg, swinging desperately to elude his
grasp, but he merely grabbed it in mid-air and pulled it down. Soon it too was
fastened tightly to the other desk leg. He stepped back to admire his work. I
held my breath in fear and expectation.
"Don't you look sweet all tied up like that", he purred. I could only whimper
as his words went straight to my arousal, pumping my engorged cock as it pulsed
in my panties pressed tight against the rigid wood. "Please let me go!" I cried
in terror, struggling helplessly in my bonds, my back arching in feeble attempts
to raise myself off the desk, the cuffs hurting my wrists. My ankles strained
against the bonds that held me there, spreading my legs wide.
I heard him fumbling in the drawer again. Then I felt his strong hands in my
long hair. He pulled my head back hard, lifting me off the desk until I was
standing straight up. Then I felt one hand go to my right nipple as he held my
neck back hard, his powerful fist in my hair, and in a flash I felt a searing
pain as he snapped a nipple clamp onto my tit. I cried out in agony. He reached
down and took the other clamp and snapped it onto the other nipple and then he
lowered me to the desk again, the pressure of my own chest making the clamps
pinch ever harder. I screamed out but he only hissed at me, 'Shut up, whore!",
and in my fear and agony, I did.
He caressed my trembling bottom through my silky panties. "Such a pretty girl!
Is that what you want to hear, bitch?" he hissed and I whimpered, ashamed,
aroused and afraid. He reached over and pulled the elastic off my pony tail and
spread my chestnut hair across my back. "You look just like the loveliest girl
now, faggot. Your slender back and delicate hips. Is that what you like, huh?
Do you want to be treated like a slut bitch? Do you want to be fucked like a
woman?" His words cut like a knife, shaming me and arousing me at the same
time. I could only cry helplessly, feebly, "P-please let me go. I won't tell
anyone. I just want to go. Please!" He only laughed.
I heard, with my face pressed to the desk, him fumbling with something and then
a sliding sound. I jerked my head this way and that but I couldn't see him. He
caressed my panties, whispering sadistically, "Now we're going to have some fun,
baby", and he pulled my panties up into the crack of my ass.
Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of a loud smack and I felt at the
same time something strike my ass and then a burning sensation on my bottom made
me cry out in agony. He was whipping me with his belt! "No!" I cried, "Don't!
You bastard! Stop!" But again the belt came down slashing across my helpless
bum as it lay over the edge of the desk, panties pulled teasingly into the crack
of my squirming ass helplessly displayed to the cruel whims of this sadistic
man. "Shut up, bitch or it's only going to get worse for you", he hissed and
again the belt came down. Again I yelped from the pain, crying out in a
high-pitched squeal, "No! Please! No!"
"Shut up you faggot cunt!" he cursed and again the belt came down on my sore
bottom. But I couldn't help but cry out, just as he knew I couldn't, as the pain
raced through my entire body and shook my soul. Again and again I cried out in
agony as he whipped me, shrieks and yelps I was helpless to stifle, that emerged
raw from my throat. "I guess I'm gonna have to shut you up bitch!" he said
angrily. I felt his strong fist gathering my silky black panties, pulling them
tightly into my ass and then a sharp pain and tightness around my thighs as he
pulled hard. I heard them tear as he ripped them off me, first one leg and then
the other.
He came around to where I could see him. He pulled out a wide roll of tape. He
leaned toward me and grabbed my panting cheeks. "Please Alex, don't!" I panted
pitifully but he shoved my torn panties into my shocked panting mouth and then
stuck a wide piece of tape across my wet lips.
I looked up at him from my gagged face with pleading eyes. I tasted the
sweetness of my asshole and the saltiness of my sweat through the panties that
filled up my mouth. "That's the last I have to hear from you, bitch!" he
hissed.
Again the whipping began. This time it was harder as his fury increased. My red
hot ass burned with each stroke and before the pain of one stroke even reached a
crescendo there came another cruel whip of the belt. I screamed uncontrollably
but my cries emerged as dim faraway sounds, quieter than the smack of the belt
against my abused bottom, through the panty-gag and the tape stretched tautly
across my lips.
"You come in here threatening me! Wanting me to say I'm sorry!" Each lash of
the belt came with the final syllable of his angry cries, punctuating his lines
with the crack of belt against ass and the muffled sound of my painful squeals.
"You little faggot bitch! When this is what you want! You want me to abuse
you! Whip your queer ass! Fuck you! Hurt you! Do you understand me?" The
vicious words and the cruel blows were in a match to see which could hurt me
more, each driving the other on in a frenzy in his mind and mine. All the time
I writhed in my bonds I could feel my hard-on pulsing unabated against the desk.
I was beyond mere shame. The toxic concoction of humiliation and desire,
feeding on each other, was taken to new heights by this masterful man.
When at last the whipping ended I lay there on the desk, my scorching bottom raw
behind me. I heard him taking off his clothes. I panted, tears streaming down
my face, cock straining under me, as he strode into view, naked, his huge hard
cock standing straight out between his legs. He smiled wickedly at me. "I
thought you might want to see what you were about to get, baby. You like?", and
he laughed. I swooned in my bonds at the sight of his nakedness. His muscular
rock-hard body was a work of art and the cock that pulsed from his flat torso
was menacing in its smooth straight lines, brutal in its size. I'd never seen
anything so wonderful in my life as the sight of this magnificent man. But I
writhed and shook in my bonds at the thought of taking that monstrous proud
prick in my hole.
With one last cruel chuckle he disappeared behind me. I lay there, chest heaving
beneath me and waited. Suddenly I felt him at my hole. His big lubed head was
pressing against me, spreading me wide. I gasped. He was so big! I shook with
fear over having to take his monstrous cock inside my ass but I knew I was
helpless to stop him.
He pushed in and gave a little moan. I cried out as he entered me," Oh god!
No!", but my words were a muffled mess from inside my gagged mouth. I thought I
was being split open. But my little hole surrendered to his cock and he slipped
in with the next thrust.
He put his hands on my waist and began fucking me. Inside my gagged mouth my
panties were becoming soaked, the tape holding all my saliva inside as I panted
and moaned. His big prick slid in and out of me. I could feel my hole loosening
up for him and my arousal grew. Inside my head I warmed to the thought of being
taken by this magnificent man. I listened to the sounds of my muffled moans
slowly change from frightened whimper to glorious arousal.
He started fucking me harder and harder. His strong hands gripped my hips as he
drove into me all the way and his moans grew louder too. My legs shook with the
excitement. I felt my back arch, lifting my ass up to meet his thrusts. The pain
of the nipple clamps and my red-hot ass only served to drive me higher and my
cock swelled and pulsed beneath me as this cruel man took me there on his hard
oak desk, his big cock ravaging my hole.
Suddenly he pulled out. I felt a little whimper of frustration rise up from my
throat and I prayed he didn't hear it. "Don't worry, baby", he cooed, making my
heart sink, "You'll be getting more".
I felt his hands on my bound ankles, releasing me. I sank against the desk,
pinching the nipple clamps hard and making me cry out. Then he lifted me up
again by my hair. He stood me on my unsteady feet and pushed me over against the
wall. He pressed me up against it and I felt his hips press into mine. He kicked
my legs apart and once again I felt his cock at my hole. He slid into me. My
taped mouth was pressed flat against the wall as he fucked me. My back arched,
my ass curved out to meet his thrusts. As I did though, my chest became pressed
against the wall too and the pain of the clamps on my little nipples mixed with
the pleasure of the fucking my ass was getting, making me scream out through my
bound and gagged mouth.
Soon though he pulled out again and turned me around to face him. I looked up to
his mean smiling visage with what I knew was a loving look and it only seemed to
make his smirk all the more cruel.
He bent down and picked me up. His strong arms went around my ass and I
instinctively wrapped my legs around his taut hips, holding on to him tightly.
He pressed my back against the wall, my still hand-cuffed hands manacled behind
me. His cock was in the right place and he slid in easily. He shoved me against
the wall with his thrusts, his cock sinking all the way inside of me. In and out
he fucked me, over and over again until I thought I would pass out from the
pleasure of it.
I held my ankles tightly together behind his strong back, holding him with a
frenzied grip of desire. I could feel the short little ropes that had bound me,
still wrapped around my ankles, the ends dangling down his gorgeous ass as it
tensed and released, shoving his wondrous cock inside me.
I felt the feeling coming over me. With his strong hands gripping my little ass
and his big cock fulfilling my hole, I felt it. With every thrust it grew. With
my legs wrapped around him, holding on to him for dear life, it grew. With the
sense of his mastery over me, controlling me, hurting me, fucking me, knowing
what I'm thinking and what I want better than I did myself, it grew as hard as
my cock that pressed against his torso as he drew himself into me. It was beyond
desire. It felt like love.
I wasn't aware of how ridiculous a feeling it was to have at that time and in
that situation. I was beyond shame and of course that was one of the things that
were driving it on. So I didn't feel like a shameless crazed slut as I moaned
softly and bent my mouth down and nuzzled his neck with my taped lips, giving
him mute kisses as he raped me against the wall, my wrists cuffed behind my
back, his cock fucking my ass with brutal hard thrusts.
That's when another feeling was stealing up on me. I felt a rising pleasure in
my cock as, with each thrust, his hard body pushed against it. As he fucked me
harder and harder I could sense my orgasm coming upon me. I cried out in my
panty-gagged taped mouth, " I'm coming, oh god, I'm coming!", but it came out as
indistinguishable lusty cries. I didn't think he would mind, we were, after all,
fucking, both of us. There were two of us, after all, making love, or so I
thought that was what we were doing as the waves of pleasure shot through my
body and the feeling of his cock in my hole took a step up to blissfulness and I
cried out into the hollow of his neck and the orgasm shook me to my core and I
came, shooting come all over his torso and his cock as I did.
Before the waves of pleasure subsided he pulled out. That was the first inkling
I had that something was wrong. Then he dropped me to the ground. "You little
bitch!" he cried out, the rage in his voice shaking me out of the haze of desire
and lust I was feeling. "How dare you? How dare you come? And all over me!" It
was as if he couldn't believe it. I realized right away that what I had taken to
be loving lust as he fucked me against the wall was as far from right as it
could have been.
He bent down and smacked my face as hard as he could as I knelt there before
him, my hands still clamped behind me. Pain shot through my cheek and I went
spinning to the floor. He came at me, grabbing my hair up in a fist and lifting
me onto my knees again. His face was a mask of rage and suddenly I feared for my
life and realized the insanity of my foolish lusts. He held my head in place
with a fist knotted in my hair and drew the other hand back. I was helpless but
to watch as his bare hand came back towards me, slapping the other cheek even
harder than the first and again sending me reeling to the floor where I crashed
face first into the stinging carpet.
He picked me up and did it all over again three more times until he had spent
the worst of his rage. All the while he berated me with the foulest and meanest
verbal abuse. Then he yanked me to my knees again and pulled my hair to turn my
face up to his. "You have got a lot to learn, bitch. Training you is gonna be a
lot of fun." He tore the tape off my mouth then, painfully and I spat my soaked
panties out. I looked at him with tear-filled eyes, exhausted and racked with
pain, and I could hardly believe my own ears when I heard myself whisper, "I'm
sorry". "That's something I guess", he said offhandedly, and then he hissed at
me, "Now lick it off". With that he pushed me face into his hard torso and
smeared it with my own come. "Lick it bitch!' he said, almost shouting," Lick
it!" I stuck my tongue out of my whimpering mouth and it sank into the gooey
mess. I drew it back into my mouth and swallowed. It was salty and sweet and as
it oozed down my throat I could feel my cock stirring again below. He held my
head in place as I dutifully licked and swallowed all of my come off of his hard
stomach, except for the sticky mess that he had initially smeared over my
burning cheeks.
Once I had finished to his liking he pulled my head back hard by my hair. He
lifted me up quickly to my feet and pushed me over to the couch. All semblance
of sensitivity was gone. Once at the couch he shoved me down violently onto it,
face first. I landed on the couch hard, my wrists still cuffed behind me, with a
terrified whimper.
He was on top of me in an instant. With his knees he spread my thighs apart.
Once again I could feel his hard prick against my asshole, still wet with
lubricant, and he forced his way in. I cried out from the shock of it all and
the beautiful feeling of having him inside of me after such intensity.
He pounded me mercilessly, just as I deserved, just as I desired. His big cock
tore at my hole, sliding in and out with ruthless precision. I moaned and cried,
the feelings overwhelming me. With my tits forced down upon the couch and this
fantastic man taking me at his fierce will, I was filled with the intoxicating
mix of arousal and shame.
He fucked my ass harder and harder, grunting over me with animalistic lust. I
started crying louder and more sexually, giving myself over to the passion of
the moment. The nipple clamps pinned underneath my helpless body seared my tits
with pain that only drove me higher and higher.
At last I could sense that his orgasm was upon him. He grunted louder and his
thrusts grew ever more hard and deep. Finally he gave out a loud primeval groan
and pushed himself deep into my horny hole. I could feel his cock pulse inside
me, so arousingly sensitive to the feeling of him in me as I was, and I moaned
deeper and louder than ever before as he began pumping me, filling me with his
hot come. His body shook on top of me, his cock still buried deep inside of me,
pulsating, as he pumped my ass full of his wondrous sperm. I shook beneath him
with disgrace and desire, and the satisfied, proud feeling of a woman full of
come. He held himself there for several spurts, which I felt warm and full in
my bowels, and then he finished off with a few slow, deep thrusts, his cock
still pumping me, until finally he was spent of pleasure and come, and he pushed
off of me with one hard thrust to my back.
I lay there on my stomach, chest heaving under me, my own pants the only sound
audible in what was now a suddenly quiet and still office. The disturbing calm
only served to make me more aware, like a caged animal once its struggling has
stopped. I shook with the arousal of it all, the good and the bad, with the bad
quickly taking over. I felt flooded with shame as I never had before. My
pathetic front of bravery had proved to be an abject sham. My cock was still
stiff beneath me and I cursed it in my mind, unable to accept my submissive
desires still, and sensing, sickly, that the turmoil inside me only served to
turn me on all the more.
I couldn't look at him. I kept my shame-ridden face pressed into the couch, my
lips open, breathing hard into the material. I heard him then, at his desk,
heard him pull back the chair, sit down, and pick up the phone. The click of the
numbers being pressed down was the only sound in the room as I held my breath. I
heard him speak.
"Hi, it's Alex -----------. How are you today? Really? Because of meeting me?
Well, how interesting."
His voice sounded sexy, like the tone I had heard directed at me, before. "I
didn't get a chance to tell you the other night how gorgeous you looked. Don't
laugh! You were fantastic! I couldn't stop thinking about you. Hey, I never
use lines. Life's too short for bullshit, don't you think? I only say what I
think and when I think something I usually say it. A lot of people can't handle
that kind of blunt honesty but I sense you're not one of them. I think you
believe in living life to the fullest and the chance you took kissing me told me
I'm right. Do you think I'm right?"
I couldn't believe how low this bastard could sink. How much he got off on
debasing people. I thought to myself, little does this stupid chick, if it was a
girl, realize that this guy is not only feeding her the biggest pile of bullshit
in the world, but he was only using her to abuse me, and, worst of all, he had
just laid those same lines on me. I felt like crying out laughing, " Don't
believe it, baby!", but I just lay there, with only the sick humour of it all
keeping me from bursting into tears.
"What are you wearing?" he asked her. "That sounds nice. But what kind of
underwear do you have on? Mmm, that sounds pretty sexy. I like black on a woman.
Are you wearing stockings? Only special occasions, huh? Well, that can be
arranged." He laughed.
I turned my face to look at him. My hatred of him was growing. When I saw his
face I realized he was looking at me already and as he snowed this poor foolish
woman he stared at me, blankly, like I wasn't there, like I was nothing, like I
was the emptiness I felt myself to be. Finally I could no longer hold his hard
gaze, and I turned my face away, flushed with shame.
Although he seemed to hardly know this woman, his language with her was more
gutturally sexual than I would use on Sara. I heard him say, in the now
painfully familiar deeply sexy tones he was so expert in, "I'd love to be
fucking you now. I'd love to lay you in my hot tub and make you all warm and
sexy-feeling, and then I'd carry you to my bed and lick your cunt and suck on
your clit until you came, oh, about ten times. And then I'd fuck you until you
came another ten.
"Well you're right; I'm not like anybody else. Like I said, I like to say what I
mean. And when I see someone I want I like to pursue her. And I want you.
Besides, I think you don't really mind a guy saying he finds you incredibly
desirable. Not in my case? That's a lovely thing to say. It's good to know I've
still got enough of something to interest someone as wonderful as you. So, can I
see you sometime soon? Saturday's perfect with me. How about I pick you up at
eight? Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Yeah, I know. Well then why don't you meet
me at The Oyster Club on Bering Street and we'll have dinner there? Perfect. I
can't wait. Bye."
He came over to me. I turned my head toward him, full of hatred. I could see in
his face immediately that the phony facade of friendliness he just laid on that
dumb chick was gone and the sick sadist was back. "I'm going to make a couple of
business calls, he said, matter-of-factly, "so I want you gone." I looked at
him, incredulously. I lifted my shackled wrists off my back. "What about these?"
I said, summoning my best tone of disdain. "Who do think I am, fucking Houdini?"
"Very funny, bitch. I can see you haven't learned anything. Just get the fuck
out. There's the key," and he threw it on the carpet near the couch. And with
that he turned away. I called to his back, "There's nothing to learn from you,
you bastard. And if I knew who that stupid chick was I'd set her straight about
what a pig you are. And maybe I'll just yell into the phone while you're talking
with your business fuckers that you're a queer."
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around with the sickest of smiles on
his wickedly handsome face. "First of all, I think you know better than to do
something stupid like disturb my business fuckers with remarks that could get
you very hurt. Second," and his voice took on an extra quality of menace, "what
I'm going to do with that bitch has got nothing to do with you, slut, it's way
beyond you." Something about what he said and the way he said it shut me up,
and I felt a sick chill, naked and bound there on the couch, soaking in his
vague threats like a sponge, a vacuum of fear. When I regained my composure, he
was at his desk.
I lay there for a moment. Then I thought it was perhaps best to get away from
this bastard as soon as possible. I rolled off the couch and struggled to pick
up the key with my hands cuffed behind me. I heard him talking on the phone, his
voice business-like. I fidgeted with the key, getting frustrated, trying to get
it in the lock which always seemed just out of my limited reach. I couldn't see
what I was doing and I began to feel upset, urgent, sweaty. I started to get a
little panicky and I realized with a sudden sick shock that he was doing this to
get yet another sick kick from my humiliation, watching his victim struggle to
free himself from his bonds. I looked over at him and there he was, staring back
at me with that same blank look as before. Down below I felt something rise
along with the anger that boiled inside my head. I moaned with self-disgust and
renewed my struggle with even more ineffectual clumsiness, dropping the keys and
toppling over in my efforts, knowing all the while that it was all making things
worse, getting me nowhere and only serving to turn him on all the more, and me
too.
Suddenly he was off the phone and over to me. He snatched the keys out of my
hand and pushed me roughly into the carpet, face down. "Stupid bitch," he
hissed, unsnapping my wrists. "Now get the fuck out."
I should have just done what he said but I couldn't and he knew it. That's why
he goaded me. He knew I wasn't finished with my wilful self-destruction.
With my wrists freed I wheeled around suddenly, full of rage and ready to fight.
Naked there beneath him, rising to my feet, I took a weak swing at his face,
missing by a foot. He grabbed my wrist as it swung lamely by him and before I
knew it he had knocked me down on my back. He dropped to his knees, landing hard
on my torso as he fell straddling my naked chest, taking my air out of me. He
pinned my arms to my sides with his strong legs as I gasped, my open mouth
inches from his groin. He looked down at me with a look that spoke more of pity
for my foolishness than of the rage that he was about to take out on me.
The next few minutes were a blur of flashing hands and pain as he slapped me
across the cheeks countless times, until I was lost in a wilderness of
whimpering agony and shame, just barely aware of the come that was leaking out
of my ass and the ridiculousness of the fact that the man whose come it was was
now beating me mercilessly. Then he turned me over and spanked my already sore
ass over and over. The tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain and the shame.
I was beyond sexual arousal. It was pure pain, a tortuous assault. I felt
nothing but the pain and then finally even it was gone and I was in a kind of
dreamworld of surrender, of overwhelming weakness and loss of power.
At length the hurting ended and, in a final insult, he scooped the come that had
oozed from my asshole, his come, and smeared it all over my ass cheeks like a
soothing balm. I was lost in a haze of extreme humiliation, hoping against hope
that it was all a dream, just like it felt, unreal, surreal. He turned me over.
I looked up through bleary, tear-filled eyes to see his hard cock looming over
my face, one strong hand wrapped around it, stroking. He was sitting on my chest
again, pinning my arms over my head with his strong thighs. I was no longer
shocked at the absurdity of the sadism, I felt like I was in the centre of it
all, that it just was the way it was and that this man, who had just raped me,
had just beaten me, was now masturbating over my anguished face, like it was
perfectly normal, like it simply had to be, like fate.
His strokes grew harder and harder and as I watched, my eyes cleared and I
became transfixed by the image of it, his hand big and, close to my eyes, his
cock even bigger in his fist, pulsating over me as if it was on a big movie
screen and I felt the same sense of detachment as one does at the movies, so
that when my cock grew hard as a rock behind him, I seemed to feel only a
vicarious thrill. I found myself wondering who was this queer, how could he
possibly be turned on so much by his own humiliation. Alex's long strokes turned
to slow motion and I became more and more hypnotized by the sight of it. When he
came I could see every millisecond of his gushing, his sperm slowly appearing
out of the hole on his big throbbing head and then seeming to gather speed and
strength as it grew to a little glob on the end of his cock and then took off
like a rocket, arcing over my neck and then coming down to my face, filling my
transfixed vision until it dropped below my sight and I felt it splatter on my
tongue, which had somehow become fully outstretched. I heard the slutty queer
moan gratefully and then tasted the warm, gooey come as it made its way somehow
to the back of my throat and then was swallowed slowly. And as the first big
glob was making its way through my mouth I gazed up to see another one form and
then take flight from the head of his big prick, the strong hand still gliding
up and down the hard, thick shaft. Over and over for what seemed like a heavenly
eternity I watched gob after gob of come soar out over me and land here and
there on my panting face, some again in my mouth, some splashing on my cheeks,
some landing on my lips, which pursed impatiently, as I swallowed the one before
it, and I licked my sticky lips clean as I watched the fireworks of come
continue on the big screen before me until finally it was all over and I passed
from my state of semi-dream to complete unconsciousness and when I awoke, only
moments later, I was dropped instantly back into the world of shame.
I wept, rolled over to hide my pathetic hard-on, and wiped his come off my face
onto the carpet. I got up, quickly, choking on the shameful taste of him that
filled up my mouth and the heaving of my chest as I felt a sense of overwhelming
panic and despair. I pulled the nipple clamps off my chest with two quick yanks,
not realizing that they were numb from having the circulation cut off. I moaned
a weak cry of pain as my nipples felt like they were on fire. I simply didn't
have the energy to cry out as much as the pain warranted.
I stumbled about the room, grabbing my jeans and shirt, noticing in my sobs the
torn soaken panties and tape on the floor, killing me further with its telling
proof of my humiliation. I dressed quickly but as I did I felt like I had to say
something, anything. I was beyond fear.
"You bastard. You're sick. I hope you rot in hell. I'm not going there with you.
I'm just going to forget this ever happened. I'll never give you another
thought."
But again he couldn't just leave my insolence alone. He laughed and hissed,
"You've only just begun, baby. Let me tell you something. I'm all you're going
to be able to think about. You won't have a thought of anything but me. I've
seen a lot of slut bitches, bitch, but I've never seen anything quite like you.
You've got a lot to learn and you've still got to be broken, but make no
mistake, you will be. I'm looking forward to it. Just see if you can think about
anything else, bitch ", he called as I went out the door, "you'll be begging me!
And baby, you better beg good, because you've got a lot of making up to do for
this little display today." "You sick bastard", I said with disdain as I went
out the door, sure of my newfound freedom from this perversion.
But he was, of course, more correct in his knowledge of me than I was or even
he, in his outrageous arrogance, knew. For I was no sooner past the curious
gaze of his beautiful secretary and others milling about than I found myself
with an arousal that was beyond any willpower I could summon. It drew me into
the bathroom by the elevators, still sobbing. It pulled me into a toilet stall,
still cursing him with a burning rage. I lowered my pants and finally silenced,
with incredible ease, those weak thoughts of fake control, and as I stroked my
throbbing cock, trembling, I heard myself moan his name: "Alex, Alex, Alex",
over and over, and in my mind I was on my knees before him, taking his
magnificent cock between my grateful lips and sucking on him until he came in my
mouth and filled me with that hot outpouring I could still taste so deeply. When
I came I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming as the orgasm shook me to my
soul. I watched, trembling, as my sperm fell into the toilet and around the rim,
fell with my tears, as my soul ebbed away.
For the next three days I couldn't work or do a thing. My every thought was
consumed with images of him. Sara thankfully avoided me so I was at least spared
her usual prying into my life. When I tried to think about something else I
found it would last but an instant and into my head would flow as naturally as
water images of him, his body, his cock. Scenes would play in my head of Alex
abusing me, using my body in all manner of depraved ways.
In those three days I came 27 times. I counted them as a way of trying to think
of something else. It wasn't a very good strategy, for the outrageous number of
times I did it only made the image of him as a dominating god become cast in
stone in my mind.
I was ready to take the next step. I was ready to offer my spirit up to him so
that he could break it. I was ready to have him remake me as his complete queer
slave, perfect in my sexual submissiveness, grateful for every abuse, constantly
craving his cock.
At twelve noon exactly three days after I had gone to see him, I called him,
begging.
