From Face (Sex, Power, Love) a full novel available at Amazon.com:

Honey, I’m Home

“Honey, I’m home.”

My heart stopped. I had not expected Gina for another hour, and I hadn’t finished my list of chores. The biting sarcasm of Gina’s cheery sitcom greeting sunk in and my heart jump-started with an explosion of shame. I looked up from the kitchen sink. Gina stood motionless at the entry door in her ankle length fur, hand on hip, glaring, askance. Her beauty struck me to stone. Inexplicable guilt seared my heart, fear froze my will, and lust clotted my throat.

“Well?” She raised a hand as if to accept something from me. What did she want? What did my beautiful tyrant want? With a nasty laugh, she grudgingly conceded to my stupidity, “Look you lazy, uncouth, bumpkin, don’t you know enough to help a lady with her coat?”

I managed an arid mumble, “Yes mam. I’m sorry.” I grabbed a towel to dry my hands and turned to go to her. In my rush to wait on Gina, my hip struck the corner of the kitchen counter. Pain flashed, balance faltered, and I crashed to the floor into a heap of fresh hurts. A wave of worry washed over the pile of aches. I had again failed my Gina; I was ridiculous, incompetent. How would she punish her stumbling, bungling slave? Would she detest me yet more, or would this ludicrous new humiliation simply amuse her?

I had been tripping and slipping all day from a chain Gina had attached between my ankles before she left in the morning, but this was the first time I had actually fallen. Gina had been all smiles and cheer as she locked the chain in place, “Oh don’t be such a baby. This is just for fun; it’s just a little game. You like playing games with me, right honey? I want to think of my sweet, loving honeybunch chained up at home right where I want him. Chains are just the perfect symbol of security, restraint, and obedient love. You will play my game; you will wear my chain, won’t you? Please, sweetie pie, honey face, sugar tongue?” Her jeering grin transformed into an exultant, arrogant sneer. “Knell.”

Games, Gina’s games…fear and desire had tumbled my mind, and I silently begged, “Yes dear, I will play your games, I love your games, and I’ll take any chance for you. Toss the die; toss me. Or is this chess? I’ll be your pawn my Queen. Take me; sacrifice me. Your games are such delicious pain. Make me ache for you; use me. Let me be your toy, your game piece, your fool. Play with me. Spoil me. Please dear, instruct me on the rules of your new game.” My eyes had brimmed with tears as I looked up into the cruel beauty of Gina’s mocking face. I pleaded in a shattered whisper, “Yes dear. Anything.”

Still earlier as I had handed Gina her morning coffee, she curtly ordered me to get dressed. “Put on a dark suit and a blue tie.” I had thought she was taking me out. I scurried off to fit myself to meet the world. My spirit shed the humiliating grunge of weeks of house imprisonment crawling at Gina’s feet. The suit and tie were clean and crisp; confidence righted itself. Gina approved, “You look good all polished up.” However, when I walked Gina to the door, I was once again disappointed, again played for a fool. “Oh sweetie I sorry but you can’t come with me.”

“No. Today you will be doing more housework for me.” Gina laid down the rules of her new game as she locked a short chain my between ankles. “I want you to wear your business suit and a tie just like when you had a real job. Its today’s work uniform, with your chain and this nice, pink, frilly apron. Isn’t it pretty? Do you like the little red hearts? See honey, aren’t I thoughtful? I got these presents just for you, a chain to remind you of my love and an apron so you don’t mess up that nice suit of yours.

“When I’m out today I will be thinking of you, my boy hobbling around cleaning the house all dressed up like he still was a hot shot business man—my big, powerful man in his suit and tie—and a pink apron. And so what if you have a chain locked to your ankles? You’re not going anywhere, right? Wear the chain for me today. It will remind you of me all day, it will remind you to show restraint and to stay on task. It will remind you to love me.

“There, your chain is nice and tight with just enough play so that you can get about to do all the chores on your list. I will keep your key on a chain around my neck, just like a schoolgirl going steady. It will remind me of you all day. Good boy. Now stand up and walk about. Oh, it is so sweet the way you stumble about with your feet hobbled together like that. You’re such a sight. I wish I could show you and your frilly apron to all the guys at your office. But you were fired, so I guess you can’t go back.”

Gina grabbed my crotch gripping the traitorous erection swelling in my suit pants and jutting against the pink apron. “Such a big hard cock. You love being pushed around; don’t you slut? Don’t you dare touch this nasty thing until I say so. You must finish your chores to my satisfaction first. Start with the bathroom. Your list.”

Gina stuck a scrap of paper listing my chores into my mouth, gave me a vicious little smile, and left for the day. Oh my kinky, freaky little girl, what would she think of next?

The chain did remind me of Gina all day—each time I stumbled and each time it rattled as I crawled about on my knees scrubbing the floor. The apron did nothing more than humiliate me. My suit was ruined. But so what? I didn’t have a job any longer—at least no job other than trying to keep Gina happy.

Now my Gina was back, and I had fallen to the floor. From my knees, I looked up to adore her. She stood in the doorway looking down on me with amused contempt. Gina radiated a dark elegance illuminating the profound gloom of her presence, highlighting her detached, superior distain for me, and, it seemed, just about everything. I was enthralled.

What I felt for Gina might have been mistaken for love; her control over me mistook for a magic spell. But what I felt had nothing to do with the repetitious topic of phony love songs, and Gina’s control was too real to be hocus-pocus. My passion was a mystery, and Gina’s power was a black flame illuminating a blacker night.

Gina was slim, petite, an enchanting wisp of loveliness. However, her frail seeming feline grace was but an ornamental sheath. Within lay steely strength, a sword forged in the fires of desire burning in hearts of the countless men enflamed by her beauty. Gina repeatedly quenched the scorching, scarlet steel in icy rejection, tempering the blade. The hammering of the lust incessantly called to her beauty wrought the blade, and heartbreak honed the cutting edge. Gina’s beauty was almost too true to be real.

They all wanted her, men distracted from the real world and their real lives by the assault of lying media images of airbrushed perfect beauty and false promises of easy wealth and continuous excitement. Disappointed men trapped in their humdrum reality; men cheated from the hyper-lust promised by the market hype that constituted their entire world. But Gina was both real and a hyper-beauty, and they all desperately wanted her. Gina knew it; she was habituated to it; she exploited it.

I had fallen to the floor. Gina looked down at her humiliated conquest. I gazed up to her triumphant arrogance. My heart ached and a hot emptiness gnawed at my center. The knowledge that Gina might toss me away on a whim distorted my adoration into blue-black mourning. My elbow hurt.

“Graceful, aren’t we?”

I scrambled up, holding my injured elbow. Red-faced shame cooled to common embarrassment. Gina smirked as I approached limping and shuffling from the chain of love strung between my ankles. Gina turned her back to me. She waited, sighed, and then looking over her shoulder demanded, “Well?” I stood dumbstruck, “What did she want, what am I supposed to do?” Finally, Gina sighed, “What did I just say? Take my coat, stupid.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry.” I lifted the fur from her shoulders.

“Sorry? Yes, I suppose that would be the only word for you—sorry.” With a contemptuous sneer, Gina turned and walked away to the sitting area of my trendy soft-loft condo. “Luxury urban living! Wow!” So said the promo.

I stood holding her fur. Gina’s scent was all around, a lovely perfume, a hint of Chardonnay, and something else, something earthy. Gina’s smooth saunter across the room hypnotized. She wore a black turtleneck, tight blue jeans and flat-heeled boots; her short jet-black hair was slicked back. Gina’s superbly muscled ass rolled provocatively with each step. Maybe it was that ass more than anything that had lured me into this crazy relationship. Whatever it was, whatever voodoo she had used, I was hooked. She knew it.

I caressed the slick fur weighing heavily upon my hands. The thick luxuriant fragrance of leather filled my head as Gina’s scent drifted away across the room. Dull with anxiety and dumb with lust, I gaped as Gina settling into the couch. The pliant leather sighed as it embraced her body. Gina rested one long leg on the coffee table and turned to glare at me.

Gina did not tolerate stupidity or countenance delay. “Eric, just hang the coat up. Get me a glass of wine. Christ, you are dense. The coat, then the wine, ok? That’s right, put one foot in front of the other. Walk across the room. Oh, see how good you can be when you listen. Get the bottle of wine, stupid. Open it. Pour it in a glass. Do you have any idea how to tiring this is? Hurry up, you fucking idiot. What did you say you were? Oh yes, sorry.”

I scrambled to comply. Worry banged about in my head. “She is such a bitch, but she’s right. I am standing here like a moron who doesn’t even know how to take a woman’s coat or pour her a glass of wine. But it’s her fault; she’s the one who’s turned me into a stumbling idiot. She’s tied me into knots. Why don’t I kick her out? This is my home. But when she said she was leaving me, I begged her to stay. Why? I could get other women. Before Gina, there were lots of them.

“Maybe, but none like her. Gina is gorgeous, but that’s not it. Gina is a controlling, manipulative bitch, but she has awoken, freed, or maybe created cravings within me that are driving me crazy. Before Gina I didn’t want to be used, I didn’t need to be controlled, and I certainly didn’t hunger to be abused. But now, since Gina, I don’t think I could live without it. It would be like starving. It’s like there is a hole inside me, and Gina fills it. But when she is done with me, the hole just keeps getting deeper, calling out for more, more Gina. Other women always gave me what I wanted, and I always got enough. But when I was done, I always ended up looking around for more, for someone, something else.

“But that was ok; that was better than ok, it was great. A new girl every couple of months, the grass really was always greener the next girl down the line. Fuck and dump; it worked great. But it won’t work any more; Gina has done something to me. Now I pathetically struggle to give Gina what she wants, and I’m the one left begging for more, more of her. Her. Just Gina. No one, nothing else, will do. Only Gina can give me what I need, all those perverted things she makes me need.

“But this is too much, this open abuse. It was one thing in the context of sex games. But this treating me like a houseboy, this day-to-day belittling, this is not what I want. Chained up doing domestic chores for her all day, this is bizarre nonsense. It breaks my heart, but I have to get free or she will destroy me. I need some self-respect. I must tell her it’s over. Maybe then, she will treat me better; maybe things can go back to where they were. Sure, she has every reason to be angry with me, but this is too much. I will miss her if she leaves, but I must show her I am able to go on without her, or I am lost.

“Concentrate stupid. Give her the wine. Talk to her, but be careful she seems angry.”

I handed Gina her wine. Those eyes, those beautiful, brown eyes looked up at me with dismissive contempt. The silent rejection frightened me, weakened me. Gina’s exquisite loveliness drew me, hooking me yet again. Self-respect? Panic screamed, “No, don’t leave me; don’t throw me away. I need you, please.” My silent prayer was answered; the scorn in Gina’s eyes thawed to amused condescension. Would she tolerate my pathetic longing for her? I could not speak.

“Thank you for the wine Eric. But I can see you haven’t completed your chores. There are dirty dishes in the sink and you haven’t straightened up this room or dusted. What else haven’t you done? Did you clean the bathroom properly? I told you to scrub the tile grout with a toothbrush. Did you do it? If it’s not clean I will make your clean it with your tongue, I swear I will. Get your list and show it to me.”

I shuffled off to the kitchen counter and fetched Gina’s list. Maybe half of the items had been checked off. Gina scrutinized me, impatiently strumming her fingers on the arm of the couch as I stumbled back to her. She smirked and took a sip of her wine before she accepted the list from my trembling hand. Gina glanced at the list, glowered, then arched a brow demanding an account.

“Gina let me explain. Yes, I did clean the bathroom floor. But there was so much on this list, and yesterday you complained that I hadn’t been careful enough, so everything was taking longer today…”

“Enough! Did you say I complain? Get this straight—I don’t complain. Don’t ever say that again or I’m gone. Eric, I am truly sick of you. I try to help you, I try teaching you some discipline, but you just keep whining. You are so weak. You probably can’t get anything done because you can’t focus; all you can think about is sex. Right?

“And then you accuse me of complaining. I should wash your mouth out with soap. You are nothing more than a naughty little boy. I’ll decide whether the bathroom is clean, and if its not, I will really give you something to complain about. As to this list, this is a pathetic effort. I see you found time to wash my panties, but couldn’t find time to take out the garbage. You are nothing but a lazy pervert. If you want the privilege of attending to my underwear, you had better learn to take the rest of your houseboy duties seriously.” Gina wadded up the list and angrily tossed it into my face with a flick of her hand. Gina paused from her harangue, sighed in exasperation, and sipped her wine.

“Well, there’s tomorrow. There will be time tomorrow; you have nothing but time, right? You get yourself fired, and now you have nothing but time. Fired, you are pathetic. You don’t mind me telling you how to use all that free time do you? That’s appropriate, right? You need the guidance, the supervision—because you’re pathetic, weak, and lazy. Right?

“In fact, if you recall, you begged me tell you what to do. Remember, just yesterday, when you were pleading with me not to walk out on you, you said you wanted me to order you about; you wanted me to teach you some discipline. You begged for it, on your knees. You agreed that you are a worthless, pathetic, sex addict who needed the persuasive hand of a strong woman to impose proper order on his dissolute masculine existence. ‘A worthless, pathetic, sex addict’, those were your words honey, not mine. You said if I gave you a yet another chance you would prove that you could obey without complaints or questions. And now you are whining already. This is really too much.

“Eric, I know exactly what you need—you need to be controlled, controlled very closely. So, don’t think; obey.

“But enough, I am tired of this. We’ll get back to the issue of chores and your failures later. I need to relax. Are you going let me relax? You’re giving me a headache.

“There’s only one thing you are any good at, and right now I feel like using you for that. You can be my little pet, my lap dog. Come doggy. Wanna lap it up my slit licking puppy? Now, let’s see if my little doggy Eric has been thinking of me.”

As Gina dressed me down, I stood in silent attention. Gina put her wine down, grabbed my belt, and jerked me toward her. She pushed aside my apron, unzipped me, and pulled out my rock hard cock. It had betrayed me yet again; I could not conceal how badly I craved Gina’s abuse. Gina wrapped her fist around my cock, and ran a fingernail softly across the head. She placed her thumbnail onto the bulge of my urethra and flicked upward, driving precome ooze onto the head of my cock. She dipped the tip of her nail into my cock hole, smearing the juice around; then she dug in. I gasped in pain. Any thought of discussion or negotiation for dignity, any thoughts of leaving, flew from my mind. My self-preserving instincts were utterly betrayed. I nearly swooned.

“So my little puppy dog was thinking about me. Good. And were you thinking only sweet, nice thoughts? I don’t think so. You are such a simple bucket of need. I bet you think all sorts hateful things about me, don’t you? That’s ok. I want you to hate me just a bit. It puts a nice edge on things. Still, here you stand, passive and rock hard. Obviously you like this, putty in the hands of the woman you hate, stiff for the woman you can’t resist.” Gina’s finger toyed with my cock, scratching then soothing, agony then bliss. I whined to suppress screams.  My whimpering shamed me.

With a derisive laugh, she released my cock, “Have I been too harsh? Maybe I should just flip that hate over and make you love me again. You are so easy, so malleable and so responsive. Would you like me to be nice? Kneel down, so I can look you in the eyes. That’s better. Get down on all fours like a dog; let me stroke my little lap dog’s face. Is that better? I like the way the anger in your eyes dissolves into pitiful tears. Cry. That is so sweet. Would you like a little love tap on the cheek? There. Another? Ok.”

With that, Gina slapped my face with a roundhouse swing that took my breath away. I gasped, looked into my love’s eyes, and passively invited more. Tears blurred the world.

“Oh, good that one left a nice red mark, very attractive. You like being mine; don’t you? Don’t speak; listen. I know I’m mean, but I can be sweet too. My slit’s dripping with sweet stuff. Go ahead; cry. I like it when you cry, when you kneel in front of me and sob like a baby. What a pathetic excuse for a man, no you are definitely not a man. You are just a very, bad boy. Bad. You were even fired from your job for being such a bad, slut boy. Cry.

“But maybe I can forgive you a little because you at least try to be good. I’d love to let my sweet, little dog lap my pussy. Seeing you on your knees crying is making my pussy tear up too, well drip. But sucking too much slit seems to have made you crazy, made you do bad things. I’ll let you kiss my boot instead.”

Gina leaned back into the couch, crossed her legs, and lifted her boot toward my face. I looked up into Gina’s dark eyes. Gina was slightly built; she probably weighed half what I did. But my muscled bulk was meaningless. The ease with which I might have physically overcome her was pointless. I was thoroughly bound by Gina’s dominating will, a force stronger than any weight of chains.

I took her boot in my hands, and attempted to kiss the toe. But Gina flicked her boot up, meeting my kiss with kick. “Go on, try again.” I leaned forward to obey, but she kicked me again, harder. “Go on. I didn’t say I was going to make it easy. Show me how much you love me. Kiss my boot.” Gina kicked my mouth again, but I managed to kiss her boot at the same time. Then she placed the tip of her boot between my bruised lips and drove it into my mouth with a twist. “That’s it, suck, show me what an obedient lap dog you can be.”

I sucked Gina’s boot as best I could. I opened my mouth, extended my tongue, leaned in, and took Gina’s boot as deeply as I could manage into my mouth. The craving to submit to Gina, to submit to degradation, overwhelmed me. I sobbed, but my tears didn’t beg for mercy, they begged for more. Gina sniggered, “Eat it you worthless piece of shit. Eric the lap dog, sucking on a bone. Gobble it up my obedient little pet.”

On my knees serving my goddess, her boot grinding into my mouth, I savored the flavor of leather and gratefully sucked disgrace. “My life is over, it’s hers now. I don’t care what you do to me Gina just don’t cast me out. I love you, this, and all that you do to me. Please, don’t throw me away; please use me; please use me up.”

Get the complete Face (Sex, Power Love) by Eric Dumuzi at Amazon.com.

The complete Face (Sex, Power, Love) is available at Amazon.com

Eric: The Salesman

Poor Eric, he only knew what Gina let him know. There on his knees kissing her boot, absorbed in sexual submission, seduced by surrender, Eric had no idea how lost he was. All he knew was that he had screwed up. He had gotten himself fired. That was a disaster; he had lost his six-figure income, and he had no idea how to recover. Worse, he had been fired for sexual harassment, and Gina had found out.

Eric had been on the job only a few years and he was already a top salesman, hot stuff, and buddies with the boss. He sold supplies to the military, things like the infamous five hundred dollar toilet seat. Eric didn’t sell the big high profile stuff like aircraft; rather, he exploited the huge profit margins to be reaped on specialized orders for ordinary stuff made to look special. He sold things like semi-trailers full of biodegradable, women and minority contracted toilet paper. He sold off-the-shelf stuff repackaged as low volume custom-made parts. Mostly that involved changing the price tag. It was all legal; Eric knew the rules.

But more than knowing the rules Eric knew how to exploit the military brass. Eric knew all about entertaining his clients. Eric provided women and excuses to horny, grateful procurement officers and Department of Defense bureaucrats as he sold outrageous amounts of product at outrageous prices. Hammers, screws, award metals, magazine subscriptions, tampons, gas masks, hamburgers—it was all a gold mine. He was young, good-looking and rich. Women loved him. His colleagues were in awe of him. Except for the boss, none of the guys at the office had any idea what made Eric such a great salesman. He came and went as he pleased, and he spent little time confined to the office.

Eric’s sales methods were highly unethical, but very successful. Most of the guys buying the stuff were bored, repressed and horny, and the occasional women buyers were usually lesbians and also bored and horny, but perhaps not so repressed. Eric knew just the right woman to make each buy-guy or buy-gal happy. He knew lots of girls in the entertainment business, including strippers who usually didn’t do prostitution, but who were trained professionals in driving men crazy. These girls were Eric’s friends, he paid well, and they would do almost anything Eric asked.

Usually this meant getting the client comfortable, followed by straightforward x-rated entertainment like rubbing big tits in the guy’s face, hiking up short skirts and sliding fingers into slick, shaved pussies, or a girl on girl suck fest that transformed into a frolicking dick sucking threesome. Maybe Eric would start the client off with a round of golf and a few drinks in the clubhouse. Then it was up to the hospitality suite where Eric discreetly exited and left the buyer to his special assistant, or several assistants for those who might enjoy a three-ring circus. All the brochures were there and all the contacts were ready for signature. Eric’s inside joke with his girls was that he paid a bonus if they could get the client to fuck them on a table on top of the signed contract. Come stains did not invalidate the deal. A good time was had by all. 

However, sometimes more imagination was needed. One particular guy was an uptight born-again Christian who was trying to save the world. Eric didn’t think he could play this guy at first, until he introduced him to his most creative girl, Shyanne. Shyanne? Her trailer park Mom couldn’t spell.

Shyanne was a long time call girl, and a frustrated actor. She had done some work in porno films where her fair skin, blue eyes, and thick, silky, blond hair—and beautifully done silicone boobs—commanded a premium. Shyanne loved putting on a raunchy sex show. Although Shyanne generally acted like a foul mouth hard ass, Eric knew that she could play the sweet innocent.

Eric told Shyanne to get as clean and bright as a Mormon on Sunday, and he then introduced her to the Christian weapons buyer as his secretary. Shyanne walked into the room in Sunday-go-to-meeting high heels and a flowery sundress with the belt cinched tightly around her tiny waist. Her bosom bulged behind a modest, frilly front. The good Christian melted when she knelt down beside his chair, handed him some critical documents that he should have scrutinized, and, batting her eyes, tenderly pleaded, “Here, sir, maybe these papers will help you. Eric says you are a man of the Lord. It gives me great comfort to know that there is at least one man of God looking out for our boys out there on the front line. Please, excuse me, but well, some the other procurement officers are, well, it is just that sometimes they seem so course. It is good to know that a godly, refined Christian such as yourself is in charge. If there were anything at all that I can do to help you, I would be honored. Truly, I would.”

It may have been the bulging bosom, it may have been the big blue eyes, but when the good Christian looked at the beauty kneeling at his side he knew what had to save next, and it wasn’t the taxpayer’s money. For maybe a year, repeated sales of excessive military junk went well. The good Christian earnestly tried to save Shyanne while Eric made a small fortune. Unfortunately, the whole thing came to a messy end when the good Christian announced that he had dumped his wife and he asked Shyanne to marry him. Shyanne was appalled, and Eric had to concoct an elaborate lie to get rid of the horny fool.

Eric rewarded Shyanne by hiring her to be his real secretary. She wanted to get out of prostitution, she was bright, cooperative, and now well off from the profits Eric shared with her, so this seemed a perfect arrangement. Shyanne happily did Eric’s bidding, setting up whores for his clients, setting up dates for Eric, and sucking Eric’s dick whenever he wanted. Shyanne had nothing to do with other employees in the company, first because she had nothing in common with them, and second because Eric could have blackmailed Shyanne with her past. Shyanne worked for Eric and no one else. Shyanne genuinely liked Eric and was his comrade in arms against the rest of the world. For Eric, life was good.

Eric didn’t know it, but his life irrevocable changed when the old man retired and turned the company over to his daughter Ashley. Ashley was fresh out of an Ivy League MBA program, and she seemed way too young to run the business. Just this appearance could have been a real problem. The defense business depended on subterranean political bribes, revolving door good old boy networks, and general corruption hidden behind security clearances and political schmooze—not to mention sex in the hospitality suite.

Ashley’s Ivy League professors knew next to nothing about these things. The theories and academic attitudes learned in the Ivy League MBA program were worse than useless. Typically, defense-contracting businesses were run by retired generals cashing in on inside information and connections, collecting their so richly deserved millions after years of serving the public interest through sweetheart contracts for excessive military hardware. But despite everyone’s expectations, the youthful Ashley was successful. Her secret, and that secret was actually marked top secret in Ashley’s FBI file, was her unusually close, and unusually unusual, relationships with several well-placed senators. That and that Ashley was, despite her cool, austere demeanor, a genus at corruption. She was Daddy’s little girl. Corruption was Ashley’s vocation, avocation, and her life’s project.

Eric tried to lay low when Ashley took over, but Ashley wouldn’t leave him alone. She just didn’t seem to like him. Ashley seemed to go out her way to interfere with his work and to subtlety cut him down to size in the office pecking order. She forced Eric to spend his days in the office. She made Eric show up at worthless meetings and disparaged his work in front of his colleagues. She called him into her office and warned him that she considered his habit of dating women in the office to be unacceptable. Eric didn’t take the bait; he was all ‘Yes mam, thank you for pointing that out. Of course, I will attend to that, and I am so grateful for your assistance. I will do better, thank you.’ Eric battened down to ride out to ride out the storm. Besides he had all ready fucked all the office girls worth fucking.

Ashley was pretty, remote, and cold. Eric wondered if she wasn’t a dyke dressed up in a conservative women’s business suit. Eric’s easy charm that seemed to work on everyone else just seemed to antagonize Ashley. But Eric was a star salesman, he made the company buckets of money, and so he thought he was safe. Things went well enough at first, but after a month, completely out of the blue, Ashley promoted Shyanne to be her own secretary. This was just after Eric had met Gina.

Eric had been shopping for new Jaguar. He didn’t need a new car, but he had money to burn and new cars were Eric’s second favorite toy, after new women. While wandering through the dealership he met Gina. She was wearing an erotic caricature of a woman’s business suit, dark blue wool with pin strips, a short jacket with crisp shoulder pads, a white shirt with a starched collar and a solid red mannish tie. The skirt was very short and very tight. Gina’s shapely ass jutted out below the tight waist of the jacket and just above the hem of her skirt. Each step was a provocation. Gina’s shapely legs were clad in black hose and propped up on black stiletto heels. Her short black hair was slicked back and dark glasses hid her eyes. Her lips were full and bright red. Hot new cars and a hot new girl, this was a great showroom.

Eric thought that any woman that attractive, that provocative, and rich enough to be shopping for a Jaguar must be a high-class whore. He struck up a conversation, and then they test-drove a slick sports car together. She drove. She drove fast. The chitchat stopped as she drove off like racecar driver. Gina paid no attention to Eric. He sat pale faced plastered to his seat by the G-forces, his heart thumping in his throat, at the mercy of this mad woman’s recklessness. When they got back, Gina excused herself with perfunctory smile. Eric watched her walk away, ass swaying with the rhythm of confident strides, stilettos snapping on the hard showroom floor. Eric’s heart thumped in time.

With one hand on the door, Gina turned toward Eric’s lustful gawk. She raised a finger and motioned for Eric to come. Dutifully Eric sauntered over half expecting a sex for hire sales pitch. Instead, Gina offered to buy Eric dinner. Eric was flattered and boasted to himself about his power over women, even a grade-A woman like Gina. He just didn’t understand. Eric’s downfall had begun, and this was a fall off a cliff deeper than Eric could have imagined.

Eric had never met a girl like Gina. She was not a prostitute like he had thought, but she loved sex. There was not a lot of talk between them, just a lot of sex. Gina was the perfect girl for Eric.

Gina didn’t tell Eric where she lived, what she did for a living, or even her phone number. Gina said almost nothing about herself. Their relationship was all about sex, and Gina took charge, directing Eric like maestro. After their first dinner, where Eric did all the talking, they went back to Eric’s condo. He handed Gina a glass of wine as he sat back on the couch. Gina set the wine down, unzipped Eric’s pants and promptly gave him the best blowjob he’d ever had. Not a word was spoken; she got straight to the deed. When Eric came, Gina leaned, back licked her lips, and swallowed. “That was good, the perfect after-dinner aperitif. I have to go now. I’ll call you in a few days.” Eric was drained; he just lay back on the couch and watched this amazing woman walk away.

Gina took Eric’s number but didn’t give Eric any way to contact her, and she didn’t call. After two weeks, Eric thought the beautiful mysterious woman was gone. When she finally did call, Eric stumbled over his tongue in his anxiety to see her again. Gina had Eric primed. Then the serious sex started; Gina fucked his brains out. In a few weeks, Gina was living with Eric.

At work, Ashley assigned Eric a newly hired secretary to replace Shyanne, the voluptuous young Maria. She was not too bright and not at all discreet, and so Eric couldn’t let her take on Shyanne’s work. Therefore, Eric had to work twice as hard, but Maria had her up side. She was sexy, flirtatious, and oh so proud of her massive tits. She wore tight knit sweaters that clung to her big breasts, or dresses deeply cut to show off her jiggling cleavage as she flounced around the office, gossiping with anyone, and doing absolutely no work. Maria took every occasion to swing her heavy breasts in Eric’s face. Maria was very hot in her bovine way, she knew it, and she liked to show off. Eric enjoyed the show, but he was getting all the sex he could handle at home with Gina. Maria was just a delightful amusement, keeping him turned on until he went home to Gina.

Sex with Gina kept getting better and crazier, but always on Gina’s terms. Soon Eric was the one going down. Gina instructed Eric in the art of pussy sucking and lavishly praised her student. Eric was eating it up. Soon Eric was going down on Gina every day, then twice, sometimes three times a day.

Gina made Eric crawl down between her legs to wake her every morning. Gina said she needed his tongue to start her day off right and get her creative juices flowing. Eric’s duty was to wake Gina with a gentle transition from her dream world to the harsh light of day. And so Eric went down each morning, starting with soft kisses on Gina’s upper thighs, or, if her back was turned toward him, the lightest lapping, hardly more than a breath, on the perfect ass that so obsessed him. With a sleepy turn, Gina would open her thighs. Half asleep, Gina directed her pupil with subtle touches and supple shifts of her lovely body. Only when invited by a delicate intimation, a slight body language hint of permission, would Eric carefully proceed to insinuate his face into the heart of his infatuation, the cocooned haven within the furrow of Gina’s thighs.

Swathed in Gina’s skin, smells, and warmth, Eric cautiously opened her labia with a light message of the tip of his tongue and savored the day’s first taste of his love. An insubstantial shift of a leg or a faint sigh invited Eric to begin a tender tongue kneading of Gina’s clit. Slowly, and only as bidden by Gina’s half-conscious instructions, Eric wheedled his way down to the source of Gina’s pungent warmth, the font of Eric’s obsession, his love’s slit, his feeding trough. Eric’s face slipped into the slick pool.

And so Eric cajoled his way into Gina’s early morning sex dreams and escorted his love toward the waking world. The fluid mists of Gina’s dreams crystallized to waking schemes like frost setting on night flowers. As desire gathered, Gina’s directions turned firm, insistent. Gina’s clit heated and her fingers joined in. Eric ministrations in the hole below evolved toward vigorous tongue fucking. With the crescendo of climax, Gina awoke. The heat of morning sex sublimed her frosty dream-plots into clouds of intrigue blowing into the winds of the coming day’s battles. Eric smiled at his success, his face in the damp sheets breathing Gina’s odors as he slipped back toward sleep. Gina then ordered coffee with a sharp jab of her heel.

Morning rites done, Gina would send Eric off to work unfulfilled, love raging.

Soon Gina added a new twist. After he had showered and dressed for work, Gina made Eric go down one more time at the front door, fully clothed. Gina would walk Eric to the door and nonchalantly open her gown bidding Eric to perform one more time. She admonished caution so that her coffee would not spill. Eric struggled to get his nose in it.

Gina opened her legs slightly to accommodate his efforts, all the while circumspectly balancing her coffee. If Gina was not satisfied with Eric’s effort, or if turned on enough to want another thorough tongue fucking, she would set her coffee aside, order Eric to lie on the floor at the door, squat above his head, and smear copious gobs of pussy juice all over his face. Then she sent him off to work. Gina ordered Eric not to wash it off; she called it putting on a good face for the world. Eric loved the whole crazy show, but Eric did not understand how thoroughly trapped he was. Eric was going down

At Her Boot (chapter 3)

Down on all fours like a dog at her boot I played Gina’s servile pet and indulged an overpowering craving to humiliate myself before my love. I eagerly struggled to obey her command to suck her boot. I selfishly wallowed in my need.

Gina sat with her legs crossed and cavalierly flicked her boot into my face. Gina snickered at my ineffectual efforts, but there was no cheer in that laugh. Her mood was irate and dark. …continued

Get the complete Face (Sex, Power, Love) at Amazon.com

At Her Boot

Down on all fours like a dog at her boot I played Gina’s servile pet and indulged an overpowering craving to humiliate myself before my love. I eagerly struggled to obey her command to suck her boot. I selfishly wallowed in my need.

Gina sat with her legs crossed and cavalierly flicked her boot into my face. Gina snickered at my ineffectual efforts, but there was no cheer in that laugh. Her mood was irate and dark.

She caught my hopeful glance toward her face begging for approval, and her vicious grin transformed into a spiteful, focused frown dictating that I redouble my efforts. Gina flipped the boot at my lips, and I caught the tip in my teeth. With a twisting plunge, Gina drove her sole into my face. I sucked, I slavered and I swallowed dirt. I savored leather and I savored my miserable wretchedness. She laughed.

Suddenly, violently, Gina kicked me away. I rocked back to my knees; my lip was bleeding. The spell of submission wavered, “How can I let myself do this. She is destroying me.” Gina’s magnetism immediately drew me back, “I can’t stop; I need her; I yearn for her dominion. I must be possessed by her.”

Gina uncrossed her long leather clad legs. “Suck that blood off your lips; don’t get any of it on my boot or the floor. You’re not done yet; get down. Put your nose on the floor. You’ve only cleaned one boot.” Gina stretched her leg, pointed her toe, and placed her boot on the floor. “Clean it. Slip your tongue under it; clean off the street dirt. That’s good. Push that tongue under there. Show some enthusiasm. You can be so obedient, my boot broken, bitch boy. No, you’re not a boy, not even a dog. You’re my pet tongue. Eric the slippery tongue animal.

“It’s a shame. I can’t let my tongue pet grovel in my pussy, it doesn’t deserve that treat; it hasn’t earned that privilege. Pussy juice seems to bring out the worst in it; it makes it too horny. I don’t think honey tongue has even earned the honor of licking my boot, but I suppose I can be a bit permissive since it is at least trying to be obedient.

“Seeing you bent over like that makes my cunt wet, just the way you like it. All this nice pussy juice that you can’t have, all this sweet stuff you can’t dive into, can’t smear over your face, can’t slurp up. No, neither of us can get what we want because you can’t control yourself. Slut. I let you suck my pussy every day, let you beat off as much as you want, but I guess it wasn’t enough for you. It corrupted you, made you excessively horny, turned you into nothing more than a big penis, no a turgid tongue walking around in public in a suit and tie. You acted like beast, and got yourself fired. Bad, bad tongue animal.” She kicked me again, then jabbed her foot back into my face.

“But, I suppose your scandalous behavior was partly my fault. I have not managed you properly. I was too permissive, and I mistook you for a man rather than the tongue-beast you really are. Because I liked your tongue fucking so much, I became overly indulgent and let you have too much. Yes, I suppose it was my fault. You’re a cunt sucker gone mad. A pussy sucking slut-boy, a tongue-fucking whore whose lustful indecency became so offensive he was fired. Such a pity. Sexually harassing your own secretary, and such a lovely, young and innocent thing—you are disgusting. I am so ashamed that it was partly my fault. I fed you too much pussy. You’re an embarrassment. But enough, let’s move on, lets see if we can repair the damage, or least find a use for you.”

Throughout this tirade, I concentrated on sucking Gina’s boot, rapt in a spell of submission. I sucked her boot as if it were her pussy. I cleaned the dirt off with my tongue, carefully licking each fold and crevice of her boot, while her recriminations struck me like a whip. “Yes I am an embarrassment. Yes, I am disgusting. Clean Gina’s boot. Use your mouth tongue-slave. Make amends; be her thing. You can’t let her leave; you can’t let her throw you away; you can’t live without her.”

My sick reverie broke when Gina pulled her boot back, placed the sole in the middle of my face, and shoved me back. I reared up to my knees to focus on Gina’s scolding lecture. She leaned in toward me with an elbow her knee, loathing in her eyes and a sneer in her voice.

“You’re detestable. I don’t know why I bother with you at all, except that it would be irresponsible to let a beast like you free in the world. But maybe you can be reformed. I think I can do it; I think I can get beyond what you’ve done, and perhaps not exactly forgive, but move on. However, you must change, and change isn’t easy, especially for a self-indulgent oral slut like you. But enough anger. See, I can control my emotions, my anger, and I will teach you the same self-control. Or maybe I should say I will force you submit to my control, the control I will impose upon your filthy obsessions. But you must agree. I want to reform you, to make you into a better thing, but you must make a commitment to change.”

“Yes mis…”

“SHUT—UP!”  Gina struck with a roundhouse, openhanded slap across my cheek. I was stunned. I swallowed my instinct to protest her rebuke. The piercing crack was followed by screaming silence.

I lifted my hand to my burning cheek and looked to Gina’s beautiful face. Her soft brown eyes promised a kindness belied the satisfied smirk on her lips. Hope? Gina’s lovely, olive skin, the easy grace of her long limbs, her presence, I didn’t think they could live without these, but how could I let myself be subjected to this abuse. I knew I had screwed up. I was embarrassed, horrified by what I had done. Well, not what I did, but what I had been convicted of doing. My crime looked so much worse than what it actually was.

“Oh, that poor hurt look. That bad Gina is too mean. Is that what you’re thinking? You know Eric you will never find someone who will do for you what I do. Yes, you could easily get girls to spread their legs for you. You are such a pretty slut boy and there are so many dumb bitches out there. But that’s not the same thing is it? I give you something you didn’t even know you wanted; but you want it now, don’t you? Oh sure, part of you still complains, ‘Don’t treat me so bad. It’s too much. Give me just a little of the kinky stuff, but not so much.’ Sorry, but I will treat you so bad. It’s not about you Eric; it’s about me. I will treat as bad as I want, whenever I want, as long as I want, because hurting you is exactly the thing that I want. And when I have had enough, you may say thank you, and get out of my sight until I call you back for more. Do you know why? Because you need it, you crave it. You need the abuse, the control, and the humiliation. And only I can give it to you.

“You know perfectly well that I am your only hope. The things you really crave would have disgusted any of the many women you have known. Only I know your true nature. Only I could reveal to you the revolting, pitiful thing you need to be. Only I have the courage the put you to your natural born use. Part of you says, ‘I must have my self-respect.’ Well, you can have your self-respect, or you can have me—me and all those perverted things you really need, those things you would not admit to needing until I showed you what you really are.

“So it is your self-respect, or the real you; empty, meaningless whoring, or me; Eric the lost slut-boy looking for pussy from every woman that he meets, or Eric, Gina’s cunt licking tongue slave. It will be one or the other; you must choose. I don’t want this half man, half slave, half big cock on campus, half pussy sucking tongue pet. Choose.”

I gazed into Gina’s eyes like snake charmed. She was right, she had found, or awoken, or maybe hatched something deep within me that I hadn’t known existed. Gina was right, I would never find someone else like her; certainly, I hadn’t known anyone like her before. And that thing she found in me, or infected me with, that gnawing need to surrender, to be used, to be leveled—I was addicted to it. She knew it. Gina was right, the thing I’d become was not compatible with the slightest self-respect. That thing was at once self-loving and self-loathing, a vortex of self-destruction, sucking me down to—what? To become her absolute slave certainly, but would anything be left of me, or the thing I had always thought was me? Could I exist as a simple slave, nothing else? Could I let Gina carve from me all self-respect, all autonomy, and still be a functioning person? But do I care? It would be like suicide to give in to her, but it would be a slow empty death to deny her.

“Cat got your tongue? I told you to choose, me, and all that I demand, or nothing. Speak.”

With that she slapped me again, full force across my other cheek. I gasped, “Gina please, of course I want you, but...” She slapped me hard again.

“No buts, all or nothing. And all would be a lot, more than you can imagine. I will be fair, or at least give fair warning; all means the whole thing. There would be nothing left for you.

“I do want you Eric; it is just that I want you my way, and I want all of you. I don’t have time for negotiations. Give yourself to me, give me everything, be my total cunt lapping slave and you will get more sex than you can imagine. But only in the ways I deem appropriate. You will have the life that I impose upon you. That’s what slave is. Maybe this will help.”

With that, Gina stood and slipped out of her boots, blue jeans, and panties. I was transfixed; I could not stop staring at the dark triangle of her crotch. Gina sat back, and slung a leg over the end of the sofa. She spread the lips of her pussy and casually stroked the bud of her clitoris.

“Come here. Put your face between my legs. Close, but don’t touch. That’s good. Don’t touch; smell. Breathe deep. It’s so wet. Don’t think that I don’t want you Eric; it’s just that I want you my way. You are an excellent cunt sucker and a very pretty thing. I love having you down there between my legs, licking, sucking, slurping, and serving me. Be quiet, watch.”

Gina began rubbing her clit vigorously; she intended to come. I was entranced, inches from her glistening pussy. And the smell, Gina’s smell, enveloped me. How I wanted to dive in, but I obeyed. I watched, careful not to touch, kneeling on the floor between her legs, my face inches from her cunt as she quickly drove herself to climax.

But that smell, that was more than Gina, what was that other earthy smell? I suddenly realized that it was another man. As Gina clenched toward her impending orgasm his white ooze peeked out. His slime clarified as it mingled with Gina’s slit drool and seeped down to the trough of her ass. Gina had come home freshly fucked and rubbed her infidelity in my face, quite literally. She didn’t have to say anything, she made me smell it; she stuck my nose in it. I was nauseous. Gina forced me to face the ultimate humiliation.

A cold dry desolation blew through my heart. I should leave, but I can’t. This is too much. But no, it’s not enough. Please Gina let me eat you. Let me clean him out of you. And then, as I bent over her pussy as if in prayer, she came. She shivered, gasped and another dribble of his cream oozed from her hole.

“Oh yes, I do want you. Yes, you Eric. Oops, I guess I’m dripping. You know what that is, don’t you? Sorry, but this is how it must be. One man would never be enough for a woman like me; you should know that. But a man like you could always find his special place in my life. Aren’t you lucky; it could be you. You could be my cunt-licking slave, my dedicated cunt cleaner. You can have that place, but you must choose. Give me total obedience, total servitude; surrender all of you, exactly as I demand. Say yes, and you can clean his come out of me. I will let you suck me clean. Choose me now, and forever; there will be no going back.”

I was lost. “Yes. Yes, Gina. Please take me, use me, whatever you need, just take me.”

“Maybe, but you will have to be good; you must do exactly as you are told, all the time. Can you obey properly? I feel that other boy’s come dripping out, slithering down. Use your tongue and lap it up. Just lap it up what is leaking, clean it up but no tongue fucking.”

I had lost. I surrendered. I leaned forward and carefully licked the corruption seeping from her hole and dripping down through the furrow of her ass. I gently lapped the taint from the sensitive folds of Gina’s puckering anus and cleaned the slime from her slit.  I was nauseous but thrilled to serve her. I was lovesick. I surrendered to the ecstasy of capitulation. The honor of cleaning the repellant pollution slacked the dry desolation ripping my heart.

“Stop. Look at it. Look at my pussy. It is full of his juice. Look at your new boss; look at your new ruler. Eric is that what you want, will you let that cruel pussy rule your life? Choose now and never look back.”

Directly addressing Gina’s cunt, I wept, “Yes, yes I belong to you, to it. I belong to your cunt completely; it is my supreme ruler. And you. Please, Gina please, let me be your thing.”

“Eat it.” Gina grabbed my head and slammed my face into her pussy. I dove into the gooey pool; her wet folds splayed over my cheeks and nose. I drove my tongue deep into her slimy hole. She gasped and arched her back. I sucked, swallowed, and nearly suffocated. She strained. Her cunt bulged. I sucked her urethra into my mouth, reaching my tongue deep into her. I wallowed in the slop of her unfaithfulness. I sucked his slime out of her, desperate to clean the intruder from my love, desperate to prove my love, desperate to surrender everything and to earn my place at her hole. I swallowed. Then Gina came again, hard and wet. A torrent streamed into my worshiping mouth, and I sucked it down to the last drop.

Chapter 4

And so the love affair of Gina and Eric took another twisted step. Yes, it was a love affair, not a sweet romance, but as close to love as either of them could manage. Although their relationship was as unequal as possible, in a warped way they were perfect compliments, like a fist in a tight leather glove… continued

Check out the complete novel Face (Sex, Power, Love) at Amazon.com

Eric and Gina: High School

And so the love affair of Gina and Eric took another twisted step. Yes, it was a love affair, not a sweet romance, but as close to love as either of them could manage. Although their relationship was as unequal as possible, in a warped way they were perfect compliments, like a fist in a tight leather glove.

As children, Gina and Eric were both self absorbed, sensual loners. Proto-lust plumed into their young minds even as preadolescents. Darkly dyed, amorphous dreams of perverse erotic arousal and vague, primal images of sexual power haunted their nights. However, morning’s cleansing amnesia always mislaid these visions of the dreamtime, leaving and only the slightest haze of anxious longing clouding their sunny days. Neither child connected in any meaningful way with others. At adolescence each discovered, and reveled, in the power their beauty bestowed over others.

Eric got laid early and often. Gina was a more distant loner, satisfied to use her peers in her imagination; she masturbated constantly. She knew all the boys wanted her, and this delighted her, but she kept her distance. Gina was intensely shy, anxious, and adverse to human contact. But within her isolated private world, her perfect world of daydreams where she was queen of all she surveyed, Gina was entirely self-confident. There she found uses for her cohorts. She had never really played with the other kids or even with dolls like the other girls, but in her own weird way played with the boys, the living breathing boy dollies. Teasing the pitiable boys, especially as they became hormone-addled adolescents, was oh so easy.

For amusement, Gina would draw a boy close with a sly flirt, and then, when the boy got the courage to come to her call, reject him with a hurtful rebuff. The boys always came when the exotic teen beauty beckoned, and then fled in wounded retreat. In her bed, Gina would obsess upon the would-be-suitors lusting for her body, and revel in their bewildered hurt as she struck them down one by one. For Gina it was gratification enough that the boys wanted her. Their stumbling adolescent approaches, awkward blushing retreats, and embarrassed tongue-tied confusion were fine entertainment.

Alone before sleep took her, Gina’s triumphs over the boys and the memory of their pained flight ignited her erotic flame. But once lit, Gina’s inescapable anxiety stoked an ever smoldering ember deep within. Fidgeting on the dampening sheets the passionate girl’s fingers, and her nebulous guilt, kindled the dark fire in her loins. The flame quickly consumed the haughty girl’s flimsy conceit and flared to a burning yearning for sexual degradation, submission, and sacrifice on a pyre of depravity. Gina dreamed of debasing herself for the boys, one, then two, then more. She yearned to be a slut taken by all at once. The conflagration raged and swept her away until the inferno burst in a culminating of flash of passion to be incessantly despoiled.

Lying in the steaming wreckage of her masturbatory reverie, the besotted girl knew she must hide her wanton degeneracy, hide her true nature from the world. She was a pervert; she was weird.

Still the weak boys kept coming to her beauty, and Gina knew she could make them do her bidding as she stood off at a safe distance. Gina contented herself with solo sex and a solitary life where imaginary lovers preformed their contradictory roles perfectly, exactly as directed, and no real person got close. And all the while, the real living breathing dollies danced safely away to Gina’s tune.

But Gina understood the inherent emptiness of the dream world she had created for herself, so just once she made an attempt at something real. At the start of her high school freshman year, she accepted an invitation to see a movie with one particularly persistent guy. He was an upper classman and one of the guys that all the other girls wanted. In fact, he supposedly belonged to the only other girl at school who was even half as pretty as Gina was.

It was a weird date. Gina didn’t talk at all and the boy quickly ran out of awkward small talk. After the movie, the guy asked Gina to come to his house because his parents were gone. Gina simply nodded yes. They walked into the empty house and he immediately tried to kiss her. Although the kissing was a lot easier than talking for Gina, she was put off by the real touch of an actual person. But she didn’t panic. Gina didn’t get the social part of being human, but she understood lust. She pushed the burning boy dolly away and started unbuttoning his shirt. Then she completely unbuttoned her blouse and reached in to touch her breasts. She gestured for him to take off more. He got it, he obeyed, and he striped for Gina. For each thing he took off, Gina rewarded him by taking off something herself. The man-child and the silent beauty stood across from each other slowly, silently undressing, and never touching.

The boy happily played Gina’s game, and soon they were naked. He had kept away from Gina while the stripping went on, but with no more clothes to play with, and with a real live naked girl, a wonderfully beautiful girl, alone there for him, he reached out to realize every boy’s fantasy. Gina pushed him back. She knew how to put him off, how continue the game. Gina put a finger to her mouth to command silence. She sat down, reached between her legs, and began to masturbate. She smiled approval at the boy standing at attention naked before her. She stared at his rock hard erection and wordlessly directed the boy to touch it. He was her obedient dolly; he grabbed his cock, and joined in. In an instant, he erupted. Embarrassment and sperm flew at Gina across the electrified space separating the restrained lovers.

The boy imagined that Gina had laughed at him. He thought she was laughing at his adolescent failure to control himself, and he blushed with shame. But Gina hadn’t laughed; Gina never laughed. She had actually just smiled in childlike delight at the sight of the ropes of come flying out, floating up toward her, and then falling short, each spurt shorter, falling into diminishing puddles on the floor at her feet.

Gina hadn’t imagined that she had humiliated the boy. In her dream story, she was the one debased. She had stripped for the boy, she had posed naked, she had flaunted her nasty cunt obscenely climaxing from filthy fantasies, and she had paraded the perverted spectacle of her odd, creepy desires. Gina was the whore, the weird reject.

Gina dressed and fled without a word. She didn’t let him see her cry. For years, she rebuffed any further attempt by this or any other boy to approach that close again.

A thousand miles away from Gina, Eric didn’t reject any of the dollies. At least not until he had fucked them or had gotten his dick sucked. The girls all wanted him because he was reputed to be the best looking guy in school, because unlike the other boys he was self-assured, even cocky, and because he seemed to be a rebel who needed love. Each girl imagined the love of a good woman—that would be the love soaking in her own young pussy—could tame this wild young stallion. Mostly, all the girls wanted Eric because all the other girls wanted Eric. He accepted all of this love—and to Eric love meant precisely that stuff soaking in all of those eager young pussies. Eric took all the girls he could handle; he swam in pools of juicy, adolescent love.

With the pretty, popular girls, Eric played to romantic teenage fantasies, lied about love eternal, got laid, and left the girl crying when she eventually found out he was also fucking her best friend. There were five pretty cheerleaders at the school. Eric planned to do them one by one just to prove that he could do it. The first four were easy. The last one was Tiffany, a classic Miss America type, and a prissy tease. She held Eric off for years.

Eric might not have been able to get to her, but then Tiffany broke up with her long time steady because he kept whining for more than just making out and finger fucking. Tiffany thought it was funny leaving him stranded on third base. She decided to teach her boyfriend a lesson. He’d be sorry. She knew how to hurt him, jealousy. That boy would come crawling back and treat her the way she deserved, treat her with due respect. He was lucky to have such pretty, popular girl friend. Yeah he’d be sorry. She’d hang with Eric. After all, Eric was the guy all the girls wanted. He’d hooked up with each of the other cheerleaders, the best-looking trophy-girls in the school. That would drive her x crazy.

At first, Eric was a perfect gentleman; he barely touched her. Then Tiffany got Eric to make out. She loved it; Eric was a great kisser. Tiffany got hot and she slipped off her panties. She put Eric’s hand down on her pussy exactly as she had always done with her x. Tiffany told herself, “That bastard will be sorry; he is home playing with himself and I’ve got a new better boyfriend doing it just the way I want. I can get love on my terms with anyone. Hey, face it; I’m movie star gorgeous. Any boy would do my bidding. I can even make Eric do anything I want.” Eric gently messaged Tiffany’s tiny little clit.

Then Eric drove two fingers deep into her cunt and squeezed. Tiffany gasped in pleasure and sudden fear. This was not the gentle, obsequious petting of her fawning, timid x. Wide eyed, she looked up at Eric kneeling over her. Eric lifted Tiffany’s legs as he firmly kneaded her cunt with detached, methodical proficiency. Tiffany lay with her legs doubled back held firmly together in place over her chest by Eric’s left hand while his right hand worked her pussy. Tiffany’s skirt splayed open like the petals of a flower encircling her naked crotch thrust up above the inward curve of her back.

“Open your blouse. Let me see your tits.” Tiffany half-heartedly started to protest, but quickly capitulated as the pussy kneading became more intense. She felt like a rag doll in Eric’s hands. Control had slipped away to this boy she hardly knew. Tiffany could barely control her breathing as Eric wrung sex sweat from her, and she could not, would not resist. Tiffany guardedly opened her blouse and unhooked her bra, exposing her pert b-cups. She clung to a half-hearted hope that the sway of her beautiful young body would restore the balance of power. Her nipples were engorged, and her pale breasts flushed pink.

“Nice tits Tiffany, but Dawn’s are bigger. You’ve got great legs. All that cheerleading practice makes them strong. But Shannon’s legs are longer. Still, a very nice package. Grab your ankles and spread your legs apart. Come on; don’t mess up the moment with that prissy chicken shit stuff. The other girls told me not to bother with you because you were just a chicken shit tease. You’re not like that are you? That’s better you look great.”

Tiffany was horrified, terrified, but she could moan only the faintest protest. She was on the brink of an orgasm more powerful than she had imagined possible. Tiffany was totally adrift, lost in an unfamiliar mysterious storm, and endanger of drowning. She grabbed her ankles, spread open her legs, and surrendered to the ecstatic, defiling thrill of submission.

Eric knelt between her legs. Still kneading Tiffany’s cunt, he pulled out his dick. Barely audibly Tiffany gasped, “No, please no.”

“Sure babe, no means no. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Just relax. The other girls all said you would chicken out. They said you brag about how you make your guy finger fuck you, but won’t give him anything more. Then you joke about his begging. You’re no virgin. Did he bust you with his hand, or did somebody else do you while he was home alone whacking off?

“Take a good look at my cock. It’s a lot bigger than a finger isn’t it? Imagine how deep this would go. See how thick it is. Imagine how that would feel. The other girls all loved it. Did you know that they laugh at you behind your back because you are such a goody goody, such a teacher’s pet? They say you’re a stuck up, tight ass bitch. But I told them I didn’t believe it; I told them I think you’re hot. You’re not a gutless tease like the other cheerleaders say; are you? I think you’re better than that. Look at my cock. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

Tiffany was gasping on the edge of an overwhelming climax. Tears filled her eyes from the insults and betrayals of her friends, and from the humiliation of exposing her body, her uncontrollable lust, and her need for this heartless stud. But pure rapturous pleasure swept her away. Tiffany tugged on her ankles, spread her thighs wider, and strained to open her wet, pink slit. She looked down between her obscenely spread legs and stared at Eric’s erection. Her cunt oozed on Eric’s hand.

She recalled coming on the hand of her joke of a boyfriend as he whined for sex. (No way, don’t be such a pig.) She would permit the desperate boy pull his cock out and show it to her. (Ok, let me look at it.) Tiffany then made him to wrap his hand around his cock while she examined it closely. (Such a fuss over that ugly thing?) Tiffany not did let on how her boy’s cock turned her on almost as much as his begging. (Ok, play with if you have to; just don’t ask me to touch that thing). The humble cock oozed, and then shriveled. (Good, had enough?) Tiffany came as the shamed boy withered.

This was different. Eric’s cock was so big, no angry, no commanding—no it was a beacon drawing Tiffany’s heart down toward its deepest desires. She was lost. Oh, how she wanted that mastering phallus, there was no way back to dignity. Finger fuck or cock, it did not matter; she had lost control. Pride and propriety were vanquished. Eric’s insistent fingers and his iron grip on her cunt drove her to distraction. Tiffany’s sopping pussy hijacked her voice and pleaded, “Please. Please do it. Please do me.”

“Please what? Tell me exactly what you want. We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

“Oh, please don’t be so mean. Please, put that thing in me. Do me. Please, put that cock inside of me. Please fuck me. Fuck…meee.” Tiffany could barely speak.

“You are not going to get knocked up are you? Let me put this condom on.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Plee…” Tiffany pulled harder on her ankles, stretched her legs, and pushed the gutter of her cunt at Eric. The simpering girl’s incoherent begging melted to a bubbly guttural gargle. When Eric removed his hand and drove his cock into the boiling girl, Tiffany pissed all over herself.

Tiffany was a noisy fuck, moaning and screaming when she came. She didn’t let go of her ankles until Eric emptied his condom on her blushing budding breasts and rubbed the thick, copious semen all over her heaving chest.

Tiffany and Eric did not hook up again. When they met at school, Eric would softly smile, and Tiffany, startled and speechless, would blush and fade away, embarrassed and hurt, again betrayed by the flush of passion rising in her loins. She knew Eric had told all the other girls all about what he had done to her. She could not even lie to cover up her disgrace. Tiffany tried to deny Eric’s story. She tried to lie, but she burst into tears recalling her degrading surrender and realizing how humiliation, more than anything, had driven her to the most powerful climax she had ever known. The other cheerleaders just laughed at the misery of their stuck-up friend; Eric had given her just what she deserved. Tiffany went back to her old boyfriend. All was forgiven, and things were different, better. Tiffany fucked his brains out and then begged him for more.

And so Eric won the campaign of the cheerleaders. With the less popular, less attractive girls, Eric was less conniving and less patient. He was direct and honest, brutally honest. He would tell them immediately what he wanted and that he had no intention to be true; take it or leave it, he didn’t care. Eric would let them suck his dick, lucky them. Most of these girls were startled and grateful that Eric, the beautiful Eric, had even spoken to them. He usually used girls like this only once; a blowjob, a “nice job babe”, and then Eric would hardly speak to the girl again. Some were resentful; most were grateful. But there were a lucky few who, though not pretty, gave good head and were otherwise useful. These were his back up girls, and he swore them to silence while he hunted better quality prey.

His favorite was Veronica, a smart, lovely, but fat girl who would do anything for Eric. Eric secretly made Veronica his steady girl—sort of. He still fucked anyone else he wanted, but he kept Veronica around. Veronica had a pudgy but pretty face, thick heavy thighs, and a high, huge ass. None of the other boys would admit being attracted to her, or dare too be socially connected with Veronica because she was so obviously fat. Still, she had her particular sexual assets. She had a well-defined waist and enormous tits. Her tits and her ass were the butt of many cruel jokes, but more than one boy secretly beat off dreaming of those giant boobs.

Eric was the one boy who would admit that Veronica had her charms. He was fascinated with her pendulous breasts. Eric dropped by Veronica’s home when the place was empty and told her to take off her blouse and bra. Veronica obeyed without question; her breasts dropped to her waist. Then she dropped to her knees and she sucked.

At each opportunity to use Veronica, Eric pushed it further. Next time he ordered her to crawl to him. Veronica loved pleasing Eric; her tits swung against the floor with each animal pace to his cock. Eric usually didn’t have the imagination to engage in kinky sex, but he loved playing with Veronica’s boobs and once he tied them up. Eric wrapped ropes around and around, squeezing and lifting the giant melons until they seemed ready to pop. Then Veronica went down on him. After he came, Eric saw that Veronica was crying. He thought it was the pain of the ropes, though actually it was the pain, and joy, of the degradation. Eric didn’t tie Veronica up again; the crying jag had alarmed him.

Veronica loved Eric. He was the only boy who paid any attention to her, however cruel that attention. But Veronica was smart. She never mentioned love or let on how much she cared for Eric. She instinctively knew Eric was averse to affection and that he would dump her if she got emotional or if she let anyone know how much time Eric spent with her, Veronica, the fat joke of a girl.

Eric used Veronica throughout high school. She was his secret ally and conspirator. Veronica provided Eric with useful information and strategies in assistance of his seduction of prettier girls. She and Eric laughed at each success, and then plotted the next conquest. Veronica was a sharp observer of the social order of the school, and she clued Eric in on trends, gossip, and the pecking order. Veronica served Eric however she could; she advised him on how to dress, she gave him spending money, and she did his homework. As thanks, once in while Eric let her suck his dick.

Eric was never nice to Veronica, but his cruelty was not deliberate. He just didn’t have a clue he was hurting her or that Veronica was crying her eyes out over him at night. Eric praised Veronica’s blowjobs, but told her she was just too fat to fuck. And this girl was Eric’s best friend, only real friend. It never occurred to Eric that the hurt he caused others was real hurt to real people. If an authority figure had paid any attention to Eric’s life, shrinks would have been called in. But shrinks were not called; Eric’s emotional distance and sociopathic behavior just didn’t stand out in the crowd of adolescent boys. Besides, all of his homework got done.

On the other hand, everyone thought Gina was weird. Her parents did call in shrinks, but Gina would not cooperate. The chatty social circles and romantic fantasies of the other teenage girls were lost on her. She was a strange child, lost in her daydreams. Gina spent hours alone drawing and painting. She hid in the solitary realm of art.

Gina was frightened of the world, and the world was frightened of her. While the other kids ran, played and laughed, Gina hid on the sidelines. No one ever noticed that Gina never laughed, she tried sometimes, but she just could not laugh.

As adolescence dawned, Gina’s sexual fantasies found their way into her art. Gina dreamed of a primordial world dominated by sexual rituals, sacrifices and slavery. She was compelled draw these images. Gina created, and immediately destroyed, page after page of lewd drawings, then canvas after canvas of obscene scenes of torture and gang rape. When questions arose as to what had happened to all that paint and canvas, Gina resorted to cryptic cubism to camouflage the appalling pornography of her imagery from the uncomprehending admirers of her art.

Gina bloomed into a spectacularly beautiful teenager. Gina was strangely dark, both physically and emotionally. In a Mid-American culture that valued conformity above all, Gina’s unusual beauty and odd ways unsettled everyone—teachers, parents, and her cohorts. They put Gina in the only box that seemed to fit—would be beatnik artist. The eccentrically retro beatnik girl was the butt of many jokes. That way Gina’s cohorts diminished her into something less disturbing.

Still, Gina was gorgeous and boys constantly lurked about her solitary world. All the boys wanted Gina, but unlike Eric, Gina kept her distance. She used their images in her private masturbation fantasies, and in her art, but she was too awkward and remote to involve herself in the mystifying dance of teenage mating. Also, unlike most girls, she didn’t care about the social order of the world, and she didn’t need a boyfriend.

That was not to say she didn’t want boys, or boy dollies for her daydreams. Her sex fantasies were filled with them—two, three and more at a time. Gina was a very bright girl, and she was in all the advanced classes. She knew her private world would be considered perverted, and so she kept her distance from the other boys and girls. Even so, the horny teenage boys kept taking the bait. Gina would always say no, and then go home and masturbate thinking of the boy. After she had rejected all the boys bold enough to approach, Gina resorted to a game of coy flirting to tempt renewed advances. Gina enjoyed playing with her prey. She lured a boy close, and then just at the right moment, she cut him off with a mocking rebuke. She focused on the retreating boy’s hurt and confusion in her masturbatory reveries.

But Gina’s solitary fantasy world was ultimately empty; she needed to engage the actual world. Gina decided to enter college early and leave her tedious high school world behind, never looking back. So at last, the time was right to take a chance and avoid facing consequences. Gina took the leap and grabbed she what wanted, a young leather clad motorcycle gang, all of them.

Gina knew where to find them, hanging out on their regular corner wasting time. She knew how to hook them, just walk by in a tight sweater and jeans. She also knew how to get them to do what she wanted. Gina walked past the four young hoods as if they were not there. Then she looked over her shoulder. Bracing herself against the necessity of social contact, Gina spoke her lines from the drama she had concocted, “What are you looking at?” Gina knew they would be looking at her ass, and of course, they were.

Their leader did his best Marlon Brando impersonation, “Just enjoying the view.”

Gina turned and smiled, “I think I like the view too. You’re kind of cute.” The leader puffed up with the pride of conquest, and cast a superior glance at his buddies. The four of them loved empty bragging about what they would do to all the hot girls. Gina, with her tight ass and pretty face, was one of their top fantasy girls. She’d always seemed utterly unattainable, and so all the better to leer at and boast about doing this or that to her. Now that this pretty preppy actually spoke to them, they didn’t know what to do. Gina ambled up to the leader and with faux coquetry said, “Yeah, you’re cute but,” turning to the boy next to him, “he’s cute too. I like these leather jackets; I like the way they smell. You’re all cute. Is there someplace more private were we can go to get to know each other better?”

“Sure we’ve got a place. You want to come to our meeting place?” Then the leader described an old shed a few miles out of town where the boys met and worked on their bikes. Gina smiled and said, “That sounds great. See you guys in an hour.” All grins, they mounted their bikes and roared away.

Gina was thrilled, but frightened. It was one thing to fantasize about gang banging motorcycle thugs, but to actually meet four guys alone in an isolated, abandoned machine shed? That was scary. On the other hand, what was the worst that could happen? Well, gang rape, but that was just what Gina wanted.

Gina went home and dithered about what to wear and whether to go. After an hour, she realized she was leaving the guys waiting. “Fuck it. I’m going, and I’m going to turn those punks on. Screw this town, screw my preppy classmates, and screw what anybody thinks. I’m leaving this shit town for college and never coming back. I’m going to live my dreams.” Gina dug into a hiding place in the back of her closet, pulled out some things she had secretly bought over the internet, things she had only worn in the privacy of her bedroom, things that turned her on. Gina became the thing she wanted to be. She squeezed into a miniskirt, patent leather heels, and a short elastic tank top that highlighted her flat tummy and cute belly button. She looked in the mirror and said, “This’ll turn them on.”

Just as the gang had given up on her, Gina arrived at the hideout. The boys were swearing about what a cunt she was for lying to them when they saw a car heading up the gravel road. They recognized it was Gina as she pulled onto the dirt driveway trailed by a cloud of dust. The boys had been drinking, they were a little high, and they were about to take off on their bikes. It was just the stupid kind of thing dumb punks do. Get a little drunk, and then go riding a motorcycle.

“I thought you stiffed us,” the leader said.

“Not at all. I just wanted to look nice for you guys. What do you think?” Getting out of her car Gina stumbled as her heel turned on the rough dirt path to the shed. Gina blushed, righted herself, and guardedly sauntered past the boys leaning on their bikes outside of the shed. The four boys stared lustfully at Gina’s long legs, bare to the bottom of the skimpy mini skirt wrapped tightly around in her perfect ass. Gina’s heels wobbled on the uneven dirt. “What kind of place do you have here?” Gina ducked the through the door of the shambling old shack.

The old machine shed stood abandoned in a state of slow collapse in a field just off a neglected side road. The nearest house was half a mile away. The boys had been meeting here for years and the neighbors left them alone. The door creaked and Gina stepped out of the bright sun and into the dark, dusty interior.

Gina inhaled the cool musty air and tasted the unfamiliar vapors of gasoline, motor oil, and mold. Light filtered in through cracks in the dried-up siding. There was a bench along one wall strewn with motorcycle parts, tools, a disassembled carburetor, and cans filled with bolts. A winch hung from a reinforced rafter. A half torn apart motorcycle leaned against the far wall. Gina’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. She squinted into the dim space and made out a girly calendar nailed to the boards above the bike. A huge breasted whore leaning on a shiny motorcycle, leered out into the gloom, and pitched spare parts. 

The boys followed Gina out of the hot sunshine. Gina’s heart thumped and her throat dried as she counted the silhouettes entering through the shinning doorway into the murky space within. Gina could just make out their faces in the shade of the shed. “Here have a beer.” The leader tossed Gina a cold can of beer. Gina caught it awkwardly, smiled, popped it open, and took a long draw. Gina was not a drinker, but the tingling slide of the bitter brew soothed her dry throat and slacked her anxiety. The macho ritual of slugging down a brew like one of the boys delighted Gina.

“So, tell us; why did this pretty little peppy come out here to see us losers.”

“Because I like the way you guys look in those leather jackets. And I like your tight little asses.” Gina walked up the leader and touched his jacket, and then she turned and touched each of the other boys. Gina was dangerously, comically provocative. Everyone in the dark little world inside the shed struggled to conceal their youth and naivety.

“But I didn’t come here for conversation. This is what I want.” Gina dropped to her knees into the dirt floor in front of the leader. She reached up, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was rock hard. Gina leaned forward and breathed in her first scent of real cock. She knew it would smell just like this. Gina was thrilled this was not a dream, not just more lonely imagining while she rubbed her pussy raw. This was what she wanted. This was real.

Gina opened her mouth, took the cock head between her lips, and ran her tongue across it. She licked the oozing precome. It tasted just like she had imagined. Gina eagerly sucked the cock deep into the back of her mouth, and then pulled back, choking. Gina’s eyes watered, but she took a breath, opened wide, and again took the cock to the back of her mouth. Gina and sucked hard and pulled back until cock slid out of her mouth with a wet pop. Gina looked up into the boy’s face, and realized with pride that she was a natural born cocksucker. The touch, the taste, and the emotional spectacle were exactly as she dreamed.

“Now you,” Gina struggled to emit even whisper as she grabbed the crotch of another boy. Gina didn’t bother to pull his cock out; she sunk her teeth into the rock hard bulge in the boy’s jeans. Gina heard a zipper go down. On her knees, Gina turned dazed as if a wind-up toy, eyes glazed, mouth hanging open with a dopey gawk. A third boy had pulled out his enormous cock. It hung in his hand, thick, heavy and only partially erect. Gina opened wide and slid the monster between her lips, over her teeth and onto her tongue. The cock was growing, hardening, filling Gina’s mouth. Gina sucked in a breath through her nose, fearful she might suffocate. Just as she caught her breath the boy grabbed the back of her head and trust forward, jamming his cock against the back of Gina’s throat. Gina gagged. The giant cock pried her face open. Gina’s jaw ached; her mouth was stuffed; she couldn’t breathe. The boy thrust forward again. Nearly fainting Gina tumbled backward into the dirt. The boy laughed. The leader knelt down beside Gina and softly asked, “Are you ok?”

Gina looked into his eyes. She was frightened, but more turned on than she had ever been. “Yeah, I guess I’m ok. It was just so big. Please don’t stop. This is what I came for. I like you best; you’re nice. Please, will you do me first?”

The leader knelt between Gina’s wide spread knees. Her mini skirt rode up to her waist. Gina pulled off her panties. He lifted one of Gina’s legs to raise her pussy up out of the dirt, and placed his cock at the mouth of her cunt.

This was it. This was not a daydream. After all that playing with herself Gina was going to get the real thing. Thrust—and he was in. Thrust—but the way was barred. Gina gasped. The pain, the panic, the joy, all of it blurred in a dizzying spin. Gina moaned, gritted her teeth, and clamped her eyes shut to stop her tears. Thrust—the leader paused.

“Are you a virgin? Are you Ok? Do you want me to stop?”

Gina’s explorations of the geography her body and the watery depths of her sexual soul had paused at this gate. The first time it was timidity. Gina looked it up on the internet. Hymen, virgin, sacrifice—Gina resolved that she would save herself to be offered upon the altar of her own choice—and now all was ready. Gina admired the dust floating in the shafts of light shinning though the weathered planks of the shed. Gina gazed up at the shadowy silhouettes of the bikers arrayed about her like statues, the pillars of her temple. It was now. 

“Yes, I mean no, I mean don’t stop.” Gina sucked breath through her teeth. “Just please go slow. I want it. Oh, I want it. Be gentle for a moment, but don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

And so slowly and gently, the young gang leader eased in and out. He looked down into Gina’s eyes, “Is this better. You are so very pretty. Just tell me if it is too much.”

“No, no I want it. Thank you, thank you. But yeah, it is my first time. It’s good.” Gina smiled up through her tears. Her pretty face was streaked with dirt. She rocked her hips to the leader’s motion, and slowly the pace increased. Gina pressed into the pain. The lovely boy, the leader, was sweating and panting as insistently as Gina. Gina knew he needed her, wanted her, but tremulous civility barricaded the passage to their dreams. Gina pulled the boy’s face to the nape of her neck, seized his loins with her legs, and pressed hopefully into the pain. Gina thrust; she lunged into his lions, into her hopes and the gate broke open. A blast of pain and joy blew through her and it all became real. Up from the deep dreams, the subterranean abstractions, an ancient artesian urge sprang into the now.

Gina became her animal self and thinking evaporated. His strokes grew longer, harder; he led again. Gina followed. And then the boy collapsed into her. The only thing left was the vital insistence to be, animating the instincts in the sinews of their loins. With a trembling grind, pressed tight, the leader spilled jet after jet deep into Gina.

The two lay still, entwined in silent joy for the briefest of moments on the earthen alter.

“My turn.” The second boy grabbed the leader by his leather jacket and pulled him out of Gina. Nothing was going to stop him, certainly not a little blood and dirt, and certainly not tender concern for the feelings of sweet young Gina lying beneath him in the dirt. He too had fantasies to fulfill, and he was going to get what he wanted. He drove into Gina, simple minded and brutal. Panic stampeded through Gina’s head, but she barely got out a gasp and the boy came, spurting on just his second thrust. With a grunt, the boy rose up, zipped his pants and stepped back, confused.

A third boy knelt at Gina cunt, now slick and overflowing with semen. The boy slid in easily. Lust raged through Gina. It was easier now; this was what Gina wanted, more boy, more cock, more big hard cock. After all those dreams, all that solitary fingering herself, this was real, and Gina sensed she would come harder than she had dreamed possible. Gina bit her lip. It tasted of sweat and mud. The boy was driving hard into her. Gina felt the cock deep inside, banging the back of her tunnel, slapping her cervix. It was coming. More come juice was pouring in. It was now; now, and Gina erupted, driving her hips into the boy. With a spasm, an orgasm, nearly a seizure, Gina’s dreams materialized in the risky tumble of actuality.

Gina lay back on the dirt floor exhausted. For a moment, the shed was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the young leather gang. A beer can popped open. “What a fucking mess.” Gina propped herself up on her elbows and looked down. She was covered with dirt. Her legs were splayed open and her thighs were smeared with mud, blood and semen. Gina looked up. The last boy, the one with the huge cock, stood between her legs, holding his gigantic semi-rigid dick in one hand and a beer in the other. “Sloppy fourths I guess. Lucky me. Let’s clean this up a bit.” He turned the can over and poured beer over Gina’s crotch, washing away a bit of the dirt and blood. “Turn over. Get on your knees. You’re not much to look at anymore. Let me see that pretty ass of yours. That’s better. Spread those knees apart.”

Gina turned over, knelt on all fours and arched her back to show off the lovely curve of her narrow waist and luscious ass. Gina knew this was her sexiest quality, and she wanted to please. Gina looked over her shoulder at the boy with the big cock. He was the biggest of the leather gang, not pretty, but powerfully built. He threw the beer can over his shoulder and took off his leather jacket. His shoulders bulged out of the cutoff arms of his sweatshirt; he held his thick cock in his fist.

“Hold this. I don’t want it to get dirty.” He handed his jacket to one of the other boys, dropped his pants to his knees and knelt behind Gina. Gina dropped her shoulders, closed her eyes and lowered her face onto the backs of her hands clutching the dirt. Gina spread her knees wide, lifted her ass as high as she could, and offered herself up to the brute with the giant cock. He pressed his cock against Gina’s dripping pussy lips and thrust. Her lips splayed apart, but Gina’s young cunt resisted; the cock wouldn’t fit. Gina cried out, “No, it hurts. Please stop.”

“Fuck you bitch. I ain’t stopping for nothing. It’s my turn; so just shut the fuck up.” His cock was finally fully engorged, he shoved hard, and the thick piece of meat oozed into Gina tender vagina.

“Oh god it’s too big, I can’t…you will tear me apart, please.” Gasping Gina pleaded, but the boy just pressed on and the cock slowly squeezed deep into Gina. He began thrusting and Gina’s cunt rode back and forth, up and down, stuck half way on the thick hunk of cock. The fit was too tight to slide despite the slippery come filling Gina from three horny young studs. The boy drove harder. Despite her terror, Gina concentrated on relaxing to open herself as best she could to accommodate its girth. Slowly the cock plunged deeper until at three quarters of its length the monster struck the bottom of Gina’s hole. Now it slid at little. The cock banged deep inside, and Gina’s ass rocked up and down.

“That’s better. Take it, do I have a load for you. Now eat dirt you stuck up bitch.” The boy leaned forward, placed his hand on the back of Gina’s head and, laughing, shoved her face into the dirt. Gina could barely breathe. She spit out mud and grit. The boy banged harder and faster. Then he came. Gina felt herself filling. The giant cock jammed deep inside unloaded what seemed gallons of come.

Gina collapsed whimpering into the dirt and the monstrous cock slid out of her overflowing cunt. The brute child looked down on the wad of sobbing girl at his knees. He cursed the world that by mere neglect had ground him into something too stupid to name the emotions contending for his mind. He rose from the dirt. His knees weakened when, like a solitary wisp of a cloud, a word detached from context or meaning blew across the empty sky of his mind. Contrition.

He cursed his world, “It won’t let me have no fun.”

Wavering bravado snorted loudly, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Three of the boys quickly left the shed. One by one, their cycles roared to a start, wheels spun, and dirt spat against the wall of the old shed. The boys took off. These guys were not reflective types, but each ran from the scene in silent guilt. They had always bragged about what tough guys they were and about using girls and tossing them away, but now each was haunted by weak willed regret. Each hid their fearful remorse from their comrades, cocooned in the vibrating roar of the cycles pulsing under them. Confused, conflicted and silent, they fled.

Gina lay curled up, face down, hugging the dirt floor. The leader knelt over Gina and softly touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I guess we lost it. That was too much. Can I help you?”

Gina turned and sat up. “No, no. I’ll be ok. I asked for it. Actually, it was what I thought I wanted. It’s just that it was more than I thought it would be. I wanted it to be real but…” Gina broke off sobbing.

“I’m sorry. What can I do?” The leader took Gina’s hand.

“It hurts. I didn’t expect that. But it was good too. And you, you were great. You are so nice. Thanks. I guess you think I’m such a whore.” Gina broke off crying again.

“Oh no, you are great. It’s us. I can’t believe we did that to you. You are such a pretty girl, and brave. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please. Didn’t you like it? Please tell me that you liked it. I liked it, especially I liked you.” Gina sobbed and pleaded. She grabbed the boy’s hand and looked into his brown eyes. Her heart was breaking for this beautiful boy.

“Yeah, I liked it. It was probably way too much, but I liked it. You are such a brave girl. Thank you. Maybe we should go out sometime, do something, like normal.”

Gina sighed. “Me, normal? Sorry, you’re great, you’re really cute, and I would love to hang with you. But I’m leaving for college soon, and I’m never coming back here. I don’t fit in this town; I hate it. It’s too normal. In all the time I’ve been here, you are the only person I ever liked. It’s too bad we never got to know each other. Besides, look at me. I’m not normal; I’m a whore. Nobody, sure thing not your friends, especially after today, nobody thinks I’m normal. I guess that’s because I’m not. You wouldn’t want to hang with me. Do you have some towels or something so I can clean up a bit?”

All he could come up with were rags wet with beer. The boy helped Gina into her car. Even after all that had happened, despite the blood and the dirt, Gina was gorgeous. The leader’s heart was breaking too, breaking for this strange and beautiful girl.

They never saw each other again. Gina got a vaginal infection and was in bed with a fever for a week. She lied badly to the doctor about what had happened, but he didn’t guess the whole truth. The extent of Gina’s inappropriate adolescent behavior was more than the doctor could have imagined, and so nothing came of the gangbang. Three of the boys bragged about what they did to Gina to anyone who would listen until their leader threatened to kick their asses. No one believed them.

Gina left for school and she hardly ever returned home. From then on Gina stayed away from motorcycle guys, but she didn’t forget them. They were often in her fantasies, just as now, as she came on Eric’s insistent tongue. Gina dreamed she was kneeling face down in the dirt, leather clad punks standing around watching, while an enormous cock pounded her from behind. Gina grabbed Eric’s head and thrust against his face. Eric gratefully sucked as Gina loosed a torrent into him.

Face it

“So Eric, did you drink all of it? I wouldn’t want a mess on the couch.” Gina shoved my face out of her cunt and checked the cushions for dampness.

“Good boy, it’s nice and dry. You did an excellent job of sucking up all of my pussy juice…and his goo. There was a lot, wasn’t there honey tongue? Oh, don’t look so sad. You want to please me, right? Every woman should have a male tongue at her disposal. Face it my obedient tongue pet, giving face is all you’re any good for, but at least you’re good at that. Your tongue is soft and sensitive, yet strong and thick, and it is has absorbed its cunt lapping lessons well. Maybe I’ll give up strange cock all together and just stick with your tongue…well, not really.” Gina laughed heartily at her stupid, cruel joke. As cold and mean as Gina could be, she laughed a lot, and I cherished her laugh. But my heart was breaking.

“My, my, look at that big hard dick. Does that mean you still love me? Yeah, I think so. But maybe it just means you like cleaning another guy’s cream out of my pussy. Was it yummy? Or maybe you’ve got that big hardon because you like sticking your face into my juicy hole, or maybe just the humiliation turns you on? Poor Eric, you’re all mine now. You have no idea how much fun I am going to have with you. Let’s see, did you make a mess on the floor? That big cock of yours didn’t squirt all over, did it? I guess not. See, you can be a good boy when you try, when you accept your place.”

Gina was having her fun with me. I thought, “Its ok darling; I love you. Use me.”

“Ah, but what to do about that hardon? I cannot believe I once let you put that thing inside of me. Don’t get me wrong, I still like cock, big, hard cocks deep inside, and I will enjoy lots of them, but with real men, not you. Look at that thing, that desperate piece of meat, my good soldier standing at attention waiting for orders. I suppose you want me to let you come? Sorry, that is not happening. Not now, maybe not ever. How long has it been now, three weeks right? You poor thing, your nasty mistress hasn’t let you come in three weeks. No wonder that thing’s so hard.

“But you did promise to be my pussy sucking slave boy, right? That means no more fucking. Not with me for sure. But don’t despair; it could be that one of my girl friends will want to use your cock. You are a pretty boy and that big cock might look like a treat to some girls, the weak, horny, cock starved type. So maybe one of my girl friends will use you for something other than face. I might let her, we’ll see. But it could just be that your fucking days are over, not counting tongue fucking of course. That’s what being a cunt sucking slave is all about.”

I was hopelessly lost in her spell. I knelt before Gina still dressed, except my pants were pulled down to my knees. My cock jutted out below my disheveled suit jacket. I could not resist surrendering to her humiliating abuse. I craved more, more, and even more. How did she make me pine for her cruelty? I tempted my tormenter, “Yes Gina, thank you. Thank you for using my face. Thank you for letting me clean your pussy. I hate the thought of another man’s come inside of you. But my balls ache they’re so full. Please, may I touch myself so that I can come?”

I knew this would annoy Gina. I halfheartedly hoped my begging might amuse her and that my full embrace of this appalling disgrace might have earned me a reprieve from her regime of denial. Gina had taught me the ritual of begging for permission to masturbate while kneeling at her feet. It had been my only relief for months, but for the past three weeks, Gina would not permit even that.

I had disobeyed early in Gina’s rein of orgasm management by jacking off when she was out. Somehow, she knew, and she punished my transgression with an intense barrage of verbal abuse, and threats to abandon me. From then on she hefted my balls when she got home, claiming she could tell if I had masturbated. Her examinations ended with a painful squeeze and a warning slap to my sack, “Good boy, there full and juicy.”  I was too deep under her spell to doubt or disobey.

“Let you beat off? No. No orgasms for you. No fucking way. You may not play with that dirty thing. You agreed to be governed by me, and so now a new rule. Not only may you not touch yourself without permission, and you may not even beg for permission. Got it? Live with it, cunt sucker. I’m sick of your whining.

“Orgasms make you lazy. Frustration spawns diligence and obedience. And you need to be more diligent, more dedicated to serving me. You need to extinguish your selfish, perverted desires. All you every think about is yourself and your ever-ready dick. You say you will serve, but I have my doubts. You’re a weak, self-indulgent slut boy. Obedience must be total, immediate, and reflexive.” Gina snapped her fingers. I bowed, my eyes teared, and my mouth watered. My balls ached.

“You will serve my comfort, anticipate my whims, vanish when I am bored with you, and be at my feet whenever a fleeting urge to use you floats across my mind. So don’t bore me. I know your big bad balls are full of juice and you ache to empty them. That’s way I like it; that will be your permanent condition. Those heavy balls are just going to swing in their pendulous sack, driving you mad, twisting that need to spill into a need to serve. So don’t whine or I will throw you out. Now, let’s see if you have been listening. Repeat the new rule.”

“I may not masturbate without permission, and I may not ask for permission. I will obey. Thank you for the new rule. Thank you for being strict goddess. I need that, thank you.” Gina was right; the aching load in my ball sack demanded deeper submission more abuse. She was right; that weight dragged me down, down toward some fearful abyss.

“You should thank me for my instruction, and I like being called goddess. You should express your gratitude more often. I have discussed your situation with several knowledgeable friends and they all agree that denying orgasms is an excellent technique for strengthening the instinct to obey in submissive males. But don’t despair. I may let you come eventually, but at a time and in a manner of my choosing, and only if you are a good boy, of course.”

A dry lump of anxiety throbbed in my throat. “Friends?” The reminder that the there was a world other than Gina blindsided me. “She told others what she is doing to me?” I was on the verge of tears. “Why I am agreeing to this. But this sick surrender to Gina is hypnotic; I need her tyranny. Can the denial of fulfillment fulfill? My balls are so full they might burst. Gina has thrown me into a pit. Is there release at the bottom? Is there a bottom? But she is right; the longer she keeps me on the edge, the further I fall, and the further I fall the deeper and darker my need to submit becomes. I am lost.”

Gina’s harangue was unrelenting, “Now that you have agreed to be my permanent cunt sucking slave, it’s time for you to meet a special friend. Anna is a renaissance woman; she knows more about more things than anyone I know. She especially knows men and their proper use. One of her many interests is relationship consulting, couples counseling. Anna is a real expert in teaching men to respect women, and she said she might accept you as a patient. It will take much more than simple promises to make you into a truly respectful submissive. I know you’re a lying pussy hound that would say anything to get what it wants when it is in heat. Strict obedience training is required. Your disorder must be treated.

“So tonight we are going to visit Anna for an evaluation. If she accepts you as a patient, we will begin a course of treatment. Dr. Anna has the cure, healing through service, an intense male training program in the art of serving women. There is hope for you. But if she doesn’t accept you, well, I guess I’ll find for someone better suited to be my cunt licker. I have a couple of other guys in mind if you don’t work out. But hopefully Anna accepts you and forces you to become exactly what I want.

“You are pretty enough, and seeing you down there on your knees I think you just might have the natural instinct necessary for your new position in life. I think Anna will appreciate your potential, that is, if you behave. You will behave won’t you? You are not going to embarrass me in front of my friend, right? You will show Anna that you are the kind of boy who wants to learn to respect women properly, right? Promise?”

“I will do anything to please you Gina. I will try to be good and become what you wish.”

“I hope so, because if you fuck up I will hurt you, hurt you badly. Then I will leave you. Understand? But I think this will work out just right. I know you; I know what you need. You will do whatever it takes to interest Anna because she is a beautiful woman, and you are a hopeless flirt. But more importantly, she just the kind of woman your secret soul desires—a very, very strong woman.

“Now let’s get ready for Anna. Follow me to the bedroom. Crawl.”

Gina’s lovely ass rolled away, her tight turtleneck clinging to her slim body like a little black dress. I could just make out the fold where her naked legs met her perfect ass, the nexus of my desire, my nirvana. The hypnotizing undulation gestured to me, easing my anxiety. I salivated, the lump in my throat slacked, and I crawled behind.

Gina walked to the dresser she had appropriated as her own and looked into the mirror, checking her make-up, primping, and admiring herself. She placed her hands on the dresser, leaned forward, spread her legs, and arched her back. The turtleneck rode up over the curve of her ass. I thrilled at the sight.  Gina’s buttocks opened slightly; below her slit peeked through the furrow in the dark kinky hair.

Gina had introduced ceremonial ass kissing during the past weeks of total servitude. I crawled to my position. On my knees, hands patient at my side, my face inches from the smooth skin of Gina’s flawless ass I waited for Gina’s command. “Open it up, but just look; don’t touch me with your tongue.” I gently spread Gina’s ass cheeks revealing her pink, puckering anus. Her aroma swaddled me. “It’s been a long day running around, shopping, visiting friends, fucking. It was all quite exhausting. My asshole needs to be cleaned. Is all sweaty and stinky?”

I lied, “No, Gina. You smell great. May I please lick it?”

“Well Eric darling, I’m not sure. Can you do a good job? I thought all of the practice you’ve had would have made your tongue stronger, but last time I was quite disappointed that you didn’t get that tongue in deeper. I don’t think you properly appreciate the honor of serving me. So try a harder. Dig in. Eat.”

Gina giggled and thrust her ass into my face. With a long slurping stroke, I lapping her full length from slit through crack. Then I fixated on Gina’s anus—tasting, messaging, exploring. I cleaned the tiny exterior folds then, with squirming, insistent thrusts, plunged my tongue into the slick inner entry. Gina waggled her bottom in a slow rhythmic dance while I followed her smooth motion, glued to her hole.

Gina pressed back against my face and strained. Her anus bulged. Permission granted. I drove into her, pumping my tongue, simulating a sinuous little cock. Gina’s breathe pulsed with intensifying sexual arousal. Tongue fucking her tight ass was much harder than tonguing her deep juicy cunt. I drove as deeply as I could manage. I opened my mouth, placed my lips her skin and sucked to gain leverage. My tongue soon ached from the effort. Twisting, lapping, and swirling, my tongue wormed its way past the tight squeeze of Gina’s sphincter. I agonized that I couldn’t reach deeper, that my tongue wasn’t longer and stronger, and that my face didn’t have a true cock to satisfy my love. I despaired to demonstrate my gratitude.

All the while Gina languidly frigged her clit while admiring herself in the mirror.

Suddenly Gina stopped, turned, and grabbed me by the hair on the back of my head. She forced my face back and looked intently down into my face. “Enough. It’s clean. A decent attempt, but you’ve a lot to learn.” I looked up into Gina’s mesmerizing eyes. “Your tongue is a pathetic excuse for a cock.” She smiled and spit directly into my face.

“Stand and get naked.” Gina pushed me away, carried her wine to the bed, and relined. Gina critiqued as I stripped for her, “You have a nice body. Anna likes men with slim, muscular bodies. Put your hands behind your head. Spread your legs, suck in your gut; chest out; arch your back; eyes down. Good, a very nice pose. Anna is going to love you; she is going to love this piece of man meat I am bringing to her. And you are going love Anna’s strict course of instruction. Enough, I’m getting bored with you. Go draw a bath. I need to clean your slaver off. Get out of my sight.”

Leaning back and taking up her wine, Gina waved her hand and sent me away. I fretted, “Get her bath. Yes, dear, of course. But who is this Anna? Gina has been discussing me with her, and she set up an appointment for an evaluation. What’s next? Gina said a strict course of instruction. What more is there to learn; what more can they make me do? Gina has already made this appointment? How did she know I would agree to this outrageous demand, especially after she fucked another man and stuck my face into her cunt dripping with his come? If I refused, would she take him to be her slave instead? What has she told this Anna about me?

“Gina talked to other women about me too, talked about making me a more submissive male. How long has this been going on? What more can I do? Will I be shown to these other women? Will Gina show me to them like dog in a pet show? It is one thing to play the role of Gina’s slave here in private, but to be embarrassed in front of other women?

“This Anna is a couples counselor or a relationship guru. What does that mean, is she some sort of pop shrink? Gina told Anna what I am, what I do for her. How can I face that woman? Anna teaches men to respect woman. Does that mean Anna will be a partner in our sex games? I don’t want other women to see me like this.

“These are dangerous sex games; just with Gina I am lost; what will this Anna do to me? I have surrendered my body and my soul to Gina. She has taken my home; she has somehow taken my job; she has wrecked what was my life. She has just made me eat another man’s come out of her cunt. I am so revolted with myself I could wretch, but she wants more. I want more; I want to give more, but what more can I give. What more can Gina take? What more can this Anna scrape out of me”

I knelt on the hard wet floor by the tub as it filled with hot water and the bathroom clouded with steam. Gina padded naked across the floor and eased into the water without a ripple of acknowledgement of my attendance.

In the sultry fog, I dreamed:

She is a magic water nymph floating in a warm pool. Her dark eyes gaze off into nothing, seeing things beyond my understanding. Her slim legs converge at the dark thatch cloaking my shrine. Her slender arms coil over her shoulders, fingers entwine behind her graceful neck, slick streams of black hair flow upon a face so lovely I might cry. She closes her eyes and sees yet deeper. She stretches; her finely muscled back arches; her grace enthralls…

A she-cat slinks through a labyrinth of shadows below a sun-dappled rainforest drowning in humidity. The heated feline slips into the shady flow of a jungle stream warm and thick as blood, transforming into a serpentine river spirit.

Her large dark nipples swell to an erection upon her ideal body. The water idol is oblivious to her servant kneeling by the edge of her tranquil pool. A bead of moisture runs to the edge of her dreaming eye, hangs, then, races down her flawless cheek. She shimmers.

Worry troubles my reverie. Steaming water fogs the air; mist clogs my sight; clouds muddle my soggy judgment. I knell eyes downcast, cock rock hard, unfulfilled. How did my life come to this?                                   Face (Sex, Power, Love ) is Available at Amazon 

Eric: Secretaries

Eric could not have known how far he had fallen, why he had been cut from the herd, or the power of the forces that preyed upon him. He just did not have enough information. All he knew was that his life had been great, then the old man retired, his daughter Ashley took over the company, and everything fell apart. Eric thought he had been careful to play the new boss’s game, to make a show of respect, but Ashley just didn’t seem to like him. Unfortunately for Eric, no amount of brown nosing would have saved him. Eric had no clue. Ashley had special plans for him.

Eric thought it very odd that Ashley hired his secretary Shyanne away from him. Despite her natural talents, Shyanne had no resume at all. She was a high school dropout, and, other than working for Eric, her only experience was prostitution. Shyanne had no personal connections with anyone else in the firm. She was a whore with a lot to hide from the vanilla suburban types who populated the company. Shyanne and Eric were isolated and united against the world by personal preference and by their secret, unethical conduct. Shyanne was simply not at all the type a high class Ivy Leaguer like Ashley should want for her secretary.

When Ashley took Shyanne away, both Shyanne and Eric were disturbed. Shyanne wanted no part of the imperious Ashley and offered to quit, but Eric asked her to stay on to be his spy. Eric thought Shyanne might be able to break the ice for him with Ashley, and that she might provide intelligence about what was going on with that stuck up, superior bitch. That did not work out. Once Shyanne was working for Ashley, she operated just as she had for Eric. She was efficient, effective, conspiratorially quiet, and loyal to her new boss.

Eric knew something was wrong at work, but his crazy new sex life with Gina had made him more than a little addled. Eric simply could not focus on bureaucratic in-fighting when Gina was sending him off to the office each morning with pussy juice smeared all over his face.

A co-worker would say good morning and it was all that Eric could do to respond with a straight face—a straight face covered with pussy sap drying to a fine, translucent crust. Eric would respond, “Hey, good morning, babe. It’s a great day out there isn’t it?” He was thinking, “I hope she can’t smell this stuff all over my face. Don’t scratch your nose you idiot. Don’t touch it; that would be too obvious. Don’t draw attention to it. Gina was so wet this morning. She dripped all over me. Don’t think about Gina; damn, you already have a hardon. I hope it doesn’t show. Thank goodness for suit jackets. I hope Gina didn’t drip on my tie. Is she looking my tie? What the hell is this woman saying to me?”

“A great day? It’s raining cats and dogs. Eric, Eric honey, earth to Eric.” All in all, Eric was floundering.

And so he lost Shyanne, his money making machine was falling apart, and his co-workers began thinking he was weird. So what? Eric was happy as a baby at his first birthday party. Ashley assigned Eric a newly hired secretary, the voluptuous Maria. She was just more syrupy icing on Eric’s big sweet sex cake. But Maria was worse than useless at supporting Eric’s nefarious sales methods. She was a giggling, blabbering airhead, but Eric still had the sense not to share anything with her about how he worked. Unfortunately, that left Eric with no support just when he needed it most. The few tasks Eric assigned to Maria she screwed up or ignored. There was little Eric could do about that. No amount of scolding could have made Maria more effective, and besides, she was Ashley’s personal choice for Eric.

Not that Eric really cared. Plenty of money was still rolling in from earlier sales arrangements. Besides, the company was laden with people getting big bucks for doing nothing but pretending to work. Eric resigned himself to simply treading water, merely trying to survive by keeping his head down and above water at the same time.

Maria may have been useless in many ways, but she was a great show. She just loved her own tits, her big, sweet, giggly melons. Maria was hot, she knew she was hot, and knowing she was hot, made her hotter still. She would wear short, clinging dresses that rode up to her crotch as she sprawled back in her chair, legs crossed, phone propped up at her ear, obliviously chatting with friends and doing her nails while her pink panties peeked out under the hem of her dress. The next day she might wear high Cuban heals, a dress with deep cut cleavage, and a double duty push up bra thrusting forth an expanse of luscious, alluring, bulging skin. Her giant boobs would bounce and ripple as she rose from her chair to teeter off to her two-hour breaks from doing nothing. Eric didn’t care; he just kicked back and enjoyed the show.

Maria took any occasion to swing her pendulous breasts in Eric’s face. At any time she might walk into Eric’s office unannounced; lean over his desk, cleavage plunging, breasts hanging heavy; lay some inconsequential memo down on Eric’s desk just below her bobbling boobs; and purr, “Hey, boss have you seen this?”

Eric would stare into the dark trough between Maria’s swinging, milky sacks and reply, “Yes, thank you for bring that to my attention Maria.” Maria, bent at the waist, leaning across the desk, would take Eric’s lust as a compliment (she just loved turning the guys on), and would thank him with a smile and a coy wiggle that sent ripples across the open expanse of her bosom. Then Maria would rise up, throw back her shoulders and thrust out her chest, thus sending her breasts heaving out toward Eric’s ogling face. She would say something like, “Your welcome boss. I thought you needed to see that.” As she walked out of Eric’s office Maria would glance over her shoulder to be sure her show had had the desired effect. Each time Maria looked back, Eric would be sitting, staring at her undulating ass with a goofy grin on his face.

Eric had fucked every other girl in the office he thought worth fucking, but he didn’t try to fuck Maria, though such a luscious new hire should have been a high priority work objective. That she was his direct subordinate didn’t stop him; it could be finessed. It was not that he didn’t think her hot or that she wouldn’t have happily done him. Maria gave every signal that she wanted it. Even when Gina was wearing him out with sex, he still had cock enough for another girl, but something held him back. After Gina took to sending him off to work with an unsatisfied hardon, Eric still didn’t make a move on Maria.

The dilemma was that Eric loved being pushed around by Gina, he loved being used, and he instinctively knew that fucking around would mar Gina’s seductive, sedating spell. Being Gina’s thing was a twenty four/seven obsession; it was like continuous sex. Eric discovered denying himself the pleasure of diving into Maria intensified the flavor of his capitulation to Gina. His frustrated desire for the sweet confection that was Maria infused his submission to Gina with willful sacrifice. Who needed desert when the main course was so fulfilling? Still, he enjoyed the Maria show. For Eric it was hardcore porn all night with Gina and a soft-core peep show all day with Maria.

Then the trap door opened. Maria buzzed Eric, startling him from a daydream about Gina. Maria told him that Ashley wanted to see him. Eric dutifully rose to Ashley’s summons. He hid his erection under his suit jacket and apprehensively marched through the labyrinth of cubicles to his boss’s office. Eric entered Ashley’s outer office where Shyanne sat. He whispered, “Hey, Shyanne, what’s up. What does she want?”

“I’m sorry, Eric, but I can’t talk here. Besides, I really don’t know anything. I’ll call her. Ashley, Eric is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Shyanne. Please ask him to wait.” Shyanne motioned for Eric to sit, and went back to work, studiously avoiding Eric’s presence.

Fifteen minutes later Eric said, “Do you think she has forgotten me? Maybe you should call her again.”

“That would not be a good idea. She is not in a good mood today, so just be patient.” Eric was never good at being patient, but he was trapped. He tried talking to Shyanne, but she just shushed him, saying she was busy. Eric sat, fidgeted, and finally sagged into sleepy sex fantasies. The tapping of Shyanne’s keyboard lulled Eric to a stupor. The intercom startled the daydreamer. Business popped his pleasant bubble. “Send him in.”

Shyanne ushered Eric into Ashley’s office without making eye contact. She looked like she might cry.

This had been the old man’s office, a place to receive praise, awards, and more money. It was completely changed. The golf trophies and the smell of cigars were gone. Maybe it was just the flowers, but even the air seemed feminized. The large suite was furnished with contemporary fine art, artsy primitive objects, and pricey good taste. On the wall behind Ashley’s desk was a large oil painting that to Eric looked something like a Picasso. Eric hated modern art, if stuff a hundred years old could be called modern. There was just something nauseating about that pretentious, incomprehensible bullshit. The low lighting with accents on special pieces reminded Eric of a museum. There were a lot of tribal masks—scary, funny looking things. A small antique lamp (solid gold?) lit the surface of Ashley’s desk in the darkened office. The room quietly exuded wealth. A weird elitism slithered in this nest.

Ashley didn’t look up as Eric entered. She sat legs crossed pushed back from her desk, intently studying a folder and making notes. The slit in her calf length skirt rode up to mid thigh. Eric tried to avoid admiring Ashley’s young legs. Otherwise Ashley’s attire was austere, mannish, and all business. Wire rim glasses slumped down to the tip her pert nose. Ashley’s pretty face was pale and sparsely made up, her lips thin and bloodless. Eric stood waiting for his young boss to concede his presence somehow. The large strange painting on the wall behind Ashley seemed to stare at him. Eric felt queasy.

After silently standing for several minutes Eric tried, “Good morning, Ashley.” Except for a fleeting grimace of revulsion, Ashley still did not acknowledge her employee suspended before her pursuant to her summons. Eric waited.

Eventually Ashley removed her glasses and looked up. She didn’t speak, but looked Eric up and down with apparent derision. At last she said, “I can’t for the life me guess what makes you think it is appropriate to address your superior on a first name basis. I suppose this is yet another aspect of your sloppy, unprofessional conduct. However since this involves me personally, I take it personally. This is fair notice; your familiarity is unwanted. Don’t repeat it. Now to the business at hand. I am busy so I will be brief. Shyanne, bring me Eric’s file.”

The intercom responded, “Yes, Ashley, right away.” Eric was shaken by Ashley’s open hostility and about the complaint of using her first name. From the mailroom on up everyone used first names. This phony familiarity had always been the corporate culture despite the strict caste system on anything that really mattered. Shyanne handed a folder to Ashley and left without looking at Eric. She seemed distraught. Eric attempted, “Miss Sanders, I’m sorry, but…”

“Be quiet. I have an important meeting in a few minutes and I don’t have much time for you. However, I must inform you that it has come to my attention that there are substantial irregularities in your expense accounts going back many years. I hope this is just more sloppiness on your part and not something more serious. Take this file and make the appropriate corrections.”

Eric’s expense accounts hid all kinds of improprieties—cover-ups for the expense of whores and strippers, rooms for the entertainment, and petty bribes, everything a good defense salesman needed to do his job. But Eric had always gotten the old man’s personal approval, bypassing the regular vetting of expense claims. The approval discussions had always been a great opportunity to share sales war stories with the old man. The old guy loved dirty jokes. Eric pleaded, “Miss Sanders, these expenses were directly approved by your father. He and I talked it over each time and he signed off.”

“Eric, I don’t approve of going outside of the standard approval process or of circumventing acceptable accounting practices. If my father, and I must tell you bringing up my family is personal and offensive yet again, but if my father and you had some sort arraignment, consider it retroactively revoked. Clean up this record and we will discuss what is allowable. I will try to be fair if you have been misled, but I must know the truth of the matter to make those decisions, and to repair any possible legal consequences to the company. Fix the record. That is all.” Ashley pushed the file across the desk, picked up her phone, spun her chair away, and showed Eric her back.

Eric fumed as he retreated to his office. “Now what? There are tens of thousands of dollars in payments just to Shyanne hidden in there. I don’t have any documentation; that would have been stupid. Doesn’t that stuck up bitch have a clue about how this business works? I have made her family millions. Fuck.” Eric was back at his desk fulminating and attempting to concoct a strategy to save his ass when Maria bubbled in unannounced. She smiled and shut the door. She was as sight to behold.

“Hi boss. I was wondering if you could help me. I’ve got a date tonight with a cool new guy I really like. He’s real sophisticated, kind of like you, and I thought maybe you could help me make a good impression, you know, clue me in on what guys like you like. Ok? I had my hair done what do you think?”

Maria raised her arms and did a pirouette. As Maria spun, her heavy breasts lagged slightly behind the rest of her. Maria stopped and through up her arms in a Broadway showgirl pose. Her breasts kept swinging, slung to a limit almost tipping Maria over, swung back, and finally jiggled to a full stop.

Eric was speechless, “What do I think? Delightful, delicious. And what do sophisticated guys like? Those tits will do.”

Maria stood in front of Eric’s desk arms raised waiting for Eric to comment on her hair. Maria had long, thick black hair that looked great hanging straight and natural. But while Eric was dealing with Ashley, Maria had apparently gone out to a beauty shop and had her hair done in a rococo prom-like styling, pulled back and up and piled high with impossible extensions, curls, and synthetic locks falling down to her waist. It would have looked great at the academy awards, but it was ridiculous here in the office. Eric was dumb struck, both at Maria’s sudden intimacy in asking for his fashion advice and by the sight of this giggly bimbo displaying herself in his office.

When Eric said nothing, Maria, near tears, cried, “You don’t like it!”

“No, no, it’s great. You just caught me by surprise. Please Maria; you’re an absolutely beautiful girl. Any guy would fall for you. Really, and your hair is great. I was just surprised and didn’t know what to say. Your hair is amazing, astonishing in fact.”

Now Maria was beaming. “I hope so. You are so sophisticated, and all the girls like you. They all say you’re the hottest guy in the office. Do you like the shoes?” Maria stepped one foot forward, pointing her toe. Today’s fashion show was a tight short dress that clung to her hips and thighs showing every curve and bulge, even hinting at the cleft in her abundant, womanly mound. Maria stretched a leg forward exposing her plump thigh, pink retro hose, and still pinker garter belt. Maria turned her shoe from side to side. She was wearing ankle breaking, stiletto heeled slippers flashing with pink and blue sequins.

“Very nice.”

“Do you like my ankle bracelet?” Maria jumped up to sit on the front edge of Eric’s desk, crossed her legs and dangled her foot. Her short skirt rode high on her succulent thighs. “Come around and look. It’s so pretty.”

Eric checked to be sure the door was closed, rose from his chair, and when around his desk to look at the ankle bracelet. “Very pretty.”

“Oh, you can’t see it from there. Get closer.”

Eric leaned a little closer. “Maria, it is very nice, but maybe we shouldn’t be doing this here.” Eric’s cock was getting hard, despite his discomfort with examining his secretary’s pretty foot, hot fetish slipper, and anklet right there in his office.

“Please, no one can see. The door’s closed. Don’t be such a spoilsport. This is fun. Please, read the insignia on my anklet. I think it is so cute.”

A voice in Eric’s head cried out, “Trap!” But a woozy rhapsody from his groin lustily sang, “Jump.” Like a chivalrous knight in a fairy tale bowing to a princess, Eric sank to one knee as he courteously took Maria’s foot in his hands. He caressed Maria’s slipper. The twinkling pink and blue sequins dazzled. Eric bowed his head to examine Maria’s anklet, a chain of linked gold-plated hearts. A bubble gum pink, heart-shaped charm hung from the chain. Eric leaned it closer; the insignia reminded Eric of a child’s valentine. “It says, ‘You are all mine.’”

“Don’t you think that’s the cutest thing? One more thing, the girls say that stockings and garters are sexier than panty hose. What do you think?” Maria uncrossed her legs and spread them. The Maria’s dress rode up over the tops of her stockings. Eric dropped to both knees in front of his desk, looking directly into Maria’s fleshy white thighs. She was not wearing panties. Deep in the shadowy cleft between Maria’s plump thighs Eric could make out dense, curly, black hair. Eric smelled pussy. His mouth watered; restraint melted; common sense boiled away.

“Read what it says on the garter, boss.” Maria’s pussy smelled familiar and novel at once; how would it taste? Maria spread her legs wider, and scooted toward Eric’s face. He was now between her knees. The warmth of Maria’s thighs enveloped Eric; her musky odor drugged him. A command was embroidered in red script on the pink garter. He whispered, “It says ‘Eat me. Eat me. Eat me.’”

A nebulous impression of a long lost wonderland wafted across Eric’s cloudy mind.

Maria lifted one leg up to the side propping a heel up on the edge of the desk and pushed her crotch still closer into Eric’s face. As her legs spread, her dress rode up, fully revealing the carefully trimmed thatch adorning her cunt. Maria’s fingers reached down and spread her nether lips apart. Her slit opened like a pink flower before Eric’s face. “So, go ahead boss, do what the sign says. Eat.”

Control had blown away to a far horizon. Eric did what Gina had taught him so well. He leaned forward, slipped his face under the hem of Maria’s dress, and wet the open lips of Maria’s pussy with his tongue. With one long slow lick from hole to clit, Eric studied the taste of Maria. Hints of coffee and dark chocolate, floral overtones reminiscent of island breezes, a slight tang of urine—it was an epicurean delight. Maria sprawled back across Eric’s desk. Eric dove into the trough, pressed his nose onto Maria’s clit, and slipped his tongue into Maria’s heating hole. Eric abandoned his post in defense social norms and charged, deploying all the tongue-fucking skills Gina had so carefully drilled into him.

Eric didn’t hear his office door open. His tongue was deep in Maria’s cunt, his attention deeper. Hot flesh tightly wrapped his head. Blood coursing through Maria’s thighs throbbed in his ears. Eric was lost in his happy place. He happily swam in Maria’s watery cave, when, as if from an impossibly distant surface, he heard the faint echo of a voice.

Eric thought, “Leave me be. I like it here. This pussy is sweet, what an alluring new flavor. Maria, am I doing it right? Let me pleasure you. Do you enjoy my tongue half as much as I adore serving your pussy? See how good I am; my Gina taught me all the secrets of pleasing women. My tongue is well trained and strong, isn’t it sweet girl? You’ll see; I can go on for hours. Gina’s cunt sucker will amaze you.”

Suddenly Maria shoved Eric out into the cold. All reason and common care had vanished; Eric’s mind was awash in images, yearnings, and compulsions of gorging on pussy. Eric tried to lean in, extending his tongue to reach out for more. Then it hit him like a club, Ashley’s angry, discordant voice, “What is this?” From his hands and knees, Eric turned, dazed, drugged, his face smeared with fresh pussy dew.

Three silhouettes stood in his office door. Something nagged that not all was right, but it didn’t matter. Eric’s cock insisted. It had to have its way. Still zipped up in his pants untouched, Eric penis overthrew sanity and satisfied its inescapable imperative. Eric creamed in his pants.

Ashley stood in the open door hands on hips looking down on Eric. Shyanne stood behind with Claudia, the newly hired General Counsel. Heads popped up over cubicles all across the work floor to see what the fuss was about. Two flabbergasted women at the door stifled astonished gasps with hands to their gaping mouths. Ashley just smirked.

Eric blankly looked up into Ashley’s eyes and, uncontrollably, mechanically, futilely, rutted in his pants.

The e-book Face (Sex, Power, Love) is available at Amazon

Hobbled

My reverie slipped to the edge of sleep as I knelt patiently beside the bathtub where Gina silently reclined motionless in the steaming water. Finally, as serene as an elemental water nymph ascending with the morning mist, Gina arose. Her slim olive body glistened; her dark dense hair shimmered and rained soft droplets into the warm water. Gina didn’t speak, but handed me a towel. I devotedly knelt and reverently blotted her dry. As Gina turned to pad away across the puddled floor I started to rise to follow, but Gina tenderly placed her hand on my shoulder silently obliging me to kneel and wait. I worshipfully obeyed my water spirit.

She returned a few moments later saying, “Anna gave me this today. I’m sorry, but she said you must wear it to our appointment. Anna does not like dealing with men who are not, as she puts it, “properly hobbled”. Your cock has finally shrunken, so you better put it on quickly before it gets big again.”

My penis had indeed shriveled to a trifling flaccid thing. Gina handed me a small metal contraption constructed of three small steel rings welded to three straps to assemble a narrow cylindrical cage. The whole thing was about two inches long, with a bar enclosing one end and eyelets terminating each strap at the other end. “It’s a cock cage, or male chastity belt. Anna insists that males be constrained in her presence, and she insists that the confinement be as tight and constricting as possible. I told her that you could wear a size small. I find it remarkable how tiny your shrunken dick can get considering how big it is hard. Put it on quickly, that thing is starting to grow already.”

I took the contraption from Gina, but it wouldn’t slide over my still soft dick. Gina stood over me like a third grade teacher watching a slow student struggle with fractions. “Pinch the cock head and thread it through the rings. That’s it. Now reach in and pull the cock head past the end bar as far as you can. Pull it tight against your body. Good, now stuff the head back behind the end bar. Thread this through the eyelets. That’s it. Now stand up.”

I followed Gina’s instructions, pulling my soft cock through the rings, and then threading a long, light chain through the eyelets on the cage. Gina was right to caution me to be quick; my cock was beginning to swell and if it were any bigger, it would not have fit through the restrictive rings. Gina pulled the ends of the chain back between my legs, looped them up and around my waist and back under the chain in front so the whole affair could be pulled tight. She locked everything in place with a small padlock. My cock was imprisoned within the unyielding steel rings while the chain held everything tight against my body. The effect was to limit my cock to a pathetic two-inch length, and to squeeze the girth into the tiny dimension permitted by the steel rings.

The slight discomfort of the apparatus increased to moderate pain as my cock began to swell against the bars of its jail. The cage was indeed an effective chastity belt, if chastity could have anything to do with this obscene display of sexual submission. An erection was impossible. The steel rings easily defeated my hopeless, pathetically insistent engorgement. Ah sweet chastity, at least the matter was now out of the hands of my pitiable will. My prideful manhood was coldly crushed.

Gina stood back and admired her handy work. “Oh that’s nice. Anna’s right; men should have their cocks hobbled in the presence of women. Now one more thing, you will also wear a testicle harness. Stand up and bend over the sink counter. Spread your legs.”

Gina knelt behind me, took hold of my scrotum, and squeezed my balls down until they popped out below her fist. I had become accustomed to the odd and sexy sensation of Gina’s hand around my scrotum. Gina pulled, kneaded and quashed my balls. My cock’s dumb masculine imperative drove mindless assaults against the bars of its prison, but of course, this impossible revolt failed.

The steely rule of feminine dominion prevailed. My conquering queen proclaimed, “Ah, the poor thing can’t get hard. Too bad, I win. But you still like it when I take you by the balls don’t you? You like giving me your balls, letting me play with these slippery, vulnerable jewels, don’t you honey?” Gina clenched her fist, bore down, and stretched my scrotum to its limit.

I pulled back against aching strain and embraced the dull, seductive pain. Whenever Gina took me by the balls, she compelled surrender and obliged submission to her command. I hissed through clenched teeth, “Yes. I want to give my balls to you. My balls made me your slave. Take them; take me. When you first took me by the balls, you seized my heart and my soul. I don’t know where you learned your magic, but it works. Take my balls; take control. Make me weak, exposed, and vulnerable, and that’s all I want to be. Thank you. Please, please, never stop using me.” The ache in my groin was a sinful indulgence intense beyond imagining. The shameful truth was that until Gina took my balls, I had not known what gratification meant.

Before Gina, I was strictly a cock kind of guy. I shielded my testicles against pain and so denied myself the finest intensity of pleasure. Occasionally a girl had licked my balls in the course of giving head, but the slight tickling had just made me nervous. I worried about damage to the family jewels. “A kick in the balls.” It’s not just an expression, as I had learned from painful experience in a scramble for a basketball. I caught an accidental knee to the crotch and collapsed to the ground, grasping my crotch, gasping for air, and doubled over from the piercing pain. From then on, like men everywhere, I was very skittish and protective of my testicles.

When Gina first played with my balls, I started to warn her off, but she would have none of it. She promised me she would not hurt me and that I would love it. She was true to her word, at least about the loving it part. She lied shamelessly about the impending pain.

I let her have her way. Gina held my sack in her fist and gently messaged my testicles with her thumb. Then she licked my scrotum, took my balls into her mouth, and rolled my testicles around with her tongue. With a gentle pulling and soft stroking, she sucked as if she were milking me. I could not get enough of this strange new treat.

Gina knew precisely how far to take me in each encounter, gradually addicting me to this odd delight, each time taking me a step further down the path she had chosen for me. Gina’s control was exquisite. She lay between my legs filling me with a pleasure so pure I could not have imagined it. I craved more, and with each encounter, Gina gave more, and took more, sucking and pulling on my testicles longer and harder. She used her teeth. The promise of more dragged me deeper, deeper into bliss and surrender, deeper under Gina’s control.

Gina carefully led me to the brink of that vividly remembered piercing pain, and held me balanced on the razor’s edge between pain and pleasure. She sucked my balls into her mouth, and with precise control, ran her teeth over and then into my testicles, tenderly pulling, softly tugging, then firmly yanking. She so gradually drove pleasure into pain that I could not tell them apart. If I gasped from a sudden stab of pain she would stop, look up at me, and laugh, “Don’t be such a baby. I know you like it, so stop whining. You don’t want me to stop, do you? You usually seem to like the way I use your balls, but I’ll stop if you like. Otherwise, please be quiet.”

Gina, lying between my legs, my balls firmly grasped in her fist, looked up at me with a mocking smirk. She would wait until I begged for more.

“Please Gina don’t stop. I will be silent.”

“Not good enough.”

“Please mistress, I need you. Please hurt me; please make me ache; please take my balls in your mouth, in your teeth. Punish me.”

“More.”

“Oh don’t be so cruel. Indulge me. Indulge yourself. Sink your teeth into it; rip me; use me. I will be quiet. Hurt me; punish me. I beg you.”

“Since you beg.” And then she would take my balls back into her mouth, briefly shift back toward tenderness, and finally, with progressively increasing pressure, Gina would punish me for complaining. Gina sunk her teeth deeper, harder into my manhood and tore down the illusions that held me together as a man. She drove me to the yawning edge of punishing pain, and then threw me over the cliff, past the petty bounds of self-survival instinct, and beyond trifling care for tomorrow or even personal identity.

I struggled to obey and suffer in silence. I did not scream. But I could not quell my girlish squeals and raspy hissing moans, so I glossed over my failure to be quiet with whiny begging for more. Her teeth ripped at my balls while I writhed. I thanked my mistress for the ache, pleaded for her forgiveness, and prayed to my goddess for more. I begged Gina not to stop; I begged for more pain; I begged her to take my balls. She indulged me.

Gina threw me over the cliff, and I fell down and down and crashed onto jagged boulders. A swift current of agony coursed through me and swept away all that I had been. The gnawing ache in my groin became the river Gina, and I became its hollow canyon eroded to bedrock. To please my Gina at last I submerged all resistance. I was silent.

Gina took me with knowing skill and exquisite execution. She knew exactly how to bind the physical to the psychological. She was precise and practiced in the use and care of a male’s testicles. She knew just how much to suck for pleasure and how deep to sink her teeth into the meat of the thing for pain, but not destruction. She was meticulous in her care for the cords to preserve the blood vessels and nerves. She was scrupulous in her gnaw on the ball itself. She broke scrotal skin, but not the germ within. My sack bore her teeth marks; my testicles bore only the ache. She did not break the eggs, but she scrambled the brain.

With unerring accuracy, Gina took me to psychological devastation, but short of medical disaster. I became entirely hers, her thing—her empty vessel to be filled with pain. I became her cup to be drained at her pleasure. In the crucible of my tortured being, Gina’s gift of pain transmuted to pleasure—deep, dark, rich indulgence. I luxuriated in anguish as Gina drank her fill. I carelessly spilled my soul.

When sated, Gina dismissed me. I immediately craved more. From my crotch to the pit of my gut, a fading echo of the punishing pain called to me throughout the day. I dreamed of Gina constantly. Throughout the day’s tedious wait for more, the ache in my groin counseled gratitude for each petty insult and each dismissive affront with which Gina favored me. Gina renewed the screeching agony each evening. The enduring ache was a constant reminder of my love, of my submission, and a relentless call to beg for more.

Gina made me lay naked spread eagle on the bed. She knelt between my legs, grasped my balls and smiled, “Time for your treatment. Take it like a man. Take it in silence.” Then she would bend over me like a carnivore at its kill, clenching and wrenching my scrotum, and gnawing on my testicles as she used her free hand to drive herself to satisfaction. All the while, I lay writhing, gasping, fraught with fear that I might be torn apart or that I might offend her with a scream. But I eagerly, earnestly offered my manhood to whatever fate Gina dealt and struggled only to yield in silent gratitude.

Gina handled me shrewdly and I followed her down the path of utter capitulation. She schooled me in the peculiar raptures of pain and submission. I was an apt student. After my absolute surrender, Gina made me beg for it. She made me get on my knees at her feet and beg her to torture my balls. Finally, for three long weeks, my balls were denied their fix, and I was denied orgasms. Gina utterly deprived my testicles of her therapy. She punished me by denying me punishment. It drove me mad; I was obsessed, fixated, crazed. I constantly craved that weird pain/pleasure to which Gina had addicted me.

But now I was bent over the bathroom counter legs spread, my dick swelling, straining against its new cage with Gina squatting behind, at last again fondling my balls. I looked at the face in the mirror. How could that face still look so much the same as my old self? All within was new, better. Gina clenched and wrung my balls with crushing force. The face in the mirror contorted to a pained grimace. “Ah yes. This is my new face.”

“What’s the matter, baby, this always used to get your dick big and hard? But today it’s still so small and pathetic. Such a pity, I guess your cock of steel really isn’t as strong as real steel, is it? It’s all bound up, bursting, but busted. How nice. Now this.” 

Gina operated on my crotch. She wrapped a leather strap behind my scrotum and around the base of my caged cock. It snapped shut. Attached below was another wider strap. Gina wrapped this firmly around just my scrotum. Again it snapped tight. My balls bulged out below just as if Gina were grasping them in her loving fist. Gina then pulled a final thin strap over the end, separating my balls until they popped out at the sides like two mushrooms. Gina attached a chain dog leash to the ball-separating strap and ordered, “Stand up. Put your hands behind your head and look at yourself in the mirror.”

I looked up. I could hardly believe what I saw. My balls hung low between my legs, their size exaggerated by the effect of bulging through the restraining harness, but my cock was pathetically small, almost not there, constrained within the glinting steel of the chastity cage. Gina had at last granted the thing my balls craved. It was not Gina’s strong fist or the judicious bite of her teeth, but mechanical, unloving grasp of a leather harness.

In the bathroom mirror, I saw Gina standing behind me with a thrilled grin. “Oh, I like that. Anna is so right. That is the way a slave boy should be kept.” Gina grabbed the leash, lifted it up back between my legs and yanked. I stumbled backwards. “Follow me boy. Keep your hands behind your head.” I respected her summons. I followed my ruler as she led me by the balls. I struggled to keep up, shuffling backwards, hands behind my head, my ball leash tugging me along. Gina grinned back at me with the dog leash slung over her shoulder marching me toward the bedroom. I viewed the whole ludicrous parade in the bathroom mirror, the grinning bitch dragging her trussed up beast to who knows what sort of sacrifice.

Once in the bedroom Gina sat on the edge of the bed. “Now you will assist me in getting dressed. I left some bags at the front door with some things I bought just for our meeting with Anna. Fetch them.”

I turned obediently, realizing that I would have to walk naked, cock and balls bound across the apartment with the window blinds open so that any casual observer would see my predicament. I was beyond caring. My leash dragged behind between my legs rattling across the floor as I fetched Gina’s shopping bags. When I returned Gina laid out her purchases on the bed. Leather was the theme, a closely fitted red leather top with long sleeves and priestly collar, a full-length black leather sarong, and red, thigh length, high heel platform boots.

Gina put on the top, and turned her back to me without a word expecting me to zip her up. The leather was a perfect skintight fit. The zipper closed snugly on the deep inward curve of Gina’s beautiful lower back, firmly embracing her tiny waist before closely following the arching expanse to her board shoulders. I surreptitiously ran my finger from the deep hollow of Gina’s back to the exploding fullness of the ass I worshipped. She handed me the sarong dress. I wrapped the supple leather around Gina’s waist and affixed it by a wide belt with a large silver buckle.

Gina sat on the bed and crossed her legs. The sarong slit open to just below her crotch. Apparently, Gina would not be wearing panties. Gina pointed her toe at me, “Boots.” The dark red leather was slick and pliable with two-inch platforms and six-inch heels. Yet again where I belonged, on my knees before my tyrant, serving, I eased Gina’s foot into the boot and fastened the long rows of buckles to the mid thigh.

I bent forward and kissed Gina’s exposed thigh above the top of her boot and contentedly continued my duties. As Gina uncrossed her legs, I glimpsed her love gash deep in the shadowy slit cut in the black leather of her dress. The beguiling scent of leather enveloped me. Sadly, the odor of my goddess’s cunt had been washed away in her bath. I pined for it. I buckled the second boot high onto Gina’s thigh. Diamond anklets affixed over the boots completed the ensemble.

Gina rose before me. She was magnificent—blood red and night black, all cold shinning leather. My ruler towered above me as I gazed up from my knees groveling at her feet. Now a full six inches taller, Gina was thoroughly imposing. She ignored me and admired herself in the mirror, posing, looking profile right then left. Gina then stood with legs apart. She threw her shoulders back, breathed in deeply, grabbed me by my hair and forced me to bow. She smiled to herself in the mirror, “Anna will like this.”

She looked down on me, “Slave, I will put on my makeup, and you will dress. Wear a sport jacket, black tee shirt and loose pants. Be sure your ball leash comes out the front of your pants so that it’s available for me to use as I wish, but put the excess length in your front pocket so that your chain does not hang below your jacket. It’s time for you to meet Anna. Get prepared.”

She turned to the mirror to enjoy her image. “Leave me.”

Gina: College

After completing high school early Gina left her Midwestern home eager to remake herself. She imagined the eastern liberal arts school she had chosen would be the perfect place to be reborn. It would be an intellectual environment where she would be appreciated, a place to fit in, and a culture where she would no longer be considered odd, rather, exceptional like all of the other elite students. She would leave the philistines and the petty bourgeoisie of her dreary world behind in the rural dust. Gina’s superiority would at last be recognized. Gina would engage the world, connect, join, mix—hook up. There would be friends, even a boyfriend, and sex, adventurous sex, but something more appropriate than gang banging a bunch of motorcycle thugs. Maybe Gina could even learn to laugh.

She would find a boyfriend, someone smart, interesting, and good-looking. She would no longer be lonely and isolated, and she need not worry that she was too picky about friends because only brightest kids got into this school. At college, she would not have to look down on anyone, and no one would look down on her. Here at her new school the boys would be smart and interesting, and so they would like and appreciate her.

Gina would find a boy who was caring, hip, and funny. He’d be cultured, daring, athletic, and well read. Her new boyfriend would be world wise, cheerful, innocent, sensuous, experienced, and fresh. He would be as handsome as Gina was pretty. He would her give space and be there when she needed him. He would be strong, but vulnerable; open, yet centered; creative and dependable; forgiving and principled; imaginative, steadfast; spontaneous, reliable; audacious and affectionate, but most of all appreciative. Gina wouldn’t have to put up with those zit-picking cretins any longer.

When she arrived, Gina discovered that all girls were scrambling to get into the right sorority. Gina too wanted to escape the cramped, regimented dorm. She felt as if she had been stuffed into a cabinet drawer in a corporate file room so enormous it was invisible. However, Gina did not have clue which sorority was the way up to the brave new world where she belonged. Rush seemed to be no more than a daze of drunken banality, just children behaving badly. These should have been all the elite students. Why didn’t someone tell her where the smart kids were?

Gina went to all the parties, but she mostly sat by silently watching everyone else having a great time mixing and mating. Gina tried to fit in; she tried to be acceptable; she tried to be bright and cheerful; she tried to talk. She smiled a lot. That was hard. Gina was painfully aware that rush was a competitive test, and those who passed won entry to a better world. And those who didn’t? Well, they just sort of fell off the edge of the world. Gina tossed sleeplessly at night, shaken by anxiety and doubt.

Gina did not realize that she could have gotten into any of the sororities and that they were all pretty much the same. Even though the other girls thought Gina was a bit of a hick due to her Midwestern accent, her shyness was mistaken to be a sign of a studious intelligence, even superiority. And Gina had the one trait that really mattered; she was the prettiest of that year’s crop of freshmen girls. The selection committees judged the pledges by the attractiveness of their faces, the length of their legs, the slenderness of their waists, and the density of their hair. Of course, the committees did not use that vocabulary. Rather they told themselves they were looking for interesting, confidant, and popular girls, but in the jittery mania of rush week, no one could really judge these things, and so the superficial ruled. The pretty girls won. And as peculiar and private as Gina was, she was the prettiest.

Poor Gina did not know she had won the game just by walking into the room. She sat quietly by the side, and softly and politely deflecting conversations. Inside she was a storm of self-loathing.

On the fourth straight night of parties, Gina was so bored she gave up and left early. As she stepped out of the door, a slight, pretty girl with plain brown hair and no make up touched her arm. She wore a beat up motorcycle jacket and biker boots, and spoke a badly faked workingman’s dialect covering a refined upper crust accent. “This is a sad excuse for a party, ain’t it? Boring. But hang in a bit. Come back in with me and I’ll show you how to have fun even here. Stick with me; let me be your tour guide at this zoo. I’ll show you how funny it all is.”

Gina looked into the stranger’s soft brown eyes and thought, “Maybe this is the cool friend I have been looking for.” She liked the leather jacket; it reminded her of the happiest day of her life. Gina didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to, because the girl seemed to know exactly who and what Gina was. She slipped her arm under Gina elbow, mocked a dance to the excessively loud house-music, and escorted Gina back to the party.

“That one over there, the one with the big tits and all the cleavage hanging out; she’s the queen bee. Queeny is so proud of those boobs. Her Daddy bought them for her. She’s not an officer of the sorority, because that would be actual work, but she’s in charge. The skinny one over there with too much makeup, the giraffe, they call her President, but her actual title is Queen Bee Flunky. See the chubby wart hog over there with the porcine herd at the bar giggling and swilling down the beers. She’s the Social Director, which means she does all the work that the queen bee has told the giraffe to do. As you can see we have lots of herd animals at our zoo—elephants, wildebeests, and rhinos. The queen bee puts up with them because they pay the bills. See that prissy little thing at the punch bowl. You wouldn’t know it to look at her but she’s a baboon. I know she’s a baboon because last year at the end of rush she got down on her knees to show off her pink butt to a group fraternity baboons, and then she took on all of them. The queen bee didn’t like that one bit, and she stung the bad girl baboon.”

Gina was smiling for the first time in weeks. She might have laughed if she were able, but she had not learned that trick yet. Just as Gina was finally having fun at the zoo, the queen bee confronted the sightseers. “Ashley, didn’t we tell your never to step foot in here again. Didn’t the judge say the same thing, ‘Cease. Desist’. What part of ‘Stay Away’ isn’t clear? You were not invited, so you will have to leave. Sorry if you miss our parties, our company, our fun, but you had your chance and you blew it, so leave. Gina, I am so sorry about this; please stay. Ashley is just trying to get some sort of sick revenge for being kicked out of our sorority. Please come with me, there are some people you should meet.”

The girl in the motorcycle jacket smiled at the queen bee and said, “Queeny, you’re such a bore. I see you’re all getting good and drunk again. Remember last year? Remember how drunk you got and how you tried to stop the girls just as they were going to have some real fun sucking the cocks of the entire football team. ‘Ladies, please. This is highly improper.’ Then you puked your guts out. Now that was funny. But mostly you’re just a bore, no fun at all…Queeny.”

“Don’t call me that. Ashley that disaster was all your doing. You instigated the whole thing and then sat back and laughed at us, people who had befriended you. Gloria hasn’t been back to school since. Get out. We don’t want you here.”

“Good, cause I’m out of here. Boring party. And, as if you cared, your little sister Gloria is doing just fine. At least I still talk to her. Yeah, she is feeling so good, feeling all right. Gloria doesn’t need this school, this sorority, or you. Besides, I didn’t know her pretty head would explode just from giving the team a little head. And your little sister gives such good head. I like it. Are you sure you don’t want me to send the guys over to liven things up, say, just about midnight?” Ashley danced to an old tune.

“Get out you vicious whore. Get out.” Queeny’s decorum blew up into a loud screech.

The buzz in the hive suddenly stopped and everyone stared at Queeny, Ashley, and Gina. The exile in leather waved to everyone and turned to walk away. The queen bee grabbed Gina’s arm to prevent her from leaving with Ashley. Ashley said, “That’s ok. Go with Queeny and enjoy the zoo. If you belong here, you’ll know it. If not, I know how to find you. Go on; meet the menagerie. I’ll see you latter. Promise.” Gina watched forlornly as her strange new friend, the pariah in the motorcycle jacket, walked out the door and the queen bee led Gina back into the jungle.

Gina enjoyed secretly creating her own taxonomy throughout the rest of the evening. There were snakes and gazelles, tigers and titmice. However, none of the creatures would discuss Ashley, except to warn Gina that Ashley was a dangerous pervert who would have been kick out of the school, if not jailed, but for her family’s money. One girl complained that Ashley had tried to get her to watch lesbian prison movies, as if that were the lowest form of entertainment on earth. Gina had never heard of such a thing, but she was curious.

At the end of the night, the queen bee pulled Gina aside and confided, “I am not supposed to tell you this now Gina, but you will be accepted into our sorority. This has always been the most prestigious house on campus. Don’t let our probation status fool you; that was all Ashley’s fault. Stay away from that girl. She’s big time trouble.”

As Gina walked through the late evening coolness back to her dorm room, the clean moist fragrance of the summer’s last cut of grass filled the night air. Exhilaration charged the night and tingled on Gina’s skin. It was not the surprising acceptance Gina had stumbled upon at the sorority, but the mysterious outcast that lit her imagination. In the chill of the late summer night, laughing clusters of revelers milled about and pairs of young lovers slipped conspiratorially into the darkness. Gina knew the sorority would accept her, but she was hoping Ashley would find her first. As Gina step up to into the security lights at the dorm entrance, she heard Ashley’s voice in the shadows. “So Gina did you enjoy your trip to the zoo?”

“Hi. Where are you? It’s too dark; I can’t see you. They said your name is Ashley. I’m sorry you had to leave. God, I was so bored until you showed up. Could we get to know each other? Where are you? It’s so dark.”

“Come to me. Step away from the light and come to me. Come to my voice here in the darkness. The shade is soothing.”

Gina stepped toward Ashley’s voice, but the glaring security lighting had blinded her, and the shadows were a uniform blackness. Gina stumbled, Ashley caught her, and suddenly she was in Ashley’s arms. Gina’s heart leapt—free fall.

“Hi, Gina. Yeah, I am Ashley.” Darkness surrounded Gina, the fresh earthy smell of night enclosed her, and Ashley’s presence swaddled her. Gina began to make out forms in the shadows—a pretty face. Gina’s feet sunk into the cushion of freshly mowed grass. This was Ashley’s cool world. The leather jacket and jeans reminded Gina of the motorcycle guys. She shivered, either from the fresh night chill, or trembling anticipation of novel thrills. The girl stood too close, holding Gina’s arms and looking intently into her eyes.

Gina pushed back, expecting the girl to retreat to a more socially neutral distance. Instead, warm hands rose to enfold the shivering skin on back of Gina’s neck, and sparkling brown eyes fixed Gina firmly in their grasp. Ashley probed Gina’s mind, delving into depths Gina herself avoided, seeking, then tasting, a sweet secret buried within. All the while Ashley spun a distracting web of words at the pressured pitch of a carnival magician.

“We’ve been watching you since you got here. I like your style, your look, but you seem a little lost. That’s pretty much to be expected just starting college and all. I decided to check you out and see if you’d like to run with us. My friends are a different set, people into things more interesting than that kiddy sorority/fraternity bullshit. I’m guessing you need something more, something better than normal.

“What’d you think? Wanna be in on our secret? Wanna run with us out here in the shadows? It takes courage to be different. Can you do it?”

The girl stood too close. Gina’s neuroses sang to her, “Don’t stand; don’t stand; don’t stand so close to me.” Gina worried, “Do folks out east stand this close? They shouldn’t do that. Still, I like this one. It smells of peppermint.”

“Ashley…,” there, she could speak, even a name. That thing clenching her throat couldn’t stop her; the peppermint vapor helped. “I don’t know. Who are the others? What are you about; I hardly know you are and now you are telling me there are others? It sounds so cool, but I don’t know what you’re really talking about, or whether I can be the kind of girl you guys are looking for. What do you guys do?”

A weak panic fluttered through Gina whining that it was unfair of the girl to stand so close holding her like that. Make her back off. The girl’s glinting eyes were a flickering candle illuminating the closed space encircled by the couple huddled against the night. Gina bathed in the warmth of the girl’s body. Her peppermint breath steamed briefly in the cool night air. As Gina’s eyes adjusted to the dark, the dawning close up of the girl’s unadorned face revealed how pretty she really was. The inches between their faces seemed a mesmerizing, viscous brew at once repelling and attracting, disquieting and soothing. Gina wished she could still her breath. The girl smelled good—peppermint candy, seasoned leather, and freshly cut grass.

“We do lots of things, but what matters is not the doing but the feeling. We are secret because we mean to create mystery. We are mysterious even to each other; I have no idea how many of us there are. We want to be a mystery even to our own selves. To know all there is to know of one’s self would be to snuff out one’s own life with the soft pillow of boring certainty. We adore surprise. Walk with us into a world of always fresh becoming. This will tell if you can be one of us.”

The girl pulled Gina even closer and pressed her lips to Gina’s mouth. Gina stiffened in surprise, and then melted into the fervor of Ashley’s kiss. Suddenly an alien passion boiled, and Gina found herself eagerly returning Ashley’s ardor. The kiss was strange, sexy, and an unfamiliar breath of human intimacy. Gina had spent a lifetime not knowing, not missing, not wanting. When Ashley finally allowed air, Gina gasped a babe’s first breath.

Gina had never been attracted to girls, but the pure perversity of Ashley’s forbidden embrace thrilled her. Finally, as Gina’s pulsing heart delivered the novel oxygen of that strange kiss to her suffocating social self, Gina’s heart could at last speak. “I want you. I mean I want to be your friend. I mean I need…but I’m not the right kind of girl. I can’t; I like boys.”

“Gina, you have so much to learn. I like boys too. I like men even better. The point is to be everything, to be anything, to never be contained or restrained in a simple-minded definition of what you are, or what you could become. That would be like chiseling your own epitaph onto your tombstone. Let that go until after you are buried in that cold, cold ground.” Ashley suddenly pushed Gina away.

“Forget it. You’re scared. I didn’t think you’d be such a chicken shit. Maybe you belong in a cage in the zoo. What would the sign say? You choose…something timid, maybe chicken scardi-pantus. Such a shame. You don’t have a clue about how lovely you are, how enchanting the flow of your body, how rare your native grace, or of the luminous potential of your soul.

“But that kiss, that was not just me kissing. You were kissing back, kissing the hope for a life of authentic excitement. That kiss told me you could be one of us, if you let yourself be bold. You say you like boys. Great, there’re lots of them here. If you need help meeting them, we’ll help. But I think what you need is a man, someone to show you the ropes, so to speak. Do you like your English professor? I’ll bet you do. I know he likes you. He told me so. I’ll give him to you.”

Gina’s jittering heart jumped to dance to this unexpected new tune. How did the girl know this, how could she read her soul like that? Yes, her English professor, he was handsome, articulate, and oh so tweedy academic. Gina definitely had a crush on this guy, but she hadn’t dreamed he could be available to her. He was no boy. But she was just a freshman, wasn’t he forbidden fruit? He had spoken to the girl about her?

“Yeah, you seem to like the idea. The renowned Professor Fish of English Lit.; I’ll give him to you as your door prize. I have to warn you he is a bit of a pervert, but fun if you can take it. The professor is just what you need, and he’s yours if you join us.”

Ashley smirked, “Oh, no Gina, that simple, silent nod isn’t enough. It’s your turn to convince me. Convince me that you can run with us, that you have the courage we require. Convince me now because there will be no second chances. We will not countenance hesitation, regrets, or fear. Choose, and make me believe. Close your eyes and leap into the darkness now, or freeze into stone—freeze into your own tombstone.”

Gina was instantly decided. She sucked a short breath and leapt into the shadows, into mystery, into her future, and into Ashley, driving her into the cool, yielding turf. Gina sucked life’s sweet forbidden nectar from Ashley’s open, succulent mouth.

Eating Out

As I drove Gina’s Jaguar to our meeting with Anna, Gina chatted on the phone with friends, whispering conspiracies. I could make out just enough to guess that the topic was me—and Anna. There was a lot of giggling. I fidgeted in my seat powerless to stop her from betraying the embarrassing details of my perverse surrender.

How much was she telling? Did she just say something about the cock cage? Gina’s cast a teasing sideways grin at me. She glanced to my crotch and sneered a rumor into her phone. The odd discomfort of the cock cage and ball harness hanging in my pants twisted into acute shame. She was telling her girlfriend about that?

I silently chastised myself, “Don’t think about it. Your cock is swelling in that damm cage. Is that safe? Just drive stupid. Don’t think about what she’s doing to you. Don’t think about her friends laughing at you. It will make it worse. My cock hurts.”

If I concentrated on just driving at least my cock stayed semi-soft in its cage, and the squeeze presented no immediate danger of strangulation, but the leather testicle harness constantly pressed tightly and stretched my testicles. I worried that my balls were not getting an adequate blood supply. I fretted over the numbness of the heavy lump hanging between my legs. Now my cock throbbed, engorged at the thought of Gina betraying me to her giggling friends. Why? What had Gina done to me? I deferentially waited for a break in her phone calls and asked, “Gina, please excuse me, but is it really safe to leave my balls tied up so long?”

“Oh, poor baby, do you think they are going fall off? That would be just too bad, wouldn’t it? Then you would have to be my worthless little eunuch wouldn’t you? Well, I probably should just let you worry, but don’t. I know what I am doing. I could tighten it up a bit and strangle your balls, but I’m not interested in that, at least not yet. You had better behave, or I just might change my mind. On the other hand…”

Gina laughed, “Honey, I’m not going to let you lose you balls because I like playing with them. You have no idea how much fun it is to take those big balls of yours between my teeth and watch you squirm. Besides, what use would I have for you without those cute things? I could easily find another cunt sucker, a lot of my friends insist that women are better at pussy licking anyway, but I like boys, boys with balls. To find another guy who’d let me use his balls as my private sex toy, another guy so well trained, so stoic that he’ll take my ball biting as hard as I like it, well, that would take more time. I’ve invested a lot of effort in training you. Most guys are such wussies when it comes to their balls; they’re just no fun at all. So don’t worry your pretty little head. I don’t intend to castrate you, if you’re good, at least not yet.” Gina laughed again at her equivocal reassurances.

“When we get to the restaurant we’ll meet Anna in the bar. Now rules, so listen carefully. You are not to speak until spoken to and you will keep your answers short. ‘Yes Madam’ or ‘No Madam’ will do for the most part. You will address Anna as ‘Madam’ until she directs you otherwise. You may still call me Gina; all that mistress or goddess stuff is so formal. But so that Anna sees you are properly subservient, I want you to bow your head and look down to the floor before and after you address me. This will take control on your part, so concentrate. Try it now. Repeat the rules.”

I looked at Gina, bowed my head casting my eyes downward. I looked back to the road and recited my lesson, “I am not to speak until spoken to. I am to address Anna as Madam. I am to be brief. I am to bow to you before and after speaking.” I looked to Gina. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction. I bowed my head and cast down my eyes. I was staring straight into Gina’s crotch. She had raised a leg to the dashboard, opening the long slit in her leather sarong to her waist. Her hand was in her crotch, a finger in her cunt, she instructed, “Watch the road.”

My cock swelled against its cage. I tried to concentrate on the road as tears welled in my eyes—tears from the overwhelming, but denied need for sexual release; tears from fear of the dreadful Anna, fear of strangling my cock and balls, fear of where these fierce women would lead me—and tears of gratitude for Gina’s cruelty. I felt drawn and quartered between terror and sexual ecstasy. The lump between my legs hung heavily. Gina masturbated as she made yet another phone call.

“Anna, hi. We will be there in a couple of minutes. Oh yeah, this is going to be fun. I can’t tell you how hot I am already. Well, thanks, and you know I feel the same. You are the loveliest woman on earth. ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, Anna is fairest of them all.’ Oh, yeah, he is ready, nicely hobbled as you like it. He is looking good, I’m sure you will enjoy him. He is driving the car, concentrating on the road like a good chauffer. Oh, he’s blushing. Can’t wait to meet you, I guess.

“You’ll like this; he’s all worried about his balls. He wanted to know whether they would fall off from being in the ball harness. Yeah, I know, but its fun watching him worry and squirm…Oh yeah, I know she did. She is the perfect bitch; I admire her so. She showed him to me. It was really weird, very sexy. He gave her the ultimate sacrifice, the definitive submission. But as a practical matter, beyond the symbolism, after you actually did it what good would he be? Oh yeah, of course for her it’s good. She doesn’t have much use for men anyway. To each her own I guess. But I enjoy men, especially the accouterments hanging between their legs. I want my slave to have all of his parts. This one has real nice parts. You’ll see.

“Could you do me a favor? There’s a boy on the valet station, Julio, I’d like to attend to my car. I want Eric to meet him.

“You might enjoy Julio. He’s a very pretty boy, and, if you can get him to keep his cock in his pants for a couple of days, he’ll give you the most amazing volume of come. I know you like that. Julio just keeps coming, gob after gob. Sweet wonderful youth.

“Oh, please do, but I drained him this just this morning, so him give a couple of days to get back to full volume. Besides, he’s just a trifling confection, a cocky idiot. I haven’t really worked on him. And you have this thing about men being hobbled and all. I am sure I could get the sweet young Julio chained up if you really wanted me to bother, but he will take some softening up.

“Right now Eric’s your guy. I haven’t let him come in three weeks, and he’s had an almost continual hardon. Come is just about dripping out of his ears. Also, I made him clean all of that thick, slippery Julio stuff out of me this afternoon, so Eric is just stuffed with man juice. Oh yeah, he ate it all up like a good boy. Now, that was fun. I told you he was ready for the next step. Ok, we’re almost there, so please send Julio to the car. I think it would be a nice touch for Eric to give the boy a big tip. See you.”

The phone disappeared into her purse. “Eric darling, when we pull up in front, watch the valet’s eyes as he helps me out of the car. I intend to give him a show. Watch him look at my new boots, up the slit of my sexy new dress, and into the face of your ruler. Think about the power of my pussy, think about how lucky you are to be my dedicated cunt cleaner, and be grateful I didn’t choose him. Be polite to the boy, and show your gratitude. Be sure to give him a nice tip.”

I pulled in front of the restaurant where a cluster of young men waited at the valet station. A handsome dark haired boy stepped over to the car to assist Gina from the car. The others gawked and sniggered; they thought they knew what was up. Gina swung one booted leg out, smiling up at the boy. Her dress slipped open to her waist exposing her bare pussy. The boy took Gina’s extended hand, and, leering straight into her fully exposed, naked cunt, he stuttered, “G…Good evening Gina. S…ss...so good to see you again.” Gina let him get a good long stare.

I was nauseous. The boy boy’s face was a goofy caricature of disrespectful lust and twisted bewilderment. Gina was using him as a pawn in her depraved theater. The boy stupidly thought he had somehow seduced Gina, but he also comprehended just enough to be confused. He was disgusting, but I felt like filth. Did the boy know what Gina had done to me, what she had made me do after her tryst with him?

Gina rose from the car, tossed her head back, and smiled at the other valets. They were dumb struck by Gina’s beauty and blatant fetish attire. There were hardons all around. “Julio, it’s so nice to see you again so soon. My boyfriend will tip you.” I got out of the car, pulled out my wallet, and gave Julio a five. “Don’t be cheap, Eric. Now tip Julio for keeping me company this morning. He left something for you. Pay him for it. You seemed to enjoy it a lot. In fact, I’d say you ate it up.” I had nothing but fifties left in my wallet. I gave Julio one. “My, my, that’s generous. You must have really enjoyed Julio’s gift. Julio, be a sweet boy and get the door.”

Laughing, Gina turned toward the restaurant. Julio looked at the bills I had given him as if they might be infected. Then he shrugged, stuck them in his pocket, and scurried to open the door for Gina. Julio smirked and backed away from me as I trailed Gina into the restaurant, mortified, embarrassed by the pound. Gina dismissively handed me her coat and headed off to the bar.

I attended to the coat check and followed Gina to the far end of the darkly lit, nearly empty bar. At the last stool sat a beautiful petite red head smiling warmly as she greeted Gina. She ignored me. Only the finest of lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed that she was older than a contemporary of Gina. Otherwise, her pale, creamy skin was smooth and flawless. Her blushing wavy hair, from the very strawberry edge of the blond spectrum, fell softly about her lovely, pale shoulders.

In sharp contrast to Gina’s menacing leather ensemble Anna wore a graceful, almost prissy pastel dress. The three-quarter length pleated skirt draped softly around the barstool. Thin straps curved up from her bare back, over the naked arc of her shoulders, and down to attach to an intricate peach edging that dove deeply into open white lace lying like an icy glaze frosting snowy drifts of bulging bosom. The delicate musculature of Anna’s neck rose up from the elegant contours of her shoulders. She twinkled with expensive gems. An expanse of creamy skin plunged to the see-through lace bodice and deep cleavage promised generous scoops of soft white breasts. Pink areola peeked into the lace with each swell of breathe. Anna was all sweet peaches and frosty cream, utterly feminine, with not a hard edge about her.

With a glowing smile, Gina kissed Anna’s cheek. “You are always so lovely. This is Eric.” Expressionless, Anna looked me up and down, evaluating. Her gaze settled on my eyes holding me in silent, rapt attention. Anna’s eyes were blue, or gray, or maybe green; they almost seemed to revolve color to color. I was transfixed, mesmerized as by a snake charmer.

At last she spoke, “Gina brags about you. She makes promises that you will be expected to fulfill. She hopes to enroll you in my male improvement program.

“I must say right off that physically you meet the standard; we will see about the rest. The therapy is quite rigorous; you will have to be broken and remade. However, I will not take you as a patient unless you demonstrate that you have the capacity to complete the program in the manner I desire. I could remake you even if you had no aptitude or willingness to participate, but that would be an onerous process, painful for you and boring for me. Your agreement to the program is assumed, but that is not enough. This evening will be an evaluation of whether I find you sufficiently interesting. Tell me, what Gina has done to your cock and balls.”

The casual moderation of Anna’s sweet voice belied the severe cruelty implicit in her interrogation. I trembled before her tranquil feminine authority. I was tongue-tied. My face flushed. I burned and I froze. I looked to Gina for help. She sat crossed legged leaning back against the bar in the stool next to Anna, the full length of her red boot rose through the long slit of her black leather skirt. An expectant smirk conveyed her instruction that I respond to Anna. “Madam, Gina has bound my cock and balls in steel and leather.” How could my throat be so dry, my brow so cold, and yet I was afire with panic and damp with flop sweat? I looked down to the floor.

“Good. The purpose of those restraints is to provide physical confirmation of your status. Any man who is allowed in my intimate company is required to be restrained, his manhood hobbled, so that the proper relation between the sexes is maintained. I have no use for free men. Gina feels otherwise and I respect her choice.

“However, you no longer have a choice in anything. You will be permanently hobbled to assure that whenever you are in the presence of any woman, whether she knows it or not, whether she is one of the cognoscenti or not, your inferior status will be physically manifest. You will be hobbled when you eat, sleep, or piss. You will be hobbled each time you think about any woman. You will wear these restraints permanently so that you will always be aware of what you are to women. No longer will you be just Gina’s slave, or my slave; you will be the slave of all females. The only time your restraints will be removed will be for cleaning or for a woman’s use, such as for whipping your genitalia.

“Gina tells me she has not whipped you. I don’t understand that. Personally, few things give me greater pleasure than beating a man. If I accept you into my program, we start by introducing you to the pleasures of the whip. Oh, don’t look so forlorn. Good things don’t come easily. Yes, it will be painful, after all that is the point of whipping a man. But, if you are right for this program, you will learn to get beyond the pain. I will take you to a place of grace where the pain is joy, where subservience is dignity.

“Oh, that pitiful look. Of course you don’t understand yet. It is a good indicator that you are despondent, rather than rebellious. A propensity to wallow in your misery will stand you in good stead in my program. I do love watching men suffer. And you will suffer more than the whip; emotional pain is so much more exquisite than simple physical pain. I will give you this to brace your courage. You will eat more pussy than you could dream of. Gina tells me that you have wasted your life as a total whore, that have cheated on every woman it ever knew, but that you have come at last to appreciate the path of oral homage to women. Is that true, are you a cunt sucking whore?”

The assault of words stopped suddenly. Those beautiful eyes, those strange circling colors, pinned me down like a specimen on an insect display.

“Speak when spoken to.”

My mind was blank, and I had vertigo. I was an unarmed soldier in no-man’s land. I glanced desperately to Gina. Her eyes commanded me to speak. I tried to answer Anna, but my voice failed. The bartender had just brought Gina and Anna fresh drinks. He looked at me with quizzical contempt before he turned away. How much had he heard? The bar was silent but for the clinking and crackling of swirling ice cooling drinks. The air tasted of sweet, rich bourbon. Finally, in a splintered whisper I managed, “Madam, whatever Gina says is true. I am a whore. Yes a whore, but thanks to Gina, I am a cunt sucking whore.”

“It speaks, good boy. You were slow to respond, but I appreciate a man who struggles to find the right words when speaking to me. His difficulties lead me to believe he knows his proper place, that what he says is heartfelt; and that he is sincere and not just repeating formulaic blather.

“So you admit to being a cunt sucking whore. If that is true, my program will be perfect for you, a true paradise. Do you want to go to paradise? Do you want to go to the land of cunt and honey, where the sweets between the thighs of all women are yours for the sucking? That’s what you will get, all the cunt you can swallow, day after day, woman after woman, pussy after pussy, enough to drown in.

“So that’s the stick and the carrot. Informed consent. Now you must convince me. Are you strong enough for my program? Should I bother? We’ll see.

“All the pussy you can eat, what a lucky guy. Yes, you will be whipped mercilessly. Yes, you will be a lowly slave, but a sex slave, not a wage slave like that dismal bartender over there who was just looking down his nose at you. You will never have to return to the work-a-day prison where the half brain dead inmates delude themselves with illusions that they are free. We will feed you, keep you, and use at our pleasure. All you have to do is obey, eat anything we stick in your face, lie under the yum yum tree, and suck pussy candy all day and all night. Lucky, lucky boy. But now I’m hungry. Gina lets eat.”

Eric: Fired

Cunt’s cherished secretions filled Eric’s mouth. He was lost to the world, his face utterly immersed in a slick pool of pussy. Eric swam in doing the tongue stroke. That he was at his place of employment, that the woman using his face was his subordinate, Maria, or that knelling on the floor of his office in the middle of the day eating pussy off his desk top might be deemed inappropriate workplace conduct by some—none of this registered in the abandoned practical quarters of poor Eric’s mind. The passionate salesman was engrossed and every nerve and sinew was dedicated to the service of pussy. Dry deliberations on propriety had vanished.

Maria was an ample girl with an ample, well-used cunt. Eric had to squeeze his head deep between her plump thighs to reach the thick, slack folds of Maria’s viscous gash. His face burrowed into the warm, wet slop. With perfunctory diligence Eric’s tongue fondled the piss hole, and then, with the instinct of a blind and ravenous water snake, slithered into the chasm below and gorged. Maria sprawled back across Eric’s desk, thighs spread wide, bucking her hip rhythmically, pumping her pussy into Eric willing face. Ardor got the best of Maria, she squealed, her sumptuous thighs grasped Eric’s head tightly, and the world disappeared. The lovers dove together through the surface of the mundane world into the watery caverns of transmogrifying, phantasmagoric, erotic rapture. Yummy, yummy.

Eric could barely hear her moans of delight or the bitching demands for more.  He floated in the warm throbbing hum of heart-pounded blood rushing through Maria’s fleshy thighs to the hot core of her cunt. Eric’s overwhelming desire to consume, devour, and serve cunt, and a perverted compulsion to show off his eager, well-trained tongue, sucked him into her maw.

He did not hear the door open. He did not hear the gasps of the startled woman looking down on the star salesman squirming his way into Maria, exploring her sunken treasures. Only when Maria pulled back and jerked Eric’s head out of her crotch did the angry voice of his boss Ashley echo down into the deep undersea cavern where Eric happily wallowed. He heard a muffled cry from some distant surface.

“Stop! What is going on here?” Ashley?

Dazed, Eric mechanically turned to feminine command and fell to all fours. Torn from its hot obsession, Eric’s face stared into cold truth—three women standing in the doorway of his office. One was aghast, one was aghast and angry, and one suppressed triumphant glee. From his knees Eric looked up at Ashley, boss Ashley, looking down on him smirking with hands on hips. Eric forlornly beseeched sympathy from his former confidant, Shyanne. There was none. Wide-eyed shock froze her hand to her mouth and stifled an appalled cry. And then there was Claudia, Ashley’s newly hired General Counsel. Eric had not yet been introduced.

Eric recalled office etiquette, but could not bring himself to perform the ritual greeting, “Hi, great to meet you. It is great to have you aboard. I look forward to working with you. It will be great, just great.”

Claudia stood by Ashley’s side holding a clipboard, a pen propped behind her ear. If she could have controlled her gaping mouth she might have said, “It is pleasure to meet you, Eric. I see you do admirable work here. It’s going be great, just great.”

The accumulated pressure of Gina’s regime of orgasm denial, the daily drain of self-esteem, the constant dreaming about degrading sex, and the gorging on Maria’s sweet womanly brew were too much. The dam burst. Eric’s penis had its way. Eric knelt before the women, convulsively rocked his hips, and uncontrollably humiliated himself. His cock erupted and filled his pants with come until semen drooled onto the floor.

Maria jumped off Eric’s desk only to inadvertently again catch him in the headlock of her luscious thighs. She pushed Eric’s head down and he dropped his face to the floor. Now Maria stood astride her fallen boss, teetering on her ultra-high heels. Eric dumbly looked up her dress. Something dripped from her pussy onto his nose.

Panicked, Eric crawled out from beneath Maria toward the three women at the door until he bumped into the toe of a practical women’s pump. Eric looked up. He was staring directly up another dress. Eric’s was tongue-tied; his heart sank; his only thought—loss, loss, irretrievable loss.

Eric saw the crotch of Ashley’s panty hose, then stars. She kicked him in the eye. Ashley began barking orders, “Get back, you pervert. Shyanne, Claudia, get in here and close the door. Maria, poor Maria, please come to me. I will protect you. That beast, what has he done to you? Here in my company’s main office, in broad day light that animal raped you.”

Like snow falling on red-hot iron, apparitions of consequences materialized with a stinking hiss in the vacuum of Eric’s brain.

Attorney Claudia interrupted, “This truly awful…but Ashley…please excuse me, but perhaps we should be cautious regarding the labeling of this vile act as rape. The word has legal meaning, which could commit us to actions we might come to rue. If we call it rape, we might be required to notify criminal authorities and that might not serve the company’s interests. Don’t mistake me; in a cultural context, this is plainly rape, an alpha-male imposing his sexual dominion upon an economically weaker female. However, it might be prudent to be circumspect with to regard to the semantic filters we employ and cautious with respect to considerations of publicity and politics, contracting issues, and possible legal consequences to the company. Of course, we must address this offense as if it were an offense against all women. We must show solidarity with all socio-economically disadvantaged women, especially our poor Maria, in order to maintain our credentials as progressive women who seek social justice.”

Ashley, Shyanne, and Maria looked at Claudia as if she had dropped in from Mars.

Martian Claudia wore her alien uniform—formless grey business attire, little make up, and ugly glasses. Her hair was pulled back severely affecting the look of a helmet. She wore sensible shoes. Claudia was way too young to be the General Counsel of a large company. She had been hired as a favor to a friend of Ashley’s even though she had no business experience. Claudia knew everything about philosophical social theory and academic law, but nothing of the subtle ambiguities of commerce. However, Claudia was just what Ashley needed—a legal counsel utterly beholding and dependant upon her, and so someone she could control absolutely. Claudia thought she could camouflage her weaknesses and look older by adopting the cosmetic aesthetic of a filing cabinet. This came naturally to her.

“Justice demands that we discharge our duty swiftly, provide some sort of due process, and expeditiously determine a course of action. I suggest convening a discharge hearing immediately. Further study of Eric’s personnel file is not necessary. I am fully acquainted with it as a result of an ongoing review being conducted regarding certain expense account matters. Ashley, perhaps you could allow me to gather some documents, and then we may convene in your office in fifteen minutes. Justice delayed is justice denied. Shyanne, would you please look to Maria’s comfort and arrange for trauma counseling?”

Ashley interrupted, “No. I’ll take care of Maria. I feel some personal responsibility since I assigned her to work on, I mean with, Eric. I’ll take Maria to my office and comfort her. She can lie down there and recover. Shyanne, you go with Claudia to assist in preparing an immediate hearing. Let me have thirty minutes to comfort Maria.

“Claudia, call security. The new woman-owned firm you recommended started this week. I can’t imagine what they will think of the goings-on in my company. Have security take Eric to my waiting room. Under no circumstances let anyone enter my office while I calm Maria. She has suffered enough trauma. Maria, come with me. Let me hold you. Everything will be made right. Come, let’s go to my office.”

Eric was bewildered, paralyzed, and his eye throbbed from Ashley’s kick. He watched Maria’s ample ass roll away, her high fetish heels enforcing a sexy saunter worthy of streetwalker. Ashley balanced Maria, putting her arm around her tightly corseted waist and her hand on that gorgeous excess of ass, fondling the voluptuous, undulating pulchritude. The seams up the back of Maria’s stockings were still perfectly straight. The glossy polyester of her skimpy dress rode up with each step revealing the novelty garters that Eric so recently scrutinized while kneeling between Maria’s thighs. “Eat me, eat me, eat me.”

Eric finally spoke, “Wait, Maria, please tell them the truth. Tell them what really happened. This wasn’t rape.” Maria looked over her shoulder, shrugged, and threw Eric a crooked little smile as if to say, “Sorry, but as you can see, there is nothing I can do. I’ve got to save my own ass.”

Still on his knees, Eric reached out to Maria. Claudia stomped on his hand. “Leave her alone you beast. Haven’t you done enough already? Don’t even talk to her. You may say whatever you like at your hearing, but for now—Shut Up.”

Shyanne bent down to help Eric up. She looked him in the eyes and softly whispered, “Oh, Eric, how could you have been so stupid.” Claudia picked the phone, “This is the General Counsel. Send two guards to Eric’s office immediately. I will explain when they get here. Hurry.”

Claudia critically looked Eric over. He was a mess. He was drenched in sweat and his eye was blackening from Ashley’s kick to his face. “You look uncomfortable. Take your jacket off.”

“No thank you.”

Claudia laughed, “I didn’t take you to be quite that stupid. If you do not cooperate, I will see to it that you spend the next ten to twenty years in jail for rape. Don’t you get it? I’m sure you don’t like taking direction from a woman, but you have no choice. You are completely at my mercy here. So when I tell you to do something, don’t talk back, just do it.”

Eric was warm, but he did not want to take his jacket off because his shirt was soaked in sweat and his crotch was soaked with come. His cock pressed against his pants still hard despite the disastrous interruption. He thought, “Jail. Bullshit. She asked for it. She started it.” Nonetheless, he thought it best to do what Claudia demanded. He removed his jacket.

Claudia stared at the clear outline of Eric’s persistent erection jutting out against the damp, spreading come stain. She admired Eric’s muscular form showing through his soaking dress shirt. The odor of sex filled her head. Claudia had never smelled semen before, and she had never had a man at her mercy before. Dampness spread in her own crotch.

Claudia was staring at Eric’s crotch when the guards entered. The guards, women from the security firm Claudia found on a feminist internet site, wore blue uniforms with wanna-be-cop hats and batons in their belts. One was a six-foot woman with thick thighs, a bulging butt, and heavy breasts hung between broad shoulders. The other guard was a thin, mousy middle-aged women reeking of tobacco. They entered Eric’s office and stood coolly at attention awaiting orders. Each knew instantly what was going on, if only from the smell of the closed office. “The boss girl’s in heat and that one just shot his wad in his damm pants.”

Claudia breathlessly attempted to control the situation. “I don’t want anything about this incident being repeated to anyone. All that occurs is confidential. Thank goodness, I am dealing with women. What we have here is yet another example the rampant domination of our culture by rapacious, unchecked masculine impulses and patriarchal values. How long must we endure repetition of this age-old narrative? Guards, you will have the opportunity of assisting us in this battle, perhaps only a small skirmish, but nonetheless a vanguard action in our struggle to repel male exploitation of women and gender non-specific persons. In solidarity together, we will cleanse the cultural milieu of this company of retrogressive influences and patriarchal dominance tropes to provide a civilizing environment wherein all can achieve their full potential as autonomous persons. The iteration, rearticulating, and convergence of these hegemonic masculine tropes are homologous to work advancing structuralist social relations and power strategies that move toward the obviation of a renewed conception of social order or inauguration of rehabilitated conceptions of hegemony.”

The guards exchanged silent furtive glances, “Crazy bitch.”

Claudia prattled on, staring at Eric’s crotch throughout her oration. The hotter her pussy got the more obscure and bizarre her post-modern, feminist rhetoric became.

Finally, choking on lust, she finished, “Take this individual to Ashley’s waiting room. Make him sit there until further orders, do not let him out of your sight, do not let him escape the premises, and absolutely do not let him disturb Ashley.”

The guards pulled out their batons. The Amazon prodded Eric in the small of his back, shoved him out the door, and the guards escorted Eric through the open office space toward Ashley’s office. Everyone had stopped pretending to work. The whole office stood by their workstations and stared. Eric’s coworkers whispered and giggled at the weird procession of the office hot shot being led away through the labyrinth of cubicles to the boss’s den. What the hell had happened? Eric must have flipped out. He was finally going to get his.

The big guard thrust Eric into Ashley’s waiting room. The pasty older guard pulled a chair into the middle of the room, pointed her baton, and ordered Eric to sit. They took up positions behind Eric and stood at grim attention holding their batons at the ready. Eric asked, “Could I please go to the bathroom? I need to get cleaned up.”

The big guard said, “No. We was told not to let you out of our sight, and we ain’t going in no men’s room. You can piss your pants for all I care. You wouldn’t smell no worse.”

After several minutes, odd sounds emanated from behind Ashley’s door. It started as heavy breathing, then soft mewing, and morphed to panting cries just as Shyanne and Claudia arrived with a cart filled with folders and binders. “Yes, yes, oh please don’t stop. Oh, harder, hard…ohhhh yeah there, yes, more, please just a little…oh I’m…coming yes, yes…yaaa.” Muffled squealing warped to swearing in Spanglish—then silence.

The guards exchanged sneaky glances. The smaller guard surreptitiously ran her baton through a hole fashioned by her thumb and forefinger, and suppressed a smile. Claudia and Shyanne pretended nothing had happened. After another five minutes, Ashley’s door opened. Ashley walked Maria to the exit holding her close.

Maria’s big prom hairdo had come undone. Curls and extension flopped all about her sweaty face. The seams up the back of both stockings were askew. There was a run in her left stocking. Crimson fingernail scratches streaked up the back of her leg and ducked under the disarray of her skimpy dress toward the abundance of her plump bottom. Maria’s sniffling nose was red. The abused victim staggered on her high-heeled, sequined slippers averting her eyes from everyone. Ashley kissed Maria on cheek and said, “Go home now. Take as many days as you need. Just call me tomorrow and let me know how you are doing.” Turning to Claudia she said, “Bring him in. Let’s get this over with.”

The big guard pulled Eric out of his chair and shoved him into Ashley’s office. “If you did that to that poor girl you deserve whatever.”

Eric was sick and beyond caring. He thought, “Just get it over with and fire me. Ashley I hate you, you prissy tight ass cunt. Keep your fucking job. Look at her; she looks like she just sucked on a lemon. What the hell was going on in here with Maria anyway? What lies was that bimbo telling this Ivy League cunt? I hate this office; all decked out like a damm museum. That painting, that ‘Modern Art’, what the hell is that? It makes me nauseous.”

If Eric only had had the imagination and the nerve, he could have gotten sweet revenge as he stood there in the dock to be judged by Ashley. He really was nauseous, but he was too polite to puke all over the judge sitting directly in front of him.

Ashley sat calmly behind her desk, and gestured for Claudia and Shyanne to sit. Eric remained standing framed by the two guards. “Claudia, proceed.”

“The purpose of this hearing is to determine the facts in the matter of the incident that has just occurred between Eric and Maria, and to determine a remedy. On the face of the matter, it appears we must decide between two possible outcomes: discharge with referral for criminal prosecution, or simple discharge for sexual harassment. Eric what is your excuse.”

“This is ridiculous. I didn’t do anything to that girl that she didn’t ask for. Just ask her. I am sorry, it should not have happened in the office, but I did not force anything on her. I have never had to beg for sex. Besides what we did was not intercourse, not really sex, so it cannot be rape.”

Claudia asked, “And so Eric, if it was not sex, what was it?”

“Well we just…I mean what we did…well she asked me to…she requested oral sex, and I did it…because she asked. She started it. She asked for it. Besides, that’s not real sex.”

“So you forced her to submit to fellatio. Sorry, but the legal precedents are clear—that’s rape. And that age old, threadbare excuse, ‘She asked for it’, won’t do. What a pathetic lack of imagination. We just saw what you did to that girl, I mean woman; we saw the abrasions on her thigh. And your black eye is clear proof that Maria resisted.”

“Wait a minute. Maria didn’t do that. Ashley…”

Ashley slammed her fist down on her desk. “Enough. I interviewed Maria and she said she was raped. I will not force that young woman to stand before her rapist and account for her innocence. She has suffered enough. Case closed. Claudia, I am getting a headache. Proceed.”

“It might seem our only option would be criminal referral. However, there are serious downsides to that, if only because of the publicity. This is a very political business and our rivals will exploit any stain on our integrity. The particulars of this incident would make us a laughing stock. Also, our access to minority and women’s defense contracting set asides would be compromised if sexual harassment were found to have occurred in our workplace. Therefore, criminal referral and discharge for sexual harassment are both problematic. Furthermore, Eric has over five million dollars in his profit sharing account, not to mention other open stock options and his 401-k account. It is outrageous, perhaps criminal, what this company has been paying him. As you know, I have been examining his expense accounts and there are substantial irregularities. If we discharge Eric he will gain immediate access to his accounts, and recovery of possible overpayments would be compromised.

“Therefore, I would recommend unpaid administrative leave, pending possible discharge, with a requirement that Eric engage in treatment for his misogynist personality disorder. We would thus recast these events under a medical, rather than criminal formulation—Eric had a mental breakdown. This would provide time to recover company funds from his accounts. The disadvantage to this approach is that left to his own devices Eric would certainly continue his predatory adventures against women. What is needed is a sort of house arrest and a stringent treatment protocol.

“An additional advantage of operating within the medical category is that it provides an unfettered ability to invade Eric’s privacy and to negate his autonomy. To wit—poor Eric suffered a mental breakdown, thus we would be negligent were we not to supplant the judgment of a sane person for his medically impaired decision making capacity. In this, we have finally come upon some good fortune in this otherwise sad history. I have taken the liberty of calling Eric’s emergency contact. Eric signed papers ceding to her remarkable powers in the event of an emergency, and of course, this is a medical emergency. She is a young woman named Gina, and our discovery of her could not be more auspicious.

“I had a most enlightening discussion with Gina just now. Surprisingly, Gina is a thoroughly progressive woman. She fully understands Eric’s regressive nature, but tolerates this shortcoming because she enjoys the psychosexual use of an unreconstructed male. I must say that Eric’s primitive appeal is apparent. Eric possesses many of the attributes that our culture has set as markers of masculine attraction, that is, for those susceptible to that sort of taste. However, Gina does recognize her responsibly with regard to improving society and desires solidarity with the cause of women’s progress. She recently personally undertook a corrective course with Eric. She has made some progress. Gina has been able to redirect Eric’s libido to an oral rather than phallic urge. This is certainly commendable. However, considering today’s event, she recognizes that professional help is required.

“I have in mind a good friend of yours Ashley, Anna. She is a world-renowned expert on gender relations. Anna has developed a revolutionary course of therapy that has accomplished miracles on retrogressive males. Therefore, if it meets with your approval Ashley, I propose we place Eric on administrative leave under Gina’s guardianship. She will arrange for  the therapy.

“The alternative is jail, so a rational judgment requires that Eric to agree to this. Given the papers Eric has already signed, Gina’s agreement to this arraignment will suffice until she can ultimately induce Eric to execute ironclad, final documents. It would be negligent to hear any entreaty from Eric at this time; after all, he is insane. He may not resign.”

Ashley was impatient. “I agree, done. Thank you Claudia for this most thorough work. Leave me now, I have a headache.”

“You are most welcome. Guards, photograph Eric for evidence of Maria’s struggle to fend him off and confiscate his ID’s, pass card and the keys to his company car. Take him to the loading dock and watch him until Gina picks him up. I will call Gina and tell her to pick up her trash.”

Ashley thought, “The bastard is all mine now.”

Shyanne thought, “He’s got five million bucks?”

The big guard thought, “That girl can just talk, talk, talk.”

Claudia thought, “Oh, I want him, I want him, I want it.”

The smaller guard thought, “I’d like to beat the piss out of that prick, and then fuck his brains out.”

 

Let’s Eat

“Let’s eat,” Anna announced abruptly. “Eric, you want to eat, right? You are a hungry, hungry boy, aren’t you? Surprise me, be a well-mannered boy whore, and I’ll arraign that very special therapeutic diet you crave.”

All I could think about was pleasing Gina and her beautiful friend. If I were a puppy, my tail would have wagged. If I were a man, my cock would have stood at attention. But my cock was locked in its cage, an erection was impossible, and so what sort of creature had these women made of me? Oh yeah, I was Gina’s obedient tongue animal.

Anna smiled wanly. Her look said that this was too easy, just another male collapsing before her, another supplicant ardently seeking her dominion. Was there anything about this one worth a second glance?

I ached for Anna. This intense yearning to bask in her aura, to do anything she demanded, pried open and spilled something deep in my core. I unraveled, broke. My capacity to follow the routine narrative of the common place became unglued. I experienced Anna as a ravishing slow motion of revolving colors and surfaces imbued with emotive import.

Anna slid off her barstool amid a graceful flowing and fluttering of soft pastels as her full skirt flared. As she alit, her breasts bulged against her white lace bodice and the deep fold of her cleavage swelled. Her long strawberry waves and curls bounced about her bare, elegantly sculpted shoulders and floated around her pale, flawless face like a corona spiraling around some cool and distant sun. Anna’s soft yielding air, her impression of gentle sweetness, and her cerebral calm could not have been more misleading.

Anna put a finger under my chin and brusquely forced my head side to side in a mock examination. “A pretty face, quite serviceable. Perhaps you might make the grade. But perhaps not.” Anna smirked and sauntered off to the dining area. Her bewitching enchantment drifted off behind her, and my painful longing for Anna ebbed. The comforting illusion of normalcy recovered. Then I turned to Gina.

Gina sat on her stool with legs crossed, leaning back against the bar, gloating at the submissive manners of her tongue pet. The red leather of her thigh high boot cut through the long open slit of her full-length, black leather sarong. The gash was so deep that the bare flesh of Gina’s upper thigh flashed above her boot. Hidden in the crease of that white flesh, the dark triangle that held me in thrall lurked. Gina indulged her pet’s lustful ogling of her crotch.

“That’s right, stare at it. It’s all you can think about isn’t it?” Gina pulled her dress to the side and uncrossed her legs. Now I was gawking directly at her cunt. I glanced to the end of the empty bar and saw that the idle bartender was polishing glasses and studiously ignoring us. Gina hissed, “I said look at it. This is the only thing in your world. Nothing else exists for you. Now look me in the eye.” Gina’s eyes were the only thing that could pry my mind from her sex.

She measured me with cool approval. “Eric, I think maybe she likes you. You’ve been good so far. Keep it up, don’t weaken, don’t back down, don’t put your tail between legs and retreat in fear. Cower, but stay. Concentrate—that ought to be easy because all you need to think about is cunt. This is your one chance to become something that most men don’t dare dream of—a purely sexual thing, a servant of cunt. You can leave concern for the boring, mundane, and common place behind. Your role in life will be clear, simple, and most agreeable—to eat pussy and serve women.”

I bowed my head before addressing Gina. “Thank you Gina, but what is this about the whip. I have given up control of my life to you. I have done everything you have demanded. It was not necessary to whip me; I obeyed. The whip, she said it with such glee. Anna frightens me.”

“Good, that’s the idea. Cringe like a beaten dog. We want you to live in fear, a fear that freezes volition, a fear that enthralls, and a fear so pure that any impulse to neglect your duty to womankind is extinguished. The whip will teach you to grovel at the foot of any woman, to open yourself without resistance to her gracious gifts of pain and degradation, and thus be content. You have only begun. You’ll learn; just don’t ask too many questions. We know best.”

Gina stood down from the bar. Her height in her platform boots again surprised and intimidated me. By some inconsequential measure, I was still taller, but I felt smaller. She looked me in the eye, reached a finger under my belt, and pulled on the chain dog leash she had attached to my ball harness. Gina pulled me close and kissed me. Explosive flares of joy, gratitude, and ecstasy blew my heart apart into rapturous streams of red, white, and blue effervescence.

Gina smiled and ran her tongue over my lips. Her touch, her scent, and her beauty governed each beat of my heart, each shiver of my skin, and every quaking thought. “You are a gorgeous man, and so malleable. I love you, but don’t mistake my love for fidelity or kindness. I will have other men and I will hurt you. But you could be my special man, the one I keep. I see in your eyes your cowering need for me, and my heart thrills. I am proud to share you with Anna. She seems to see promise in you. Continue to perform properly and Anna will take you on as her project and remake you into a male worthy of being my consort. I can hardly wait to enjoy the thing you will become.” Gina lightly kissed me again, jerked my chain, and ordered, “Follow me to the dining room.”

I dutifully followed a step behind Gina making her way toward the receptionist where Anna waited. Anna announced, “There will be the three of us. We require only two menus; we will order for the gentleman. My private table.” The receptionist was very young, very pretty, and, in contrast to Anna and Gina, very conventionally dressed. She stared at me with an insolent mixture of curiosity and disgust. Gossip from the valets and the bartender had apparently had reached this innocent tart. Gina, Anna and I were the sensation of the night with the restaurant staff. The girl smiled respectfully at Anna, “Of course. Please come this way.”

The girl led us across the stylish dinning room to a raised alcove off to one side where we could view the goings on in the larger room, but which afforded some minimal privacy. Gina, in her stunning fetish uniform, and Anna all womanly beauty, drew admiring glances, lustful gawking, and envious, reproachful stares from the patrons. As the receptionist seated us, she insolently stared at my crotch. She saw the chain leash leading from my pocket into the front of my pants. She started, and looked at Anna.

“Yes darling, that’s his leash. It’s attached to a harness fastened to his testicles. He’s the property of my good friend here, Gina. You seem surprised, perhaps intrigued. Would you like one like him? You are a lovely young thing and all sorts of men must come on to you all the time. You should consider taking these men on your own terms. That is—make them serve you. Once you realize what a beautiful woman can make men do, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Eric, tell the young lady what you are.”

Remembering Gina’s admonition to be subservient toward all women, and any shred of dignity long blown away, I looked into the girls eyes, bowed my head, and announced, “I am Gina’s cunt licking slave.” My pride surprised me. Was this perverted sort of self-esteem allowed? I reveled in the disgust and desire in the girl’s pretty face as she haughtily examined me from face to crotch.

Anna took a card from her purse. “Take my card. If you are interested, call me. Perhaps we can arraign for you to use him sometime. I am always interested in young, attractive women who have the courage to rest control of their lives from men. Perhaps you can practice on him, or I have several others who would do. But now, leave us and send a server.”

Staggered by the perverse scene and the disturbing possibility of an entirely new approach to her life, the receptionist stared at me as she turned to flee. She reached back to grab Anna’s card and bumped into the waitress standing behind her. The server dodged the fleeing receptionist and said, “Anna please forgive her, she’s new. She is sweet, pretty and dumb, the perfect receptionist. Welcome back Anna. Gina, it is pleasure to see you again also. I am delighted to serve such distinguished women.” The server regarded Anna and Gina with sincere hero worship. She hugged the menus to her breast and asked, “Anna would you like to hear tonight’s specials, or would you have your usual, prime rib rare as I recall?”

“Yes, Darlene, prime rib rare, well trimmed of fat, half portion, a sweet potato, and something green.”

“And Gina, would you like to hear the specials, or perhaps would you like more time and a menu?”

“Slice the other half of Anna’s prime rib and put it on a plate with raw ousters. I have an appetite for slippery things. Ousters, raw. Beef, bloody, no fat. No carbs, no veggies.”

“And for the gentleman?” The server addressed me, but I bowed my head to avoid eye contact. Anna responded for me.

“As you can see this one is not permitted to make its own decisions. Give him a small salad to play with while Gina and I eat. I am evaluating his suitability for enrollment in my most intense program. Darlene, perhaps you could be of some assistance. Insult him. Really molest him verbally; push it. I’d like to test his response to a woman he not acquainted with.”

The server was delighted. “Look at me boy.” A cruel, vengeful smile flashed in her face. This woman hated me, why? Anna had sicked an angry, frustrated bitch on me. Smoldering resentment congested her voice, but she managed a sizzling whisper through her teeth, “Well boy, so you want to become a women’s meat puppet. Do you think a piece of scum like you could serve a female properly? I’ll bet you’re the insolent, cock sure type, a real man who won’t take lip from any woman. But, now you wanna give face. You’re a pathetic joke. You and all the rest like you ought to be crushed under the thumb of a woman like Anna. I don’t think she shouldn’t waste her time on trash like you. You don’t deserve it.”

I should have been ready for Anna’s games, but the ferocity of this common waitress’s anger stunned me. She reveled in her license to abuse me, “I know what she’ll do to you if get lucky, if she takes you. The pain is real bad. I’ve seen her work. I’ve seen the likes of you under her whip—spoiled pretty-boys getting what’s due.

“Look at me, scum. How much shit have you made women eat? Huh? I know your type. I know how all those simple-minded girls fall for degenerates like you, you and your pretty eyes and nice hair. Now Anna’s got you. Good, because Anna’s going to twist you and twist you until you’re the kind of boy that suits the fancy of a real woman. Anna knows what she’s doing; she knows how to whip the repulsive masculine poison out of a male. Yeah, I can see it in your eyes already; you’re a cunt-licking slice of man meat, aren’t you? Speak, meat puppet. Tell me exactly what you are.”

The serving girl’s hissing rant heated to the snarling growl of starving carrion beast. She drew uncomfortable glances distracted from plates of epicurean delight. Was the stink of lowborn nastiness interrupting their fine meal? Snooping heads craned in vain attempts to eavesdrop on the exclusive table above in the alcove.

I knew I must behave, I must make a show of submission, but this was new to me. Upon the command of this ordinary woman, upon a common waitress’s hissy fit, I was expected to humiliate myself. And here in this room filled with all the right kind of people. It was one thing to be the private plaything of sex goddesses like Anna or Gina, or even the pretty receptionist, but for this plain stranger—in public?

In all my life, I would never have given a woman like this a second look, not that she was hideous, just plain, prosaic background. Now in her ordinary eyes I saw angry offense. I saw jealousy because I was the sex servant of the alpha females at the elite table while she merely served food. I saw hate because I was a former alpha male; the thing denied her; the thing that contemptuously ignored her all of her life. I could not humble myself for her, this plain, nothing woman. I smiled at the arrogant serving girl. She was too ordinary, too much the resentful peasant, not at all the imperious ruler, not the same rank as Gina or Anna.

I looked to Gina for help. Her angry eyes commanded me, “Disgrace yourself before this woman now, or you will disgrace me before Anna.” My heart leapt with the realization that my hesitation had left me on the brink of failure. I looked back to the server, bowed my head, and begged, “Madame, I am a slave, Gina’s slave. I do anything she commands. If she allows it, I suck her pussy. If not, I am available for anything else that suits her. If you wish to use me, ask Gina, and upon her command I will let you do whatever you desire.” I bowed my head and prayed that this submission would repair my failure to humble myself immediately before the common hag.

Anna said, “Darlene, we are sorry for that hesitation. This boy has much to learn. Perhaps if he’s suitably trained you may redress his insolent vacillation. But thank you for your assistance in testing him. I have learned something of how far I would have to take him. Now, please, bring us a bottle of wine, something dry and white, and see to our orders quickly.”

The server left and Anna said, “Gina, don’t despair. We can’t expect that he enter the program without flaws. If I take him on, I can grind off the rough edges.” She addressed me, “When Darlene returns make a show of respect.” Then Anna and Gina began reminiscing and gossiping as if I was not there.

The server returned with the wine and poured for Gina and Anna while I worried as to how to make amends. Gina saved me. “Eric, Darlene is entitled to a meaningful apology. I think it would be appropriate for you to kiss her foot. Get down on the floor, under the table, and kiss Darlene’s shoe. I am sure her feet are weary from all the running about she has to do, despite those practical shoes. The sight of a man groveling at her feet might provide some comfort. Look, her shoe has a stain. Clean it off.”

Darlene gave me a cruel smile, and put her off-white canvas shoe forward so that it slipped under the tablecloth. I was mortified. How could I do this? Well, Gina demanded it. Surreptitiously, I slipped off my chair and under the table, hoping none of the other patrons would see. My cock once again swelled against its cage and my ball harness tugged in my crotch as I went under the table. The server’s dirty walking shoe peeked under the tablecloth. I bent over, kissed it, and tried to suck it clean, but the stain of manual labor is indelible. She pulled the shoe back. I knelt under the table between Gina’s boots and Anna elegant slippers. The voices above were muffled.

“Well he didn’t get the stain off, but he did kiss my foot and somehow my aching feet feel better. Gina you have done well with this one. But that other one, Julio, the valet, he brags to everyone every time he fucks you. It’s disgraceful. He’s such an obnoxious young cock. I’d hoped you could train him better. You really shouldn’t let him disrespect you like that. He is an offense to all women.”

“Darlene, don’t you dare tell me what I should or should not do. I will use the pretty, young Julio in any way I please. It is not your place to question me. I should have you whipped for this insubordination. I let you play with my slave and then you forget you place? I will not have it.

“What’s really the matter? Do you want to suck Julio’s dick, but you aren’t pretty enough to interest him? The poor old hag can’t get fucked by the hot young stud. You want that young dick, but can’t get it? Yes, Darlene, Julio’s cock is thick, long, and hard as steel. Maybe I can get some for you. I think that maybe I’ll have Julio fuck you in the ass. Everybody says you like that. Darlene, is that true, do you like it up the dirt hole? I am sure Julio finds you disgusting, but he’ll do anything for me, even butt fucking a dreary old bitch like you. Just to show you my power, to prove that I’m in charge, I’ll have him ream your flabby asshole. Then Julio can brag to everyone how he butt-fucked Darlene while she squealed like a pig. I think the staff would get a big laugh out of that.” Gina spoke calmly and cheerfully as if she where discussing the desert specials.

Anna interrupted, “Gina please stop, that’s enough. Darlene, remember your place. Get our food.” Anna kicked me. “Get up here; be quiet; be invisible.”

When the serving girl sullenly returned, she pushed my salad at me, leaned into my face, and, as if an angry witch cursed, “I will beat you someday. Eat dog.” For the next hour, I played with my salad while Gina and Anna ate, laughed, and ignored me.

When they rose to leave, Gina kicked me, and I followed. Gina and Anna led me across the now crowded restaurant. I felt the stares of the room upon us. Those who comprehended nothing just stared at the sight of the leather clad Gina and her stunning female companion. But those who guessed the true nature of the thing being led through the room by these beautiful women, and there were a number of them including all of the help, these people stared at me, scrutinizing the abject man slave with loathing and envy.

Gina: Eng Lit 101

College life became all that Gina had dreamed after she met Ashley. Academically she shined, especially in Honors Intro. To Eng. Lit. taught by her dream man, the esteemed Professor Edward Fish. At the young age of 32, Professor Fish had attained academic celebrity. The good Professor was brilliant, charismatic, and handsome. He had been recruited by universities and pursued by woman around the world.

Some thought his success had gone to his head, but they were mistaken. He was born with his immense conceit. Ever since the age of four when he came to the startling and deflating realization that the creatures caring for him were sentient beings in their own right, Edward had been obsessed with proving his innate superiority to everyone and everything. He knew no doubts or guilt. Edward would stop at nothing to increase his ascendancy over others and no lead over competitors was wide enough. This obsession was the secret to his success. Edward was delightfully devious, repulsively magnetic and viciously charming. Everyone professed to admire him, except a recalcitrant few of those he had humiliated or destroyed, and even these suspected that the great Professor must have been justified.

The Professor had insisted that he himself teach a class for the best of the incoming freshman, a bow to the noble aspirations of pedagogy, and a great way to met smart, barely legal chicks. Gina would moon over the esteemed Professor performing for the class, but she quickly flushed and looked down in embarrassment when his penetrating gaze fell upon her. Her pulse raced and she could not speak. Her smoldering puppy love fanned to a blaze of mortification, and her face blushed with the searing heat radiating from her throbbing heart.

The Professor saw right through this sweet young thing and was amused and gratified by her obvious adulation. After all, why shouldn’t she worship him, she was just a pretty, adolescent hick and he was the great Professor Fish, a leader of the intellectual world. Edward reveled in the entirely deserved veneration of this gorgeous young innocent. But Professor Fish did not check the record; he didn’t recognize that Gina fell short of the state’s regulatory limit for pussy prey at her tender age of seventeen.

Edward doled out abundant praise for Gina’s first paper, an exposition on Spenser’s Fairy Queen wherein Gina mourned the loss chivalric love in the modern world. She didn’t believe any of it, but she thought it would please the dreamy Professor who had sung the praises of long lost chivalry in his lecture with equal insincerity. Though the Professor thought Gina’s clumsy attempt at academics ridiculous, he appreciated her gorgeous ass and so he extolled her work. He called on Gina to read to the class from her paper—mistake.

Gina turned crimson from embarrassment. The mortified girl mumbled excuses, sweated, and sunk silently into her seat. She would have sunk right though the floor if she could have. Gina was horrified that Edward had spoken directly to her and was aghast that she had been asked to stand before the class and speak. Reading from the paper should have been just fine, it was trite freshman stuff, but it was a freshman class. Gina’s anxiety attack was not just fine. The weird little girl had just shown everyone how weird she really was.

From Edward’s perspective Gina’s weirdness was better than fine; he liked his women neurotic and vulnerable. Unfortunately, Gina didn’t show up at the next class, didn’t show up when Edward invited her meet him at his office, and when she finally did come back to class, she sat silently in the back row trying to hide. For Edward the problem with all this was that he could hardly see Gina’s beautiful face back there, and he got only the briefest glimpse of her perfect little ass when she got up to leave.

But Edward let her be; he would have her after all. He mentioned the shy beauty to his best fuck buddy, Ashley. She laughed, “I’m two steps ahead of you, slow poke. The babe is for your ass too.” Then Ashley promised to ‘give’ Gina to Edward when the time was right.

Every moment Gina was not in class or studying, she tried to be with Ashley. Ashley was everything Gina wanted to be—self-confident, in control, and free. The happy girls would walk across the campus closely huddled, smiling and chatting as if the rest of world did not exist. They didn’t hold hands, kiss, or overtly display romantic behavior, but the way they looked at each other set tongues wagging, rumors slithering, and jokes giggling.

Gina took to wearing jeans and a tee shirt everyday just like Ashley. She used her entire semester’s clothing budget to buy a leather jacket and biker boots. Gina borrowed Ashley’s mannerisms, prejudices, loves and hates. She tried to mimic Ashley’s accent, an artificial blend of refined upper class east and antique, imagined Greenwich Village Okie. Gina soon gave that up because speaking Okie came too naturally. She heard in herself the hated yokels from back home.

Within the shelter of Ashley’s lively brown eyes, protected by Ashley’s acceptance, Gina at last discovered the exceptional world she dreamed of. Ashley, like Gina, was different from the others, but superior like Gina would prove herself to be. She longed to kiss Ashley again like that night on the dorm steps, but didn’t. It wasn’t lust; it was more like wanting to lick a lollipop.

Gina liked boys and was mildly repelled at the thought of lesbian sex. But Ashley was kind of like a boy, only prettier. Ashley in her leather jacket and biker boots was a softer, safer, smarter version of the motorcycle thugs with whom Gina had initiated her sex life. But after that first kiss, nothing so forbidden happened for weeks. Gina began to believe the kiss had really just been a sort of initiation dare, and that her love for Ashley was platonic and normal, not a lesbian perversion.

Gina was not clear on where Ashley stood on any of this, and she was too timid to ask. One day Ashley would imply that she was bisexual and the next she bragged that she was militantly heterosexual. Gina thought she had misunderstood, but the reality was that Ashley herself changed from one firm position on anything and everything to the opposite like a shifting breeze.

Meanwhile Gina’s fantasy world was all about boys, lots of them, two, three and more at a time. However, Gina’s make-believe castles in the sky and dungeons under the earth were increasingly unsatisfying. Gina desperately wanted an actual sex life. She was distressed that she may have fallen in love, if not lust, with the boyish, mercurial Ashley. Gina was torn with anxiety over her perverse secret lust for gang banging hoodlum boys, her pathetic longing for her English Professor, and at her aching desire to be with, to look at, to touch, and to smell her best, her only, friend.

Gina wanted a boyfriend to prove she was normal and so Ashley set her up with a series of guys. It didn’t work. None of them could measure up to the dreamy Professor Fish or the high voltage Ashley. And as much as the guys wanted the stunning beauty, none of them could get more than a few words out of her. The guys thought that either she was stuck up, or they were not up to the standards of this model gorgeous girl. There were no second dates.

Ashley told Gina she would give the Professor to her. “Yeah, I’ve known him for a couple of years. Anna introduced us. I love Anna; she’s the reason I came to this school, this parochial patch of pouting pussies and prudish pricks. That and the fact that great-great-grandpapa founded the place. Anna is an Anthropology Professor. She’s engaged to the dashing Edward. He can be a lot of fun; do want me to give him to you?”

If Edward was engaged, how could Ashley ‘give’ him to Gina? And clearly, Ashley had had an affair with Edward. Was that before the engagement? Was it still going on? If Ashley loved this Anna so much, why…? Gina had many questions she did not ask because she did not want to look provincial to Ashley the hipster. Gina completely trusted her friend, her mentor and her guiding light. Ashley professed maniacal honesty. What Gina failed to comprehend was that while Ashley was dedicated to Truth, the whole truth being something else entirely. Ashley was a complicated girl.

Every time Gina brought Edward up, Ashley would say something vague about introductions, and then sidetrack Gina with some wonderful story about something remarkable Ashley had done with the great Professor. “I heard he was interviewing in Paris for a summer gig at the Sorbonne, and so I invited Edward up to my Daddy’s place up in St. Moritz…” But Gina’s meeting with the great Professor kept being put off, and she was way too shy to do anything without Ashley’s help. Every personal detail Gina knew about the exalted man she learned through Ashley. It was as if she could only meet him in the secret garden of Ashley’s stories.

On the day the autumn rains came, Gina discovered jealousy. A thunderous front rolled in from the west to sweep summer away, and all sensible citizens scattered for cover. Nevertheless, Ashley and Gina strode across the campus into the wind as if nothing was happening around them.

As prelude to a vicious joke about frat boys, Ashley bragged that she had fucked a particularly popular jock the night before. Ashley had set Gina up with this guy, and Gina thought him especially vacuous. Worse, he had not concealed his contempt for her shyness. Ashley fucked him? Gina was hurt; an empty cavern opened in her heart. The hurt was not because had Ashley fucked a guy, but because Ashley had fucked that specific guy. Gina loved most of Ashley’s guy fucking stories. That was really the extent of her sex life besides obsessive masturbating all night in her dorm cot. But Gina knew this particular guy and hated him; it was too close. Ashley could have been with her, but, no, she fucked that stupid boy instead. Gina thought, “You fucked that prick instead of being with me? I want you to myself; can’t you see that? Don’t you care?”

The electrified air of the approaching storm ignited Ashley, and she grabbed Gina’s hand dragging her into tumult. Lightening flashed in the darkening autumn sky towering over the girls rushing across the quadrangle, and winter’s overture commenced with a cold deluge. Lightening glinted in Ashley’s eyes as Gina’s heart broke. Jealousy thundered and envy rained.

Gina didn’t hear a word of the frat joke; she was too angry and confused. She didn’t notice the rain. How could Ashley be so indifferent to her feelings? Ashley just casually and carelessly tossed off the fact that she was fucking that boy. Ashley spent time with him, fucked him, while Gina was studying. If Ashley had just asked, Gina would have made time to be with her. Why didn’t Ashley ask? Why didn’t she even mention she wanted to fuck that asshole, that prick that had made Gina feel so small? Gina was her friend, wasn’t she?

“Of course,” Gina thought, “She doesn’t want me because I don’t have a dick. It is over now. Ashley will go off whoring with the boys. She will leave me and I’ll go back to being a gawky, lonely dork. Ashley was my only friend; I’m lost. You bitch, how could you?” But what could Gina do about it? She really didn’t have a dick.

Ashley pulled Gina under her arm and strode across the campus, their heads bent together against the autumnal torrent. Rivulets pored down from their soaking hair into their faces, down the slick wet leather of their jackets, drenching their jeans and filling their sodden boots. Ashley insisted that rain was the natural world’s cleansing remedy against the depredations of civilization. They were free—no hiding under umbrellas, no cowering under shelter for them, not for the liberated children of nature. The water would not harm their jackets; it would season the leather just as the deluge was seasoning their souls. Everyone else saw two goofy girls without the sense to come in out of the rain. Ashley saw free spirits nourished by nature’s grace.

The storm enflamed Ashley’s mania. Ashley gave a war whoop and began dancing like Peter Pan’s wild Indian maiden. She opened her jacket, through her head back and joyfully screamed up into the cascade, into the wet, leaden sky. Ashley laughed and roared. Long raindrops streaked down from the heavens racing straight to Ashley’s open mouth. Her arms spread wide; her jacket slipped away. Her lithe torso arched under the sky, water poured off her tee shirt, and Ashley’s thick nipples swelled atop her petite young breasts stiffening in the cold rain. Gina stood silent; the torrent camouflaged her angry, irrational tears. Finally, Gina screamed, “Ashley how could you. How could you fuck that boy? What about me? Why not love me?”

Ashley’s manic reverie skipped a beat, but just a beat. Ashley laughed, “How could I fuck him? By throwing him down on his back, sliding his cock inside, and riding him like a bucking bronco, that’s how. Don’t you even know how you fuck a frat boy? And what about you? Yeah, what about you? You don’t have a cock, so I guess you can’t be my bucking bronco. But your can serve, maybe you can be my snake. You want to slither up between my legs and be my sucking snake, my crazy, scaredy, girly snake?”

Ashley grabbed Gina by her jacket collar and dragged her into an alley, past some dumpsters, and roughly pushed her up against the brick wall of the Life Sciences Building. “What’s the matter girly, did you think you could own me? I don’t think so. You are such a baby, but such a beautiful baby.” Gina was sobbing in terror.

Ashley slapped Gina, stroked her stinging face gently, and then clutched her roughly by the throat. Above the passionate girls the storm flashed, thunder echoed through the alley and the wind blew whirlwinds of garbage. Ashley cradled Gina as her mood violently rocked between anger and love. The bough broke, and Ashley pushed Gina to her knees behind the dumpster forcing her face into the soaking crotch of her jeans.

“The only thing babies are good for is sucking. So get down baby and suck. Go ahead. Cry baby cry, and suck the thunder juice, the lightening liquor. Take your absolution.” Lightening and thunder exploded as one, and Gina knelt in a whirlpool of sopping gobs of garbage. Ashley ground her crotch into Gina’s face, driving the back of Gina’s head into the crumbling brick wall of the antiquated hall of Life Sciences. Gina opened her mouth, took the fabric of Ashley’s jeans into her mouth, and sucked rain, sweat, and Ashley’s incandescence.

The flood ebbed, and Ashley calmed. She helped the terror-struck Gina to her feet, and lightly kissed her. “I am your friend, but don’t try to control me with guilt trips. If I want cock, I’ll take it. I’ll take anything I want. You don’t even know what you want, but I know what you need—cock, man cock. Boys won’t do; you need a man. It is time for you to meet the Professor. Even the fragile, frightened Gina can figure out how to get cock from the eminent Professor Fish, horny bastard that he is.”

Ashley pulled out her phone. “Hey, it’s Ashley. I am coming over there now. …I don’t care who you are supposed to be meeting. …Really that’s such a pity, and I was bringing that thing you have been begging for, but if discussing fucking Milton with some fucking morticians is more urgent, if after, what 300 fucking years, there’s still more shit to be said…. That’s right. I have it here with me and it is ready, steaming hot. …Oh, so now you want to see me, now you have the time, what happened to Milton? You are such a shit. See you in five minutes, asshole.”

All the while Ashley was rushing purposefully toward University Center, Gina in tow. Ashley broke into a run dragging her jacket along through the puddles with one hand and Gina with the other. The English Department lay deep in the bowels of University Center, a huge century’s old accretion of bricks and bequests. Edward Fish sat at the center of the Department in his sumptuous book lined office in a chair endowed with Ashley’s family money, waiting for the sweets his dear Ashley had promised.

Gina gripped Ashley’s hand and hurried after her, pleading, “Ashley, please, I’m a mess. I am soaking wet, there’s garbage stuck in my hair. Please at least let me dry off. I can’t meet him looking like this.”

Ashley looked back at Gina and laughed. “No, and stop being such a chicken shit. Its now or forget it. This will be fun, lighten up. That horny fuck has been begging to get into your pants since he first laid eyes on you. Besides, don’t you get it? Gina, you are gorgeous. There is not a cosmetic trick that could make you look better, not even drying your hair. You have never been more sexy, all wet and wild. The only thing that could help is a smile. There, that’s it. Wow, right now, right here next to me, the most beautiful woman who has ever breathed earthly air. But remember, I’m warning you, this guy’s a pervert, a real power tripper, so be careful.”

Gina and Ashley rushed right past security and up the stairs. The guard called out, “Wait, young ladies, you must sign in. What’s your business?”

Ashley cried out down the stairs, “Fish, we’re in the fish business.”

At the English Department desk the receptionist said, “Ashley would you please, stop doing that. Please, just sign in; have pity. Oh, go on. Lord knows I can’t stop you.”

Ashley smiled as she dragged Gina down the hall toward the lair of the renowned Professor of English and Comparative Literature. Without a knock or warning Ashley threw open the door and shoved Gina at Dr. Fish. Then she stepped back to watch. Gina stood before the great Professor slack jawed and trembling from fear and chill. Gina was drenched; her clothes hung wet and heavy, and thick ropes of hair streamed all about her slick face.

The handsome Professor was warm and comfortable ensconced behind his desk, immaculate in his tweed. He sat contentedly with an ancient book resting in his hands. He looked up at the disturbance in his doorway. He had been expecting the pretty, shy, Midwestern schoolgirl who sat at the back of his class, an easy treat. What stood before him was something entirely different. He saw a wild, elemental spirit from the barbarian lands beyond the heavily defended borders of civilization’s empire. He sensed an ambush, but it was too late. With one look, he was taken captive. For perhaps the first time in his life, Edward Fish could not speak. Tongue-tied, Edward stared in wonder at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.