The Logic series consists of three long and somewhat interconnected tales, along with numerous, relatively short stories taken from them.  In Part One, The Logic of My Anger: A Sociopath’s Revenge, thirty-eight ye ar old Kate McCullough is seduced by a younger man who soon comes to hate her.  Never understanding what he is really like, she eventually falls in love with this man, who still continuously manipulates and torments her, secretly forcing Kate to submit to a second man in increasingly terrible situations.  The story ends with Kate and her best friend being kidnapped and temporarily transported to the brothel that is described in detail in Part Two, The Logic of His Anger.  From there she is taken to a ponygirl ranch described in Part Three, The Logic of Her Anger.  Many of the things done to this woman in the following story are described in great detail and may be quite bothersome to readers.

The Logic of My Anger: A Sociopath’s Tale of Vengeance

Prologue

Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge.

-Paul Gauguin

I am neither good nor bad, neither angel nor devil

I am simply a man

-Unknown

The Neighbor Next Door or Still a Desirable Woman

I sat alone on my mom's couch, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing; I was prepared to pretend to enjoy the weak, tasteless brew that she habitually made.  My mother hadn't been feeling too well for the last week and I'd driven the forty-five miles from Boston to check in on her.  It was time to be the dutiful son I sourly thought to myself, and I was not particularly looking forward to sitting through the next hour or two.  Suddenly, she fussed back into the room carrying a tray with two cups and a thermos. 

The doorbell suddenly rang as she began to pour.  Startled, Mom spilled a few drops on me, but recovered quickly.  Thankfully, she didn't do a full McDonald's in my lap.  She answered the door and I heard quick snatches of conversation and muted feminine laughter, but paid little attention as I cleaned the front of my pants.

Mom suddenly re-entered the room accompanied by another woman.  I quickly stood up and turned, immediately recognizing the visitor.  It was an extremely attractive, upper-class looking woman in her early thirties.  No, actually, it was Mrs. McCullough, my mom's best friend, a woman who had not crossed my mind in what seemed ages.  Mrs. Kate McCullough…..the woman I had lusted after for many years when a pathetic young child.

A moment's digression here. 

I blasted through college quickly, majoring in business and graduating just after I’d twenty.  Not particularly social, I was however both smart and lucky.  I immediately got involved in an internet start-up company with two other guys.  We were ahead of our time, putting together the internet with learning languages in a totally new way.  Angel investors appeared as underwriters and sixteen months later when we sold the company; each of us took home over five million apiece.  Like I said, I was always lucky.  Very lucky.

I enjoyed the money for I finally had the resources to indulge myself.  What I found was that I was a sensual person.  I liked fast cars driven fast, French cooking and California wine, Italian suits and English shoes and diamonds.  However, women were my greatest weakness.  I didn’t necessarily like people, but I liked the sound of a zipper coming down on the back of a woman’s dress and the smell of Chanel. 

I had experimented for a while, trying on various lifestyles for a few weeks or months at a time, just to see if they fit.  Unconventional religion (neo-paganism), drugs, underground music (a sub-cultural alternative Fetishers for Charity); but in the end nothing really satisfied me. 

I knew I had “quirks” and was considered by some to be a little too cold and cerebral; to others I was a little too “mean” and I knew everyone considered me just the tiniest bit “kinky”.  I did not suck on toes or lick feet, but did enjoy a harmless heel and stocking fetish.  So I tried BDSM, enough to become a recognized fringe player in the Boston community.  There's a certain overlap between foot and stocking fetishists and those interested in the broader fantasy of BDSM, since groveling at a sexually dominant partner's feet is pretty damn common.  But while it sort of satisfied something deep inside, I discovered once again that while I enjoyed dominating women, I didn’t like to play by the established rules, nor was I natural sub….and I certainly did not enjoy group activities.  So I quickly became frustrated with many of the self-imposed, almost stylized behaviors so prevalent in the accepted part of that lifestyle. 

When I say women were my weakness, I do not mean to imply that I blamed them for anything that has befallen me.  Rather it was to explain my own shortcomings, for if they exercised an undue influence over my early life, it was only because I allowed it to be so.  In truth, what I finally discovered was that I liked the feel of a woman being controlled, but didn’t like most women for I was sure they came in three basic categories – tramps and whores, near tramps and pushovers.  As an adult, my natural inclination was to take them and use them, use them hard and as I saw fit.  Break ‘em down, train ‘em up and then discard the well-used husks. 

It was always easy for me to abuse them, for even as a player, especially as a player, there were few women I trusted and even fewer I admired.  The species just seemed somehow fundamentally flawed to me; even my mother, for whom else had allowed this woman access to our home for so much of my childhood?

The Plan Begins to Form or Perhaps There’s Another Way to Obliterate Unpleasant Memories

Back to the McCullough woman……. 

I felt immediate, conflicting emotions when I saw her.  My defenses shot up and there was anger too, but at the same time, I was also a little tongue-tied for this was still the woman whose beauty had consumed my guilty thoughts for so long.  Even after so long, sitting on the couch, I was stunned once again by the sheer classic beauty of this mature woman. 

But I no longer felt quite so intimidated by the cold-hearted bitch. 

In ironic contrast, I tried to deny the accompanying tiniest thrill of almost childish pleasure that I felt at her presence.  This woman had been a part of my neighborhood and one of the central figures in my early life for as long as I could remember.  She and her husband had moved to Worcester shortly after I was born, quickly becoming good friends with my parents.  They'd had a baby a year after that, but Mr. McCullough died of a brain aneurysm only twelve months later.  Even though my parents were an older couple, they were good and compassionate people and had taken both she and her young son under their wings.  In turn, my father passed away himself only eighteen months after that.  It was at this point that Mrs. McCullough became one of my mother's best friends and I saw her almost every day for the next fifteen years. 

It had taken years, but I thought I had finally flushed her from my system.  And now, after less than a minute in her presence, I was angry all over again, yet filled too with the bitter, icy coldness that had come with maturity.  I was quite surprised at the strength of the uncontrollable passive/aggressive emotions that ripped through my mind.  But I maintained a surface control and somehow responded with the proper correctness towards the classy, still arrogantly beautiful Mrs. McCullough. 

Like all young boys in that situation, I had fantasized about her….all the time.....I mean, about ten thousand times a day.  I’d usually admired her from a distance, but took every opportunity to bask in her presence when she visited our home, orbiting her presence like some spindly, hairless, half-grown boyish satellite.  Now I found I still wanted her, but now in an altogether adult way.  MILF didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. 

She’d always lived in a state of what I called “fire and ice.”  Intense but controlled.  Passionate about some things, but always in command too; continually assuming the dominate role in any situation in which she found herself.  This was a woman who filled the room when she walked into it.  She didn’t seem to know that she was beautiful.  Other good-looking women always to have that I’m nature’s gift to men kind of attitude, but not her.  Impossibly poised, she’d seemed almost a throwback to the 1940’ and 1950’s, never wearing anything other than dresses and proper shoes, and with her hair immaculately done up every day.  I felt that she was a woman that knew what she wanted, but took it only when her desires would not put her at risk.  And somehow, to me, her pleasure always seemed based on taking more than she gave. 

Always cool to me, it had hurt at first and then angered me.  Never cold in an obviously cruel fuck you manner, mind you, but cool in a distant you don't even really exist for me sort of way.  She'd quirk her perfect lips, and then speak in that posh voice as she impersonally said some of the cruelest things imaginable to a young boy.  So, even when she looked directly at me, it seemed that she still never really saw me, if you know what I mean. 

My mother was a good woman and would never knowingly have had someone for a friend that was cruel to her son.  So I knew this woman I had so admired wasn't necessarily a mean spirited person.  But Mrs. M ignored me in an almost spiritual sort of way, and it really hurt me.  I truly believe that part of my problem of trust with women stemmed from my interactions with her. 

Perhaps she somehow sensed the way I felt about her, for God knows, I was too stupid to hide my feelings very well.  Perhaps my obvious adolescent crush embarrassed her; perhaps she was annoyed at the obvious and rather naughty thoughts entertained by her best friend's son.  In any case, she consistently refused to acknowledge me as an individual, as a person, but rather treated me more as a necessary, but still unfortunate affliction one endured when visiting dear friends.  It seemed to me then that compassion to her was a weakness, a fire that threatened to melt her icy control.  But when the situation was advantageous to her, controlled emotion could be permitted, even allowed in excessive amounts; as long as it didn’t jeopardize or inconvenience her. 

Looking back, I also realized she’d had little experience with young boys even when a young, widowed mother.  When she wasn’t ignoring me, she made me feel inadequate, embarrassed.  She was insensitive, but not purposefully cruel when she so humiliated me by making so many obvious and public comparisons between her son and myself.  He was one of those big, loutish boys that matured early.....shaving before he was fourteen....that sort of thing.  It was another example of God early giving someone the body of a man, but taking away every gram of intelligence just to make the bargain more even. 

Consequently, when compared to her son, I always looked like an anorexic little white boy with no body hair.  I particularly remember one excruciating afternoon when, laughing at me in front of a bunch of my mom's other friends, she had asked, ".....when I was going to start growing even just a little hair on my skinny, white legs."  To make matters worse, he and I did not like each other and he never missed an opportunity to physically humiliate me during recess and later during more organized sports….he was always a bully and would forever in my mind be the worst part of growing up.

Small things build up in your mind over time when you're young and I know now she meant me no real harm.  Further, I had never once complained to her or my mother about Mrs. McCullough’s son, rather taking his abuse in as stoic a manner as was possible.  And if her son had caused me immense grief, I knew in my heart that it was not fair hold her responsible.  But an intellectual understanding gained with maturity didn't matter now, for the hot, seething resentment I had felt was now set in concrete.

After many years of being ignored interspersed with much more embarrassment and emotional pain caused by this uncaring woman, the bitterness eventually morphed into an unhealthy dark rage and other, even deeper emotions that continually built during my obligatory sullen teenage period.  Looking back now, I know it was creepy, but I jealously watched her house day and night during those years and never saw any sign of another man.  All I saw was a young, beautiful woman who lived alone with an oaf a young son; a classy, sophisticated woman with a cool, disciplined exterior who continually increased her activities with various neighborhood groups and her church even as her private life became more and more empty.  While she may have just been discrete, as a spurned teenage boy I fervently hoped she would never find another man with whom to share her life.

All of this went through my head at the speed of light.  And while these thoughts may make me appear sensitive and thoughtful, filled with understanding and even regret; trust me when I point out the superficialities.  The reality was that my analytical side was working overtime, categorizing her weaknesses and strengths, looking for ways to finally gain entry into her life…..but now as an adult, as a man.  For even if I wasn't uncontrollably driven by hormones any more, I had found with my first glance today that she was still an extremely desirable woman. 

My face flushed as I realized that as much as I enjoyed the thought of hating her, I also still truly lusted after my mother's best friend.  I wanted to own her sexually, to hurt her physically and emotionally.  I wanted to make her perform intense, demeaning, pornographic acts that would blow her middle-aged mind apart.  I wanted to take over her life, ensuring she remained well-fucked the whole time.  And then I wanted to dump her sorry, well-used ass and have it hurt her as much as she had hurt me.

I really wanted this woman.  I wanted to drown her in cum and after I had taken away every vestige her pride, I’d remove all hope too. 

That was all I wanted. 

A Sociopath’s Tale of Vengeance

It is the revenge the devil sometimes takes upon the virtuous, that he entraps them by the force of the very passion they have suppressed and think themselves superior to.

-George Santayana

Not all psychopaths are uneducated low-class misfits.  Some of them are quite handsome and have good careers, and use this all the more to their benefit.  What is very disturbing about psychopaths, besides their sense of special entitlement, is the complete lack of empathy for normal people, for psychopaths seem to lack a conscience, feeling little or no empathy for the people whose lives they touch...the antisocial effortlessly resists all regulation, unable to see beyond his self-interest or to adopt standards of right versus wrong.

He Was A Young and Desirable Man or She had No Idea What She Was Really Getting Into

Kate knew that most thought her imperious, cool and distant.  Really, it was just that she sometimes lacked confidence.  Regardless of how unfair life had turned out, Kate McCullough was still not a woman easily swept off her feet.  But she now viewed what she had thought of for so many years as a skinny little kid and instead found herself looking at a gorgeous young man with a heart-shaped face, chestnut hair, long-lashed luminous eyes, lips like a Botticelli angel and a smile that lit up the room when he got a look at her.  There was a molten quality to his movements, like a leopard walking loose and he wore a form fitting shirt that emphasized a very nice build; she had to work to smother a sigh.  He had become a very attractive young man indeed.

Kate hid a small blush for she knew she'd been alone too long to even think the tiniest thoughts like these.

With a start, she came back to the room.  Jimmy had grown up, that was true, but he was still babbling; it was a typical male reaction, one that Kate was used to.  But this kind of reaction from him embarrassed and surprised her somehow.  She'd seen it in his eyes the moment he greeted her, that initial instant of surprise followed by a regrouping and the concentrated effort to act normal. 

Kate knew she was still considered medium-pretty, but his look had not been the look that a man gave medium-pretty women.  It was almost like he beheld her, somehow full of awe – as if there was almost something miraculous about her appearance.  What did he see?  What did any of them see?

She'd hoped that this would stop as she moved into her middle and then late thirties; that she would become less of a magnet for male attention.  But even when she dressed down like this, it hadn't faded much.  She was tall at 5’ 9”, and she knew her figure had held its shape pretty well.  Her hair was still thick and black, and when she let it down, it was long enough to trail over her shoulders and well down to the middle of her back.

Gina, a slightly younger look-alike Italian-American lawyer and her only other real friend, said she worked overtime now to hide her figure.  Dressing to disappear, she called it.  People tell us we look like sisters, she said.  I dress normally, but look at you.  All grays and blacks and dark blues and baggy blouses and shirts.  You dress like a really fat person; do you know that, Kate?  You've got this drop-dead gorgeous figure and no one would know it.  It's like your body's working undercover.  Gina had laughed enthusiastically at her own joke. 

She didn’t know that Kate had once dressed sexily, long before she’d met Gina.  But not anymore; not at her age and not with her current view of herself.  And as much as she loved Gina, and as much as they shared everything, it was still hard to convince someone as over the top as her best friend that she just didn't want men's eyes following her everywhere she went.  So she just didn't even try anymore.

Her mind suddenly busy elsewhere, the beautiful young man said something else and she nodded politely and laughed, but she'd stopped really listening to him.  Instead, she was suddenly remembering the last time she'd seen him and how he had looked at her then too.

Oh.....my......God!!!

Mrs. McCullough hadn't changed a bit.  It was mid-August and a baseball cap and dark sunglasses protected her from the bright sunlight outside.  She was wearing large gypsy earrings, a white T-shirt, classic Levi 501's and Nike trainers.  Incongruously, she wore a pearl necklace too.  She had just come from a meeting in which members of her church were planning a demonstration outside an abortion clinic.

The woman exercised religiously.  In ten years, she would be over the hill, her body rapidly aging as time finally caught up.  But at this moment in her life, at this exact point in time in my life, she looked perfect to me.  She was a strikingly beautiful woman: high cheekbones, straight aristocratic nose and full red lips.  Her blue-black hair only accentuated her features, making her appear both more forceful and sexier. 

I remembered now how her formidable presence had projected itself almost like a physical blow.  Her looks had always changed depending upon her mood; in my youth sometimes she had sometimes reminded me of a young, longer-haired Demi Moore.  But when Kate wore her long, thick hair straight and allowed it to hang over her shoulders, I had then thought she looked like Veronica Hamel when that actress had first played the ball busting prosecutor on Hill Street Blues in re-runs so many years ago. 

But now I had to revise my imagination waaay upwards.  Both in her body and the way she held herself, she strongly resembled Jennifer Aniston, but there was a large measure of youthful Bridget Moynihan present in her face and coloring, and that was what gave her such intensity in the eyes.  And even though the current look was a little young for her, she still pulled it off beautifully.

Today her hair was hanging out of the back of her cap in a long pony tail.  She had large almond-shaped blue eyes that almost glowed when she was happy, but which could be icy when she was angered.  She was something of a bitch, this woman with the cool don’t-fuck-with-me eyes and sheer animal magnetism that had begun to attract me all over again.

But she was also beautiful in the way that only women with a measure of maturity could be beautiful.  Not artificial like often sees in a fashion magazine.  Not like a model.  There was a quality of realness with her; and while this was not a woman with whom you casually walked up to and introduced yourself, there still seemed an accessibility only hinted at that led you to feel you might just as easily meet her at a supermarket or church or at the PTA. 

Long and lean as a horsewoman, she had the bold face of a beautiful explorer, and what men often mistook as the cool, calculating eyes of a risk-taker.  There was something deeply erotic in the way she moved without any trace of self-consciousness.  She reminded me in some ways of a tom-boy, her sexuality swimming mysteriously beneath the surface, and she was all the more desirable for that.

She had an almost boyish, yet obviously feminine figure that retained a remarkably tiny waist even after bearing a child.  Even though she wore jeans and a T-shirt, it was clear that she still ran and had somehow maintained a runner's body; a lean, yet shapely feminine frame with small, high breasts and long, muscular legs.  A quick, unobtrusive glance at her tight jeans let the world know that it seemed she had even kept her high, taut ass. 

Even now, my memories of her were the examples of physical perfection by which I unconsciously measured all the women I now dated.  Unfortunately, most came up well short in comparison.  At one time, she'd had the greatest pair of legs I'd even seen.  I wondered what they looked like now.

Mrs. McCullough slowly removed her sunglasses and her amused laughter tinkled in my ears as she gracefully extended her hand.  I saw she still wore a wedding ring on her left ring finger.  We shook and it was only then I noticed red spots suddenly flare on her cheeks, almost as if she had blushed. 

Her skin was tight and clear of blemishes, and about the only sign of her true age were a few tiny lines around her eyes that had not been there a couple of decades ago.  My fingers tightened around hers’ and I thought a man could still lose himself in those eyes.  My thoughts jolted me and I quickly released her hand and cleared my throat.  She still had a voice almost as intriguing as her eyes.  Firm, yet with a sultry undercurrent.  The way lights played in her hair and....I stopped any additional imaginative mental wandering.

It was only then that I noticed she was carrying a sack filled with groceries purchased for my mother.  Saying she'd be right back, Mrs. M headed for the kitchen to put the groceries away.

Kate rested against the kitchen counter, her eyes closed.  He'd just held her hand, held it just a touch too long.  But when his hand had encircled her wrist, she could feel her pulse fluttering under his fingers.  His gaze had held her own for second, then flicked down to her mouth.  She'd felt a very real heat start then in her stomach, flare up through her chest and then singe her cheeks.  She felt confused.  This reaction to certain males had happened before.  Perhaps not in the last couple of years, but it was not unknown either.  It didn’t mean anything.

She had been talking with him and suddenly his expression had changed; a tiny smile barely visible at the corner of his mouth as if mentally pulling himself together.  She didn’t know yet if he was attractive or repulsive.  His seeming arrogance was virtually naked, the need to conceal it unfelt, the threat of it cold, but there was something else too.  The way he made her feel….wary….wasn’t just the vibrations off of any young man.  It was personal.  He had a sexual power and she felt an urge test him, to respond to him. 

But still, it was so odd she would react this way to her friend's young son, someone she hadn’t seen for so many years.  And he, in turn, had reacted to her....she knew he had.  Kate didn't know what made her feel more wary, the very real hunger she had seen in his eyes when his gaze flicked back up from reviewing her body, or the fact that she had recognized at the same time a sudden reckless compulsion to act dangerously inside herself too.

I relaxed then, not realizing I'd been so tense.  This was a woman I'd never understood; not even now could I really appreciate what made her tick.  I think she had remained busy in order to bury what she saw as the major failures in her life; no man equaled no money equaled no security equaled failure as a woman and a person.  And then there was her disappointment in her only child. 

She was always doing something for one group or another; it took me awhile to finally realize that people such as she could never truly love another.  Not truly love, purely and unselfishly.  I suddenly wondered why I cared and then decided that it wasn't important anymore whether she liked me or not.  I'd given up trying to make people "like" me years ago.  But with that thought came sudden anger and with that anger came the strength to act. 

My mom and I sat down to drink the cooling coffee.  After a moment of silence, she leaned over and said in a low, conspiratorial voice in my ear, “You know, she's having a bad time of it right now.”

“You mean Mrs. McCullough,” I asked incredulously.

Mom nodded and then sipped her coffee.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head, wanting to hear more.  “I didn't know.  What's the matter?”

“Oh, the usual.  Money problems…terrible money problems.  Problems with her son, that horrible toad.  She took the insurance money poor Mr. McCullough left her and invested it.  Invested it safely up until a couple of years ago when she needed money for that worthless child of hers.  Took a chance on some risky land speculation he recommended and lost most of it.  The rest disappeared in the stock market crash.” 

I made a face of disappointment and nodded my head at the obvious stupidity of the human race, silently urging my mother on. 

Mom continued, “Now she tries to cover it up, but she's pretty much destitute.  Can't get any more loans, credit cards maxed out.  Her old car's falling apart and she needs a new one.  Almost had the house paid off, but took out another mortgage and with economy with the way it is, she can't meet her bills or pay her taxes.  Oh, she’s thirty-eight years old and works at various odd jobs to bring in a little cash.  But she married right out of high school, so has no real training in anything and hasn't found a permanent job that pays enough.  She's about to lose it all, but she's too proud to admit her situation or ask for help.”

I agreed, “Yeah.  She's always been a proud one.”  The sorry bitch was too proud to have ever acknowledged my existence, I thought to myself. 

My mom leaned back and sighed.  “I know she loves living here.  She loves her house and the neighborhood; people here like her and she's well respected.  And the respect is important to her; she likes being well thought of.  But now she's at her wits’ end trying to figure out how to keep it all together.  Of course, her son could help.  But she hasn't really seen him in years; the only time they talk is once a month or so when he calls to get his "allowance" from her.  Money she can't afford to give him, but she can't force herself to cut him off either.”  She tsk'd, tsk'd as she sipped her coffee again.

A great pity about Mrs. M's situation, I thought to myself. 

Just then, the woman of the hour re-joined us and sat down across from me.  God, she moved as lithely now as she had when she was twenty.  It was odd, thinking of a thirty-eight year old woman as being lissome, but that was how she seemed to me.

It was clear by what my mother had said that she'd changed a lot; but there was no real point in asking why.  Still involved with various groups, it was clear she had finally begun to save more of her time for her personal needs too.  The three of us talked about inconsequential things; her involvement with an anti-abortion group, something about which she was a little too passionate for my tastes.  We talked about her running, about her son Terrill, about her church and the neighborhood groups with which she was involved. 

I’d not thought of her son in years, but my palms became simultaneously sweaty and itchy.  I hadn't known I had that much capacity for hate left in me until she brought him up.  It was as if he epitomized all the bile I'd swallowed in my lifetime.

Terrill, I remembered, had been an awful kid.  A large, freckled kid with wild, dusky-red hair.  A kid that, in retrospect, had really needed the firm hand of a father to slap the shit out of him just at the time the man had been taken.  Regardless of what might have been, the reality was that Terrill had been a bully, a borderline retarded jock that had done marginally well in school and probably now had nothing but memories of past high school glories to brighten his pathetic life. 

And he still lived off his mother. 

I loved it.

A definite high-octane WASP, she still attended a conservative Episcopalian church about five blocks away, a church with well-established credentials for neighborhood activism, but only for the best charities you understand.  Most of her free time was taken up volunteering for various committees and such, she and the stodgy church she attended seemed perfectly aligned with each other’s needs.  To me now, a preoccupation with the next world signals an inability to cope credibly with this one.  But as a child, I had been intimidated by her apparently limitless sense of civic virtue, of always doing the “right” thing as opposed to the easy thing.  But not anymore. 

She also volunteered for various committees around the neighborhood.  Committees that allowed her some say in the colors in which home exteriors could be painted, what could be left outside the house at night, what could or could not be added to the outside of the home, and sometimes, who could purchase one of the houses that had been put on the market. 

Initially beautiful at first, parts of Kate seemed shallow upon reflection.  I listened to her opinions on the revolting rubberiness of mushrooms, the revolting sliminess of dogs’ noses, and the disturbing three-fingered hands of Disney characters.  I listened to her talk about how she’d once felt slime on the side of a pool on the other side of town and about the revoltingness of infrequently cleaned pools used by those that just didn’t know any better. 

She shuddered. ”It was disgusting.  The whole place was slimy.  Even the people who used it and worked there…especially them.” 

She looked at me quickly, “No offense.”  After each anecdote, she raised her shoulders with a soft but heartfelt “guh!” 

“None taken.” 

I nodded at appropriate points as she monologued.  I’d dealt with women like her before and knew that the point of these anecdotes wasn’t that mushrooms, dogs’ noses and cartoon hands were revolting.  Rather, for some reason she was showcasing a dramatic distress to me, perhaps because she felt it added to her personality.  Her expired husband loved mushrooms, she explained.  I told her I didn’t remember much about him, but that I was sorry. 

“I’m not,” she said with a straight face as she looked directly into my eyes. 

This was a frank, no-nonsense woman and her jarring response made me feel as if, for the very first time, she’d just given me one brief view of the woman that she kept hidden inside. 

She’d been accused by some of racism, by others of anti-Semitism, and lately of hating Muslims.  Just about every 'ism our PC to-the-max culture could not condone.  But of course, nothing could ever be proved.  She was just a local fixture with strong beliefs and opinions and which was more concerned about guarding her place on the local social register.  In some ways I think she viewed her life as bankrupt, bereft of meaning as well as money.  It was only later while in college that had I begun to understand how much people like Mrs. McCullough unnecessarily intruded into other people's lives as compensation for that failure.  Many of her neighbors felt she was a controlling busy-body that had easily developed, one might actually say cultivated more than a few enemies in the neighborhood.  Enemies that would take great delight if they became aware of her current financial difficulties.

She was also an exercise nut.  While she liked exercising, it turned out that what she really loved was the feeling exercise and running gave her.  The freedom she had away from her worries about bills and with no one trying to tell her what to do or take up her time.  And of course, the flood of hormones that gave her such natural high, a high that for her lasted hours.  It was clear she displayed an addictive side to her personality regarding some things. 

If I was lucky, I could use that.

As we continued talking, I became more and more annoyed; it was clear that Mrs. McCullough still seemed to view me as an appendage of my mother, rather than an adult in my own right. 

Surprisingly, for a woman of her remarkable physical beauty, she exhibited little obvious awareness of her own attractiveness, at least not in the normal ways that we men have come to expect.  It was exactly the opposite with her.  While she clearly oozed sex appeal, her apparent attempts to downplay it sometimes almost made it seem as if the woman wished she were made instead of rubber and plastic.  She consciously did everything within her power, like using cheap, almost off-putting perfume, to tamp down even a hint of any overtly sexual nature that might have been hidden beneath that gorgeous feminine exterior.

I was filled with conflicting emotions.  Even as I fought to hide my sudden sexual arousal, I found myself pitying the woman I now viewed from a more experienced and mature perspective.  But what I saw as my years of abuse in her uncaring hands still pissed me off and I had to work hard to keep an icily correct exterior, ensuring that none of my true feelings surfaced.  And as I became angry for even giving a damn what the stupid cow thought, an idea began to form of how to make my oh-so adult inclinations towards this beautiful bitch-woman a reality. 

Not Necessarily a Diplomatic Request or But it WAS a Bold Move of Sorts

We talked for another ten minutes, then my mother quickly excused herself; her symptoms had reasserted themselves again.  Unspoken was the understanding she might be absent awhile if current history were any guide. 

I’ve never hunted, but I wondered if this was how the hunter felt as I turned to Mrs. McCullough –the anticipation, the uneasy thrill, the power of the weapon.  I asked, “May I call you Kate?”  I was a little formal since this was the first time I had attempted any adult familiarities with Mrs. M.

Kate stretched her arm across the seat back in a pose of dissolute glamour that I found quite erotic and gave the tinkling sound she made when she laughed and replied, “Oh God, yes, Jimmy.  Please do.  Mrs. McCullough makes me feel so old.  You used to be such a shy child that it was hard to get to know you.  My, has that ever changed. Congratulations on your successes.”

I was again annoyed with this woman.  To people like her, I would always be Jimmy, the immature son of a friend, the young kid hanging around neighborhood.  I would never be a Jim or a James....it was always Jimmy.  My name seemed perfectly designed to forever keep me in an immature Peter Pan-like hell, ensuring I would never be taken seriously at anything.  I hated not being taken seriously by a woman like her.  It made me want to do my best to ensure that she someday regretted that lack of respect. 

“Thanks,” I replied.  “But skill had nothing to do with it.  I was just lucky.”

“That's not what I hear from your mother.  She's so proud of you.”  This was the obligatory back and forth in which women of her type excelled.  She sat back and sipped her glass of water, comfortable with the conversation.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she replied. 

"What size shoe do you wear?"

She looked at me with a quizzical expression on her face.  "What an odd question.  Why would you want to know that?"

"Just curious," I answered, not particularly glibly. "You seem to be a determined runner.  Most really relentless runners I know have relatively large feet.”  I smiled stupidly, trying to recover from my first verbal gaffe.  “Helps with ankle stability, I guess.  But you've got small feet and I was just wondering."

She replied, "Oh.  Well, in that case, I wear a seven and a half or eight depending upon the brand."  I felt a little embarrassed about having asked in such an artless way, but I had my reasons.  She suddenly seemed nervous and I knew I had to be more careful.  I could see Kate’s leg begin oscillating up down now in an obvious nervous vibration.

I have been told by many women that most men don’t think and that I was the perfect example of this.  That we don’t consider the ends of things or even their sources for that matter.  That we live our lives in a fog, imagining lights just ahead of us, hallucinating moral systems for which there is no biological justification.  That we believed in things that were often perversions of logic.  That even as we rejected our most powerful desires, we also reasoned away opportunity. 

I’m not sure I buy any of that crap.  But one thing of which I’m pretty sure is that to deny our impulses is to deny the very things that make us human.  Somebody else once said that, I’m not sure who, but it is certainly true.  Perhaps that’s why I cautiously began to broach the subject that now had so captured my thoughts.  Any anger I felt towards this woman was temporarily gone, put aside until I could take it out and use it to flog her emotionally.  Now I felt only anxious anticipation.  Most young men would be too embarrassed to make a straight out outrageous offer to the thirty-eight year old best friend of their mother.  But not me.  I knew what I wanted. 

So I blundered ahead, “Speaking of luck, my mother tells me that you are having a spot of difficulty right now.”

My mother’s best friend sat back into the chair; posture erect and face showing more than a hint of disapproval.  “I wish she hadn't told you about that.  My business is none of your concern.”

“You're correct,” I agreed.  “It's none of my business, but still, maybe I can help.”

Kate looked directly at me for the first time.  “What do you mean?”

“Well,” I offered, “I could loan you some money until things are going better for you.  I already have more than I'll ever need and it would be no problem.”

McCullough looked at me suspiciously now.  “Why would you do that?”

She was a little more perceptive than I remembered.  “Well,” I replied to the wary question, “you are my mother's best friend and I've known you my whole life.”

Mrs. McCullough leaned even further back into her seat.  Her head was slightly cocked to one side and her beautiful blue eyes squinted in thought as she looked at me.  “And what's the catch? You give me money for nothing?  I don't think so.  What do you want in return?”

I thought to myself, here goes nothing.  “Well, you have to know how I've always felt about you."  I blushed here, for she had always before made me feel like a callow youth and probably really didn’t know how I’d felt about her.  "You've been the ideal by which every girl I’ve ever met has been measured, since I was a child.  And none have ever measured up to you.  None.  Now it seems you need money.  Certainly, I'd........want something in return.”  I didn't mention that in my later teenage fantasies, I fucked her and then humiliated her, leaving her in the most embarrassing situations my fevered pre-adult mind could conceive.  Even then, I now realized, I must have felt an inordinate amount of unhealthy anger towards this woman.

Let’s see where this trail takes us, I thought to myself as I took the plunge.  No more ambiguities…lay it on the line.  “I'd want to be able to visit you several times a week.  Spend time with you, be with you.”

She sat back in shock as I hurried on.  “Of course, I would pay your monthly rent, buy you a new car and give you money to live on...clothes, food, and spending money.  I'd even give you money each month for Terrill.  All I'd ask is a few hours a week.  Nothing more.  You…I…” 

Like a clock run down, I stopped in the middle of a sentence and waited for her response.  As I said before, I didn’t particularly like women and it showed, for I'd never once had a truly long term girlfriend.  I just didn’t know how to handle complicated women in a refined manner.  I didn’t know how to camouflage my real desires and most females usually sensed my ultimate goals. 

Regardless of this failing, as with everything else in my later life, I'd been lucky with girls, especially in college.  I explored women.  I mean, I really explored my sexuality to the bloody depths, usually theirs, pushing their limits as I took us both to odd and sexually twisted places I hadn’t really expected --- places I know a lot of these girls had never before visited.  And once I had a little money, that initial success rate soared again even more.  But still, here I was, nervously waiting for the response of a woman almost twice my age to my less-than-subtle advances.

I was a stranger for all intents; she really didn’t know me that well.  As proof of this, her face suddenly changed, letting me know that she was both shocked and offended. 

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, she rose to her feet.  “If you were worth it, I'd slap you for what you just said.  But I love and respect your mother so instead, I'm just going to leave.  Tell your mother I said goodbye.  And as for you........." she looked me up and down slowly with total disdain and then leaned in close to my face, "you wouldn't know what to do with a real woman.”  After a long look, she shook her head once more and then turned towards the door.

I rose and followed Mrs. McCullough.  She was still a fourteen-carat bitch and it was definitely back to Mrs. McCullough now, at least in her mind.  But as she reached the door, I said, “I'll be back next Saturday afternoon.  If you change your mind, wear white shorts and come over to visit my mom while I’m here.  That's how you can let me know.  And that will be your last chance.”

She leaned towards me, beginning a windup that would end with her trying to knock me on my ass, so I braced myself to block her slap.  But she stopped, glared at me for another second and then left without another word. 

I watched her walk with long, muscular, sexy-yet-angry strides across the road.  God, I wanted those perfect legs wrapped around me.  I felt almost paralyzed, trying to work out what effect she had on me.  It wasn’t the usual feeling; the sensation I often got at a party in Boston or during drinks at the Royalton; spotting some young beauty and lazily deciding I wanted her, the way you might pick a delicacy off the menu.  That was how I usually kept my bed filled, but this was different. 

I felt as if I had just run ten kilometers; my cheeks felt hot and my pulse elevated.  I wanted to own her, to do terrible things to her in private, make her cry out in both lust and pain.  I remembered again how I had first seen her.  Even saying her name – Kate – brought back the glow.  I had been with many women, girls really, but had never felt this palpitating excitement, and not the way I was feeling it now. 

She was a woman, not a girl, and I wanted her, badly. 

When mom came out five minutes later, my face was no longer flushed and the level of pure testosterone-driven lust had dipped steeply as well.  We talked and then I too departed after another ten minutes.  I was torn; one part of me hoped nothing would come of my offer for I could just see this woman purposely trying to embarrass me in front of my mother and her friends. 

On the other hand, I somehow also sensed I was not finished with this woman.  It was almost as if everything had already happened, and now I was just reliving it, suffering some sort of cosmic déjà vu.  This was one of the strongest feelings of this type I'd had in years and it was like it had been signaled to me by the woman herself. 

I felt such a powerful attraction to her.  It was almost as if she were a source of heat......not of heat alone, but also of vitality, sensuality.  And since I had stood next to her again, but now as an adult, that heat had washed over me, making me aware of what I thought might be a suddenly developing sexual tension between us, something that was in its very earliest stage.  Somehow, I was suddenly sure this would develop into something more.

Kate McCullough stormed out of her friend’s house and across the street to her own place.  If he hadn't been the son of one of her best friends, she'd have slapped his silly, outrageous head off right there at the door.  She’d felt his eyes on her back and ass, and the walk to the front of her house, ordinarily not long, had seemed like a marathon.  She opened the door and then turned.  Although she didn’t want to, she looked back, first in anger and then with a sense of relief.  The neighborhood was like an oasis of calm in her life.  Nothing had changed here, it all seemed as it had years ago when she and her husband had first moved in.  And that was just as she wanted to keep it too.  She was determined to ensure that nothing changed. 

The boy Jimmy had been a....surprise.  Well, he certainly wasn't a boy anymore.  She hadn't seen him in well over five years and time had been good to him, just as she felt it running out on her.  He was no longer the skinny little kid he'd been back then.  His mother had told her that with his spare time now after selling his company, he'd decided to begin working out more.  He'd been lifting weights, bulking up, and it certainly showed.  He looked very nice indeed. 

But that offer of his! 

Weelllll!!!

Kate puttered around the house for a few hours, consciously not answering the phone since it would almost certainly be a bill collector.  Later in the day, she decided to take a bath.  Kate stood in her bedroom, quietly annoyed with certain parts of her day as she studied her image in the mirror with a growing unease, the discontent clearly reflected in her troubled expression.  The business with the zoning committee this morning had not gone as she had hoped.  Usually Kate prided herself on her exquisite manners and grace…as long as things went her way, but not today, not with the committee, certainly not when dealing with unkempt and untrained…….creatures like them……

Yes, they bothered her.  She didn’t mind admitting it.  They simply didn’t know their place anymore.  More and more these days, she saw a dangerous blend of ferment and disdain in the populace – she saw it in their smirking expressions, their careless attitudes, their irresponsible behavior, even in the slovenly way that some of them tried to show their respect to her.  And she knew that their surface lack of manners betrayed a deeper societal illness, an unfocused hostility that needed…..lancing. 

Even in the best of times, Kate regarded any dealings with these types as a degrading task, one normally better left to others specifically trained to deal with people of this class.  But she had no choice left to her now except to manage the details of these filthy situations herself, actions which always left her feeling soiled and uneasy. 

Kate was so tired of trying to keep up appearances.  She didn't do these things for herself, mind you.  It was what her dead husband would have wanted her to do.  She was a woman that had to fall for a man’s intellect before she fell for him emotionally.  Robert had been the closest she had found up to that point in her life and she had married him.  There had really been no one for her since.  At the thought of Robert, her eyes moistened, but she refused to cry.  She truly didn’t miss his company at this point, or any other man’s for that matter.  But she sure missed his income.  What would it be like to not have to worry about money?  To have a suitable companion again; someone to share the responsibility associated with her life here, taking over so many of the duties and everyday jobs that so weighed her down now.  God!  What would it be like to be loved and supported as a woman again?  It had been like this for so long that she'd forgotten how nice life could be. 

There was a secret that she would take to the grave.  She harbored a deep fear of being alone.  No, not really of being alone.  Rather, the thing she feared the most was being poor, of not having resources, the ability to take care of herself.  She had never told her husband, but that was one of the reasons she had said yes when this dashing man had first come into her life and then asked her to marry him.  She came from a poor family and there was no money for college.  She lived the first eighteen years of her life with nothing…nothing!  Then, with graduation from high school approaching, she’d looked into the future and seen that she would soon be assuming a life alone, still as poor, but now on her own, alone.  She’d been eighteen then and had almost jumped into his arms when he popped the question.  He was good-looking, fun, intelligent, had established his career and she hadn’t hesitated.  And then, disaster.  For a few short moments, she had thought that she too would die along with him.  She squeezed that thought out of her mind, but the residual fear remained for a little while longer. 

Katie lay back in the tub, sliding down until just her head was above water.  She examined her body, shimmering just below the surface.  Still too short, she thought, but all the basic equipment still seemed to be in order despite her age.  She had full round breasts and could still wear waist-size 24 jeans , but she would never have a super-flat tummy again and only her running kept her from developing what she considered thunder thighs.  But all in all, in her heart she knew she was still considered very sexy and that men usually stopped what they were doing when she came by in a flattering skirt.  A fat lot of good that did her with her husband long dead and no real prospects in sight. 

Kate lay in the tub for so long the water began to cool, so she turned the hot water faucet on again.  When the water was warm enough, she suddenly thought about Jimmy and his offer.  She could never tell anyone the vague misgivings she'd had at the end, when she'd felt the conflicting currents of propriety, of respectability, of modestness on one hand, and what she now recognized as nothing more than cheap, carnal desire on the other.  Kate McCullough suddenly realized she wanted something badly, something that was difficult for an independent woman like her to admit; for even now she was as aware of his presence as if he'd been an arrow that had pierced her breast.  And yet, everything about the situation had left her feeling both uneasy and vaguely guilty too. 

She laid her head back and enjoyed the hot water.

He was stunning!  Not beautiful, no, but something beyond beautiful.  Something wild and dangerous, even to himself.  But despite his looks, he was still nothing but a man.  Even the muscles in his arms had been corded with embarrassment as he'd babbled earlier today.  And his eyes were curious....not at all the eyes of a vain man.  His mouth and nose were substantial enough, but they suggested conversation to her, inquiry even.  She guessed he was a young man more used to talking than acting.  Or not talking, as much as perhaps listening.  A man that would probably treat a woman well. 

The years had passed her seamlessly even though she felt an increasing sense of intellectual and emotional restlessness, feelings that had only grown as she approached middle age.  It had been over five years since she'd last been with a man, really been with a man.  And what a mistake that had been!  What would it be like to have a man around again?  A man so much younger than she; a more virile and certainly wealthier young man?  She had to smile; a man whom her beauty had apparently captured years ago.  A man who would hopefully want to listen to her, to please her, rather than try to cage or own her. 

Unfortunately, also this was also a man she’d known as a boy and whom was the son of one of her best friends.  He made her feel so old, damn him! 

She didn't want to do it.  Not really.  The possibilities were excellent, but she didn't want to do it because nothing good could come from it.  But somehow she could still see accepting herself his offer even while hating everything it represented.  There really were definite upsides to temporarily accommodating him, but the potential disadvantages were immense too.  They far outweighed the advantages, but only on the rational plane. 

She tried to be a good Christian and pretended to a coherent, intellectual mind.  But lately she'd found herself lacking real faith; and in the domain of emotions, her real home, a place where logic was useless and the truly rational mind a joke, there was nothing she could do but follow wherever her thoughts led her. 

And Kate could see in this particular case, despite the exciting and appealing images, exactly where it would lead.  The boredom she knew she would eventually feel with him, the recriminations that would inevitably accompany the end of the affair, no matter how lightly she tried to let him down.  Kate shook her head.  She knew in her heart that she would never allow herself to stoop to something this low…..this tawdry…this….common, something that would be so typical of the unsophisticated masses that she so despised. 

Still, it never hurt to dream.  There was a melody in her mind now and she felt the young man in her dream as if there was a pull from an unseen force.  Like the most beautiful fish, she rose through the watery realm of her life to snatch at the bright lure he'd left bobbing irresistibly just above her head.  Companionship of sorts, the lure of money and the comfort it could bring.

The warm water soaking into every crevice and thoughts of the things she could do to the arrogant young man who had created this unwelcome urgency in her loins combined to bring about the type of necessity she seldom ignored anymore.  There, that hand might be his, and that feathering, wondering touch......and so Kate sighed as she surrendered to her pleasure.

Women on His Mind or Just Looking For A Stocking Stuffer

I thought of a Mrs. McCullough a lot during the next week.  When I lay down in bed at night and closed my eyes, I was thinking of Kate.  About ripping off her clothes, slapping and spanking her, and it all then ending with me giving her a vicious fucking.  How she'd cry out in bewilderment and pain.  That last made me a little ashamed but it also gave me a giant hard-on.  Then I tried to think about making love to her tenderly.  But tenderness, it seemed, was beyond me for I immediately went flaccid.  Jerking off wasn't worth the effort, I decided, and I didn't want a whore. 

I fell asleep still confused.

She hadn't remembered my existence until a few days ago and now she hated me after less than half an hour.  But still playing the hopelessly long odds against success, I shopped for a few feminine things.  Sexy items that emphasized her natural beauty, her long gorgeous legs (at least I hoped they still were, for I hated varicose veins), her firm butt and her small, yet perfectly proportioned breasts. 

I wanted lingerie to match her coloring and that allowed her to explore the sexuality I assumed she'd kept bottled up for such a long time.  I even bought a few skirts, blouses and dresses; I wasn't sure of her size, but estimated as best I could.  I was such a pervert.  Short and tight and sexy skirts more suitable for teenage cheerleaders.  Sheer, sexy low-cut blouses.  Short, tight and sexy knit dresses. 

My mind was in the gutter the whole time and I had to laugh at myself.  Some things never changed.  After so many years away, I found myself still acting like a total idiot where this woman was concerned.

Saturday finally arrived, as did I around noon at my mother's home.  There were two outfits bundled in the back of my car on the off chance that Mrs. M might accept my offer.  I had not yet purchased any really expensive gifts for her and if she refused me, all I was out was six or seven hundred dollars, an amount I could easily afford to throw away.

Mom was feeling better and I actually enjoyed talking with her.  I do however admit to a slight impatience as the afternoon wore on.  Later in the afternoon as time dragged by, I began checking my wristwatch, checking it often enough that my mother wondered if I had an appointment later.  About four in the afternoon, there was a quick, familiar knock on the door and Mrs. McCullough entered.  She said she was going shopping and had only stopped by long to check on Mom and see if she needed anything.  She gave me an impersonal nod by way of greeting and then she was gone.

Oh, by the way, she was wearing yellow cork wedgies with three-inch heels on her shapely feet and an expensive yellow sleeveless blouse tucked into shorts.  Her long, slim, muscular bare legs glowed with a healthy summer's tan and the bright red polish on her toenails gave a splash of dramatic color. 

Her legs were still fabulous, with the well-developed muscles in her calves and thighs beautifully emphasized by the heels she wore.

Best of all, that expensive blouse?  It was tucked into immaculately white cuffed short-shorts that were cut high on her hips.  The sexy bitch had accepted my offer.  I also noticed she'd finally removed her wedding band. 

The picture of Kate standing in that doorway swirled in my mind.  At 5’ 9”, she was above average height, but her smoking hot body, satiny complexion, still-clear features, sexy eyes and long thick dark hair all combined to ensure that any man near her babbled like a total idiot.

I felt almost giddy; that wonderfully ripe beauty was going to be mine.  I was on the verge of taking the mature, sophisticated woman I had always dreamed of and revealing the lonely woman inside who was desperate enough to money for sex.  She may not have fit the accepted definition of Cougar, but it was close enough for me. 

I excused myself for a second and told mom I had a quick errand, but would be right back.  I went out and hopped in my car, drove around the block to where the entrance to Kate's garage was located in the back of her home.  I hopped out and carried the package of lingerie to her back door and rang the doorbell.  My mother's best friend opened the door and looked at me, her face blanked of expression. 

She took the bag from me in silence as I said, “Kate, you’ll see.  You will be glad you accepted my offer of assistance.  You won't regret it.  Oh, by the way, I bought these for you.  I'll be back in less than an hour.  Please leave the garage door open and I'll park inside so that no one knows I'm here.  Neither of us wants any tongues wagging.”

She hesitated, her face still impassive and then silently nodded her agreement.  I feared she was already regretting her decision, but I continued quickly.

“These things.......I'd love to see you in some of them.  There's a note inside the bag letting you know what I like the most.  Maybe you can have it on when I get back.”  I wanted to start her off slowly, but she was still silently holding the bag as she watched me drive off.  There was a sour look on her face, a look that did nothing to calm my ardor. 

She Desired Complete Control or What He Liked Wasn’t Going to Matter To Her

I went back to my mother's place, and as you might expect, the next hour just dragged along.  But eventually it was time to leave.  After kissing my mother goodbye, I drove around the block and straight into the open mouth of the McCullough's garage.  I closed the garage door and knew no one would ever be the wiser to my presence.  I walked to the interior garage door that led to the kitchen, but it was locked.  I knocked with great expectation.  But when it opened, Kate stood framed in the doorway……looking like her version of a dowdy housewife.  She was barefoot and had a well-worn robe tucked around her waist.  I could tell there was no lingerie beneath her tatty robe.  No stockings, no heels, no nothing. 

Suddenly, I was both hugely disappointed and angry.  After a seconds' hesitation, I turned and walked towards my car.  It was clear that I was prepared to leave. 

She was silent for a moment, and then in a hurried, almost desperate voice, she asked, “Jimmy!  Where are you going?”

Kate was silent for a couple of seconds, but then continued in a more composed voice, “I thought you were going to come in.”

I tried to control the emotion in my voice as I turned and said, “I did too.  This would have been the first time for us.  I know it’s silly, but I wanted it to be special; I wanted you wearing something a little special, something that symbolized what this could mean.  The note with the lingerie told you how I felt, what I was hoping for.  But obviously, you aren't ready for this, for us, for me.  So I need to go.”

I know I sounded like a spoiled, petulant child, but I didn’t care.  I wanted what I wanted from this woman.

“Jimmy.  You're rushing this, you're rushing me.  You can't.....  What about the money you promised?” she asked; a concerned note now apparent in her voice. 

“Sorry.  No cooperation, no deal.  No deal, no money,” I replied a little bitterly.  “Can't have a deal unless each party has something the other wants.  I learned that in business school.”

Suddenly her proud eyes flashed almost red in quick anger and I could see her visibly stop herself from taking a swing at me.  The thought flashed into my mind that I was really looking forward to physically taming this woman.  She hissed, “I knew this was a mistake.  You smug prick.  You young, arrogant, smart-assed bastard.”

Kate stopped long enough to take a couple of deep breaths and then continued.  “Do you know....do you have any idea of what this is costing me?  In self-esteem and pride.  Agreeing to spend time with you, lowering myself to doing this with you, just for money.  Do you have any IDEA??”

She harshly spit out the next part, "No woman wants to be treated like an object.  You know that when I put on those awful things you brought over, when I put on that topless thing for you, in this situation, in my own home, it will instantly drive a stake through me; because I know then in my heart there is no doubt you'll actually force me to have sex with you.  Giving me money to have sex with you just so that I can pay my bills is bad enough, but it's even worse looking like you apparently want me to look.  Your things make me look like a full-blown slut.” 

“Please,” she wheedled.  “I am not that way.  You aren't wearing anything like that.  Why make me?"

I really had not thought about how my actions might look like from her point of view.  Frankly, I didn’t care what they might look like to her since she really had no idea how far I was going to go with her.  But it didn’t matter either, for at this exact moment everything came into perfect crystalline clarity for me; I realized I was somehow going to wind up fucking her, and then truly fucking her over afterwards.  I was going to use this bitch, then hurt her as much as she'd hurt me ten years ago.

I slowly walked back to her and then looked directly into her eyes as I began to lie to her face.  “Kate, this isn't a mistake,” I said as I faked total sincerity.  “I know it's not and I think deep inside, you feel that way too.  And no, I don't really know what this is costing you.  I don't really care to know what this is costing you.  For all I know, this is just a big game to you.  I don't know if you're just playing a game with me right now.  But I assure you, I'm not here to play games with you.  I'm not MAKING you do anything; no one is MAKING you do anything.  But this is what I've dreamed of for fifteen years.  So, if in five minutes you aren't wearing exactly what I asked you to wear, then I'm gone and so is my offer.  Find the money you need somewhere else.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.”

I waited another moment, and then said in a softer, more conciliatory tone, "No one is forcing you to do anything.  Come on Mrs. M.......Kate, choose.  Choose carefully.  One way or the other...the choice is totally yours."

Ugly unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.  "Jimmy, we're teetering right on the edge of a big mistake.  You aren't what I expected after I met you last week."  She looked into my eyes for moment, searching, trying to find a way to manipulate me.  I think she wanted me to say I had suddenly changed my mind, would modify my demands; but instead I remained stubbornly silent.

Her posture in the doorway at that moment reminded me of something, and I smiled.  Although she was almost twice as old as me, she had the exact pose of a teenager losing an argument.  The you can just go to hell stance of crossed arms, narrowed eyes, and scrunched up face.  But I was unrelenting with this demand and remained silent. 

“Damn you,” she finally hissed.  "Alright, you win."  After a second, she continued in a less emotional fashion, “I...I'll do what you want.  But please.  Please don't make me wear the things you brought today.  This is humiliating enough as it is without having to dress like a prostitute too.  I'll do whatever you want, but just don't make me dress like a whore too.”

"Kate," I replied as I shook my head, “I really meant it when I said that no one is making you do anything.  You freely choose not to go ahead with this and I'll drop out of your life forever.  And you won't hear another word from me.  But wearing whatever I ask you to wear whenever I'm here is part of my deal.”  With a woman like her, I felt it would be better to set some ground rules ahead of time, sort of ease her into accepting my role as being dominant.  And once she was used to letting me lead, she would not be so shocked when she found out where I eventually wanted to take her. 

"You mean you want me to wear these kinds of things, look like this, every time you visit?" She asked, her voice hitting higher and higher notes.  I nodded my head stubbornly, but said nothing.

After a moment of icy silence, she decided.  She sniffed, her fine nose rising in the air another inch.  “Fine."  Some women can get more meaning into that single word than a man can with a thousand.  She was one of those women and at that moment, I knew she hated me.

"I'll wear what you want, at least this time.  But it'll take longer than five minutes for me to get ready.  At least ten minutes to put on the things you've picked out.  I'll be back shortly.”

Impulsively, I blurted out, "No.  I want to watch you dress."  Watching my dream woman dress up for me in a truly slutty outfit had been a favorite fantasy of most of my teenage years.  But I hadn't thought of this scene in the last four or five years.   It's amazing what the mind remembers.

I continued almost breathlessly, "I've thought about this moment for fifteen years and I'm not going to miss a moment being with you."  At twenty-one years of age she still made my palms sweat and act like an idiot.  But suddenly I was angry too at the way she was making me fight her every step of the way.  And the angrier I got, the more I was determined that I would make her suffer.

The face of the woman I'd known most of my life showed real shock now; she clearly hated the thought of me watching her dress.  I think it might have been embarrassment and loss of pride at the thought of having her best friend's only son, a young man she'd watched grow up from a boy, watch her dress up for him before he paid money to fuck her.  Or perhaps it was that she just didn't want an audience as she dressed in what a whore might wear for a valued customer.  Maybe it was simply the loss of all control in a personal relationship.  I didn't know. 

But I also didn't care if I embarrassed her or not; once I’d blurted out my demand, I realized suddenly that more than anything else in the world, I wanted to feel her embarrassment and humiliation as I watched her put on sexy lingerie that she obviously hated to wear.  Well, perhaps there was one more thing more I wanted than this.

The impetuous young man reached for her hand and she jerked it back involuntarily.  Kate felt her face flame with heat as she closed her eyes.  She had accepted the fact that she had found him quite attractive at first and was still attracted to him despite herself, despite this situation.  But even accepting her feelings, she wasn't in the mood to play his silly games or, for that matter, to negotiate with him.  Despite her firm beliefs in the church and always trying to do the right thing, in some things Kate was a realist and thus knew herself far too well.  Dreading the present choices, she'd known for years that if given the choice between having a little money and fighting every day just to keep things together, she would seriously consider selling her soul just to ensure financial comfort.  But Jimmy was offering her more.  The fact that she liked him made it a little easier, but not too much.  He was offering her freedom.  Of sorts.  On hell's terms perhaps, but freedom none-the-less. 

She thought for a minute about the ramifications of what she was considering, then finally nodded and stuck out her hand.  A tiny voice somewhere deep inside screamed no, don’t do it, but it was not anywhere near loud enough to be heard.  "We're making a business deal only.  I mean it.  This is strictly business.  If there was any other way, I want you to know I'd take it." 

He nodded and clasped her hand firmly, then pulled it to his lips.  She abruptly pulled her hand away from his mouth, angry at the invisible fire that seemed to dance across her skin at his touch.

Bottom line; I insisted on watching.  I wouldn't budge on this demand and finally, reluctantly, she agreed.  Having won my point, I followed Kate through arched French doors, up a white carpeted staircase and into her bedroom, a menagerie of white silk and crystal.  Most men would be freaked out by all of this white, but not me.  She crossed the room and opened the door into a large, walk-in closet that was filled with hanging clothes and shoeboxes, all mostly out of style.  Walking after her, my only thought that was this woman could even make a shapeless robe look sexy.

Her bedroom was large and although a little cold, it still had an airy feeling.  A potentially pretty and feminine room, it was a place that once you'd seen it, you'd remember it.  A king-sized bed was pushed against the middle of the wall across from entrance; against another wall she had a well-lighted makeup table and chair.  Finally, in one corner, there was a comfortable looking stuffed chair.  On the bed, she'd laid out the lingerie I had earlier provided.

I sat in the chair off to the side so that I could see her face.  Kate walked over to the bed and looked at what she'd previously laid out, then looked at me without a smile before glancing back at the clothing again.  Her look spoke volumes, but I didn't care.  Even as I tried to remain unaffected by her current mood, I sensed this was a woman still determined to somehow retain at least a modicum of pride and dignity in what she saw as a demeaning and hopeless situation. 

I was pushing this woman to her absolute limits with this performance.  She laid out the sheer black cupless front lace-up bustier in the center of her bed, while everything else lay next to it.  There was the sheer black chiffon short robe that barely came down over her buttocks, and the sheer black stockings; nylon hose with lacy, beautifully embroidered welts at the top.  I had also purchased a new pair of black, dressy ankle-strap sandals with five inch stiletto heels to finish off the outfit.  Off to the other side, she placed the long dangling earrings and a thin, black velvet choker that completed her outfit. 

Kate held the bustier up and looked at it for about thirty seconds, as if it took her that long before she recognized it went around her torso.  She looked at me then and bared her teeth in what I suppose she thought was a smile.  Finally, she laid it down and walked over to her dressing table.

She left her old robe on, and only after completing her hair and makeup did she finally begin to dress.  I'm sure that part of the delay was meant as punishment for my previous behavior.  Finally, it was as if the warm-up band had finished and the main act came on.  She stood, faced me in silence for a full minute as she stared directly into my eyes, letting me see the disgust she felt for me, for herself, for the situation that I’d put her in.  Finally, slowly, she untied the belt around her waist and then shrugged the robe off her shoulders.  My eyes left her face for the first time and soaked in the vision in front of me. 

Her firm skin showed the faint tan lines of a tiny bikini top and bottom.  Small solid breasts hung high from a chest that narrowed to an incredibly tiny waist, then flared out over a pair of firm hips that were smooth and without a trace of fat or saddlebags.  It was apparent that this woman had never nursed a child nor had she suffered from the effects of gravity despite her age.  Her legs were long and shapely, remarkably toned and firm.  Her buttocks were taut and high, and quite well developed from years of running.  Her belly was tightly muscled and looked like you could bounce a coin off it.  Between her legs, her vagina was hidden beneath a thatch of coarsely dark and curly pubic hair that looked like it had been trimmed back at one time but was now in the process of reclamation.

She represented the best of all fantasy worlds to a man like me; the body of a sexy young female combined with the more-than-likely unsatisfied desires and needs of a mature woman at the height of her sexuality. 

Kate studiously ignored me as she slowly put on the bustier, stepping daintily into it.  Its primary purpose was to push up her breasts by tightening against her upper midriff and further shaping her already tiny waist.  She gave a long dramatic sigh, no doubt for my benefit, as she slid it around until her breasts rested on the built-in under-wired shelf the designer had thoughtfully provided.  She then drew it in tight and suddenly the bustier clung to her torso like a second skin as it lifted her firm, pert breasts even higher.  At the same time, the color contrast between the black lingerie and her flawless white skin accentuated her perfect ass too. 

She grunted softly as she pulled the garter straps from the bustier down along her thigh; for as tiny as her waist was, the garment was so tightly constricting that it was difficult for her to bend over.  She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the fine black dress stockings in an almost burlesque manner that was shocking in its sheer eroticism.  One leg at a time, slowly, provocatively, with her foot raised in the air and toes pointed, the whole thing ending with numerous garter manipulations.  Why she did this, I don't know.  All I can say is that I was incredibly turned by her impromptu performance. 

What she had just done in front of me was incredibly hot; where on earth did a woman her age, a woman that had been without a man for pretty much a decade and a half learn this behavior?  How did she have the imagination to do this?  Was this an innate ability that women had?  Was there something in their genes that allowed women to maximize the erotic potential of any act just to attract a mate?  Was this in fact something that women were born with, or did they learn it at some secret school of which men were never aware?

Now she stood to put on the thong panties.  At first I wasn't going to provide panties, but then reasoned they were just that much more for me to remove later.  She slipped her panties on gently, but again with a delicate, yet erotic grace that would shame any stripper.  Then she slowly adjusted the way the panties rode on her hips.  Me?  I couldn't tell the difference after the adjustment, because lace always looks good on women.....at least to me it does.  Her panties were the perfect accessories to her stockings.  Mainly filling the crack between her ass-cheeks, they covered little of her backside, showing more than enough firm flesh to turn any man on. 

Kate next slipped on the strappy sandals and then stood up for the first time wearing the heels I had purchased.  She stamped her left foot lightly one time to set the shoe and then adjusted the ankle straps as she stood by the bed.  She balanced; teetering on one leg as she lifted her other foot, her hand on her shin to pull the high-heel up until it touched her butt.  Then she bent over to make final adjustments on the straps around her ankles and the figure hugging bustier only emphasized the beautiful breasts that lay exposed on their small shelf.  She said, "No wonder you asked my shoe size last week.  But you made a mistake, they're too tight."

The sexy, mature woman finished her reverse striptease by walking over to the dresser mirror and running her hands slowly up both her legs, from ankle to thigh, one leg at a time, as if to ensure that the stockings were without wrinkles.  She even smiled at me coldly as she did this, the sexy minx.  Finally, she donned the short robe, the choker and the earrings, all the while standing in front of the mirror, thus allowing me to see her both from the front and the rear at the same time. 

She ignored me as she looked at her reflection and then quickly brushed her hair back into submission.  It appeared she had a slight difficulty in getting her tits comfortable, so she opened the robe and rearranged for one final time the bustier that pushed up under her breasts.  As she moved the tight top and then moved it again, her nipples hardened under my intense stare.  With a quick glance in my direction, she took a small bottle of perfume and gave one quick puff between her thighs and onto her panties.  Then Kate stopped and looked at herself in the mirror for a second, after which she closed her eyes, raised her face to the ceiling and inhaled deeply.  Her lips moved as if in silent prayer. 

My God!  Very few thirty-eight year old women could wear lingerie and look this good.  Especially thongs.  But right now, she looked as good as the most attractive twenty-year old lingerie model could ever have hoped to look.

Like an actress preparing to face her toughest audience, she exhaled and took one more deep breath……time seemed to stop for me then.  Finally, she turned and moved towards me in her remarkably elegant, cat-like way.  Then she stopped and faced me with her hands on her hips and the perfect silence stretched on again.  She leaned slightly to the side, her right shoulder a little lower than her left.  Her long, straight black hair was pushed back from her forehead and showed a small widow’s peak before it flowed over her shoulders and down her back.  Her perfect face was still; her chin was raised up somewhat and her flawlessly shaped eyebrows slightly arched in apparent victory; her blue eyes cold and frankly appraising as the smallest trace of a supercilious smirk played at the corner of her lips.  She was absolutely gorgeous, she knew it and she was sure that she had won this round. 

Then, like an aristocrat talking to a slightly out-of-favor, rather unintelligent servant, she asked in a contemptuous, yet totally bored tone, "Was that an acceptable show?" 

I grinned tightly, but felt my anger stir at her tone.  Now it was my turn and I would make her pay for the high-class attitude she’d just flaunted in my face.  "Yes.  It was excellent."

She shifted her weight slightly and frowned.  "If you want to buy more of these expensive sandals for me, please make sure they fit better next time." 

I admit they might have been a little small, but they also weren't for meant for her comfort or for walking.  They were purely for fucking.  I was getting a little tired of the verbal sparring at that point, so I said, "I'm sure you'll get used to them.  Besides, it's not going to be a problem, since you won't be on your feet that much when you wear them."

She looked at me sharply.  "Watch your mouth.  I'll tell you right now, I don't like that kind of innuendo when you're around me."

I smiled inside.  So that was the way it was going to be?  A regular at her church, this was a proud woman who had been forced to raise a child by herself, who'd become a hard woman, an independent female quite early in her life.  She was a woman who came across as wanting to preserve her dignity when doing something distasteful. 

But I wasn’t going to allow that.  Not in a million years!  This bitch was going down, but not before I used her in every way possible.  All I said however was, "Mrs. McCullough ...Kate....stop thinking of me as the kid you knew ten years ago.  I'm an adult now and I'll talk to you any way I please.  Especially here, in your bedroom, under these conditions."

She leaned back away from me and replied a little heatedly, "I won't allow you to make crass sexual innuendos about me in my own bedroom."

I needed to challenge her attempt at controlling the relationship.  She would have said more, but I interrupted.  "Kate," I said as I stood up.  "If you don't like the language I use, then perhaps I'd better leave." 

It was a bluff.  I didn’t have her where I wanted her yet, but surely the woman wouldn’t stop now after she’d gone this far…a woman in her financial situation wouldn’t throw away a financial lifeline just because of a few sexual innuendos. 

On the other hand, if that was how she wanted it, now was the time to find out.  Before I had walked five feet, she said, "Stop......." 

Her voice was lower as she tried to sound more agreeable and less demanding.  "Maybe.....maybe I've gotten too set in my ways.  I guess I......I guess I can't stop you from saying what you want.  But please don't be quite so crude."

"Do this just for me, "she wheedled.  "This situation is tough enough for me as it is, and comments like that only cheapen you and me both."

First Time For The Bridle or Beginning Her Training The Old-Fashioned Way

It was time to put Kate in her place.  "I'll try to be a little more sensitive."

I patted the edge of the bed.  "Please sit on the edge of the bed and then spread your knees wide apart for me.  Thank you."

I turned, looked into her eyes and smiled, "Was that better?"

Mrs. M hesitated for another thirty seconds as her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, her blue eyes searching my face like lasers made out of arctic ice; then she recovered and her face showed only a surprising, glacial-like calm despite my provocative request. 

She stood there without moving, looking at me in disbelief as I said, “I really meant it.  On the edge of the bed with your knees spread.  Wide.  NOW!!” 

She jumped at my tone.  Eventually, reluctantly, slowly, Kate complied. 

I enjoyed the lush view of her firm inner thighs for a minute, then knelt between her spread knees and first pushed her feet and then her knees even further apart…..I softly touched the insides of her thighs.  She determinedly stared over my head at her bedroom wall and refused to look at my face.  But this show of studied disrespect did not matter for I was overwhelmed by the firm, yet slickly soft sensation of her inner thighs; sudden images and feelings surged unbidden into my mind.  The texture of her firm nylon-covered skin immediately brought to mind a cauldron of blood-warm chocolate.  I know it's odd, but under my soft lingering caresses, the only sensual comparison that even came close was that her nylon-slick thighs felt like soft and silky, too-expensive, melted dark European chocolate as it oozed and dripped through my exploring fingers. 

Already impatient and tiring of just touching her, I began to gently tug on her panties.  The older woman inhaled suddenly, as if for the first time realizing that the situation she now found herself in was for real.  She tried to hide a shocked, even worried look on her face as I did this, and at the end it was only with great reluctance that she lifted her hips enough to be of any help as I bared her there.  Open to my view now, she shifted uncomfortably for a second and then sat motionless again.  I could tell by the stiffness of her face that she was bothered by her current role in our relationship as well as the position I had made her assume.  Even with her wooden expression, seated and reluctantly cooperative, I could still sense how awkward she felt.  Mixed with her discomfort, strong disapproval also radiated out towards me in waves keen enough to be felt. 

I thought to myself, she was letting me do this to her for money.  Fuck her if she becomes upset because I went too far or crossed some unwritten line.  If she was willing to act like a prostitute in her own bedroom, then I was more than willing to treat her like the whore she had already proved herself to be.

Escalating my demands, I said, "Lean over slightly towards me and put your hands on your spread knees; now just look at me for a few moments."  It was an obvious cheesecake pose and she again hesitated a long second before doing as I asked. 

Being a private person, a woman having gone for years without any lasting to sexual relationships, she was obviously uncomfortable with further exposing herself to me.  I acknowledged Kate’s beauty in silence as she reluctantly displayed the most intimate parts of her body to me.  She was slightly bent over and her mounded breasts were pushed together even more by her upper arms as her hands rested upon her widely spread knees. 

I reached between her knees and softly stroked the insides of her thighs with both hands.  She shuddered once, and then closed her eyes as I continued touching her softly, slowly stroking her silky-slick thighs.  I was beyond caring about what she thought at this point.  At the same time, I really did want her to want this, for the more she wanted it, the further I could eventually take her from what she saw as the normality of her life. 

Kate sat on the edge of the bed, body frozen by the softest touch of fear at losing control of the situation, feeling a little disgust at being treated like a mannequin….but worst of all, there was an unexpectedly strong pleasure associated with the tactile sensations of this man touching her in the most inappropriate places.  She shuddered once helplessly at the exquisite sensations of his fingertips trailing along her shins, on the sides of her knees and behind her knees, her thighs.  She forced herself to relax as his fingertips played up to and then over her knees, and then traced their way up the insides of her thighs.  She liked a man to touch her legs, something she had forgotten more years back than she wanted to remember. 

I could see her labia clearly now; but was it only in my imagination that I could feel both heat and moistness eagerly rushing towards me from between her legs? 

Finally, I told her to remove the robe, lie back on the bed and keep her knees spread wide.  At first I thought she would refuse, but Kate slowly obeyed although her face now registered strong and open disapproval.  Her vagina was completely exposed to my gaze now, along with the insides of her long, shapely legs.  Her long dark hair lay splayed out on the bed around her head and her breasts rose more quickly as her breathing rate increased under my gentle touch and intimate gaze.

The beautiful woman I had just purchased lay flat on her back, looking up at me from between her spread knees.  A woman posed like this was in an incredibly defenseless sexual position and Kate clearly hated her nightmarish vulnerability.

I looked down at her bared vulva; memorizing forever the reddish looking and slightly swollen genitals she now openly displayed.  I suddenly realized that despite her embarrassment and apparent disapproval, she’d become slightly aroused.  Kate saw where I was looking and blushed again, then closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see me looking at me.  Then she pointedly turned her face away from me.  The message she conveyed was that while she may have to perform for me, she didn't have to respect me or enjoy doing it.

I couldn’t believe this was happening; the bitch of my dreams was nothing but a WHORE in reality….she was not only cooperating just for money, it appeared as if she might even be getting the tiniest perverse pleasure out of it too.  For the first time, I also understood that no matter how corrupt or impossible it sounded, I wanted her to truly want me to do these things to her.  I knew then that before I was done with this woman, no matter how long it took, I was going to make her learn to beg me to fuck her.  Then I would discard her like the trash she’d proven herself to be. 

Putting my hands around her slender left ankle, I slowly ran them up her nylon-clad leg, and then stroked the insides of her slickly textured thighs.  Her eyes opened wide in shock and she clenched the bedding with her fists both in fear and perhaps dreaded anticipation of what came next.  She gave a soft quick gasp, inhaling quickly and filling her lungs as my right hand touched her vagina for the first time. 

The sleek touch of her legs under my hands was overwhelming; the slippery feeling of her glossy stockings, the slick, smooth slightly textured feel of the sheer, elegant nylon over firm muscle, it all aroused me immensely.  I had a huge erection!  Just as good were the visual stimuli; the differing hues of the sheer hose as it changed from dusky black to dark gray or even lighter colors; the fine-denier nylon continually accentuating the different topographies of her ankles, calves, knees and thighs with just the slightest of movement of her body or the tiniest readjustment of her legs. 

I leaned forward and sniffed….the smell of newly purchased nylon and lace mixed with a woman’s wet pheromones.  I put my finger on her clit and then began a soft circular massage.  Her breathing quickly changed again, but she still made no sound of encouragement.  Starting at her ankles again, my other hand slowly slid to her softly rounded yet firmly muscled calf.  I brought my hands together on either side of her leg as I continued stroking around and just above her knee, then behind her knee where I massaged the delightful muscles hidden there. 

Finally, my hands continued along her solidly muscled thigh to the top of her hose.  Almost home again, I played with the welt at the top of her stocking for a second, running my hand underneath it to increase Kate's anticipation before finally continuing again to her now moist pussy.  Here, I gently pushed the tip of my thumb into her once more before rubbing her clitoris.  I looked up as Kate inhaled sharply again.  Her eyes were closed, but now there was a slight smile of enjoyment on her face.

After another minute of being stroked, Kate said, "This position is too uncomfortable.  It hurts my back."

I'll bet it does, my dear, I thought to myself.  This position emphasizes every sexual vulnerability a woman has and you hate that. But what I said was, "I'll take care of that, Kate."

I slowly dropped to my knees and firmly lifted her legs by her ankles, hooking the backs of her knees over my shoulders, her heels finally coming to rest on my back.  This put my face less than six inches from the center of the woman of my dreams.  The hair of her mound was all black except for one or two strays of grey.  Her labia were swollen and wet, connected by a few tiny cobwebs of moisture.  I closed my eyes as I inhaled the smell of new nylon stockings an inch from my nose, then I looked at the salty banquet she reluctantly offered me.  Without conscious thought or warning, my head dipped and my tongue speared as I dove face first into that piquant saline sea between her thighs. 

Kate gasped suddenly and her belly arched as she inadvertently ground her pelvis into my face.  I drew back to catch my breath, but had no plan to stop.  Now I pushed her clit up towards her belly and began rubbing it in a circular motion with the ball of my thumb.  With my other hand, I spread her labia wide, exposing the hot pink interior of her wondrous femininity. 

After moment, I covered as much of her sweet, seldom-used vagina with my mouth as I could, then I began a slow rhythmic sucking as I continued rubbing her clit with my thumb. 

His hands were firm, strong and controlling as he continued to spread her thighs, yet gentler than she would have predicted he would be.  And they were warm, so warm.  God!  It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel so damned good.  A whisper of soft heat played down her neck, and Kate tried not to pull away when he stroked her in the most intimate places between her thighs.  She’d forgotten how much she loved having a man touch and stroke her legs.  Instead, she tried to let herself sink into the sensations, bargaining with herself as she did.  It was just business; what harm was there in letting this child have his fun just this one time? 

Kate suddenly felt so relaxed and tired and her eyes wanted to close.  She felt wave after wave of warmth build in her lower belly and her thoughts truly began to tremble.  She was aware that she needed to do something to break the spell that was growing so strong between them.  Her outstretched hand touched the bedside table.  The solid feeling induced unbidden images to invade her mind as Jimmy of the slow moves and languid grace held himself motionless between her legs.  Her hands stilled with guilty anticipation of his next move.  She had to swallow, her throat was so dry. 

He was so warm.  His fingers traced the insides of her thighs again, traced her pelvis......

His next act, the most intimate by far suddenly jolted her brain awake.  Kate lurched up towards Jimmy, her hands splaying out to grab his hair.  She caught only a glimpse of his face as most of it was buried in her vagina, his half-hooded eyes molten as they stared directly into her soul.  Kate felt her face flame with heat one more time as she cried out in a voice that was far more breathless than she wanted.

The Unforgettable Smell Of An Aroused Woman or Success Cums Easy The First Time

The seal around Kate's pussy was almost perfect and my straining lungs were doing their best to turn her inside out from between her legs.  Kate immediately half-sat up, as far as the bustier would allow, and grabbed handfuls of my hair in both hands, trying to pull me from between her luscious thighs.

"God!  Aaaaagh!"  She cried.  "No......no......stop...... please.  Please.....stop....please.  this was....supposed to be....business....only…….bus…eee…..ness."  Her protests died out within another fifteen or twenty seconds; then slowly, after another fifteen seconds of uncooperative stiffness, she unwillingly lay back on the bed finally having given up on any attempt to stop me.  She was quiet now; her hands still grasped my hair, but now they were clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing in perfect rhythm with the suction from my mouth. 

She was no longer pushing me away but rather made soft, barely heard moans of pleasure.  Her body was an unfamiliar oasis for the male senses; a tapestry of dramatic curves and fury and wonderful woman smells.  In a fit of pique, she tried once again to briefly deny me her banquet, but her pussy was beginning to flow freely now and even as she tried to push me away the insides of her thighs pressed closely against the sides of my head; the quivering pressure of her nylon-covered flesh rhythmically increasing and decreasing against my ears in time with the suction I applied to her fresh, wonderful pussy.

Kate was still grudgingly silent, but a quick upward glance at her dilated pupils, quickening breath and turgid nipples proved this woman was not a lesbian or one of those sexless harpies that can so destroy a man's life.  Rather, I was more sure than ever she was a serious woman that would enjoy being with a sincere man, but had instead disciplined herself against temporary relationships she knew would go nowhere.  Almost as if on cue, Kate moaned again, "Oh.....oh.....oh….my......God!"

There was no doubt that this was a woman who enjoyed a man's attentions.

I pulled my face away from her crotch and then stood up as I kept my hands over her knees to keep her ankles locked over my shoulders.  I slowly ran my hands up her shins and then stroked her slim, shapely ankles.  My hands lightly slid over the straps on her ankles, slowly drifted feather-light down the insides of her calves once more, working my way towards her knees and finally the insides of her thighs, always pushing her knees further and further apart.  Her knees resisted for the tiniest second, then spread wide even as her ankles remained locked around my shoulders and crossed behind my neck, her toes pointed directly at the ceiling. 

Stopping for a moment to enjoy stroking the inside of her thighs, I dropped to my knees again.  This allowed me total access to the deep, wet V that again beckoned once more from beyond the tops of her stockings; I began working her wet vagina and clitoris with both hands this time.  Her legs finally collapsed over my shoulders and her heels drummed into my back as I continued manipulating her.

I finally shrugged her legs off my shoulders, stood up and went to her night stand drawer.  After rummaging around for a second, I found what I was looking for.  I handed Kate the vibrator with the order, “Do yourself where it feels best.”  She opened her eyes a slit to just to see what I was giving her; for the first time I could see that her eyes were a darker blue than before; a beautiful darker color that was filled with confusion.

The thirty-eight year old woman submissively obeyed now as she took the humming vibrator and slowly put it between her legs, laying it directly on her clit.  She let it rest there lightly, and as it vibrated on her hot spot, Kate's toes curled in apparent ecstasy as surges of sensuous electricity ran up and down her spine.  She had finally given up fighting whatever demon it was that she had been struggling against. 

Slowly pulling her hands away from her groin, I knelt and slid my face between her gorgeous thighs as I put her legs over my shoulders again, finally dipping my tongue into her one more time.  Her pussy was soaking wet now and gave out a wonderful musky smell.  Mrs. M moaned a soft drawn out “Yesss.  YYYyyeeeesssssss,” and slowly moved her hips to meet me as my tongue penetrated deeper and deeper; with her legs spread wide and held in the air, she was as totally open and vulnerable as she had been before, but now Kate just didn't care. 

I softly tugged at the lips of her vagina with my lips and after searching for a minute, I captured her clitoris and then sucked until it swelled up like a small penis.  I knew she was extremely sensitive there because each time I took it in my mouth and sucked, she groaned helplessly and arched her stomach into the air.  Then I changed the position of my mouth and sucked softly while covering her whole vagina again. 

Kate responded differently this time as with a belly deep groan she began to slowly grind her hips into my face while at the same time the heels of her feet began to beat a soft tattoo on my back that continued the whole time I was eating her.  The older woman had a shocked look on her face as she softly repeated, “Yes.  Dear.  Oh yes.  Oh yes!” 

This was a woman who thought she would never be tamed.  But everything was working perfectly for me and against her; she was not aware of anything more than me and what I had to offer; her beautiful blue eyes followed my face everywhere.  She was ready. 

I pulled her into an upright position sitting on the edge of the bed, then guided her hands to my groin.  Soon I put my hands on the back of Kate's head and gave her just a hint of my desire.  Without hesitation, the older woman fit the tip of my straining cock into her mouth. 

She wanted him but he still delayed, playing control games.  His dark penis sprang, erect and powerful, into her hands.  Kate felt her skin tingle and the strength of her need was surprising.  Looking at what she held, she realized that the boy was huge; he'd hurt.  She hadn't really been wounded this way for a long time. 

But she wanted to be. 

“Jimmy.”  The strength of her voice surprised Kate.  Then more softly, the further emerging edges of desire drew a flush to her face and aroused the tingling sensation of a web settling on her breasts and a feeling of liquid awareness in her thighs.  “Jimmy.  For God’s sake…..” 

His cock felt burning hot between her fingers and Kate could feel the pulse of his blood tearing through the engorged veins.  Maybe she could hurry him along.  Kate leaned forward and licked his great bulk with her tongue before trying to wedge as much as she could into her mouth.

Even as she complied, the older woman's face seemed stunned, her eyes looked as if she couldn’t believe she was doing this to me, doing this for me.  I was so large now and her mouth so…..dainty, that it was difficult for her to get her jaws wide enough to accept more of me.  My hand was entangled in the hair on the back of her head now, pulling her towards me, giving her more muscular encouragement to do a little better at satisfying me. 

At first she closed her eyes and then after a short struggle which we both knew she’d lose, she had finally closed her lips around almost four inches of steaming hot meat.  This was all she could get inside her mouth for the moment and then she started sucking and moving her head back and forth on my shaft.  She felt great, but I could also tell that she was glad when finally I pulled out of her mouth and then forced her to move.  She just was not ready for a lot of oral sex yet.

Now that Kate had submitted to my delay, I was finally ready to give her what she wanted.  I moved away from her mouth and guided her onto the center of her bed, to a place where I could better take her.  She laid on her back with her legs spread apart, one knee slightly raised.  I marveled at her breasts, jutting into the air as they responded to the design of the constrictive lingerie, the rosy pink nipples standing proudly erect now. 

“You are such an asshole,” she hissed.  But she was so wet that I could barely feel my fingers moving in and out of her.  I found the right spot and she cursed softly again, turning her face away from me and pressing it into the mattress.  She didn’t want to cum with me, for me; I knew that was part of her power play.  This was a woman that would want to squeeze every bit of soul out of a man, but would never let a man do the same thing to her. 

“Stop it,” she demanded, even as she continued moving against my hand, her internal muscles tensing with each stroke.  But I did not stop. 

Finally, Kate was ready as she looked at me with slightly dazed eyes of dark, dark blue.  Then a frown crossed her face as she attempted to recover her wits, "I’m…I’m…where's your condom?  Please….put it on, quickly.  I'm…..ready......I’m…."

I smiled as I began to climb onto her, "You don't get a condom.  You get it all, fresh.  Just the way you like."

She didn't seem to like my smartass, cavalier attitude.  Kate tried to push herself up on one elbow. "Please," she panted.  "I want you to wear a condom.  I'm not doing it with you like this; I don't know you.  I don't know who you've been with."

I was on her now and pinned her wrists above her head.  Lowering myself upon her hips and stomach, I settled onto her body, making sure to support my weight with my elbows.  She tried to struggle, but was helpless as I used my knees to force her knees apart. 

I whispered in a soothing voice, "It's going to happen, Kate.  I'm clean and it's going to be okay." 

She struggled under me for another second and I said, "There's nothing you can do to stop it, Kate.  Just stop fighting me; you'll feel it that much better without a rubber between us."

She’d known from the beginning that what happened tonight was up to me.  After a moment, she stopped wiggling and lay still beneath my belly and hips, fighting for breath. 

Taking His Pleasure Despite Her Objections or She Was Fated To Be The Man's New Toy

I moved slow and easy.  This woman was a lady, or she wanted to be treated like one at least for now.  I wanted to control her, feel her around me, feel my cock buried in her tight, hot pussy, but I didn't want to use too much force at first.  I'd rather have her want it this time; so for the moment at least, that meant it was time to be more gentle than rough.  I didn’t want to scare her tonight too much either, there would be plenty of time to be a hell of a lot rougher with her later. 

Kate lay still under me for about a minute when I let go of her wrists; she looked into my eyes from only inches away.  I kept the tip of my erection softly touching her labia, poking inside her and then backing off, touching her then pulling away.  Half an inch and then nothing.  Again and again.  Then it was decision time.  I touched her once more between her legs with the tip of my erection and suddenly, she pushed me away, saying, “No, stop.  This is a mistake.  I don’t want this; I don’t want to do this, not like this.” 

I slid my hands up her wrists again and pinned them against the bed above her head.  She struggled for a second, trying to make me obey her sudden demand to stop.  But I was too hot, too ready, had waited too long for this.  Keeping her belly and hips pinned by my weight, I took my time as I maneuvered on her groin.  When the tip of my cock felt Kate's moist, hot lips once again, I gently moved forward to complete the act.  She groaned and shook her head no, but I just smiled down at her. 

As the head of my cock first parted her lips and then entered Kate's vagina, she bucked and threw her pelvis into me, aggressively trying to throw me off of her belly.  But she couldn’t get any traction with her legs so it was useless.  She tried to tighten against me, but I pushed harder, forcing her to open up. 

Unwilling to hurry, I gave her a few more slow in-and-outs, with only an inch or two ever penetrating the steaming, wet lips of her pussy.  Her face changed even as I watched and I loved watching the terrified, yet arrogant look slide from her face, to be replaced by one of ……fear.  Kate continued to struggle, becoming increasingly violent as she lay beneath me.  But as long as she'd been without a man, I felt that this was part of what she needed....being trained to wait on my needs.  I would tame this bitch whether she wanted to be or not.  She screamed softly once, a sound of need and desire that had true desperation as its icing. 

I finally stopped moving and lay unmoving on her belly with only two inches inside her.  When I began the short drives into her again, I made sure that the angle into her body ensured maximum friction between the thick shaft of my cock and her clitoris.  She couldn’t stop me and she knew it.  Even better, her eyes told me how much she actually wanted me to continue even as she kept shaking her head no. 

Suddenly, I knew and I released her wrists.  She was ready, finally wanted all of me inside her.  But I wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t complete any of the strokes that would start Kate towards release.  She grabbed my face and looked deeply into my eyes; she instinctively knew I was doing this to torture her, but at this point she didn’t care—we both knew that all she wanted was my cock buried inside her.  At first, she just lay there, but within moments began moving helplessly in an increasingly erratic way.  Her legs began writhing, slickly moving up and down mine.  I felt her hands pulling harder on my ass, and then she began moaning. 

Finally, knowing that we had punished each other sufficiently, that I wanted her as much as she wanted me, that I just had to feel my cock buried up to the hilt in her hot, wet pussy, I grabbed Kate around the neck with both hands and began lightly choking her while I gave a giant thrust of my hips.  She groaned and there was sweet release as she took me in deeper, and then even more.  I had finally buried every inch of my erection inside her pussy.  Her ass felt firm as my balls slapped against her crack.  Her pussy was wet and tight and felt burning hot to me.  It was a delicious wet heat a man could drown in.  She reacted instantaneously, arching her belly into my and giving a long drawn out scream, “Aaahh ........ heeeee ....... yyyyeeesssss!” 

I was still choking the woman under me as her fingernails dug painfully into my shoulders and upper back; soon I soon felt her hands slide down my back to the cheeks of my ass where they dug in again as she tried to pull me into her ever more deeper.

Kate’s stocking covered legs came up and locked around my waist of their own accord for a moment, then smoothly slid down my flanks before they intertwined with my legs---I loved the feel of her nylon-clad legs moving across my skin.  At the same time, her hands slid around my shoulders and her fingernails began to dig into my back.

I again tried to remain motionless while inside her, but the way she was thrashing and throwing her hips and belly against me made me helpless.  I wasn’t fucking her; the truth was she was fucking me.  Letting go of her neck, I waited until her hips bucked into the air again before I grabbed her ass with both hands and held on for the ride---I'd let her wear herself out under me, then fuck her brains out. 

Her ass was so firm, so muscular beneath my hands; someday, I promised myself, I would have her there too.  But for now, I centered myself on her body and hung on; every time she bucked or arched her belly into me and raised her ass off of the bed, her arched body supported all my weight too.  I knew from experience that a woman her size couldn’t take being ridden like this for too long before she either came or was just too tired to continue.

She arched against the man on top of her another time.  Waves of heat built, threatened to crash.  It was incredible, the way he held her, poised, almost breathless…..  It was impossible to speak. 

Then body and mind sensations merged, colliding with a rush of incredible, barely remembered pleasure.  She was soaring.  Felt him soaring inside her, rising with her as he grabbed her buttocks and held her.  It felt as if a thousand wings beat against her skin, inside her skin, inside her heart.  She felt his passion, felt it flow into hers.  For a moment, she glimpsed her face as if through his eyes, her hair drifting like a cloud around her, down her arms, over his.  Behind them and around them; gray fuzzy soft everywhere. 

And then the gray fuzzy soft exploded into bright silver stars, a thousand, a million.  She closed her eyes and still they danced through her eyelids, sparkling.  The two of them plunged through it all, clinging to each other.  Spiraling upwards.  Then the spiraling slowed and a warm wind rushed over her, past her, around her.  Gentling her, caressing her.  She’d felt that wind before, a long time ago.  But she just couldn’t remember where and with whom. 

The muscles in her abdomen quivered once more.  And even though she wanted to, she had nothing left to give him. 

I was fucking her as fast as I could now, while my fingers worked to bring her to the edge.  She started to moan, a deep, guttural sound I had never heard before.  I rammed myself into her, not caring if I left marks up and down her body, not caring if I broke her.  And so it was, in less than three minutes she arched off of the bed, holding her body bowed into mine for as long as she could while her hips shook with quick little jerks of pleasure to a mind numbing orgasm that went on and on and on.  When she finally came, she was gripping me so hard it almost hurt to be inside of her.  I'd reluctantly released her gorgeous ass by this time and was choking her again.  Her face was flushed red both from her effort and a lack of oxygen, but she didn't care, only continued digging her nails into my back and leaving scratches that would take a week to heal. 

Finally exhausted, she collapsed beneath my weight and lay pinned under me, trying to catch her breath.  She stared sightlessly at the ceiling while her fingernails fluttered on my shoulders and back; my engorged, unsatisfied cock still buried in her pussy, totally filling her there. 

I rested between her widespread knees.  Her feet were tangled with mine; but even as gone as she was, Kate still knew to be cautious with her heels and not rake me.  She'd gotten what she hadn't even been aware she'd needed from me, but we both also knew that I hadn’t fucked her yet like I wanted.  I knew that while my cock inside her now hyper-sensitive vagina must feel enormous, she knew I was not yet satisfied and her debt not yet paid off for tonight.

Finally raising myself onto my elbows and off my fantasy woman, I noticed the deep flush on her gorgeous chest.  There was no possible way that Kate could fake that rush of blood to her breasts; I had just given the woman of my dreams the first orgasm of our relationship.  And it appeared to have been a great one too.  Looking deep into her eyes, I lowered myself onto her upper torso; I then reached under her shoulders and slid my hands towards along her arms towards the head of the bed until I could grab her wrists and immobilize her.

Keeping her wrists pinned once more, I began moving my hips, slowly sliding my cock in and out, in and out.  Although she had just experienced probably one of the best orgasms of her life, Mrs. M was still a healthy female and I could tell her body was again beginning to react to my moves.  God, thank you for women's multiple orgasms. 

I felt her legs start to move again, encircling and pinning me, trying to stop me from moving.  She was still staring into my eyes when I leaned down and bit her neck, pinning her tender skin between my upper teeth and lower lip.  As I took my first hard nibble, I heard her breath hiss as she quickly inhaled, but she never made a move to stop me.

I continued my slow assault on her pussy for a minute and then changed positions, opening my legs wider than Kate’s before pinning her thighs between the insides of my knees, forcing her to close her thighs around my penis.

The sensations of my cock and ballsack sliding in and out of the constricted nylon canyon formed by her firm, tightly closed thighs was almost overwhelming.  I also loved the feeling of control this gave me over a woman; I was so big that once I was in a woman this way, even with her legs closed against me there was still nothing she could physically do to stop me from fucking her.  I was almost overcome for a moment by the multiple sensations I felt between Kate's thighs, then I regained control. 

In an act of pure sexual control, I slapped her face back and forth a couple of times; not hard enough to hurt her, but certainly hard enough to assert my momentary ownership in bed.  Her face reflected sudden shock, but within only a few seconds though, that look had morphed from surprise into uncontrollable lust.  At that point, her face and neck were flushed bright red from both humiliation and desire, but not necessarily from my blows.

At my next command, Kate hesitated only for a second and then meekly rolled over onto her left side, extending her left leg flat out on the bed and scissoring her right leg into the air.  Resting on my knees, I used them to pin her left leg between my thighs as I rested my weight on it.  I next grabbed her right leg and kept her knee locked as I pulled her uprightly extended leg tightly against my chest, then I leaned forward into her and pushed her right leg even further back towards the right side of her upper body.   This allowed incredibly deep penetration into her vagina as I clutched her knee against my chest with my left hand and kept her right foot pinned against my cheek with my right hand. 

As if from a distance, I heard her groan and plead for me to let her leg down; that I was too big to do this to her, that I was too deep inside her; that I hurt her when I did this.  But the barely heard pleas for mercy, for release went unheeded, and as the woman of my dreams, she suffered because of that.  I penetrated this bitch to the top of her vagina, to the very entrance to her cervix, but somehow retained enough control to push no further.  Regardless of how much pain I wanted to give her, I needed to be careful to fill Kate, but not consume her. 

At least not yet. 

I shouldn't have been so violent the very first time, shouldn't have made the sex so much more than a woman from her station in life was used to, but I couldn't help myself.  And surprisingly, thankfully, she rose to the occasion, responding without thought, without reservation. 

The more I hurt her, the more I dominated and humiliated her, it seemed the harder she fucked me back.  It seemed she couldn’t help herself as she responded to her own unspoken needs.  This was a side to Kate I thought no one else knew existed.  She took my blows and thrusting hips with magnificent erotic submission, as if her pain was somehow proof of my virility and of the rightness of what I did to her tonight.

My assault on her body continued until it built into a perfect storm.  And now came the deluge.  With sudden and immense power, I gave a primal roar of pleasure and exploded.  My seed jetted into Kate's body with the force of a thousand hurricanes.  The animal inside was let out with that release, but my body remained tense for another moment, my muscles tight, my thighs twitching as even there the nerves were over-stimulated.  Such raw power.  I felt such raw, goddam power over her.  I closed my eyes and groaned, my cock still buried inside the woman of my dreams, her body shaking a bit as she came off that last sensation.

Mostly closed for the last couple of minutes, her blue eyes snapped opened at the first beating sensations of my seed in her belly and then she grabbed me and hugged me so hard I could almost feel my neck crack.  I came in pulses and each white hot wave seemed to penetrate deeper into this beautiful woman, washing over her very femininity until Kate's eyes threatened to roll up in her head from the overwhelming physical and emotional sensations. 

Finally it was over and the woman beneath me continued shuddering in an orgasm that lasted another minute.  My own release had been so savage that I ended up collapsed on top of her, every part of me sore and soaked with sweat. 

Women like Kate were teenagers at one time.  Teenage girls are little different from teenage boys in many ways; each has their own dreams and sexual fantasies.  But girls grow into women and their early dreams are often shattered as life or we males disappoint them.  Some women, women like Kate, endure an unfulfilled life they never expected....or deserved.  They learn to act in ways that gets them through the day or perhaps even protects them from the feeling the loss of what they never had.  And then one day, someone offers them one final, last chance at satisfaction. 

And some, a lucky few, will leap in anticipation.

As an athletic woman with a strong personality, she was surprisingly soft and yielding, very submissive in bed once I got her started.  There was no romance here, no soft and tender love.  I took what I wanted and so did she.  It was sheer, brutal, magnificent sex; nothing more.  She allowed me to use her body to earn what she wanted, the first installment of money to pay her bills.  It was only a bonus that she was physically satiated now, stretching like a sensuous cat arising from a nap.  Just before we both fell asleep in bed, Kate sleepily asked me to make sure I left before her neighbors were awake. 

I smiled, happy to have cracked her mask of cool.  It had been clear before that she liked to play power games with men, now I knew she yearned to play games in bed too.  But now she knew first-hand that I could surprise her too.  It was always like this between men and women, wasn’t it?  A form of combat, a constant attempt to seize the initiative.  A game.  I’d just made her show her hand a little, and she’d revealed a different version of herself, a sense of outrage, but a clear vulnerability too. 

I felt newly vibrant, energetic, ready for more.  The sight of Kate had cued adrenaline to wash through me like some kind of mythical cure-all.  My muscles felt tight, my head felt clear, I felt as if gauze had been lifted from all my senses: I had never seen so clearly, so distinctly.  The desire to fuck this woman senseless was a wonderful, powerful thing.

I lay on my side with my arm draped over the woman I now knew I could successfully own; but I had to ask myself, was this what I really wanted? 

It was, and I knew I would own her, own her body and soul, before I was done. 

As a last act before going to sleep, Kate had removed her heels, but that was all.  A few minutes later, somehow, despite the fact that the woman still wore the tight bustier and stockings, she was breathing evenly and appeared asleep; multiple orgasms and long periods of wild, unfamiliar and unrestrained sex can do that to you.  I was finally beginning to get my breath back and was admiring the perfection framed by her cupless lingerie, when I noticed the bright red flush beginning to fade from her chest and breasts.  With a smile of release and contentment, I rolled over and immediately went to sleep.

Sudden Wood or Almost More Than She Could Handle

I awoke early in the morning with a raging erection; she lay on her back next to me and was still asleep, but with knees slightly spread she was openly available.  So I quickly dropped between her lush thighs and brutally took Kate a second time to obtain release.  She was still softly snoring when I rolled between her spread legs and dropped my weight on her.  Before she was fully awake I had forced my erection into her dry pussy with one huge thrust of my hips.  At the same time, I pinned her wrists to the mattress above her head.

My mother's best friend awoke confused and frightened, and then convulsed with my first thrust.  She bucked hard, then tried to throw me off her belly as she howled like an animal, “Aaaahhhooowwww, OOOwwww, OOOOOWWWWW,” the last being at the top of her lungs.  But that didn’t bother me since she was really nothing but meat to me.  I immediately choked Kate to silence and then began taking slow, brutal, absolutely soul satisfying strokes into the woman beneath me.  Kate fought hard at first as her fists beat at my shoulders and pounded on my back, but she soon began to weaken as I choked and fucked her into submission.

I was in her all the way now.  By the fourth or fifth pussy-filling stroke, Kate's vagina was beginning to lubricate and I was into a machine-like mode of deep pile hammer slams into her body.  At that point, I finally let her breathe again.  She was fully awake now and looking at me with fear-filled eyes, but this soon faded into desire as she finally began to get into the mood for some rough, hardcore sex.

I thought with satisfaction to myself, the stupid bitch was finally getting into the act and it was about time.  She came twice as I pounded her pussy for over ten minutes before I felt the familiar stirring in my groin and knew I would soon be able to get my nuts off into my fantasy cunt one more time.  When I finally finished shooting another load into her, I gave a long drawn out groan of pleasure and rested all of my weight on her chest and abdomen with my cock still buried inside her pussy.  She continued shuddering for another minute beneath me and her fingers remained clawed into my back even though I hadn’t moved for over a minute.  She finally fell asleep with one nylon-slick leg draped over mine.  I rested for another couple of minutes, then gently disengaged myself from Kate and got up, dressed and left.

I had dreamed of being in that room my whole life and last night I had been granted admission.  I was on the inside now and I left with a funny, buzzy feeling in my head.  The world looked different.  The sun glittered harder.  Trees swayed and shook in applause.  All of a sudden, I felt like a visitor from another planet.  Deliciously displaced.

Not Your Average Home Cumming Queen or Nothing’s Changed, The Lady’s Still A Tramp

It was 10 AM; Mrs. Kate McCullough lay in bed and stretched her arms and legs languorously.  She felt ecstatic and guilty at the same time.  She had just checked the credit union and found he'd deposited the money as promised. 

Last night had been wonderful, but this morning had scared her a little.  Nevertheless, the sex had been fabulous.  My God, to be actually be paid money to do that! 

Suddenly tears filled her eyes.  They felt hot and sore as she smelled his scent still fresh on her pillow.  She hadn’t cried over something like this for almost twenty years, hadn’t done anything like this for almost twenty years.  The effort then had wrung the last tears out of her, had made her stony, like a high, cold mountain desert.  But now, once more a man wanted to enter her life and the thought scared her.  At his appearance she had perhaps felt the first fall of rain on the arid wilderness she called her heart.  She felt the possibility of greening under his touch, blossoming like the desert after the first rains. 

Everything seemed different this morning.  Richer.  More vivid.  Just breathing was a sensual experience, and as she breathed, the silk top she wore whispered against her shoulders.  “It feels wonderful,” she whispered to herself.  But nothing was really different.  Nothing had really changed.

Without a doubt, his predilection for sexual violence had scared her just a little at first.  The boy was untrained, but she knew she could change that if she cared enough to respond to him.  But one thing was for sure; it'd been waaay too long between men.  She'd forgotten how good it felt to have a man in her bed every now and then.  Damn, and when he woke her up with that big surprise......  She was still a little sore and realized that she’d never fully.....appreciated...how grown up Jimmy had become.  Last night had been a very interesting reminder.  She felt some guilt, a minor sense of betrayal about what she'd just done with the boy, but his mother had to know she would do just about anything to keep her home.....to keep her place in the community in which she had lived and worked for so long. 

Besides, it wasn't like she'd propositioned him or anything.  Her best friend's son, a millionaire no less, had offered to make her his mistress, had made the offer on his own and in his mother's house to boot; then had visited her last night fully prepared to exploit the offer.  He wasn't too bad at exploiting his over-sized dick like a man with some experience either.  Both of them had circled each other last night like wild dogs sniffing each other's tail, trying to make up their minds as to who would be dominant and who not.  And even after everything she'd allowed him to do to her, Kate knew they still hadn't really sealed any deal.

Still, it had been fun; it felt good to be back, to be a woman again.  But almost like a retractable tape measure, she felt herself beginning to dry out and coil back up again inside.  Those few hours with the young man had temporarily untwisted her, stretched her out, aired her out.  But no matter how much Unwound felt better than Wound, no matter how much you tried, there was no hanging onto it on your own.  Having a man around was what made her feel this way and only a man would keep her this way.  The problem was, she had taught herself to be comfortable as she was on her own and with no one to answer to, if only she could just pay off the creditors.

Plus, there was always that....dark part of her that she'd only let out on the prowl once a long time ago.  Just once and it had scared her so much she had never allowed herself that experience again.  It was so hard to keep a part of yourself hidden for so long.  But maybe, just maybe, it was time again.  She closed her eyes and put her hands around her breasts, and pinched her nipples with her fingers. 

After that one experience so many years ago, all she had allowed herself since then were the fantasies.  But who was she going to fantasize about today?   After last night with Jimmy?  She increased the pressure on the sides of her nipples and, as usual, the first thoughts to come to mind were of a martial nature.  Men in uniform.  Sweaty men in combat.  Guards in strange, foreign dress uniform outside government buildings and palaces.  All of them tall, big, handsome.  But now with Jimmy’s face. 

The best part of the image was the power of the submachine-gun resting between their feet, primed, safety off, ready.  That had to be a phallic image, if ever there was one!!!

She allowed herself to go back to the long-ago event one more time.  Guns!  Ahh, that was something then, even at that naive, young age.  Hard, cold, delicious to the mouth, heavy and painful in her vagina.  Ecstatic pain; agony from heaven.  She remembered the marine and his games.  He'd been Kate's first lover after her husband had passed away; there had been so few since then that she still remembered him as if it were yesterday.  The awakening she'd undergone, but had sensibly refused since then.  The day in which it had all suddenly made sense. 

What had she been, twenty-three, twenty-four?  Rising and falling, enveloping and then releasing him with her body.  His eyes closed, pushing, pushing the pistol deep in her mouth.  The click of the trigger as one by one the empty chambers were eliminated.  Fellating cold metal, her body high, counting, waiting for the last click that would detonate and explode in her head. 

Four, five....what was she doing, she'd screamed to herself in a panic at the last second.  She had a child, but somehow it hadn't seemed to matter up until that last moment.  The metal wrenched itself from between her lips at the last second and a deafening shot rang out somewhere to the side of her head.  She'd heard herself scream, almost dead with pleasure. 

Kate felt her nipples harden in her fingers and her breathing came in sharp gasps.  Gunmetal!  How she'd wanted him to......

She stopped.

So maybe as a part-time lover?  If it ever got out, they'd call it the Lady Chatterley complex, her desire to have power over a handsome young man.  He'd want more sex; what man didn't?  She'd have to be careful, let him pay off her bills while she brought him along slowly.  For as much as she'd enjoyed it, the boy was a little bit of a wild card.  A little too brash; and not particularly polished either. 

It had seemed so simple at first and he so desperate.  That thing on the edge of the bed had been totally out of the blue, but was still amusing in a sexy, I-let-him-dominate-me-for-fun-just-that-once sort of way.  Was he worth spending time with to see how easily he could be trained? 

The thought was intriguing, but Kate knew she needed to make sure there was no more uncontrolled rough stuff, no more biting or choking unless she initiated it.  Nothing she couldn't control.  No more being woken out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night with a tree-trunk being pushed into your body from between your legs.  No more outfits designed by some idiotic teenage boy still overcome with terminal acne. 

She sat on the edge of her bed and breathed in his aroma, their aroma together.  So what am I doing here? Kate asked herself.  You know full well what you’re doing here.  You’ve just had one of the best fucks of your life, and now you’d sort of like a man, a big strong man to hold you and love you…if only for a while.  But that’s silly.  That stereotype went out the window a long time ago.  Okay, maybe the boy would like someone to hold him instead?  She smiled to herself.  All these rules.  You’re almost forty years old.  Just how long do you expect to be able to play these games with him?  For as long as he was willing to pay her good money….that was the answer.  Certainly for more money than she’d gotten out of him so far. 

Paths that lead to the most profound destinations, to moments of illumination or change, have nothing to do with actual travel, but rather negotiate a mental geography.  A case in point: she was confused by Jimmy's fixation on her.  She was certainly willing to take advantage of it, but it still confused her.  Kate didn't believe he was in love with her, didn't see how that could be possible.  But exactly this sort of thing had happened to the marine of long ago and she hoped this wasn't the case now. 

Love had not been kind and Kate had a low opinion of it, of its power to distract and injure.....but she had to admit that distraction and injury would be good teachers for the young man.  The thought of true love scared her and the more she’d tried to quantify it over the years, the more she had realized that for her it ranked well below that of security and stability. 

Kate realized she was still looking for a glimmer of excitement to brighten her life, yet had not really expected anything like this.  She had, in a way, been seduced by the role she'd finally accepted, seduced into believing her life was ruled by mediocrity, that eternal boredom would be her lot in life.  Yet at the same time, it had also seemed so full of designs, patterns, coincidences, and cycles that almost indicated the existence of some magical power.  But these things were the result of subtle natural processes, and the longer she lived, the wider her experiences, the more complicated her life became. 

Eventually one was captured, bound in the midst of so many interactions that nothing was simple anymore and everything was subject to interpretation.  And interpretation was a waste of time.  Even the most logical of interpretations was merely an attempt to herd mystery into a cage and lock the door on it.  And it was equally pointless to seize upon patterns, to rely upon them.  The only effective course was entrenchment, to admit to the mystery, to protect against it.

But if she played her cards right, everything could be the way she wanted it, exactly the way she liked it.  A nice, steady diet of super-sized meat that could be controlled; nothing obtrusive or obvious, just a nice young malleable lover.  Oh, if she went through with it, she would still have to dress up for him sometimes, at least at first, but Kate was sure that eventually she'd be able to wean him from his immature ways. 

She suddenly realized that for the first time in a long time, she actually felt alive.  Completely and exquisitely alive.  It would be fun to go for a swim or even go for a drive in a convertible with the top down.  Then it hit her, it would be the most fun of all to have sex with him again.  She imagined the weight of Jimmy’s hands on her thighs, the feel of exultingly hard erection in her hands, skin soft as a rose petal.  Her nipples were dark now, painfully sensitive, engorged with blood.  The faint bitter taste of steel that existed now only in her memory left Kate’s mouth as images of the young man flooded in and her hand wandered down between her legs. 

It certainly was something worth contemplating.

Kate Amused Him or She had No Idea He Pursued A Darker Path

I was not necessarily always a brutal man or even an abusive lover, but this woman brought out the worst in me.  The more I thought about what we had done last night, the better I felt about the way I had treated her.  She deserved to be slapped around; maybe even worse than that.  I wanted to tie her up, dominate her, hurt her, and then take her when she had nothing more left to give, nothing more hidden inside.  All I knew was that last night had changed me; if possible it made me harder, colder, more manipulative than ever before.

I called Kate the next afternoon to set up another love rendezvous.  As soon as she recognized my voice, she became furious.  “Don't you do that again!  Don't you EVER do that again!  Don't even think that you can do that to me again!  I will never let you treat me that way again!”  She spluttered to a stop, but I could still hear her heavy, excited breathing over the phone. 

I was surprised into silence at first.  Her outburst was the last thing I had expected, but then I think that I sort of understood.  I’d been a little rough at first, but I knew that this woman had enjoyed being fucked last night as much as I had enjoyed giving it to her.  She was attempting to regain dominance in the relationship.  I asked slowly, “What exactly do you think I did?”

She replied, her voice still full of heat, “Don't pretend you don't know what you did.  I have bite marks on my neck and bruises from you choking me. That really scared me and I will never allow a man to do that to me again.  No man will treat me that way.”

There was silence again and I forced myself not to react to her provocation, but then the bitch continued.  “No more stupid, embarrassing, uncomfortable outfits.  I'm not some college girl that you can dress up like a Barbie doll and I'm not a slut.  And I won't let you turn me into one.”

At this point, I knew I needed to define the ground rules for her one more time.  “Listen.  Kate, please listen carefully.  Here's the deal.  You can act like a bitch and get as upset as you want, but I will not change one bit of what I want from you.  You are a beautiful woman, a totally desirable woman.  You belonged to me last night and I LIKED the way you looked.  I liked what we did last night; even more important, I know you liked it too.  And that’s what I want, that, nothing less than that.”

I calmed down a little now.  “You may not feel like you're able to give me that again, and if that’s the case then I’m sorry.  You have no idea how sorry I would be about that.  But I'm not changing how I feel or what I like just to suit you.  If you're unhappy, we’ll just have to agree that the deal's off.  You’ll still get your one month’s rent, but no more.  We’ll each just go our separate ways.”

There was silence for a second and then her voice began to rise with emotion as she answered.  “You must think I'm a real whore if you think I'm going to agree to keep doing this with you like it was last night.  As it is, I'm going to have use makeup to cover my bruises and hide the bite marks with a high-collared blouse.  No amount of money is worth the potential embarrassment or the way I look at myself in the mirror the next morning.”

“Fine,” I replied.  “We're done.  I hadn't realized how much I'd hurt your pride last night.  But, the offer still stands.  If you change your mind, let me know ...... give me a call.  But now you know exactly what you'll be getting into, if you do call.”

I suddenly let the cold rage and hot frustration I felt edge a little into my voice.  “One more thing.  I'm tired of this back and forth stuff, the 'I'm so unhappy with everything' routine that seems to dominate your life.  If you call me back about this, if you want to get into this again, we do things the way I want and you'll cooperate.  I'll be paying for you; you WILL be my mistress at that point and you'll give me exactly what I want…..every time I want it.” 

I stopped to catch my breath and realized how I must have sounded to the woman I had fantasized over for so long.  She still didn't know me after fifteen years; she hadn't taken the time really to find out anything about me...ever. 

But I was pretty sure she knew me now. 

I hung up on Kate, my face flushed with anger; she would pay for this.  I inhaled deeply and then worked at calming myself down.  Oh well, I'd had one night of fabulous sex with her, which was more than I'd ever expected in my life.  But because of what had just happened, if she called back and I had another opportunity, I was going to get an additional pound of flesh and destroy her in the bargain, if it was the last thing I did.

I waited.  Two days, three days passed and no call.  The end of the month came happened, I was more determined than ever now to get her back.  On the fourth of September, I received a hang-up call.  I answered the phone; long silence before disconnection.  Caller ID told me it was Kate; clearly, bluffing technology was not her strong point.  The next morning, my phone rang again and it was Kate.  It seemed she just wanted to talk; I realized that just listening to her voice made me hard.  Or perhaps it was the sense of anticipation on my part and clear apprehension on hers that seemed to drench our abrupt conversation; we both know we were going down the same old road together again and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

We decided to meet for coffee at a small place about fifteen miles away from her home, far enough away to ensure she was not recognized.  She was waiting in line when I arrived.  The weather was beautiful and again she was wearing jeans, T-shirt, baseball cap and sneakers.  She began to work her lower back as I arrived, unconsciously stretching her arms backward; her hands meeting in a knot behind her back.  She caught my gaze then and realized that without intending to she had pushed her breasts forward towards me.  My eyes had widened in response and she hastily repositioned her arms, but it was clear that the image had lingered with me. 

She would do anything, I thought, just to disguise her incredible sexuality.  Kate sat with an open-legged posture, arms and legs apparently arranged without concern for the impression she made.  But the subtext was unmistakable; for the first time, I saw an open, challenging sexuality that she had never completely harnessed to the emotional drives that supported it. 

I made a point of examining her neck.  It looked fine to me, but she blushed and reflexively covered her throat with her left hand.  I had to smile at this and her lips thinned as she began to get angry again.  I had not even sat down and already I'd pissed here off.  I turned and began to leave when I heard her voice asking me to wait.  I turned back to her table.

“One of us,” I said, “is going to have to change if this is going to work, and it won't be me.  And another thing.”  I stopped and looked directly into her eyes.  “I don’t want to scare you by pushing too hard, but I’m going to want to do a little more than just seeing you dressed up for me.  You can take that for what it’s worth and you can take it to mean whatever you want it to mean.  But I don’t want any surprises here from this point on; I’m just giving you a head’s up about where I’m coming from.”

She looked down at her coffee for a long moment, then took her sunglasses off and nodded agreement at her drink.  She didn't look up at me for about half a minute.  When she did raise her face I could see that her eyes were red.  “No more fighting.  What you want, you get.  I'll probably hate it, what you want from me, but I have no other options now…..do I?  Time's already run out for me.....can I get more money from you?  I have to make certain......payments soon, and I have no other choices.  Can I?” 

Terrill needed more money is what she was trying to avoid admitting.  She must really love that asshole son of hers if she was willing to prostitute herself like this for him. 

“Yeah,” I replied.  “There are always ways to get more money when you need it.  But I don't want any more complaints from you.” 

She nodded her agreement. 

“Okay.”  I thought for a second.  “I'll know how much I can get you in a couple of days.”  I wanted to leave her with the impression that her money depended upon how much I could easily obtain.  The reality was I would be giving her exactly what she earned on her back over the next few days.  Like any good little whore, the more she cooperated, the more she earned.

“I want a key to the back door of your place.  This afternoon…as soon as I leave.  Have one made at the Door Store and leave the copy there in an envelope with my first name on it.  I want to make sure that that gets done, so do it first."  She looked at me for a long moment and then nodded reluctantly. 

The look on her face told me I was probably pushing her too fast.  I needed to change gears a little, so I said, “I know I’ve been a little demanding.  Let me make it up to you.  Let me take you out tonight.”  Kate looked a little surprised, but I continued, “I know a place that we can go and no one will know you or me.  We’ll have a good time and you can get to know me, the real me, a little better.”

She still seemed less than enthusiastic, but finally nodded her agreement. 

“Good,” I said.  “I’ll pick you up at seven.  We’ll go into town and eat and then I’ll take you someplace you’ve never been and you’ll enjoy it.  I promise.”

I continued in a headlong, reckless fashion.  "I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.  When I arrive, I'll also want a remote that controls your garage door.  I'll be coming by at irregular times from now on, and you need to be able to get ready for me at a moment’s notice.  You and I will be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.  Those are my terms.  That's what I want.  That's what'll make me happy.”

I didn't really want to set up regular dates to see her each week, but I didn't want Kate to take my absence for granted either.  I wanted her ready to get prepared for me without prior notice, whether or not I showed up.  I wanted the strength of not being tied to a schedule of what was convenient for her or having to respect her mood regarding whether or not it was a good time for me to show up.  Let her stay dressed up all night long for all I cared.  I just wanted to get her used to being available to fulfill my needs at any time.

Kate instinctively began to shake her head no at my demands, instinctively entering her negotiation mode.  But she stopped quickly as she realized what she was doing.  She closed her eyes and looked down for a second, then looked back up at me with a resigned expression and nodded her agreement to all of my demands. 

Good.  She was resigned to satisfying my demands and my needs. 

I'd just given her the stick, now I gave her the carrot.  I told Kate I had to put some extra money in the bank just for her to go out and do some shopping.  I wanted Kate to buy herself some sexy clothes, skirts and blouses, sun-dresses, a tiny black party dress and an evening gown.  She became more animated at the thought of shopping for clothes, even if they weren't what she'd normally buy for herself.  Suddenly in a better mood, Kate giggled and agreed to go out right away and buy the "naughty" stuff for me. 

Just what the doctor ordered.

There was nothing further that needed to be said between us, so I left my new mistress sitting at the table by herself.  I went out and also shopped for some suddenly immediate needs, after which I called her on the cell phone.  Kate was in a great mood.  She had already had copies of the keys made and, as I had suspected, she was already neck deep in shopping and wouldn't be home for at least another couple of hours.  Thank God for women's shopping genes.

A Cruel Destiny Planned or Setting The Stage, Rigging The Game

Time to go to work now.  I drove around to the back of her house and let myself in with the extra key she'd just had made for me.  Following her phone on the previous day I’d visited a small out of the way electronics shop and paid cash for small, state of the art cameras and wireless transmitters along with extra long-life batteries for each.  I went into the attic of Kate’s home and installed multiple pinhole cameras lenses in the ceiling and walls and heating ducts of her bedroom and in the two main rooms downstairs. 

When I finished, four cameras were zoomed in on her bedroom from different angles, another three were focused on the dining room and there were two more in the living room.  Each had extra powerful batteries I could turn on and off remotely and I could download video and audio feed from up to a quarter of a mile away with a wireless burst signal.  With her house key, I would be able to replace the batteries whenever she was gone and make sure everything was working. 

The bedroom was a no-brainer.  But her dining room and living room?  I had plans for Kate and those rooms, but I just hadn't taken my mistress far enough down that road yet.  Soon, though.  Very fucking soon.

Next, I wore a baseball cap over low over my face when I visited a Kinko's on the north side of Boston and registered three internet domains under variations of Kate's name.  As a caring friend, I was determined to help this woman maintain her online identity.  Like the advertising blurb said, “....people like Kate often missed the importance of having their own unique domain name for their web sites.” 

I was going to ensure that whichever domain I finally used represented her online presence better than any old-fashioned business card ever could have done.  They were right, I thought to myself; if you don't have your own domain name, you won't be able to promote your online identity and web site on the World Wide Web.  And since no two parties can ever hold the same domain name simultaneously, her Internet identity would be totally unique. 

Best of all, it would be extremely difficult for her to prove she had not created this site herself, as her own personal online identity. 

On the flip side of the argument, Kate might not appreciate the fact that I planned an open-access XXX porn site that would feature edited versions of her best sexual performances from this point on.  The site could conceivably provide entertainment for months to hundreds or even thousands of eager viewers, and with the free downloads I had planned there was a real chance that she could become an internet porn sensation with who knew how many downloads by next summer; she would be a porn star that would forever exist in the hard drives of future generations of teenage boys as a beautiful thirty-eight year old slut. 

If she lived to be a hundred and ten, her-great-grandchildren would still be able to look on the internet and see what grandma looked like at thirty-eight when she was getting her brains fucked out.  I figuratively rubbed my hands together in delight as I thought of what I would do to this bitch's life over the next few months.  Now that she had agreed to be my mistress, I took the next step and began to design a web site.  At the same time, I also subscribed for the first time to an expensive company that promised both security and computer access to the largest set of personal data that could be “legally” obtained in the U. S.  While I had always planned on using this service at some point, I had not gotten around to actually doing it before.  But now, I figured that it would be of some use in obtaining dirt on Kate.

Their first date together.  He’d asked and Kate had accepted, but to what she was not sure.  She thought it might be a good idea to stand out a little from the women around them, so she wore a crimson satin halter-top dress she’d purchased that afternoon.  It was perfect for it would catch the club’s subtle lighting in just the right way.  The accessories were right too: black patent leather heels with a closed toe; an antique silver mesh evening bag; all finished with a silver-ruched silk stole just to add some texture.  On her left wrist she wore a single bangle to catch the light; on her ears, small diamond studs selected for the opposite reason. 

They went in his car, first to dinner and then to a small jazz club near the harbor.  The dinner was good, but the jazz was great.  Not the New Orleans stuff that all sounded the same after fifteen minutes, but the real thing.  She had almost fallen asleep in his car after dinner as they headed towards the club.  But as refreshing as the cool night air by the harbor was and despite how enervated Katie felt by the smell of the harbor and salt water, she was still startled by how far her dress had hiked up on the drive over.  He opened her door and even though she tried to fix things as she got out, Katie still showed Jimmy and the attendant far more than she wanted to.  But that didn’t matter for the night turned out to be wonderful, one of the best times she’d ever had. 

It was crowded inside the small bar, with as many tiny tables as could fit within the fire code.  The Ramsey King Trio, actually a quartet this evening, played like angels, taking up very little room for the size of the jazz they produced.  The two of them sat close together, but not touching, and listened to the casual skill of the group as they drove through the intricacies of “Take Five” and other jazz classics.  She was both amazed and a little frightened at the attraction she felt for this young man.  During the break, they ordered coffee and people-watched.  Katie withdrew to the powder room halfway through the break and did a little repair work on her makeup, although everything was pretty much in order. 

A woman next to her said, “Honey, if that package don’t get it, your man must be dead,” as she smeared on more orange lipstick.”

“This is just for looks tonight,” Kate replied casually, brushing her hair.

The older woman smirked rather coarsely, “Well damn, if that’s just for looks, I’d hate to see you all decked out.”

Kate flashed a quick insincere smile, put away her things and left the bathroom.  She felt Jimmy watching her as she picked her way through the closely packed tables, along with every other male within a hundred feet.  As she sat down, their eyes met again, but this time she took several seconds to look away.  The alcohol they’d both had earlier was wearing off, but Kate knew that the attraction between them was undiminished.  Over the next half hour, the nightclub, the stage, and even the musicians faded to the periphery of her attention and she let herself become totally aware of him as she sat next to him in the dark, about one foot away, apparently totally lost in the intricate music.  She started watching him without looking, willing him to pay attention to her while she stared absently into the middle distance, wondering what it would be like just to tap man like him on the arm, look directly into his eyes, and say, “Let’s go,” knowing he would stand up without a word, and take her hand and leads her out of there. 

She had only done that only once before in her life, and she had been making love three minutes later in the front seat of the boy’s car, saved from being caught in the crowded parking lot only by the condensation on the car’s windows.  Listening to the subtle chords now, she was feeling the same warmth, the same thigh-squeezing flush of awareness and desire coursing through her veins as she sat next to the young man who had done nothing more overt tonight than look at her.  She wondered if he could feel her heat, her sexual vibrations that interwove with the guitar’s as she sat perfectly still, hands in her lap, not daring to stir as much as a finger lest she disturb this exquisite sense of being right on the edge.  Soon the set ended, as did the evening.  Neither of them said much on the drive home.  He parked in back of her home, and as usual, opened Kate’s door for her. 

Standing in front of him, she had to look up at him.  “That was a lovely evening,” she said.  “Thank you for being so much more of a….than you were last…..thank you, it was a lovely evening.” 

He looked at her seriously.  “You were lucky.  The first time, you were lucky.”

She almost stopped breathing as he looked at her.  Had he, did he---

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he said softly.  “You liked tonight, but you liked the last time too.  I can even prove it.  I’ll bet you can’t pass the count test.” 

“Prove it?  Count test?” Katie’s voice sounded weak even to her own ears.  It was as if the world had fallen silent around them, save for the sounds of wind through leaves and a car in the distance….and her ragged breathing.  And his ragged breathing. 

“Yeah.  The count test.  Let’s hear you count to ten.  Out loud.  C’mon.”

This strange calm descended over her, but she was baffled too.  She felt like she was about to cross some unseen, but important line, a line that would affect the rest of her life.  And she didn’t care if she did.  If he’d only asked her to close her eyes---

“C’mon,” he said gently, smiling now.  “Count to ten.  Out loud.”

“Jimmy---“ 

“Out loud.  One, two, three---you know how it goes.”

Katie sighed, impatiently and started to count.  “One, two, three---“ 

He looked directly into her eyes, but did not move closer, as she had expected.  Then, holding her eyes with his, he reached forward with his right hand, his index finger extended, and barely touching her, drew his fingernail slowly across the fabric of her dress, across her belly, just below the belt, from left to right.  She heard her voice quaver as he did it and she stopped counting, her voice gone, her eyes locked on his.

“See?” he said softly, withdrawing his hand and straightening up.  “In case you thought I wasn’t listening.”  He stepped back and smiled at her again. 

Still looking at him, Katie swallowed once.  His voice reverberated in her mind over and over again.  The answer is no, it’s got to be no, she said to herself.  More thoughts raced through her mind.  Okay, you had a little relapse last time, went back to your early mating games, allowed a young man to take the lead.  Fine.  But with this one, all you want is his money.  And if you had that you’d never be seeing him again.  Despite last week, you still know nothing about him. 

Suddenly, he took her hand and led her towards the door that led into her home.  In a trance, Kate silently followed his lead.  They turned on a few lights and then, without a word being spoken, they both headed for the stairs that led to her bedroom. 

An Unexpected Pleasure or This Really Hadn’t Been Part of His Plans

Kate stopped inside her bedroom and looked over her shoulder at me for a second before she walked into her dressing room and closed the door.  She didn't know that from this point on, every move she made would be caught on multiple cameras.  I smiled at the thought of Kate giving a burlesque performance in front of the cameras as she prepared herself.  Since I didn't want to cut short her current on-air camera time, I called out, “I'll be waiting downstairs.  Waiting for you to make your appearance.  Please, PLEASE take your time.”  Ten minutes dragged by.  And another five. 

Suddenly, she stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at me.  She looked absolutely amazing and my mouth suddenly went dry.  My God!  She looked sexy and vulnerable and…… 

For the first time in my life, I actually felt the tiniest bit of something for woman.  Where in hell had this come from?

“Com...."  I cleared my throat, "Come down where I can see you better.”  After a moments' hesitation to allow me full view, Kate slowly descended in that incredibly sexy way that women have when they're wearing heels and are descending steep steps.  The smooth side to side glide of their hips, their feet turned to one side, their eyes always demurely downcast to ensure good footing. 

Kate now wore a very light blue, almost slate-colored embroidered chemise with an adjustable bow in front.  It fit perfectly; cut quite low in front, it was very snug around her waist to emphasize how tiny it was and then it provocatively flared out over her hips.  The tiny skirt covered only the top couple of inches of her thighs and the low cut cups that hung from the finest spaghetti straps were just the right size to embrace and lift each firm breast.  The outfit came with a matching thong and Kate knew to put it on last, over the garter belt and stockings. 

Her feet were small for her height and perfectly shaped; her stockings so sheer I could easily see her nail polish through the open toes of the sandals.  The sandal foot taupe stockings she wore were the ultra-sheerest evening wear I could find.  If she had been wearing a dress, the stockings would have been just enough darker than her natural skin tone that you would barely know she was wearing them.  They were held up by a four garter strap belt, a look that was so much more sexy to me than the six or eight strap belts or even thigh-highs.  Women may feel that more straps equal a more secure feeling, but as a man, I loved the aesthetic look of a stocking welt with a beautiful two-point pull on it.

On her exquisite legs, the low denier nylons seemed transparent, almost as if painted on.  Her beautiful legs just glowed as she descended; pulsing with gleams of reflected light that seemed to change a thousand glorious times before my very eyes.  Her legs radiated a lustrous incandescence that shimmered from darker to lighter flesh tones, culminating in just the hint of long lines of a lighter shade over the most muscular parts of her thighs and calves.  It was almost as if the sheer, gossamer material that covered her thighs was being stretched to its very maximum over these areas of incredible beauty. 

At the same time, other areas of her legs were characterized by continually changing sets of vertical lines that always led to deeper shadows and darker flesh tones.  Each of the shadows emphasized her already well defined leg muscles with subtly different colors and tones and shades; exaggerating for a man's appreciative eye the already perfect beauty and symmetry of her legs.

She stood in front of me now and her beauty threatened to take my breath away.  I had a sudden, perverse thought; to me, the sight of a beautiful woman making stocking adjustments was extremely erotic.  On a whim, I told Kate there were wrinkles around her left ankle and that she probably needed to tighten her stocking.  While this might have seemed to many women an odd thing for a man to say, without hesitation Kate obediently bent over and unhooked the top of her nylon and readjusted it before fastening the two garters again.

Her hair hung down and covered her face as Kate leaned over to adjust the darker stocking welt that clung like a second skin to her muscular upper thigh.  The view of this beautiful, mature woman obediently bent over, breasts bobbing as she slid her hands up and down her thigh to tighten the already tightly stretched nylon, arms pushing her breasts together to create additional cleavage....in my mind I snapped an erotic picture that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. 

I’d known from an early age that almost any woman could be beautiful if just given the chance.  But this woman, the woman that had dominated my fantasies for so many years, who had remain unused by men for so long, was the perfect example of that.

A Leg Man Through And Through or His Silken Experience, Her Velvet Hole

Yes, I admit to a leg and heel fetish.  I admit to being a leg man.  I admit that as much as I admire stockings on women, it is nylons that I love.  I absolutely love a woman’s legs in nylon hosiery, the sheerer the better.  Even the word “nylons” has a seductive power to me.  You male readers, let's be honest with each other; when you see a woman with good legs on the street wearing sheer hosiery, you know you admire her nylon-clad legs long before wondering anything else about her. 

You KNOW you do; all you have to do is admit it.

On her feet Kate wore the black strappy evening sandals from our first night together.  My next purchase would include multiple sets of high-heels, enough to satisfy even a foot and leg lech like me.

She wore light makeup, just enough to emphasize her beautiful blue eyes and luscious full lips.  Her long dark hair hung loose over both shoulders and beneath it I could see earrings with large hoops. 

Her lips opened provocatively and I waited for her to say something sexy.  But what I heard was, “I don't normally wearing stockings with sandals like these.  Normally I would leave my legs bare when wearing these heels.”

I growled in immediate frustration as I grabbed this woman by the hair and pulled her towards me for a kiss.  She stiffened in my arms and it felt at first like I was kissing a window display dummy made of hard plastic.  I kissed her for about twenty seconds and suddenly she began to warm up, just a little.  Then her lips finally opened and she began to respond.  Her hands, which she had held awkwardly down by her sides, now slowly slid up my chest and ended in a pushing position against me.  But she didn't push me away at all.  Instead, her groin suddenly moved in against mine, hard enough that I knew she could feel my erection. 

We broke for a moment, then Kate leaned over and, lips parted, she ambushed me with another warm, passionate, lingering kiss.  It caught me off-guard, but only for a moment.  I took her by the shoulders and pulled her towards me.  Kate gave way, but without ceding the initiative.  She was never a passive participant--not in life, and not in kissing.

Finally, her hands went around my head and pulled me towards her.  At the same time, my hands left her head and slowly traveled down her back until I could cup her beautifully firm ass, then pull her into me even more.  We kissed like this for another minute, our tongues finally exploring each other’s lips and deeper.  Her breathing rate began to increase and soon I could feel her breasts panting against my chest. 

A typical male, my mind was on her at the moment, but other thoughts existed too; thoughts that while perhaps were a little blurred at the moment, they were also just as real none the less. 

No matter how much of her money trouble this woman thought I could solve, I didn't know how much I trusted her.  While she was undeniably beautiful, the way she'd posed at the top of the stairs was a little too contrived.  Or maybe she was just a little shy and wanted to be sure that she was appreciated?  She'd initially acted a little stiff and almost mechanical, but it seemed later she had changed to what might almost be the calculating moves of a woman who was trying to make a man think she felt something she really didn't.  On the other hand, maybe I was just a cynical bastard.

Suddenly, Kate broke free from our embrace.  I was close enough to see her cheeks had tiny red spots now where she blushed; I would like to think that she was surprised at the intensity of her emotions.  In any case, this did not seem to be the woman that had been so angry at me less than a week ago.  I hoped this was a woman that was trying to find her way in a new relationship of which she was unsure; a woman who had made a commitment and was now trying to honor it, regardless of how much she might hate what it required her to do. 

More to the point, this was, I was sure, a woman who had been without a man for too long a time.  Even if this were an act and she was a woman who hadn't yet actually re-discovered these pleasures, she at least had the grace to act as she thought a woman in her position would act.

I wanted to see how far she could be pushed and said, “I want a show.  You're so beautiful.......I've waited fifteen years to see you like this.  Show me yourself; entertain me with your beauty.”

Kate blushed prettily.  I felt stupid saying it, but like many men and women, she loved to be complimented.  And, as a woman alone, she had gone for far too long without what she thought were the sincere compliments of a lover.  She slowly stepped away from me, then turned on one heel and spun in a quick circle.  The short chemise skirt lifted and I could see her thong as it ran between her legs and came out the tight crease between her firm buttocks.  I could completely see her stockings, and my eyes were automatically drawn to the darker welt at the top of her stockings where her garters were attached.  God, this was a beautiful woman.

I smiled to myself as I moved back in and continued kissing Kate.  And I could do anything I wanted to her as long as I pretended to care for her.  But how much was I actually pretending at this point?

She was totally unaware of the existence and depth of conflicting emotions I felt; the years of seething anger perfectly balanced by a relentless desire to sexually dominate and control her, multiplied by the poorly understood feelings I had experienced only seconds ago.  I desired this mature woman more than any callow girl my age I had ever before met.  To me, she had always been the erotic symbol of the unattainable perfect goddess, a woman that would never have willingly given herself to someone like me unless motivated by dire circumstances. 

But circumstances change.

Perversely, I sensed that my success at finally obtaining the wondrous Kate had somehow in my mind also dishonored her at the same time.  She was flawless only as long as I could not have her; possession had cheapened her, made her less than perfect in my eyes too.  Kate's actions had forced me take her off the pedestal of perfection, but now she was also a more real person to me. 

But....what this was also was a situation in which I had the opportunity to both fuck senseless this beautiful, flesh and blood woman and at the same time punish the arrogant, insensitive bitch who had ruled my dreams for so long. 

As much as I found myself physically and emotionally attracted to her, in the back of my mind I could not ignore the fact that this was still the bitch who had ignored me and ruined my life when I was younger, embarrassing me in front of her son and humiliating me time and again in front of my mother and the neighborhood ladies.  This was the money hungry, opportunistic whore that was fucking me for my dollars, and the vengeful part of me wanted her friends to know it.  Even if fifteen years had passed since I'd been hurt by her, it seemed the opportunity to serve her a dish of ice-cold revenge had finally come my way.

The Second Time’s The Sweetest or It Was Still Nothing But A Business Deal

It got better and better that night.  Kate finally pulled away, and after giving me a small smile, she took my hand and led me back to the stairs.  She was trailing a whiff of more expensive perfume now.  Or maybe it was shampoo.  As a bachelor, I wasn't into the things with which women sprayed themselves.  We went up into her bedroom and I was in heaven. 

She was more responsive and kissed better than she had just a few minutes ago.  We stood near her king-sized bed and I kissed her again.  I knew her bed had gotten little real use by men over the last decade and a half.....not nearly as much as this woman's looks ensured it deserved.  Well, I planned on fixing that tonight; I planned on ensuring the lady gave a Brava performance tonight for the cameras.  We kissed once more and I continued exploring her body until we both were ready to move to the next phase.  Feeling a sense of exultation, I stepped back and began undressing. 

Kate smiled wryly at me as she said, “I feel like I've gone through this part already.  There's not much this outfit hides, is there?”

I told her to lie down on the bed on her stomach.  She moved quickly to obey and I felt a rush of both satisfaction and sexual anticipation.  I began to rub her ankles, moving my hands slowly up her nylon-clad legs.  Her eyes were closed and there was a small smile on her face.  I reached the back of her knees, paused there for a moment still stroking her firm flesh, and then kept going up her legs.  Kate’s breathing changed, and I could see that her fingers were suddenly clutching the bedding.  I caught just the smallest change in her expression and knew that she was definitely getting turned on despite her efforts to keep this from me.  I shifted and changed the movement of my hands to a more rhythmic motion, stroking her thighs lengthwise instead of in circles, doing this for several minutes until I had reached her buttocks. 

Kate was gripping the bedding harder now, and there was a tension in her muscles that hadn’t been there before.  I looked at her now flushed face and then balled my entire hand into a gentle fist and pushed it down between her thighs, letting the hard ridge of my wrist slide against her most feminine spots.  Kate moaned deep in her throat and then locked my wrist between her lush thighs.  Finally, she was the one doing all of the moving, her hips undulating slowly against me and then with increasing urgency as I splayed my fingers and held them against her groin as she took herself up that steep slope of desire, riding the hard sinews of my right forearm until her whole body went rigid and the side of her face turned crimson with the exertion of an orgasm that shook her from head to toe. 

Kate gave a great, final grunt of sheer pleasure and then began to relax to her full length, her breath catching on each exhalation until she finally swallowed a couple of times and then went limp.  I removed my hand and stroked her for a minute before I stopped. 

It was my turn now. 

I stood in front of her in my underwear, and slowly pulled the briefs off my hips and let them puddle around my feet.  I stepped out of them as I went to her again, sliding my hands around her hips and grabbing her buttocks, pulling her up and into me as I crouched slightly and pushed my erection up under the tiny skirt of her chemise. 

She gave a forced giggle at the intimate probing I did with my uncontrollable meat.  It was odd hearing Terrill's mother giggle like a school girl, but with that sound, I pulled her tight against me one more time and then slowly lowered her to the bed.  Kate lay on her back with one knee drawn up. 

Her stocking clad legs glowed with each minute adjustment she made.  Her tiny skirt was up around her hips now and I slowly moved it further, up and out of the way as my hands slowly explored between her firm thighs.  God.  She had the body of an exquisitely perfect eighteen year old and she was mine, even if just for one more night. 

She looked wonderful in a thong and willingly lifted her hips as I pulled it off.  Best of all, she'd had a bikini wax and all that was left of her pubic hair was a thin vertical line that pointed directly from her clitoris towards her belly button.  When she saw me looking at the line of her hair, she said in an almost coy tone, “I had that done last week, just for you.  I hope you like it like it.” 

Oh man.  I knew I was being manipulated, but I didn't care.  It would make a good line in her first video.  I reached down and cupped her vagina, then slowly opened and closed my hand over that exquisite cargo, grabbing her wet heat and then letting it go, over and over again.  Kate groaned softly and used her thighs to trap my hand where it was.  Her eyes had closed to just slit’s now and her head moved back and forth as she gave out soft moans of what sounded like sheer pleasure.  My mother's best friend was definitely prepared to get fucked tonight, and it sounded like she was prepared to enjoy every minute of it.

Even though somewhat down on her luck, I knew this was still a proud woman.  She would not enter into a commitment like ours on a whim.  Business-like, she'd think it through, evaluating what it meant now and what it might mean in the future.  But once she'd committed to it, to me, I thought this a woman who would also stick to her bargain.  She needed money badly, and in the end, that was really why she allowed me here with her.  But Kate was a woman who had been without a man for far too long, and that was why I was going to make sure she enjoyed being here, despite her best efforts to the contrary. 

The situation made her an eminently malleable piece of ass, just the way I wanted her.  I would take my time at first.  I would force myself to suffer through long weeks or even of months of pure sexual enjoyment before she would be where I wanted her for the next phase.

I hated the thought.

My hands drifted up from between Kate's legs and she groaned in soft, mock protest.  I pulled down the cups that covered her breasts and exposed her tits to the light for the first time that night.  She was not a large breasted woman, but her tits were absolutely perfect for her build.  The nipples were a rosy brown color and the aureoles were small, just the way I liked them. 

I leaned over and took one into my mouth, her left nipple held firmly against the back of my throat.  Kate tensed with anticipation as my tongue slid across her satiny skin.  She groaned again, a sound that I could tell was not faked this time.  I sucked softly, slowly building up both the power of the suction and the length of time I applied it.  My hands continued their gentle exploration of Kate's body, always stroking her, always touching her somewhere secret.  In the end, it defeated her willpower and destroyed any inhibitions she might still have entertained.  Her hands were soon on top of my head, sometimes pulling me away when it got too intense, then quickly pulling me back to give her more of the same. 

At the same time, my left hand probed between Kate's legs, first massaging her clit, then running my fingers up the vaginal crease towards her clit, before I finger-fucked her as I searched for her most intimate spot.  Then back to her clit and it began all over again.  She groaned and relaxed, her thighs giving way as I fondled her, gently at first, then deeper; sensing her expanding pleasure and wanting to bring it to a shuddering climax.  Within about sixty seconds, this woman was as wet as the ocean.  I looked up, along the length of her torso, and could see her head was thrown back and to the side, eyes tightly shut.  She gripped the pillow in her fist and moaned softly, her body swaying back and forth with the movement of my hands and mouth.

I knew Kate was reacting now to unfamiliar sensations, sensations I thought she might not have experienced in years.  As a result, she was quickly humping my hand with her hips and finally pulling on my head and shoulders to get me on top of her.  I was so hard at this point that I actually ached.  I obliged my mature mistress by crawling onto her belly and settling between her luscious thighs.  I held my weight up on my elbows, but grabbed her hair with both hands and looked directly into her blue eyes as with one move, I eagerly slid my erection smoothly and completely into her hot, wet, waiting cunt.  Her vaginal muscles immediately grabbed my cock and my nutsack slapped against the crack of Kate's ass as I finished stabbing her.  Her eyes closed for a second and it looked like she was giving a small prayer of thanks. 

As for me?  All I could say was.....God, it felt so good to finally be seriously fucking this gorgeous piece of ass after all of these years. 

And we both began fucking with a vengeance.  She because she had gone so long without getting regular meat and I represented what she thought was a safe male suddenly made available, providing ample opportunity to right this egregious wrong.  Me?  I had something to prove (plus she was gorgeous and available). 

We were making wild, abandoned hip and belly thrusts at each other and pushing each other's legs into tortuous positions just to get different sensations and deeper penetrations.  Absolutely wonderful sex. 

Kate relaxed into his strength and Jimmy rolled on top of her, all hard male and heated skin.  That made her shift her focus outward, to the purely physical.  She could still smell the soap from his last shower, clean and slightly salty, like the taste of him. 

She wrapped her legs around him, took his mouth as he entered her, but it was slow.  Very slow.  Long, hard, and deliriously slow.

She arched against him.  Waves of heat built, threatened to crash.  He held her, poised, almost breathless….  She arched against him once more.  Then sensations of the body and mind merged, colliding with a rush of incredible pleasure.

Kate's legs were wrapped around my waist and she was squeezing like she wanted me dead.  This was just before I slipped my arms under her knees and brought her ankles up over my shoulders. She squealed with delight through a complete range of sensations, first at being wonderfully filled with steaming hot cock, next experiencing stabbing discomfort as I bottomed out in her pussy time after time.  But I didn't care at that moment whether I was hurting her or not; Kate would quickly jump with gasps of delight or soft groans of pain, then immediately come right back for more.

I leaned forward and grabbed her hair to pin her head in place one more time. "Talk to me.  Talk dirty to me.  I want to hear you talk dirty.  Come on, you beautiful, wonderful bitch, do it." 

But she just shook her head no and continued making noises of wonder and appreciation.  Finally, although she wouldn't cooperate in this one thing, I did have her on tape begging for release, “Please, give it to me.  Plllleeaassseee give it to me.  Make me cum.  MAKE me cuuummmmm!” 

This was the extent of her dirty pillow talk and it was pathetic.  She was like a Mormon with the dirty talk.  I vowed to have her begging for it like a sailor before I was done with her.  I began slapping her face again lightly, and this time she accepted it without protest or comment.

Finally, she started to cum the first time.  All she said was, “Oh...oh...oh...oh,” and grabbed me even harder.  I kept pumping into her belly and managed to hold out through her third orgasm before I came the first time.  Again, I grabbed her hair and made her look into my eyes as I deposited my first load in her pussy.  I strained and strained to get another half inch deeper inside Kate's body, then I couldn't hold it back any longer as I came with a huge rush. 

Multiple jets and spurts of liquid heat that took almost a minute to finish.  I cannot begin to describe the feelings of pleasure, the bone-deep, almost genetic level of satisfaction I felt, the sense of........of control, of domination over this woman that washed over me as I looked down at my forever dream woman when she took that first load of semen. 

She was insatiable, but I still led her slowly towards the acts that I ultimately wanted her performing on a routine basis.  And I was successful in my endeavors, for whatever I wanted to do, that was exactly what Kate wanted all night too.  And she took it all, all night long.

I’d lost track; I had just finished cumming for the third or fourth time and Kate lay next to me, exhausted.  My muscles seem like jelly as I rolled partially on top and kissed her.  She greedily kissed me back, before her head fell to the pillow, too consumed to even move. 

Six hours later, I quietly exited Kate's garage to avoid arousing her neighbor’s curiosity.  I felt like crashing for a week and knew she must have felt the same.  I finally got home and crawled into bed, sleeping for almost twelve hours before awakening to my need for morning caffeine.

After coffee and a shower, I lazed around my apartment all day.  I couldn't get her out of my mind.  She was a sexy bitch and despite the tiniest odd feelings of….concern???.... I’d felt last night for her as a person, I remained fixated on my original goal and repeated my vow to completely own her ass before I was done with her.  Oh, I'd keep my word and pay her bills each month and even give her money to spend on that stupid son of hers. 

But she'd secure every penny with her body, and by the end, I'd make sure she knew she was nothing but an aged two-bit whore for having earned her money that way.  My mind kept leaping ahead to the end game, continually plotting new and interesting ways to embarrass her, to ultimately humiliate her, to destroy her in front of her friends and neighbors and fellow church-goers.

A Deliberate Plan of Action or Subtle Forms Of Control Were Employed

On Monday morning, I arranged a long-term rental of a new black BMW7-Series sedan, and then transferred additional money into Kate's account.  I called, let her know what I had done and offered to pay her monthly rent directly from now on, but she was afraid this would raise questions about the source of the money.  Better, she said, if I deposited the money into her account and let her pay the bills herself. 

After we had talked about details of the new car and money for perhaps ten minutes, there was a pause in the conversation.  Then she said in an odd voice, "It's nice and I really appreciate it, but in some ways it's just an expensive toy.  You know….it's different, so a lot of people want it.  But then they get bored; always begin to look for something newer, something better, something that’s new and improved.  I don't work that way."

Knowing we were talking about more than the car, I replied carefully, "I don't either."

"There's much to be said for dependability," she replied.  "Reliability.  Consistency.  I don't care whether something's fancy or not, I just don't want it to let me down."

After moment I said as sincerely as I could, "It will never, ever let you down.  If you believe nothing else, please believe that."

Finally, Kate broke the long silence by saying, “I am embarrassed to say this to you.  But I want you to know how much I enjoyed our.....your......visit.....last night.  It's been too long.”  There was silence on the line, and suddenly I knew she was waiting for me to respond.

“You,” I said truthfully, “were fantastic.  I'll come around again tomorrow night if I can break free.  But wait until I get there to dress for me.” 

There was silence for another second, then Kate said doubtfully, “Well.....okay.  But we've got to be careful.  My neighbors know my routines and they'll be curious if anything seems out of the ordinary.”

“The only thing out of the ordinary,” I interjected, “was having sex with you.”

She laughed with pleasure and hung up.  I smiled as I looked at myself in a nearby mirror.

Damn, I was good.

You need to do something, Kate thought to herself.  You need to see him again, but God, did she ever hate the thought.  You want to see him again.  Damn him!  He was playing mind games with her, and that used to be her game.  What she could not decide was whether she wanted him to see him because he was young and attractive or if she just wanted to win this little game against him once and for all.  And just how, pray tell, would she know when she had won?  How did one declare victory with a man-child like him?  Kate squirmed in her chair.  She felt a wave of giddiness, as if her mind were perched on a cliff, watching the struggle below between her fire side and her heart side, and right now her heart was scrambling to find a safe cave somewhere. 

What was it about this young man?  He was physically attractive, but a lot of men were.  He had a lot of money and shared it easily; that was comforting, but a lot of wealthy men had made their interest well-known.  He had a barely sensed aura of danger about him, and that was exciting.  But he was always in control of himself when he focused on her, and that made the sex good.  Oh yeah, he was a white-hot wire when it came to the bedroom. 

He was nice, diffident and sometimes bossy at the same time, occasionally awkward and even self-effacing, but underneath it all he was focused on her.  She liked that focus.  He wanted her and she wanted him.  There.  He wanted her long-term, really cared for her.  She was sure of it.  And Kate decided that she wanted him.  It had nothing to do with the fact that she had no income on which to live, or that she was alone and that this powerful man had only to put one fingernail on her belly and she lit up half of the Boston skyline. 

It was as if he had this dark gravitational pull on her, pulling her into things she’d never dreamed of doing.  He was leading her down this path she would never have chosen for herself, but then there was this weird magic about him too, like she could only feel alive when she was around him.  Even though she was beginning to suspect that there might actually be some things that she found despicable about him, if only she dug deep enough. 

She leaned back, her eyes closed, a fine sheen of perspiration on her lip.  What the hell was wrong with her?  She was twice his age, a widow that had been church-married and happy in that marriage.  Where did this other half, this devil-half that was driving her towards his flame like a moth, wings spread, legs trembling, around and around, back to this man, this Jimmy, just because he asked nicely and lit her fires with one look. 

God, she was so confused. 

Taking It To The Next Level or It Was Her First Taste Of Leather

It was our fourth time together and I could sense that she felt much more comfortable in my presence.  I’d called ahead this time and told her not to bother dressing for me tonight.  Instead, I carried a bag as I walked in from her garage, but I never made mention of it.  Kate saw it and I noticed her look at it several times as I loitered in the kitchen and living room, but I still ignored her unspoken questions.  We endured small talk, but the anticipation within both of us continued to grow but for total different reasons.  Finally, after about twenty minutes, I knew her curiosity was killing her.  “You like my bag, Kate?” 

She looked a little embarrassed at having been caught.  “I was just wondering about it, that’s all.  Clearly, you work out somewhere?”

I let out a short laugh and said, “You could say that.”  If only she knew, I thought to myself.  Probably turn her hair grey and curly overnight.  While she hadn’t dressed for me, she had dressed for tonight and was wearing black silk thong panties and a tiny bra beneath a filmy black chiffon robe and stiletto heels.  Suddenly, we both knew the time had arrived for Kate to earn her money; she turned and led the way towards her bedroom upstairs.  As she walked in front of me, I fixated her tight, wiggling bottom.  I knew I was going to have her tonight, but my cock stirred nonetheless as I imagined bending her over one of her chairs and using one of the riding crops in my bag on her ass…..perhaps after I had delayed our lovemaking just enough to punish her for being the naughty, no, actually the treacherous bitch I knew she was. 

I went into the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom and then watched her in the mirror.  She waited patiently for a couple of minutes and then I could see her look at the bag again, her eyes filled with questions.  She walked over once and kicked it at it gently with the toe of one high-heeled foot.  Finally, she bent over for a closer view. 

I walked into the bedroom and said, “Caught ya, Kate.”  I laughed and said, “You know what they say about curiosity and beautiful kittens.” 

Startled, embarrassed at having been caught, she stood up quickly.  I smiled as I said, “You can take a look inside if you want; won’t cost you a penny.”  It might cost you something a hell of a lot more valuable than that, I thought to myself, but it certainly won’t cost just a penny. 

But she just shook her head quickly and I continued, “No, really, be my guest.”

Kate shook her head again and replied, “I was just a little curious, that’s all.”

I didn’t know if this was the right moment to show her what was inside the bag.  What I was sure of was that it would either excite her or scare her away forever.  What the hell I thought, in for a penny, in for a pound; I decided to take a chance.  I glanced at her from the corner of my eye as I started to unzip the bag; soon Kate was staring inside it with her mouth hanging open in surprise.  In a rather unattractive manner, her mouth opened wider and wider with shock as I continued to take out one scary item after another and lay them on her dressing table.

I kept silent for a few moments after I had finished, waiting for a reaction.  I sort of expected her to order me from her bedroom or run out of it screaming in fear.  Instead, she seemed almost transfixed as she stared at each object.

With a small smile on my face, I said, “I take it you know what these are used for?”  She nodded silently as her cheeks suddenly flushed beneath her light makeup. 

“Ever indulged?” I queried with a smile. 

Kate shook her head and said quickly, adamantly, even as she continued staring intensely at the objects, “No.  Never.  I’m…I’m not that kind of person.” 

I smiled and waited for her continue.  The silence stretched out until it started to become uncomfortable. 

“Who do you use these on?” She asked, finally looking away from what I had brought into her bedroom.

“How could I ever be considered a gentleman if I were to answer that?” I asked in reply with a superior, knowing smile on my face.

A little flustered at the implied rebuke, Kate looked at me as she said, “No.  I’m sorry about asking a silly question.  I understand.”

“Hey, it’s not a silly question and there’s no problem,” I said as I picked up the black leather collar.  I moved quickly behind her, “Want to see how this works?” 

This was the first test.  I half expected Kate to pull away as I placed the thick strip of leather around her neck, but surprisingly, she only inhaled a quick breath with shock and held it, but remained motionless as she accepted her first collar.  I’m not sure that she understood what it actually represented or perhaps she felt she was indulging one of my silly male idiosyncrasies.  As for me, if she let me take this all the way, I knew that I was going to start her on a journey tonight that would take the rest of her life to finish.  I wanted to start her gently, but once I had her where I wanted her, I would make sure that she paid full fare for the rest of the ride.  God, how she was going to pay. 

“Please lift your hair for me,” I asked softly as I breathed into her ear.  She looked at me skeptically. 

“Just do it,” I ordered her brusquely.  Without hesitation or a word of protest, Kate slowly exhaled the air she’d trapped in her lungs and did as I asked, gathering her hair in her hands and lifting it away from the back of her neck.

It was at the point that I was pretty sure we would go to completion tonight and I could feel my erection straining in my pants as I fastened the collar.  While not hugely experienced in BDSM, I wasn’t a novice either.  I always felt a thrill when I restrained a woman for the first time, but it was even more special when it was the woman’s first time.  Kate’s neck was stiff and tight and I could feel the nervous tension running through her as my fingers touched the nape of her slender neck.  There, it was done. 

I gently, but firmly reached down and took Kate’s left wrist, and then guided it behind her back.  “This is called a wrist-neck collar,” I explained gently.  Kate seemed almost frozen in place but still offered no resistance as I fastened her wrist in a cuff attached to the long leather strap that hung down her back from the collar.  As I took her other wrist and bound that too, I heard her breath catch deep in her throat, but she never moved to resist or asked me stop.  At the same time, we both felt the tension begin to mount in her bedroom.

With both hands now bound behind high her back, I turned her around and asked, “Is that comfortable?”  I could not have cared less how comfortable the bitch was, but I wanted her calm and willing to continue. 

“Yes.”  Kate replied with her head bowed slightly.  Then she looked up and stared directly into my eyes, measuring me, measuring my strength, somehow almost daring me to finish this thing between us with her wordless stare. 

I knew immediately that my first impressions about Kate had been correct.  She’d always been a controlling bitch, but much of it had been learned behavior and not necessarily her real nature.  Once she had been forced jettison all of the subterfuge with which she’d cloaked her life and even her very nature, once I had refused to act in the way that popular culture demanded, she suddenly reverted to being almost a natural submissive. 

It didn’t matter to me whether or not she had ever realized this dual aspect of her nature, or had perhaps even understood it but then denied it.  All I knew was that the next few minutes were going to be very important.  Rushing now would only scare her out of the spell that we both felt.  And while relatively inexperienced in the formal aspects of these matters, I did know that women like Kate had to be guided gently to their boundaries at first.  At that point, you then eased them over all of the remaining obstacles as you took them exactly where you wanted to go.

“Here Kate, sit on the edge of the bed,” I said gently as I took her upper arm and guided her to her king-sized bed.

“So……is this your first time to try this sort of thing?”  I asked as I sat down beside her. 

She gave me a nervous smile as she looked into my eyes and nodded once. “Yes.”

“Don’t worry,” I said in a comforting tone.  “I won’t harm you.  I’ll do nothing that you don’t want me to do to you.”  I returned her tentative smile and at the same time I patted her knee.  I wasn’t going to harm her now, but I was going to fuck the bitch up later on, once I’d gotten her used to it. 

She looked at my hand almost in wonder as I touched her.  I wanted her to know that I had the ability, no, actually the right to touch her, regardless of what she might wish herself.  “So, you’ve never known a man who wanted to indulge in a little fantasy like this?”

Kate gave a brief laugh and shook her head. “No.  Never.  I’ve never been involved in anything even remotely like this.”

“Well, that’s quite common.  Most people only try this later in life.  Once they’ve developed more confidence in themselves, that is.”  I was trying to flatter her, trying to get her to see this as the natural progression of any experienced, mature, confident and well-rounded woman. 

She asked, “You’ve done this a lot then?”

I smiled.  Her inquisitiveness encouraged me since it seemed to imply that she was not necessarily averse to what we were doing; her responses and the way she sat implied curiosity rather than fear or trepidation or revulsion. 

“Yes, Kate,” I replied.  “I’m not super-experienced, but I’ve been doing this for a while now.” 

I adjusted my position on the edge of the bed so that I could better look into her face.  In response, Kate blushed and looked down to avoid my gaze.  I remained silent for a few seconds, allowing Kate to absorb both the atmosphere and the helplessness of her position next to me.  Allowing a newly-awakened submissive to marinate in the hopelessness of her situation was very important.

“What would you like to try next, Kate?” I asked quietly.

She looked at me for a second and then glanced quickly over to her dressing table only a few feet away before she lowered her eyes.  Message received, you fucking minx.  I walked over and picked up the leg restraint.  It was a two foot long metal extendable pole that had wide leather cuffs attached to each end.  “Kate, this,” I said, “is a leg restraint.”  I extended the pole to its full length of slightly more than three feet and locked it, then reached down and lifted her feet onto the bed.  Kate offered no resistance as I strapped the cuffs around her ankles.  Once she was fully secured, I lifted the bar gently and extended her legs straight.

“This keeps the legs open,” I explained.  “As you can well see,” I added with a smile. 

I gave Kate a few moments to explore her situation.  Then I closely watched her face as I explained that her wrists could also be attached to the bar as well.  “A woman would be very vulnerable and helpless in that position, wouldn’t she Kate?”  Again, she nodded her head quickly without looking at me. 

I wanted to give Kate the mental pictures that allowed her to build in her mind an atmosphere in which she accepted the concept of total obedience to another’s will, no matter what might be demanded of her.  I wanted Kate’s imagination to run wild with anticipation.  This was when whatever had been suppressed in her subconscious for the last two decades would hopefully decide to come out and play.  I waited a few more minutes and then unfastened the bar from her ankles.  Unsurprisingly, the look on her face was ambiguous, vacillating between what seemed like disappointment and relief when it was finally off.  Interestingly, I think there was a real possibility that she would have accepted it for the whole evening. 

“Anything else you would like to try, Kate?” I asked as I held up another piece. 

“This is a ball gag,” I explained. 

She shook her head.  “I don’t think I’d like that,” she said quickly, seemingly a little frightened.  I put it down since we had reached an obvious boundary.  I was going to make it a definite goal to ensure that it was only a temporary border, but it remained a boundary for the moment nonetheless.  Not everyone liked being gagged and having their breathing limited in the process.  We would be working on that later, I thought to myself.  We’d be working on that a lot. 

Kate gave me a wary look as I said, “And of course, there are some things here designed solely for discipline or punishment.”  She watched me closely as I picked up the riding crop.

“What if the woman doesn’t want that used on her?” Kate asked softly.  I wondered, was this was another boundary or did it perhaps seem more inviting to her than being gagged?  I laid it across her thighs as I rested my arm against her shoulders; I was inches from her face now.

“Well, that depends.  If she had been a naughty, naughty girl, she would have no choice.”  My voice was soft, but firm.  Kate was nervous now and I could sense it, but I also wondered if she was a little excited too.

There was a long silence.  “Ummm.  Do you know a lot of women who like this sort of thing?” She asked.  Her voice was soft, but she had an intense look on her face as she stared at me.  Was it interest there, poking its delectable little head through the layers of adult control she had created for herself? 

Kate found herself blushing.  She’d become too immersed in what they were talking about and the strange places it seemed to be leading them, even as she avoided looking at him.  But she could still feel him all the same; being near him always made her feel so intensely alive.  Kate reminded herself that feeling alive is not always a good thing.  People felt powerfully alive during hurricanes and wars.  And that was what he felt like, a force of nature.  Their eyes met accidentally then and Kate suddenly felt her pulse pound through every part of her.  She knew this was going someplace, but had no idea of the destination. 

Beginning Her Real Training or Just Let Her Try To Forget The Moral Issues

I allowed my fingers to brush her hair from her eyes, in the process letting her unconscious know I could touch her now anytime I wished.  I laughed as I said, “I know a few.”  I continued, “But there are an awful lot more out there, Kate, who would love to have the courage to be able to do this or allow it to be done to them.  But unlike you, they never get around to it for one reason or another.” 

“Do you honestly think so?” She asked me skeptically.  “I find that hard to believe.” 

My fingers brushed her forehead again. “I know that, Kate.  You are a born skeptic.”  I waited for a moment for the flattery to sink in and then continued, “For the most part though, many women are naturally submissive.  At least to the right partner.  But the thing is, Kate, many of these women will never meet a dominant man or woman they can respect.  And of those that do, many of them are too shy to ask for what they really want.”

I knew Kate disagreed with what I’d said as she snorted, “Ask for help?  You make it sound like they need a disease cured or something.”  She remained silent for another minute and then asked, “So what else do you do?”

I hid my smile, this was the question for which I had been waiting; she was about to let her imagination run wild.  I said as I took out my mobile phone, “Well, for one thing, I could invite another guy to join us here.” 

I saw the startled look on her face and put the phone back.  “Something like that would only be appropriate with someone who had a little more confidence and a lot more experience than you.” 

I waited for a moment and then took the plunge, “Honestly, at this very moment, I am debating with myself about whether to stop the whole thing or take off your panties and go all the way with you while you’re helpless to stop me.”  We’d already had magnificent sex before and she knew that was why I paid her, why I was here now.  But if this felt wrong to her, if she felt too threatened, she would likely pull back on the part I wanted most.  She had to buy into this 110%.  I wanted her absolutely malleable to my every wish, so I went a little slower than I might have done otherwise. 

The startled look appeared on her face again.  “I…..I….I don’t want you to stop, but I mean…...  I mean, not with me tied up like this,” Kate said quietly.

“I know, Kate, I know,” I said. “I like you a lot, and I know you really like me too, but we’ve only been together for a little while.  And it takes time to develop full trust between two people in an intimate situation.  And this is as intimate as it gets.  You allow yourself to be with me, but that is not the same thing as trusting me.  You question yourself; ask yourself whether or not it’s right.  With all the tragedy in your life, I imagine it takes a long time before you would ever consider allowing a man to tie you up and then take your clothes off, wouldn’t it, Kate?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately as she closed her eyes.  Her answer hung in the air between us for a second and then I brushed her robe aside and reached for her bra.  Her eyes popped open as I said, “Twist your back around so that I can remove your bra.”  Amazingly, or perhaps not so amazingly, she responded without hesitation.  It was clear that she was seeing fewer and fewer problems with obeying me in our relationship.  Soon her bra was off and I could see her pert breasts and hard pointed nipples as they poked at the filmy material of her robe. 

But when I went for her thongs, Kate gasped once as my fingers hooked around the thin strap that went around her hips.  Our eyes met for a moment and then I tugged on the strap.  Kate’s face showed both surprise and bewilderment as one strap broke.  “I’m sorry Kate, but they just have to come off. 

“Raise your hips just a little, Kate,” I asked politely. 

She just stared at me for a moment and refused to move. “Kate,” I said earnestly.  “Your panties are coming off, one way or another.”

Kate inhaled quickly and then raised herself a little; I slowly and deliberately, yet easily moved the thongs off of her hips.  First, I pulled them down just enough to expose the tip of her almost nude pubic mound.  After a second of appreciation, I eased them down slowly again to reveal her full vulva.  When I finally got them past her knees and down to her ankle, the dampness around the crotch brought a smile to my face. 

“Now lift your knees up for me, Kate.  Please.”  She obeyed quickly and without comment as I pulled the thong off.  I enjoyed the lush view for a minute before I said, “Now pull them up close against your chest.”

As I stood over a bound Kate, I watched her lick her suddenly dry lips as she stared at my crotch.  She already knew what I had there and the look on her face seemed more one of resignation rather than impending delight.  She was game, but was still a little scared. 

“I think you know what is coming next, don’t you, Kate?”  I said as I sat down and faced her.

Kate nodded.

“Well?”

Kate blushed as she pulled her knees further up and back to expose herself.  I was pleased, but not surprised at the wetness around her vagina.  I reached out with my fingers and rubbed her labia.  “Kate, you know you’re enjoying this.  You just have to admit it.  In fact, you need to revel in it.”  I touched her some more as I said, “Woman, you are truly excited by this.  It is something new and strange in your life and rather forbidden, but it excites the hell out of you too.  Just have the courage to admit it.”

I inserted a couple of fingers inside her, rejoicing in her wetness and then I pulled them out.  I held them against her lips and said, “Suck on them, Kate.  Show me how much you care for me.”

Like a good little girl, she instantly obeyed me.

I felt a huge surge of arousal at her instant obedience.  I knew I was going to possess her now; that there would be no turning back for the bound woman.  “You’re excited about being tied like this, aren’t you Kate?”

She looked away, refusing to answer.  I turned her chin towards me and asked again.  This time she gave me several quick nods but refused to answer verbally. 

“You are gorgeous, Kate.  You have a gorgeous pussy.  I knew that from the first time I saw you.”  Her knees were still against her chest and I pushed my fingers into her pussy and began to look her over.  Kate said nothing as she watched me inspect her body and felt me manipulate her, but her breathing was definitely getting heavier.

“Many men don’t pay much attention to the female genitalia.  They take what they want, just assume it’s there for their fingers or their cock, perhaps even sometimes for their tongue.  But not me.  I haven’t had time yet to show you how I feel.  How I’ve always felt about you.  I want to look at your pussy and admire its beauty.  I want to smell you, to taste you.”  My fingers continued to probe inside Kate’s pelvis. “And you are truly beautiful there.” 

Kate nodded her head at my compliment but continually avoided my gaze even though her chest was heaving harder now as she became more and more aroused.

“We have been together for a little while now.  I know that I’m younger than you, but I am also more experienced in this kind of thing than you are.  I have dreamed about you for years.  Kate, even if I am younger than you, I’m also the man who knows exactly what you want, who knows exactly what you need as a woman….and I am the man who can give you what you need…tonight….now….carefully…..completely.  Kate, this is important…….we’ve had sex before, but I want you to really give me yourself tonight…..will you please?”

She opened her mouth to speak.

I tried to be at my gentle, persuasive best.  “Don’t say anything for a second, just hear me out.  I don’t want you just for now, Kate.  I mean for all time.  I’m not talking about trying to marry you….neither of us wants that, at least not yet.  I mean, I want to own your body, everything, all of it.  Tonight.  Forever.  Will you give it to me Kate?”

“Give?  You?  I….I…” Flustered, Kate stopped trying to talk with tiny confused laugh and then just gave a deep sigh as I probed her vagina more urgently. 

“Yes, Kate.  I really mean it; I’m absolutely serious.  Give yourself to me,” I replied.  “You are a beautiful woman who has been alone for far too long.  And you already know that I can do the things that please you.  So I want you to give your body, your soul to me.  Forever.  As in giving everything to me to do with what I please, when I want, and perhaps when you are ready for it, for me to give you whomever I desire.”  I continued probing for her G-spot as I slipped my fingers ever deeper and deeper inside her. 

I know that part of her wanted to laugh at me, but as I continued manipulating her genitalia that impulse grew weaker and weaker.  My words had wrenched an almost derisive gasp of initial disbelief from Kate’s lips, even as my fingers brought her nothing but a desire to give in to my demands.  She was weakening. 

I could tell that she wanted to give herself to me, but part of Kate, her pride in herself and her independence and her natural skepticism, these things were still fighting me too.  She was finding it so difficult to abandon years and years of self-discipline, but I somehow knew that she was mine, that she would give herself to me in the end if I just kept at her long enough. 

“Trust is the key.  You will never feel more alive than when being possessed by a man.  You will enjoy belonging to me, Kate.  Don’t fight me on this, just trust me.  Believe me, you’ll enjoy having someone own this,” and I rubbed between her legs.  “And of course, I won’t forget your soft lips and this,” I slowly, softly circled her anus with my forefinger.

Kate was looking at me now, her eyes staring deep into mine.  They were a deep, deep blue in color….and they were glazed with lust.  She didn’t have to say a word; every non-verbal cue that had ever existed in a woman told me that she had given herself to me at least for the moment. 

Time to back off some on the faux sincerity and push a little more into the actual physical.  “I don’t need your answer yet.  But I do want you to suck me now, Kate,” I said. “I know you can be good at it, but I want you to show me just how good you are at sucking big cocks.  Especially when you want to please your man.” 

Kate sat with her eyes fixed upon my crotch as I ripped off my shirt and then slowly unbuckled my jeans, pushing them down over my thighs.  My cotton boxer shorts were tight and only emphasized the full size of my hard cock.  The wet spot there showed where my pre-cum drainage had stained the cloth.  Like a hypnotized cobra looking at a mongoose, her eyes remained unblinking and fixed upon my manhood.  Slowly, I pulled my shorts off and stood naked in front of her, my massive erection pointing at her face.  I remained motionless for couple of minutes, allowing Kate to take in the situation. 

Bound, helpless, I knew she was already imagining me inside her as I guided her face towards my groin.  “Kiss it,” I ordered.  I could feel the warmth of her face against me as she obeyed my barely veiled order. “That’s nice, Kate.  Very nice.”

“Show me how good you can be, how good you want to be.  Show me how obedient you want to be.  Suck on me nice and slow and deep; you know that if you treat me good, I’ll make sure I treat you real nice too when I spank you in a few minutes.”

I felt her body tremble as I said, “Yes, Kate.  You need to let yourself go, let yourself learn your ultimate role in our relationship, and I am willing to do whatever you need just to help you experience what you’ve avoided for so long.  That you are a woman whom naturally belongs to the one man that can cultivate you.”  I used the word cultivate because I didn’t want to say the one that broke her or the one that dominated her.  I was easing her slowly to the halter and she just wasn’t ready for that kind of language yet. 

She looked almost hypnotized.  Her mouth was already open and waiting as my erection stood upright.  With one hand pulling on her hair and the other holding the base of my cock, I guided myself to her soon-to-be willing lips.  She gave a quick shake of her head “no”, but I continued to insist and just like that, just like I had known she would, the woman of my dreams acquiesced as her lips willingly opened and she accepted my meat as best she could to the back of her throat.  “Go on, Kate.  Do it right and get re-acquainted first hand with the last pleasure stick you’ll ever need.”  Her face was pushed into my groin and she sucked hard on my cock as I said, “I’m going to give you a proper spanking and then I am going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.  I’m going bend you over the foot of your bed and give you a fucking that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

Kate’s only answer was to give an audible groan that was belly deep with desire and emotion. 

I let her work on me for a couple of minutes and then looked into her eyes again as I pulled her chin up so that she once more faced me.  Again they were glazed over; and once more she felt the need to make a feeble attempt to cover the sexual excitement that raged, furnace hot, behind them.  I didn’t need to reach between her thighs to feel her excitement for I could see in her eyes how wet she was.  Too, I was pleased because soon she would need all that wetness when I pushed my cock deep inside her belly.  But at some point, I knew that I’d have to break Kate of her instinctive need to cover up any real emotions she might be feeling. 

As before, it was immediately obvious that while she had sucked cock before she was inexperienced at it and certainly was unused to having anything approaching my size inside her mouth.  She gagged several time and her eyes filled with tears, but whether they reflex tears or tears of embarrassment I didn’t know.  But I didn’t really care either.  She couldn’t take it all, but then again, I had yet to meet a woman who really could take it all.  Happy for the moment, I continued to let her suck me, taste me, feel me.  This was a woman that needed to learn her new Masters’ curves, so to speak. 

Now it was time for the paddle; time to bend her over the bed, time to humiliate her just a little, time to let her know who was the Master in this relationship and who was the servant.  I didn’t plan on hurting her, of course; giving her a beating just for the sake of hurting her would accomplish nothing.  No.  All I wanted to do was use a little bit of embarrassment and pain to make her understand her new position in our relationship. 

Despite my best efforts, part of me, a very small part of me, really liked Kate and this part wanted her to want this.  And as I approached this mature woman, this part told me that the hardest part in all of what I wanted would be in making her want to experience this too.  She had to believe that as long as she willingly gave up her desire to control any aspect of our relationship, we could then create something together that was greater than the sum of its parts.  Together we would replace everything in her life that had recently become so worthless. 

However, the cynical part in me countered with the thought that it was always more amusing to crush a woman like this when she still thought she had a chance to find happiness with a man.  To this part of me, the throngs and multitudes of hopeless middle-aged women that wanted love more than anything else in their life - that watched Lifetime movies and mooned over young movie stars; these women were massively boring to me.  They laid there and cried or curled up in a catatonic fetal ball when I was finished with them.  Where sport was there in that?  The caveman part of me somehow sensed that at least with this bitch, the sport would be in destroying her after I had raised her as high as I could take her. 

Time to take my pleasure.  I placed Kate over the foot of her bed and made her spread her legs by gently pushing on the insides of her ankles.  Then I slowly attached the spreader bar back onto her ankles.  I didn’t want her going anywhere, didn’t want her to even think that she had the freedom to go anywhere.  But this fact also had to be sexy to her and not in any way threatening. 

I explained everything I was doing and moved at what felt like a glacial pace since I didn’t want to startle or scare her.  As I knelt at her ankles to attach the bar, my face was necessarily at her crotch.  The insides of her thighs were wet, her labia were red and swollen, and her clit stood out like the end of roofer’s nail.  The smell of her musk was indescribable, and when I had finished, the beautiful thirty-eight year old woman with the long dark hair was breathing quickly, yet heavily. 

I dramatically picked up the flexible cane whip I was going to use on her ass.  I flicked it quickly back and forth a couple of times as I said that I required absolute silence for this………..that she would regret not obeying me. 

And then I waited. 

She was His Never Ending Fantasy or Her Ass Suddenly Belonged to Him

In some unknown way, I instinctively knew how to train a woman through pain and shame and humiliation.  Even in cruise control, without consciously thinking about it, I somehow knew when to play with them and for how long, and how to apply the necessary mental torture, making them tense in expectation of pain or of a blow long before it came; how to make them want to close their eyes as they mentally prepared themselves for the stinging pain to come. 

I knew how to gently tap them at first as if only sizing up their bottoms.  Sometimes I would rub the cane against their ass cheeks or run it slowly between their legs, allowing them to feel the cold hard cane as it lovingly caressed its helpless target.  Then I would lift the whip and watch the woman tense herself just before I stroked her bottom for real.  Sometimes I did this three or four times before delivering the actual blow.  I rarely hit them with any strength, and never when I was truly angry.  The beauty of this was that I didn’t have to hit them hard….when fully trained these women did most of the work themselves, over and over again, always in their minds.

And now it was the beautiful Kate’s turn.  She was bent over, face resting on the mattress, hands bound behind her back and legs forcibly spread wide, waiting for the first blow.  And like every other bitch I’d ever had in this position before, I took a good long look at her pussy, savoring the moistness around her labia, closing my eyes as I inhaled the wetness of her pheromones through my nose, lost myself in the fear and hunger and excitement I saw in her eyes. 

One thing I suddenly knew for sure was that this woman was starving, was literally starved for what I offered.  In some women, the very few that really had found themselves in this lifestyle, there was more than just moistness; sometimes there was actual wetness.  Kate was a very wet one of this last group; absolutely wet for what she knew was coming.  I was not going to drag out the torture.  She wanted release, wanted my cock and I wanted her too. 

My plan was to spank her five times, but altogether, I gave her seven in all.  Not too hard, but hard enough.  Seven firm smacks of cane against her soft, yet firm white flesh.  Seven slaps of cane that shocked her, that humiliated her and which left her bottom striped with red and in pain. 

As soon as I hit her the first time, she hopped up and down on her toes a couple of times and raised her face off of the mattress to look at me as she yelled out, “Enough!  Stop!  I don’t want to play this anymore.” 

I shook my head sorrowfully as I said, “Kate.  I told you not to say a word.  We’re not playing and this is not a game.  You broke the law, my law; the agreement between us.  Unfortunately, I was only going to spank you five times, but now it’s six. 

“I….I….” Kate stammered and stopped, confused. 

“That’s seven; do you want to try for eight?”  I asked her silkily, ever the patient and stern, yet still fair-minded task master. 

Kate shook her head silently and then put her face back on the mattress, her butt still pooched into the air in order to receive her remaining punishment.  As much as she hated it, Kate turned out to be a natural……unexpectedly, she came after the third one.  And again after the sixth blow.  Multiple orgasms, the truest test of a woman’s sensuality.  I waited patiently as I watched her shudder through a full minute-long orgasm, and then again as she tried to get her breath back.  The thing that was so cool was that even as she came like thunder, she just groaned again and again at the one-hundred percent pure pleasure that made her blood boil with desire, but she never said another word. 

The blows were firm, yet not meant to be painful.  But most importantly, Kate obeyed me and kept her silence.  All except for the seventh and final blow.  This one was the hardest of all by some margin, and she jerked hard at that one and yelled out in real pain.  This last was the one that let her firmly know who was now the boss; it identified once and for all the man who was now in control of her life. 

By the last blow, her inner thighs were quite wet.  I reached down and ran my fingers across the inside of her left thigh and got wet my finger tips with her liquid release.  I inspected the fluid and found it to be thick and silky and clear, almost like a man’s pre-cum.  I dipped the finer to my tongue; it had a wonderfully salty taste.  I had knelt behind some women when I used them like this and had licked them clean.  The contrast between excruciating pain that gave way to unbearable pleasure as I pushed my tongue between their fevered, inflamed lips and explored their inner body with my tongue always blew their minds.  Orgasms always came very fast for these bitches and it was only then that they were truly ready for me.  Kate however, was ready for me right now. 

I stood behind her and raised her willing hips on a level with my groin and then pushed the bulbous tip of my cock against the swollen, waiting lips of Kate’s pussy.  Even though her body demanded release, I perversely held myself back for a moment; standing silently with my cock poised at her gaping entrance, one hand on her hip and the other gripping the cane whip. 

Then my hand rose and fell as I quickly brought it down to slash against the back of her thigh while at the same time I plunged my cock inside Kate’s body.  I had lied, and it was eight that I had always planned to give her, not seven.  She yelled at the unexpected blow and cursed me in a deep groaning way as I filled the gaping hole in her body, filled her hot, wet, pleading vagina.  But Kate quickly forgave me as she got into the rhythm of pushing back into me as she satisfied herself against my hard deep thrusts.

I knew she’d never been fucked this way before.  And I also knew that she’d never had anyone my size inside her quite like this, so I was determined to give her a fucking she’d never forget.  I reached forward and grabbed a handful of Kate’s hair and pulled on it hard, like reins on a horse.  “Come…..on…..whore,” I said with every stroke, “…..move……faster.” 

“Oh.  Oh.  Oh.  Oh, yesssss,” she cried out as she pushed back against me, moving like a sexual maniac.

“That’s it…..you filthy whore……faster.”

Kate moaned, but obeyed wordlessly again and began moving even faster against me.  Now however, she was whimpering uncontrollably at the same time.  I knew she was close to orgasm again; but this time I just KNEW it would be a mind-blowing, head-busting climax like she had never before experienced.  I tightened my grip on her hip with my left hand and reached around her hip to touch her sensitive, aching clitoris with the other.  I rubbed tiny circles over her clit and flicked it as I began to thrust harder and faster.

Kate made sounds that I had never before heard from her nor had I really ever expected to hear.  There were yells and shouts and screeches; ear piercing screams of pleasure that alternated with belly deep, guttural yells of pure pleasure.  Towards the end, Kate grabbed my cock with the muscles in her vagina, raised her head from the mattress, and stared blindly at the wall ahead of her as she gave out a series of rising, inarticulate, needful animal-like moans that filled the room.  They were the sounds of a lost young girl calling for home, calling and for the first time finding love and support and comfort and the release of all responsibility.

The sweat prickled on the back of her neck and Kate felt like Jimmy was trying to pull her inside out.  His cock felt hot inside her, impossibly hot.  Jimmy’s panting grew heavier behind her and then faded completely.  It was then that he gave it to her fully.  She realized with a dim part of her mind that he’d always kept something back, but now his immense sword slid into her abdomen one last time like it was coming home.  Massive and wonderfully ridged with veins, it felt like he was driving a fire hydrant into her.  He had driven himself into her up to the hilt and they both held on like he had thrown a lifeline into Kate. 

His final gift rocketed into Kate with the force of a freight train and she absolutely reveled in the glory it brought to every part of her body, to every nerve in her body.  Every inner part of her seemed to have been clasped by the greedy, ravaging fingers of his semen as it continued to rush up through her and into her.  It kept coming and coming until she thought she would explode into a thousand shards of lust.  And filled with sudden greed, she realized it was all for her.  Finally, after so many years alone, it was for all for her. 

She felt her muscles spasm into rock hard knots as she grabbed him, felt her eyes open wide and stare at nothing she could see; all details had vanished into a white, featureless blur.  Kate’s skin sizzled at his touch and her blood seemed to boil in her veins.  She felt like her feet had been lifted off of the floor by his every penetration, and when it still went on at the end as he strained one last time against her buttocks, it was like an ocean pouring into a teacup. 

She found herself straining, stretching, swelling to accept it all, until every cell in her body shrieked in protest.  The feelings were so new to Kate, so intense, she felt like she had been sucked down into a whirlpool of blackness that was shot with impossibly radiant light.  There was no air here, but she didn’t need any.  There was no sound, yet it was all around her.  She WAS the sound, a single note resonating throughout history. 

And finally, there were the sobs.  The bound woman crouched beneath me cried piteously after she had cum at the end, sobbing as her treacherous legs collapsed beneath her and she hung on her flat belly off the foot of her bed; her body still jerking involuntarily from an incredible series of orgasms. 

Her tears were for happy. 

I realized that Kate truly had experienced the small death in chains as I watched her body shudder again and again.  I let her rest for a while and catch her breath, and then I sat down by her side and began to unfasten her restraints even as I gently claimed her future.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend that she was somehow morally superior to other people, the old bitch had loved what I’d done to her tonight.  She’d crouched under me tonight like a cheap crack whore as she totally embraced her less-than-Mayflower heritage……and now we both knew what she really was. 

I worked on her and soon Kate was finally unbound, but she still remained on her belly as before, motionless, muscles too spent to move, recovering her wits as she slowly stopped making any sounds.  She turned her face towards me, but a little heavy breathing was pretty much all she was up for, and even that sounded shaky.  After what we had just gone through, it was nice to be surrounded by nothing but silence, only marred by the woman’s occasional sob, distracting and annoying sounds that thankfully came further and further apart. 

With the video images I had captured tonight, soon the whole world would know what she was.

Finally, the influx of lava-hot fluid halted and she hung off of his manhood that had been buried so impossibly deep in her flesh, burning her with its amazing heat from the inside out.  This body of hers, their joined life together hovered before her, waiting for her honest answer.  Kate couldn’t see, but didn’t need to.  She was flying.  Passing through the silky night air, she dipped and soared in perfect silence. 

Flying on and on, she savored her perfect freedom.  The freedom was what was important.  She finally realized that now and she wondered if he could continue to make her feel like she did right now.  If he could, there was nothing she could do to stop him….and she wouldn’t want to stop him.  But for now, it was enough to just lay here and afterglow. 

She couldn’t see, but she didn’t need to.  There was no up or down, no land or sky.  No stars or moon.  There was only endless space and endless darkness.  And there were endless memories as well.  The hush was deep, velvety, and peaceful enough that she just wanted to drift away.  She was attempting to set foot on that sinuous path that led nowhere yet everywhere all at once, but every time she did, there was an insistent force pulling her back.  Hand over hand, the grip reeled her in with ruthless efficiency.  And then she was back and she knew that happiness was more important than freedom.  Suddenly, she knew it was his hands on the small of her back, stroking her, releasing the bonds that held her.  She was in a place that was utterly strange to her, yet she was home. 

She shivered in waves as she sobbed, though she dimly sensed that her heart was beating so strongly.  She suddenly realized that when she was honest with herself, she was resentful about more than her possible loss of freedom to him.  She wanted him; he was like no man she’d ever met.  He made her feel alive in ways that no man ever had before.  She wanted him, and in her heart, she had moved to him.  They were moving towards each other – she felt that so deeply.  But he had wound up taking her freedom even as he joined her at the same time.  And she just wasn’t ready to give that up yet. 

But none of that mattered in the long run for she wanted him so badly. 

Kate screwed her eyes shut and tried to breathe, but it was harder than it sounded, for every breath was thick and unwilling and her chest ached.  The decision was hard, but it had been made.  Kate suddenly felt as old as time, but with Jimmy, with what he had done to her, she felt younger than a mayfly.  But most importantly, she was willing to give up everything for him, or at least let him think that she was. 

“Kate’” I said softly but firmly.  “You belong to me now.  I own you, I was in every part of you tonight and you were deep inside me; you’re mine to use as I want just as I am yours.  Kate, let your emotions rule……don’t try fight it……if felt so right for you then, and I know it did….and there’s nothing more you can do to stop that feeling….why then, go with it.”  She nodded her head weakly in agreement and gave me a tender smile. 

The bitch belonged to me now and I had the video to prove it!  It had been a hell of a night so far.  And I knew we had nothing to look forward to from here except incredible highs and terrible lows, accompanied by a hell of a lean over at the curves.  I looked down between her open thighs and saw my milky, silky-slick fluid oozing from her red, swollen pussy lips, for the inside of her vagina was literally soaked with my cum…

And I smiled. 

I was up for it. 

Later…..  I collapsed on Kate, breathless, spent and as happy as I’d ever been.  I kissed her neck and tasted the perspiration there, moved my mouth along her shoulder, drinking in her musk with my tongue.  She shuddered around me, ran her nails up my back, and then let out a long sigh of contentment, giving voice to everything I felt.  We drifted for a while, and I could feel my heartbeat matching hers.  She kissed me and then let her leg slip away, freeing me. 

We’d just made love a second time and we were both exhausted.  At least I thought we both were.  Kate threw back the covers and swung herself out of bed.  I watched as the candlelight turned her skin to gold and shadow.  She opened her closet and pulled on a sheer silk, jade and black robe.  She’d purchased it a few days ago and I loved the way it clung to her curves.  It made her almost more desirable than if she wore nothing at all.  I sat up in bed and enjoyed the view.  She returned to the foot of the bed and tied the sash of robe about her waist with a jerk, almost as if she were angry with what she had allowed me to do to her. 

She spoke softly.  “You don’t need to be a savage with me.  I’m here for the taking.  But I won’t let you mistreat me.”

I replied just as softly, “You know what you want, what you need.  You and I both know you are not the kind of woman that would ever allow a man to do anything to her that she didn’t want done.  But really, what you’re afraid of is that you would wind up loving what I do to you, if you would just let yourself acknowledge what you know you feel.” 

She glared at me for a second and then her face softened.  Kate mounted the bed once more and then walked towards me on her knees.  She put her hands on my shoulders and I felt the thrill of her touch, naïve and untrained as it was. 

Kate looked into his eyes and couldn’t stay mad.  Again, she wondered how it was that he could say the things that he did, yet still make her feel this way every time his skin touched hers.  No matter how mad she wanted to be, the emotions she felt with him just overwhelmed her. 

I said, “You don’t have to like it, but it’s what I want from you.  This is really what’s best for you.  Everything I do, I’m doing it for us.” 

If his words had come from any other man, Kate knew she’d have dismissed them in a heartbeat as utter fiction.  But from this man, this young man she’d only just met again a few weeks ago after being separated for so many years, she somehow knew it was the truth.  Jimmy put his hands on her hips and then pulled her down on top of him again, and she felt the warmth of his skin through the silk as he pulled against her even more firmly.  Kate smiled in triumph as she pulled back, her upper lip curling with mischief as she unfastened her robe once more.  “Show me.” 

After eight hours, Kate simply woke up, since her body basically couldn’t see sleeping any longer regardless of what she’d put it through over the weekend.  The bedroom was dark and all her muscles were stiff with fatigue.  Kate felt across the bed for Jimmy, but he was nowhere to be found.  She sat up so quickly that it made her head spin for a few seconds.  She turned on the bedside light.  Gone.  No clothes.  Just gone.  Damn him! 

She took a deep breath and then lay on her stomach, trying to focus her mind, yet still in shock from the last two nights.  She’d taken a quick shower and then they’d gone to bed, exhausted….and now he was gone.  But sleep was the last thing on her mind now.  Her ass cheeks ached from where he’d bruised her.  And she blushed when she remembered that she’d not only allowed him to spank her a second time, but that he had actually somehow even talked her into demanding he do it!  My God!  What an experience! 

Even now, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  His talk about giving herself to him had seemed almost laughable at the time, but when he had spanked her after tying her up and then he had fucked her brains out….that had been the most wonderful, the most fulfilling sex she’d ever had. 

Even a month ago, she would never have even considered allowing a man to cuff her hands behind her back and strap her feet apart before having sex with him.  She didn’t really know him at all, had only met him again only a few shorts weeks ago; and if one forgot the incredible sex, she literally knew almost nothing about him after he’d left home.  Baring her emotions to him like that last night had been incredibly difficult, especially for one with the kind of past experiences with men that she had.  If he ever asked, she knew that she would have told him that he’d seen the real Kate at the end of that marathon fucking session. 

But wrapping herself around his demands about their relationship, while almost impossibly hard, had also allowed her to experience an evening of what she could only describe in metaphysical terms….physical sensations that mixed with an addictive exhilaration while plum, gold and burgundy lights danced in her head.  She remembered sucking in breath after breath that had been laced with ice and fire, while electricity raced through every cell and his every inner touch had burned her like acid, yet at the same time shredded the walls of her soul like tissue paper and tore aside her willpower like the filmiest of curtains.  And at the end, she remembered grabbing him the only way she could and holding on for intoxicating second after second before finally letting go only when taken by exhaustion and the total release of her body.  And as he had clawed his way to her center, she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, and then he had poured into her like a river into the sea, mixing, melding until they were one.  For better or worse. 

But for the first time in her adult life since her husband had died, she was afraid too.  She HAD given herself to him afterwards, but had this been due to being under the spell of the moment or was it after having been forced to face some ultimate truths about what drove her as a woman?  She just didn’t know.  Regardless, she was afraid, afraid of what she might do, of what she might want to do, of what she might actually be willing to give up for him.  It had been so….satisfying……so seductively satisfying to let him take charge; of the sex, of the money, of their relationship……of everything.  It had made everything seem so….easy, and it had seemed so right too at the time. 

But in the light of the morning after, the old analytical Kate had returned.  Some of his comments had been almost juvenile, and she just didn’t know if she could trust him, didn’t know if she could ever trust another man.  No matter how good it had felt to let him take charge of everything, she just valued her independence too much…..didn’t she?  Could she ever give herself so totally like this to any man? 

Kate stretched once and then groaned as her bruised ass let her know what it thought of last night.  But it really had been nice to give it all to the boy that just might be the man of her dreams.  Maybe……maybe she could go along with what he wanted for just a little while longer, just to see what he really did want from her, just to see where he really wanted to go with their relationship.  My God!  To grow old doing that with him, letting him do things like that to her every night? 

As much as she had learned to control her impetuous nature, as much as she always tended to over-analyze everything, Kate also knew herself well enough to be aware that deep inside, she had already decided.  She just hoped that Jimmy appreciated Kate giving herself to him just as he’d demanded. 

Kate got up, shoved her hair away from her face and looked at herself in the mirror.  She looked like hell, but there wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t recognize the symptoms of what kind of weekend this had been.  She stamped her foot in frustration.  She was a woman…..she shouldn’t have to go through the charade of being owned like a horse or trained with a collar like a dog. 

But the truth was……….the worst part was…she wanted more.  A lot more. 

A Fragile State Of Affairs or The Truth Of Her New Life Still Escaped Her

It was our third time in under a week since we’d gotten back together.  Kate’s ass had mostly healed, leaving only a few faint black and blue stripes.  She had no hesitation now about dressing in front of me; this time she donned a jade green outfit that was sexy as hell.  It included an embroidered bustier with split cups and matching G-string, and was finished off (magnificently, I might add) with sheer jade-green nylons.  The bustier looked great around her tiny waist and the pushup bodice gave her perfect breasts incredible additional cleavage. 

As an added bonus, the cups that firmly cradled those ideal breasts opened easily for my pleasure.  The look on her face when she voluntarily cupped her bared breast and presented her nipples to my greedy mouth for the first time was sexy as hell, yet indescribable sweet at the same time.  I thought to myself, all you teenage boys and perverts will just have to go to the web site to see what I mean.

The jade nylons were wonderful accents for her shapely legs, but she still wore the black heels I'd given her that first night.  I smiled when I saw this for I'd made a few more purchases for the middle-aged slut I was setting up.  In four large bags, I carried multiple pairs of sexy shoes; multi-strapped evening sandals with five inch stiletto heels and open-sided ankle strap pumps; T-strap and cross-strapped stiletto sandals that ranged in color from white and cream and black, to navy and green and gold, to gray and silver.  All in all, I spent well over three thousand dollars just on shoes for her that day and I was determined to get my money's worth from her still nubile body.

Thus, the black heels came off and the new side cutout stiletto pumps went on.  As before, her legs were absolutely gorgeous and the heels turned them into perfection.  She stood at my height now, just making her soft lips that much easier to kiss.  Kate wobbled for just a second on the unfamiliar heels as she walked towards where I lay on her bed, but that didn't bother either of us.  We both knew she'd soon find herself on her back with her feet in the air anyway, so no big deal. 

She smiled at me, but said nothing as she approached her bed. 

Tonight, we began our erotic journey with Kate sucking me off.  She gave me a tiny, brief smile of acceptance and then tossed her long black hair over her left shoulder as she knelt between my legs.  She looked incredible and I positioned myself so that the cameras perfectly caught her profile as she absorbed my cock. 

I felt it come alive as she kissed it and then began to rub and play with it.  I moaned her name as I lay back and felt her wet, soft sensuous mouth go down my cock.  At the same time, Kate lowered her hips over my face and I softly touched the insides of her thighs.  My fingers slowly worked their way towards her womanhood and I remembered her cunt; the intense wet smell and the sticky-slick, sweet taste of it.  My fingers outlined her cunt lips, and I could feel the warmth of her wetness.  I began to tease her swollen clit, and she moaned softly as my fingers rubbed back and forth.  Then Kate sat on my face and time stopped.

I hated her and I loved her; and the bitch knew exactly what she was doing to me.  The woman had turned into true a slut in such a short period; in the end it angered me that I had to make her stop before I came.  I didn't want to tie her up or restrain her on a regular basis too early in the relationship because I didn’t want her begin thinking too much about what I had her doing.  I was sure that in a little while, once I had her in deeper, it would be too difficult for her to back out on her own.  But all I can say is that she didn't scare easily; and this was a woman whose husband must have spent a lot of time teaching her how to suck dick before he died, because Kate’s worked a man's cock and balls like a pro.  I leaned back in pleasure as I let my middle-aged slut inhale my cock as she earned her cum money.

Just like the last time, once I got her in the mood and things got rolling, this bitch couldn’t be held back.  This was a woman who liked her cock, she liked it fresh and hard and repeatedly.  But as good as it was, it almost seemed, at least at first, as if she consciously held back somehow; as if somewhere in the back of her mind there was this feeling that if she held back a little part of herself, if she refused to enjoy what we were doing, perhaps it might not be so tawdry.  Me?  I was ready to fuck Kate from the first moment I saw her in jade.

Anyway, I rode her hard again.  Mostly vanilla positions like the missionary and the reverse missionary where I let her get on top.  But it was all good, for I left Kate that night with her pussy absolutely filled with my cream and her groans and soft gasps of satisfaction still ringing in my ears.  As before, once I'd gotten her warmed up, then satisfied her need a couple of times, the deeply buried and quite naughty cravings of this lusty bitch allowed me to more easily manipulate what I later did to her in bed. 

I went easy on Kate and only lightly slapped her twice that night.  While she feigned shock when subjected to such lower-class behavior, the important part was that she mutely accepted everything I did.  Good.  She could play all the mind games she needed to play for herself as long as she was learned her place in our relationship. 

Welcome to the real world, honey…… 

She also seemed a little shocked when she realized how much she loved what I did to her.  This time, I felt great when we finished, as if I had been physically consumed over the last four or five hours.  I felt like a buffet that had been served to a starving woman, and surprisingly, the more I abused her, the more she tried to appease me with her body.  At the end, exhausted, we both fell asleep in her bed. 

Despite the enjoyment, I chose to not stay overnight since I needed sleep badly, and she was not conducive to a restful night.  The three hours of sleep I’d stolen from her so far put my thinking skills at about the level of a highly inbred hamster or a former kiddie star turned pop singer, although that was insulting the hamster.  I let myself out with my new key and garage remote, but this exotic woman was on my mind until I finally passed out from exhaustion in my own bed.

We met seven times in the next two weeks.  She enjoyed her new car and the clothes and the spare money.  I had a schedule to maintain, but didn’t want to force the issue by being too demanding too quickly.  At the same time, I wanted more.  I wanted a lot more from the bitch, so I worked the edges of her guilt using the car and other stuff as blatant leverage in an attempt to move Kate from her safe and secure vanilla haven.  I also appealed to her sense of adventure and finally, her sexual curiosity. 

As I hoped, her natural inquisitiveness came to the front and she agreed to a little more light bondage and a little role playing.  I’d already begun using low-key and pretty much non-threatening restraints on the woman.  Later, I was going to take her to places that the elders of her church had never envisaged, and ride her to levels she had never before dreamed of visiting. 

So I gave her the rules, my rules; who and what she was, who I was and what I wanted.  There was no formalized Master or sir, no rules for a sub or for the Top, and no safe word or move.  All it would be was pure sexual entertainment early on, with me in control and Kate providing everything else.  Intellectually, I knew it wasn’t fair or right, but I honestly didn’t give a shit either. 

I planned on easing her into a new life, slowly at first, and only later at the end, would I take her to the end and begin using the really nasty sexual tools and toys that I had accumulated over time.  If she was stupid enough to agree to this, then she was a naïve idiot…….and she could take whatever I chose to give her. 

I had already begun purchasing a lot of leather in her size and had brought over what I wanted her to try out.  Leather gloves and jacket, tight leather pants and boots with six inch heels.  Plus the assorted dildos, etc., they all lay on her bed ready to go. 

She was quiet, but surprisingly cooperative as I drew elbow length kid gloves over both her hands and pulled disposable gloves over them to protect the leather.  Next I squeezed the fingers of each hand together over the thumb and taped each hand from fingertips to wrist.  Finally, I pulled over each arm a tightly pointed leather mitt that had a metal ring at the tip.  I think this whole scenario seemed exciting to Kate for she actually smiled as I did this. 

I worked her into a high-necked leather jacket with elbow length sleeves and three inch diameter holes in each bra cup.  She made a face when she saw the holes, but slipped it over her head anyway.  Like a corset, it laced in back and I reefed her into it with an enthusiasm she did not share. 

When the back was finally closed tight enough, it had forced much of her breasts out through the bra holes.  Now I laced the jacket sleeve to the gloves and then connected a split strap to the nape of her neck.  The split in the strap went over either side of her head as it crossed over her shoulders, and then came together again before it went all the way down between her breasts to connect to the belt at the jacket’s waist.  The end up high near her neck had a small, adjustable snap hook hanging down.  I let out some of the strap, then pulled her right hand behind her back and then up so that I could connect the ring at tip of the glove to the snap. 

Kate gasped a soft ugghh as I hooked the first glove.  She had not been expecting what I did with the first arm, but was ready for the second, so it was a little more work this time.  In spite of her first efforts at minimal unspoken resistance, her other arm was quickly at her back and locked in place with the first. 

I could see that she was becoming a little nervous.  Kate moaned softly, “I…I….That’s really tight.  Please….please be careful.”  But I ignored her for I was on a roll.  That was when I slid a pear-shaped gag into her mouth and fastened it in back of her neck. 

I knew from her eyes she hadn’t expected this and certainly didn’t like it, but I smiled supportively, ever the encouraging lover.  This was not too extreme; I had not pulled her arms high enough to get them between her shoulder blades, since I didn’t want to scare her too much.  But that would be coming in its’ own good time; I looked into her eyes and somehow we both knew this was true.

I ran a wide leather strap around her elbows and pulled them a little closer together, but again did not go all the way so that her forearms touched.  Kate groaned into her gag at this, but I was not paying much attention as this had also caused even more of her breasts to bulge through the bra holes.  So I tightened the drawstring at the base of each cup and tied off her protruding breasts like sacks of meat hanging in the window at a butcher’s store. 

Kate was pretty sure she didn’t like this, but I ignored her muffled complaints.  Talking softly about spankings, about who had the upper hand and who had better behave, I laid her on the bed and then slid and screwed a lubricated butt plug into her puckered brown swirl.  She had been cooperative at first, but this was a woman that was clearly not familiar with nor seemingly had ever wanted to become familiar with anal play.  She gave a squeal deep in her throat as she felt it start to go in and lifted her hips off the bed in protest, but it was too little, too late.  I had purposely used a narrow diameter plug I knew would not be too uncomfortable.  Still, she definitely did not like it. 

Tough.  I may have some fancy explaining to do later, but right now her ass was mine. 

Next, I worked a seven inch dildo into her pussy.  While I knew this had to feel better than the other dildo, she was definitely chewing on her gag now, trying to talk, probably demanding I stop and release her.  I wondered what she would think when she found out that both pieces were remote controlled vibrators I had just loaded with fresh batteries? 

I stopped for a moment after the second dildo, and for some reason, I looked into her eyes.  As soon as I did, I knew something had changed, but didn’t know what.  There was no fighting now; Kate lay on the bed without moving except only for the shallow breaths allowed by the tight leather jacket.  Her blue eyes looked at me almost with love now, almost as if she didn’t care anymore, as if she even wanted me to go on now.  I did not know what to think, so I continued.

Disposable latex panties came next, and these were followed by skin tight kid leather toreador pants that laced along the back of each leg from ankle to knee.  Kate needed to be standing before I could get these on her, and surprisingly, she cooperated to the best of her ability.  The leather pants came with a crotch opening that was laced shut at the moment, but I would be using it later. 

My mother’s best friend also willingly forced her instep into its highest arch in order to accept the knee high boots with the six-inch stiletto heels.  The boots were incredibly sexy and fit her like a second skin as I laced them up the front. 

There were metal rings at various points on her outfit, on the outside of each knee, on the belt and at the waist, on shoulder epaulettes.  But I wasn’t going to need them quite yet. 

Finally, I wrapped a wide leather belt around her waist and cinched it tight.  There were reinforced points all the way around it and I needed two of them for the crotch strap that I pulled tight and then buckled front and back to the belt.  Kate’s knees wobbled for just a second at this and I had to hold her upright.  She murmured something as her body finally became used to the two dildos rammed so deeply inside her.

Before I fit the tight rubber bathing cap over head to protect her hair, I inserted rubber plugs into each ear.  I now unbuckled the gag strap and removed the gag.  Kate stood there, just looking at me almost trustingly, as I pushed in and buckled around her neck a larger gag that had been manufactured with top and bottom grooves for teeth. 

“Normally,” I said, “I would tape this too so that you can’t breathe around it.  But I don’t want to scare you….”  Now I smiled conspiratorially at her, two of us in on the same joke, “….too much, that is.”  Last, I slid hollow leather inserts into each nostril.  With this, I fitted the black kid leather discipline helmet over her head.  I smoothed it out and laced it down the back. 

This had to be frightening to Kate and I heard her make low murmurs into the gag.  I stroked her arm for a moment until she had calmed down and then laced the neck of the helmet to the jacket collar.  When done, only her breasts were free of the beautiful black leather.  Mrs. M. had just taken the first step into the personal hell I had planned for her. 

She was not particularly uncomfortable physically, but Kate wondered just where in hell this whole scenario had come from.  There were some kinks that she’d worked her way through over the years, but she’d never really envisioned getting into the leather crowd. 

Jimmy had not really done anything….yet……that crossed the line, considering what she was actually wearing for him.  But he’d walked right up to it and danced on it when one considered the outlandish outfit and the butt plug.  That last is concerned her.  So, she cooperated.  Let the boy play his games.  There was a lot of caressing and stroking, a few hard slaps and spanks on her ass, some pulling on bared flesh, sometimes harder and longer than others, but nothing that she couldn’t handle.  Soon, she felt a little more comfortable with everything as her natural confidence returned. 

She walked around for him, blind to everything and helpless, just as he obviously wanted her.  The only that threatened to ruin it  was that while the buzzing dildo in her pussy didn’t feel too bad, but she found the other one rather uncomfortable and truly annoying…..especially when he randomly turned it on and off with his handy remote control. 

She guessed that this whole thing played into some buried need he had for controlling a submissive woman.  Well, she really liked him and could play along at that game if that was what he wanted.  But Kate was a grownup and just wasn’t ready to do any more than play at this kind of stuff, at least for now.  The one thing in her favor was that she knew she could afford to wait; for when she gave him even a little of what he obviously wanted, he was always so thankful and so much easier to work with later.  She’d begun to learn the drill; play along and let him do just a little of what he wanted to do, since once she’d pleased him like that, she always had a lot more time and leverage with which to work on him later.

Finally it was over and he began to set her free.  The downside was that it took longer than she had hoped, but the upside was that it was over sooner than she had expected. 

The helmet was off, the gag gone and I’d removed the crotch strap and belt from around her waist.  Her arms still bound behind her back, Kate willingly knelt between my legs, her mouth slowly playing with my cock.  It was an incredible sight, seeing this beautiful bound woman lean in, place it on her lips and then begin to lick.  She watched me from the corner of her eyes as she licked and took it deeper and deeper, finally taking it in all the way until the tip hit the back of her throat. 

I loved the feeling of her lips around my erection, wanting to swallow me but unable to because of my size.  Me?  I just wanted to push my cock into her mouth and feel my meat buried all the way down her sweet throat.  Then she moved forward a little and simply pushed her beautiful face into my lap, attempting to take more of me in.  Then she’d back off for a short second and then lean forward again, taking it all like before.  Finally, she leaned back and began licking my nuts, her tongue moving around and mouthing my nutsack before taking it completely in her mouth. 

Then she let them fall free of her mouth and moved back to sit on her heels.

Kate looked at his erection as she pulled back.  His cock looked as thick as her wrist and it wasn’t even fully erect yet.  He took it in his hand and aimed it at her mouth.

“Come on, baby,” he said almost pleasantly. “You know how this works.  Open up again.”

Kate could smell him, musk and sweat and something else indescribable…the smell was sexy as hell, but her jaws had begun to ache.  Time to give him what he wanted one more time and then bring this to a close.  She closed her eyes and opened her mouth and a moment later she felt the head of his cock once more pushing in past her lips, across her tongue. 

He tasted salty.

“That’s it, baby.  Oh yeah, you know what I like,” her young lover said.  His voice sounded soothing now, as if trying to reassure a frightened animal.  He pushed himself deeper into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat.  Kate’s eyes flew open, and she managed to pull back a little with a sudden jerk, coughing and gagging around his cock.

Kate could feel him swelling and hardening as saliva continued to accumulate in her mouth.  He kept on fucking her mouth, pushing in a little deeper with each thrust, threatening to make her gag again.  She began to cough and sputter and drool, reinforcing how much she had always hated this, had always hated allowing a man do this to her.  But this time she knew it would be worth it in the end. 

Her gag reflex kept breaking his rhythm, but her young lover didn’t seem to mind.  He’d just start all over again.  Her lower back had begun to ache and it wasn’t much fun anymore; she strained once more at the bindings that kept her wrists behind her back.

Finally he was done.  He obviously didn’t want to cum in her mouth, so she knew what to do now.  She slowly moved away from him on her knees.  Now Kate looked up at Jimmy again, and then she slowly and carefully bent forward until the tip of her nose almost touched the carpet.  She turned her head and lowered her cheek onto the floor and then raised her hips and ass. 

He was going to fuck her soon and she was ready to get it over, and then she could remove all of the sex-play crap with which he’d clothed her body.  Her feminine intuition told her what to do now.  Kate arched her back to accentuate her submission and then closed her eyes, waiting for the hands that would open her up between her legs and remove the two appliances. 

She couldn’t stop herself; at the first touch of his hands she started moaning. 

What he did to her next was wonderful.  And in some way, this made her want to be angry. 

Kate didn’t want to wake up the next morning.  She didn’t want to wake up because that would make it true.  Concrete and inescapable.  She would have to come face to face with the fact that it had not been a dream.  That last night had really happened and that she had cooperated fully in giving Jimmy everything that he’d wanted.  And he’d wanted a lot. 

Cooperating as she had last night didn’t seem quite so smart this morning.  She wasn’t sure if she could continue letting him own her as he insisted that he did.  He was fun and she enjoyed being with him.  In fact, she loved how he made her feel in bed and the money was great…..can’t forget the money!  But in the still hours of the early morning, when all she could do was think, Kate just wasn’t sure about some of the things that he wanted to do to her or have her do for him.  In the light of day, a few of these things scared her more than they enticed her. 

And then, sometimes his laser-like focus on controlling her when they were together, if she were truthful, that whole thing left her a touch frightened and more than a little uneasy.  Kate pondered the remnants of her old life and the harsh realities of her new one for another moment and then figuratively shrugged her shoulders.  Better to bury those unreasonable feelings than let them cause trouble where there was none. 

It was time for a shower, Kate’s all-purpose answer for anything that troubled her, mentally, emotionally, physically.  The inside of her shower was sparkling clean and smelled strongly of soap.  She picked up a bar and sudsed it absently in her hands as the steaming water flattened her hair and ran in rivulets down her body.  The hot water felt good on her skin and seemed to relax the bruised muscles that Jimmy had given her last night. 

It wasn’t long before the soap squirted from her grip and landed with a thunk on the shower stall bottom.  She looked down at it blankly.  At that particular moment, picking it up it seemed……pointless.  And not merely mundanely so, but senseless on a cosmic scale.  Like it was fate that it should be lying there, melting in the falling water.  Suddenly, Kate didn’t know what to think.  Her mind blank for a moment, she finally was able to move again.  Since she’d just gone toe-to-toe with the values she’d professed her whole life, and they had lost, she decided she’d do something else for the moment.  Sitting down in the shower, she rested her head in her hands. 

And then?

Kate cried like a baby.  There was no pretending.  She remembered everything.  Every single goddamn thing they’d done together.  Every giddy emotion she’d felt or picked up from him, every sound that she’d made whether muffled or not by the gag.  Every sensation she’d felt: from having her hands bound behind her back to the way the suit had pinched her breasts to the way he’d put clips on her nipples……she remembered everything. 

And then they had fucked like wild animals afterwards. 

But the worst part, the most shocking part to her was the way she’d responded to his demands.  Cool and calm at first, in control.  And then….and then, they had worked together and she had been like an enthusiastic student.…eager…..excited to cooperate with every new degradation he had piled on.  And the hardest part for her to accept was that the worse it became and the more he hurt her, it seemed that she had willingly flaunted every moral value she’d ever professed to hold dear.  She gritted her teeth; she was alone and no lies were possible here, not now.  She had embraced everything he’d wanted to do to her and had literally reveled in their debauchery together. 

Kate stopped and rubbed her face harshly under the waterfall.  When she’d done those things with him, she’d felt fulfillment and wicked pleasure, satisfaction and even a twisted glee.  But the thing that really had kicked her in the gut was that it was the most fun she’d ever had….with a man that is.  She shook her head: it wasn’t her doing those things, it couldn’t have been her. 

But Jesus, she sure remembered it just like it was…..

The woman was like an onion that needed to be peeled.  The more we fucked, the more layers of self-control I removed and the more she revealed of her dark side.  As a woman, it seemed she finally realized what she'd been missing; the more profound this understanding, the more Kate wanted me to come over for visits.  There was a real dichotomy here and it troubled her.  She was a woman that liked sex; a woman that had suddenly found that she liked to experiment, and who had found that she enjoyed acts that most of her previous peers would have frowned on.  As a religious woman, someone who still considered herself a good person, she felt guilty at the same time, dirtied by what she was doing and especially by why she was doing it. 

In the end, I really think she also embraced the idea that she deserved everything I did to her.  I loved fucking fucked up women!

Trained In The Service of Men or Only Sharp Fragments Of Her Old Life Remained Now

She was anxious now and a little sore, unaccustomed one might say to being so fully…..trained and……serviced.....so regularly.  But soon, the woman was virtually killing me with sex; my cock was sore from being stiff and up in the air so much.  I'd barely show up and she'd already be wet just thinking about us, then she'd all but rape me. 

I need only touch her hip lightly or softly stroke her once between the legs and like Pavlov's dog, the bitch would immediately be wet.  Twice we didn't even make it to her bedroom; she had me take her once on her living room couch and she took ME a second time on the carpet.  She was such a sexy bitch, even with rug burns on her knees.  Then when I was too exhausted to fuck anymore, she'd take pity and pose in her new clothes for me.  Modeling her new dresses and skirts, it all seemed to enervate her.  For when she was done, she would always try to wheedle ....just one more out of me. 

And as talented as she was with her mouth, she usually got what she wanted.

After we'd fucked each other senseless, we would lie in her bed, she cradled in my arms and we would talk.  Kate found it difficult to talk about herself at first, but I was insistent. 

In those moments, despite all her sophistication and polish, she seemed genuinely shy.  But when she glanced back up at me while on her knees, her eyes still seemed as hard as marbles. 

Thinking back now, I don’t know if she was showing me a real part of herself or whether this was just another part of the act, designed to snare me.  Sometimes the two got mixed up.  I felt she tried to be determinedly self-sufficient, but not necessarily wholly self-possessed.  So, the more she talked it seemed, the easier it was for her to continue.  Within a couple of days, I began to have new insights about my mistress, began to better understand her. 

Many modern women are caught up in the confusion between the need to maintain complete control over their personal lives and the inevitable loss of control, voluntarily relinquished, that was necessary in order to maintain a relationship with a strong man; a relationship like the one any woman should have with her husband.  But Kate had been robbed by life early on and in an attempt to be strong for her son, she had selflessly denied herself any hope for happiness afterwards by avoiding most men. 

As a result, an extremely attractive woman like Mrs. McCullough, a woman with normal sexual drives and the need for intimate adult companionship, actually became increasingly messed up.  She felt the need to be strong for her child, yet viewed compromise with the kind of men she generally met as nothing more than weakness.  Unfortunately, no relationship like the one that she truly needed could be sustained without the push and pull that she'd always before refused. 

Well, I smiled grimly to myself; her days of choosing were over now.  I went over to the dresser that held my “surprises” for this evening and came back with a couple of leather items and some chains.  Quickly taking one of Kate’s arms, I put a leather wrist cuff on her right wrist, then locked a chain to the cuff and ran the other end to the headboard.  Kate had become much more amenable to bondage by now and it was only a matter of seconds before I had tied down all of her remaining limbs. 

Kate remained motionless and silent for a moment but finally reacted as she tested her restraints.  I could have told her it was no use, but instead let her find out for herself.  Soon she quit struggling and lay compliantly on the mattress, wrists bound up over her head, legs spread wide and bound to the foot of the bed.  I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the helpless woman.  Surprisingly, she remained silent as I set her up.  Perhaps because there was a new look in her eyes now; possibly less independence and more subservience?  No matter, I liked it.

"I’m not sure you need to see or hear what I’m giving you next."  I took a leather mask from the bag and pulled it over her head.  The mask was tight and form fitting, totally blocking her sight and most of her hearing. 

Kate didn’t like this, didn’t like this at all.  Suddenly she began trying to negotiate, trying to reminding me we still had not really talked about how far I could go, obviously letting me she didn’t want it to start like this, that I should maybe take the head bag off.  I liked the fact that she would rather bargain about what she would accept rather than demand her freedom.  But I ignored her and squeezed the sides of her jaw, forcing her mouth open.  Before she knew what had happened, I had forced a rubber ball deeply into her mouth; she couldn’t get rid of it because it held in place by a strap that I fastened in back of neck and which now pulled down on the corners of her mouth.  There would be little pain as long as she didn’t try to talk. 

I knew that there were two parts to this complicated woman.  The first part was the soft, yielding beauty that I liked and whom gave me so much pleasure.  The other was the heartless, amoral, bigoted hypocrite who’d spent her adult life assembling a false reputation for morality and righteousness. 

This last was what I wanted to destroy, taking what her friends and neighbors assumed was a virtuous woman and turning her into sexual tool that I used and then publicly discarding it after I had soiled and degraded her. 

I smiled to myself, but it was more bravado than real.  Part of me was still going to enjoy following through with the original plan, the one in which I destroyed this bitch and then abandoned her sorry ass when I was finished using it.  Yet, at the same time, there was a growing part of me that rebelled at the thought of hurting this woman.  For despite my efforts to deny it, the woman that was my malleable, enthusiastic lover was slowly coming to mean more and more to me. 

I’m not sure which side of me won that battle, but as I looked down on her motionless form, I realized that I had pushed the limits of Kate’s sexual comfort zone from the very beginning.  If it was to go on, whichever way I finally decided to go, she needed to be exposed to more than a beginner’s level of bondage and pain, given freely as a true adjunct to sexual pleasure.  Regardless of how I felt, it was clearly time to go to the next level of domination. 

Kate was still scared of where their relationship was going, of what came next, but the continuously unpredictable nature of her young lover truly excited a forbidden side she thought she’d buried almost fifteen years ago.  She had agreed to be more adventurous just to please Jimmy.  And he’d made it clear that she needed to allow him the freedom to experiment during sex just to keep him happy, just keep him with her.  But now Kate sensed there was a real chance she was in over her head; she didn’t know how to tell him she’d had enough for the moment.  But the truth was that she wasn’t ever really sure she even wanted to quit just yet. 

It was addictive what he did to her.  It left her breathless, empty, needing him.  He made love to her as she had never known love could be.  Always fond of sex, she had still been more than judiciously terse about not indulging since her husband’s death so many years ago.  Mostly, it had been relatively easy for she quickly became impatient with the ludicrous acrobatics suggested by insecure men. 

Now it was all different; this man could move her body in any of the many ways he wanted only because he moved her inside as no one else before had ever done.  Sometimes, when they lay together, him drained, her filled but slowly bleeding his sap onto the bedclothes, she had to fight against weepiness, against prayers of gratitude and further greed.  She thanked God and all the stars that she had been blessed to know this true passion once in her life, and it iced her heart to realize how easily, through any of a hundred thousand accidents, she might have missed this experience of…….love……..as it was meant to be. 

Her beautiful nipples were erect with fear….and excitement.  I noticed Kate’s struggles greatly intensified when I slowly closed the brutal clamps over each of her nipples.  She moaned at first in pain, but soon her naked hips were thrusting into the air nonstop.  I noted in a detached manner that she struggled almost as much when I clamped the lips of her vagina. 

There, I had finished.  Fear was what made this work, fear of the unknown and of how far I was willing to take it.  So, her clit was safe, no more clamps for now since I didn’t want to frighten her too much.  She was taking great, heaving snorts of air through her nostrils and her body was slick with sweat.  I looked up at the concealed cameras that had caught everything.  This could be edited into some rather exciting footage; first I’d bill Kate as the Slave of Pain, the submissive slut that loved to suffer as she was turned into a sexual toy.  Next, I’d flip her and present the other side; she’d be the Mistress of Pain, the slut that loved to inflict pain on others.  I just wasn’t sure yet how I’d get her to go along with that though.

I had to be careful.  I was pushing Kate as hard as I dared without driving her away.  The thought of losing her as my lover, as my plaything was unthinkable — at least not until I had taken everything that I wanted from her.  She had already become sexually more malleable far more quickly that I had ever dreamed possible, but I still had to play it cool until she felt totally committed to her new role in our relationship.  Until then, I needed to choose carefully, needed to break her in gradually. 

I knew that combining sex with pain could be intoxicating, so I‘d chosen clamps and candle wax as the harshest pain Kate would endure tonight, at least for now.  But I didn’t want her to associate me with pain alone, so before I proceeded with the stick, I needed to remind Kate of the carrot; remind her of the absolute pleasure that I could deliver too. 

Kate had had enough for now; the pain was nothing really, but she was terrified of disappointing Jimmy, and…and it disturbed her that she was exhilarated by what he really did want.  Also, despite the continually increased levels of her participation, it still seemed that he needed more and more stimulation just to enjoy simple sex with her.  Kate was terribly concerned that this might be because she was continually disappointing him; for if he wasn’t satisfied, she knew it would all be her fault. 

Kate still remembered her Marine and the thrill that that memory brought; she had always thought that even in her late thirties, she could still be adventurous when it came to sex, if only if the right man and opportunity were combined.  But now, when she had both the opportunity and a man she could trust, she still found herself slightly hesitating before she went as far as her partner wanted.  She had always wanted to participate, really participate in what she thought of as kinky sex just to please him, but it had taken too long to go just this far. 

But the flip side of the excitement she had experienced under his tutelage was the thrill of fear.  She gritted her teeth.  Kate did not truly enjoy what he was doing, but somehow she prepared herself to accept the next crushing pain --- thus, the first touch of the vibrator between her legs was so unexpected that it sent absolute shocks racing through Kate’s system.  The tender caresses and gentle probes she felt next totally confused her, even as the constant buzzing on her clit inexorably drove her towards her first orgasm.  And it went on, as did she. 

I spread Kate’s vaginal lips and began to rub her well-used vibrator up and down the slit between her widely spread legs.  Her hips were soon involuntarily humping my hand, trying to push more of me inside her body.  Ever willing to comply with her needs, I pushed my fingers inside Kate’s pussy and made room for the head of vibrator.  Soon my fingers were damp and she began to let down her love juices. 

Just as with the vibrator, the first drop of hot wax on her nipple made her mind spin.  But somehow, unbelievably, she continued onwards towards her next orgasm even as Jimmy continued to let drops of hot wax land first all over her breasts and then finally her labia.  She wiggled uncomfortably, the wax was only hot for a second, but it was hot and it never came where she expected. 

Then, when the vibrator moved down and pressed between her legs again and warm lips began to lick her engorged clit, Kate couldn’t hold back.  The biggest orgasm yet crashed over her, engulfing Kate in absolute bliss.  And as this began, with perfect timing, Jimmy began to remove the clamps that clung to her body even as he continued to grind the vibrator into her clit.  With each one that he slowly removed, her orgasm climbed to continually higher planes of excitement.  Her bound and blindfolded and gagged body mindlessly arched higher and higher on the bed, her hips and flat belly thrusting greedily into the air, searching vainly for a man, any man, to satisfy her suddenly insatiable needs.

Too much pleasure can be as painful as the worst torture.  It was like this for Kate as she suffered through a series of torturous orgasms that lasted longer than any pleasure she had ever before endured.  Finally, her body went limp for Kate was truly exhausted.  He stretched out naked next to her…..and while they were both nude, somehow she felt far more nude than he.  It always seemed to be that way to her now. 

I pulled out the vibrator and then used a warm wash cloth to massage the folds of her skin that I had savaged.  Next, I scraped the wax off of her flesh.  Soon, Kate showed no signs of having been ravaged by me and I continued the soothing rub, massaging Kate’s high, firm breasts for far longer than was necessary. 

Kate was still bound and helpless, and I couldn’t stop myself from using my mouth on the lovely globes I had already possessed.  I was a little annoyed however; the excitement of having turned Kate into a temporary prisoner and being able to use the vibrator and clamps on her had caused me to cum in my pants without doing anything more than touching her. 

When I had cooled down, I put away all the tools of pain and pleasure and began to release Kate.

When the gag and hood had been removed, Jimmy immediately covered her sweaty face with kisses.  Still in an orgasmic stupor, Kate affectionately returned the kisses. 

But she was confused; her thoughts were muddled and her emotions mixed.  She’d had second and even third thoughts about trying to satisfy Jimmy’s needs like this once he’d begun to untie her.  But then she’d looked down at her sweaty body and saw only occasional red marks and bruises, none of which really hurt right now.  Also, Kate remembered the incredibly intense orgasm she’d experienced — she had to be honest and admit it had been truly mind blowing, absolutely the best she’d ever had. 

Kate closed her eyes for a moment and reviewed what had just happened, putting everything into perspective.  Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled.  Looking into Jimmy’s eyes, she gave him a loving hug, then said, "I never thought I could do that; allow someone to do that to me.  If you promise to be kind, I’ll never be afraid again."

I looked into her loving eyes and lied, "You won’t regret this.  I’ll give you more pleasure than you can imagine."  I knew that I would in the next few weeks be testing the absolute limits of Kate’s ability to accept pain and endure humiliation.  But the really rough stuff would have to wait until she was further addicted to my sexual regime.

Nothing Left But Love or Odes On The Scent Of A Submissive Lover

Days passed and Kate thought back over the intense five or six weeks she’d already spent with the young man that had first purchased her time.  He was certainly rough and crude, and a little too physical sometimes.  But he brought a whole new perspective on the world and she viewed her life through a different set of lenses now.  She openly regretted the time that had passed, the lost opportunities and the wasted years spent alone by choice.  Being with the much younger man had finally helped Kate realize she was a born wanton; that she had a huge appetite for...well, for fucking.  Kate realized she probably enjoyed having sex with Jimmy more than anything else in the world. 

She blushed as she thought of the incompatibilities between the facts of her new life and the beliefs of her old one.  She wasn’t going to church much now; it was difficult to walk through that door while doing what she was doing.  But while she missed the fellowship and companionship she found there, it was like she was on the world’s largest and most dangerous roller coaster now……and once she’d started, she couldn't get off. 

Kate couldn't help herself; she just wanted to fuck Jimmy all day and all night long, only allowing him enough freedom to catch his breath.  The fact that he’d hit her several times and would probably do the same in the future didn’t really change how she felt.  Far from satiation, now that she'd been so fully awakened as a woman, a fuck marathon with him simply whetted her appetite for more.  Surprised, Kate found that the more he gave it to her, the more he abused her, the more she begged for it. 

But only with Jimmy.  Never with anyone else, only him. 

Kate had discovered that she had an unlimited capacity for cumming, a decided asset when a thirty-eight year old woman was trying to keep a much younger man sexually satisfied.  She wasn't sure just how many orgasms per hour she could achieve, but it was enough to kill one man alone and keep her, quite literally, in a state of perpetual ecstasy. 

Even better, it felt like she was whole again, for she'd finally found a man she could love and trust.  And so Kate willingly put her new life, this fragile new being, in her lover’s hands.  Confident in her new love and rarely asking him to demonstrate his, Kate's one and only aim in life was to please her new lover.  His money had nothing to do with it, for it was almost second nature to do his bidding now. 

Always willing to satisfy him, Kate now found herself willingly, effortlessly submitting to his needs; it was so easy to just accept whatever he wanted to do, to always and utterly abandon herself into his life.  She'd lost all her early embarrassment and now enjoyed dressing up for him; even finding that it excited her to do so.  Recently, he had pushed the limits even further each night they were together.  She was as willing to be tied and blindfolded and clamped, pierced and touched by hot wax, to be ordered about, rendered helpless, exposed, and examined as she was of accepting blows from his fist.  The nights often ended with Kate being made to suck his big thick cock while she was bound.  She had even learned to loved having him fuck her in the mouth until she gagged. 

Except in the bedroom, Kate tried to be a lady when she was with him, God how she tried.  For even in the throes of their extreme sexual familiarity, she still wanted him to think her a woman of class and breeding in most things.  But that was the key, only in most things.  For she was what she was...a widow, a woman in need, reveling in her new man. 

Kate found herself to be an eager partner in the ever more serious forms of their play; nothing was too much for him to ask of her or for her to give him; probing, exploring, fucking while tied up, everything.  Anything to satisfy the ruder delights her man so loved. 

But only for this man around which her life was now centered.

At the beginning of the sixth week, she called to say she would be unavailable; when I pressed, she confessed in an embarrassed tone that it was her time of the month.  She was not comfortable with saying anything more than that, but I was certainly welcome to come over and talk. 

"Okay," I agreed easily as I marked the date on my calendar.  But instead, I stayed home and finally had peace and quiet for seven days in a row.  At the end of the week, my dick was healed, my libido re-charged and I was ready for more action.

Back Tunnel Experiments or She Assumed A Revised Position In Life

When I finally did visit next week, it was the day after the Red Sox had lost a fifteen inning game to the Yankees.  They were eight games out of first place and for some reason I took this personally; I was pissed with the world and feeling reckless.  Consequently, I was ready to hurt the older woman a little more than usual and willing to push the envelope a little more than I might normally have as I took her to the next level.  Only one thing was for sure.  She was coming with me when I went there regardless of whether she wanted to or not.  I’d asked her to dress before I arrived; tonight she wore a black, silky looking chemise.  Static electricity made her hair flow around her head like a halo.  She had on her usual light makeup and long dangly earrings. 

Unusually for me, I had not requested stockings, so her long beautiful legs were bare and she wore the black sandals I had first purchased for her.  Legs freshly shaved and oiled, smooth and delicately soft, yet firm at the same time, the gentle light was beautifully reflected off her lustrously glowing skin.  A black velvet choker finished off the outfit.  She had spent quite a bit of time preparing for tonight and I became hard just looking at her.

She'd obviously had time during the last week to think about what we were doing, and had done so; I also think the minx had been doing research on the internet.  She certainly was a different woman from the one I had last held.  She was in an aggressive mood tonight and that suited me, for it made what I had planned later just that much easier.  She dragged me up the stairs and pushed me down on the bed, then kicked aside the bag I carried.  We kissed and fondled, then she stroked me to get me hard.  Then came the surprise as she led me to her bed. 

I was filled with anticipation as she straddled me, but was quickly filled with questions as she faced away from me.  Then Kate showed me her gorgeous ass as she bent forward and spread her cheeks.  I was waiting for her to begin sucking me off, but her mouth never made contact with my groin.  Instead, it was my turn to perform in front of the cameras.

“Lick me,” she said with sudden urgency.  “I want you to do me tonight.  I've done everything you asked, you've had everything you wanted from me.  It's your turn now.  Give me pleasure.  Please.” 

God!  I was actually shocked!  This was the woman who was disgusted and threatened by the thought of anal play; what had happened to the old Kate?  It seemed I was with a different woman, one now demanding something I wasn't sure I was able, or wanted, to give.  Her voice changed from softly coaxing and wheedling to suddenly demanding as she almost ordered me to perform.  At first I felt a surge of anger, then I calmed down.  Finally, reluctantly, I pressed my face into the crease of her buttocks. 

After a moment, I'd worked up enough courage to spear her with my tongue, working on the tight whorl of her closed sphincter.  I wasn't enjoying this, but knew it would look sexy as hell on her website.  I wrapped my arm around one long thigh to steady myself and with the other hand I reached up and found her pussy already wet.  She was turned on by this. 

The ball of my thumb sank into Kate from the front as my tongue worked deeper from the rear, both rubbing soft, synchronized circles amid her insides.  She grunted, somewhere at the base of her throat as my tongue sank deeper into her. I caught the reverberations of her deep moan in the pit of my stomach and found myself stiffening in response, despite my initial distaste.  That emotional distance didn't last long.  Suddenly, I didn't care about anything but fucking this woman as she slowly, purposely traced her nipples up and down my belly.  Her mouth sucked on me now and her curled fingers pumped. 

When I finally came, my orgasm went on for over thirty seconds. 

When I could breathe again, I found she was lying on her back smiling at me.  I grabbed a perfect thigh and pulled her to me, then sank my tongue back into her until I heard another soft moan.  I pressed my tongue down harder, forgetting to breathe, then discovering that I didn't need to for the longest time.  Terrill's mother's writhings grew more urgent and she wrapped her thighs around my neck.  I cupped her ass once more and squeezed again, pushing my face into the folds of her cunt.  Sliding my thumb back inside her, I began the soft circular motion that so effectively countered the spiraling of my tongue.  Kate gripped my head with both hands and crushed my face against her pelvis.  Writhing became thrashing, her moans a sustained shout that filled my ears like the sound of surf.  I sucked.  She stiffened and screamed, and then shuddered for minutes. 

She was totally mine now.  But I had a surprise for her too. 

First however, I wanted to get my nuts off a second time, so I fucked her without the usual foreplay.  She didn't yet know it, but that would come in a few minutes.

A Demonstration Of His Power or It Was An Herbal Remedy Of Sorts

I had quickly discovered from the beginning that she was not particularly comfortable with anal games---not yet anyway.  But she had surprised me tonight; who knew what the rest of the night held?  Besides, tonight, for the first time, I was prepared to make my mistress do something I knew she would hate.  Prepared to demand this, I hoped she would be open to experiment.  Ginger figging was something I’d wanted to do for a long time.  I'd not however, found the appropriate woman until Kate. 

Earlier this morning, I'd carved a ginger finger for Kate.  Up in the thicker part of the body of the ginger, I cut a small indented quarter inch wide ring into the finger about half an inch from the thickest end.  This would be her body's anchor on the herbal butt plug---it was something for her anus grab, just as the sphincter locks around the tapered portion of any manufactured butt plug. 

It was still early in the evening, but her relaxed, trusting face indicated complete sexual satiation.  Eyes questioning, but not filled with as many reservations as I might have feared, Kate followed my instructions perfectly, bending over the side of the bed to present her beautiful ass to both me and the cold view of the multiple camera lenses.  Her face rested on her crossed forearms as they lay on the bed; Kate looked almost ready to go to sleep. 

I approached Kate's ass with the ginger finger and gently spread her cheeks in order that she might receive my gift.  She gave a soft murmur of protest, but said nothing more as without conscious thought, she began moving her hips to make my ultimate goal more difficult to achieve.  Her rim was a nice soft brown whirled pucker with which I had become familiar during an earlier encounter; I now began to rub the ginger finger around her anus for a few seconds, then pushed it about two or three inches inside her. 

Kate tried to stifle a gasp and suddenly began fidgeting, the prelude to fighting and bucking.  I told her to be still, that she'd had her fun tonight and now it was my turn.  It would burn, I told her, but not permanently.  Finally, I reminded her that we had a deal and that if either one of us backed out, the deal was off. 

The burn had just begun, but after a moment's hesitation, Kate told me in the small, quiet voice of a little girl to go ahead. 

I was in!  Or rather, it soon would be.

I'd carved the root into a beautiful wedge shape for her; thick at one end and nicely pointed at the other….a basic geometry that overcame any of life’s multiple resistances.  Even though she wiggled some more, the sharp end of ginger soon defeated Kate and fully disappeared inside her except for the last inch, which I'd left adorned with the carved ring.  She groaned loudly at this final invasion and her hips froze, as if she were afraid to move. 

"God," she moaned softly, both outrage and disgust evident in her tone.  

I was rather pleased however.  I waited another minute as I savored both the view of the root sticking out between her buttcheeks and the increasingly erratic movement of her hips; then I shoved it in the rest of the way, right up to the point where her sphincter locked onto the little carved collar that I'd left for her pleasure.  I made sure I was off to the side, not blocking the view of the camera that looked directly down on this woman as she pointed her buttocks.  It would look great on her new website.

Where the off-white ginger disappeared snugly inside Kate's body, it also stretched and beautifully distended her too.  She gasped in shock and then gave a belly deep groan as the fire finally exploded inside her; this being followed by several deep unladylike grunting noises, almost like a pig just finding some unusually tasty food.  Emotionally and psychologically unprepared for the new, yet continually changing aspects of swollen discomfort and burning pain, her hip’s rotations evolved from uncomfortable, and merely sexy, to significantly painful and truly erotic. 

Slowly, Kate began breathing harder, moving her hips in an erotically tight, even mesmerizing circle; muscles in her body tight as a board, she was grinding her pelvis now as if trying to dislodge something.  Face turned to the left, one could see wonder and amazement and even real pain as she looked into one of my hidden cameras; her pink tongue continuously darted in and out, only stopping when she licked her dry lips again and again. 

Suddenly, everything accelerated as Kate reacted ferociously, throwing her hips to the rear, arching her back and facing the ceiling with her eyes closed, letting loose a loud, deep moan of real discomfort.  She froze, holding this position for almost a minute.  Finally recovering what little dignity she had left, Kate was soon reduced to just grunting and groaning in both discomfort and profound, awful amazement.

Now I told her to drape herself across my lap with her head to my left.  The fire burning in her ass had stripped away the remnants of any feisty personality; she moved, slowly, mechanically, but still obeyed me like a docile lamb.  The untamable had been tamed.  At least for the moment.  The fire in her ass had temporarily stripped away her energetic personality and she obeyed me without question or comment.  Kate spread her knees upon my command and then raised up off of me a little.  My woman’s gorgeous ass was now pooched up into the air, offered as a sacrifice to our relationship whether she knew this or not, but perfectly presented in a way that allowed me to observe the plug that now kept her anus stretched and open. 

Despite her age, in some ways she was still sexually inexperienced.  I knew Kate had to have been confused by what I’d just put her through.  Worse, I had humiliated her as a woman.  Amazingly though, she had just accepted it.  The lack of complaints or threats almost made it seem as if she accepted her shocking pain as some kind of just punishment for an as yet unnamed transgression. 

But the truer reality was that this was all part of my makeover of Kate: teaching her dress to please her man no matter how much she might disagree with the style; training her to accept, even thrive in the confusion caused by my new and unpredictable behavior.  To keep me as her lover, Kate needed to understand that this evolution was to not only continue but accelerate as she continually lost more and more control over both our relationship. 

No matter what I did to her, somehow I felt confident that I would always keep her.  It seemed pre-ordained, written in the sand below and the stars above that she consent to my sexual experimentation with her body.  Mine was a long-term project and I had big plans for this woman.  I would teach her to accept as fitting the nervous anticipation she felt in her stomach each time I moved her to the next level, demanding sexual satisfaction in continually unique ways and from parts of her body that had always before been "off-limits" to every other man….the same parts of her body she had also previously found impossible to offer for pleasure to me. 

I realize now that even then I was still ambivalent about this woman.  I knew where I would take her, but didn’t yet know how the destination would look when we arrived. 

A strong woman in many ways before my arrival in her life, Kate now lay motionless on my lap and meekly accepted the ever-increasing pain as something she deserved.  Tears ran from her eyes and she cried out softly again and again as the persistent heat increased until there was literally a firestorm in her rectum.  Fascinated, I watched as the flush on her face quickly matched that on her cheeks as the all-consuming fire continued to build inside the once-private door that led to the inner Kate.  But all the woman did was pant quickly, trying to fill her lungs with air that didn't seem to exist anymore.  But never once did she say, NO!  Enough!  No more!!

Tonight, I watched as the interior burn quickly morphed into an overwhelming force that lit a white-hot incandescence within her lower body.  Reaching its fiery crescendo within minutes, her breathing rapidly changed from fairly quick shallow pants to heaving, lung-filling gulps for the air that somehow seemed to have disappeared in her bedroom.  The once proud, once independent beauty now lay across my lap, reduced by this tiny piece of root in only a few sort minutes from a regal, princess-like female to a helpless, needy, quivering mass of feminine flesh.

As Kate layed ecstatically/horrifically suffering on my lap, I continually stroked the backs of her bare thighs and then up onto her vagina.  I cupped her and realized, perhaps for the first time really understood, that there was no part of this woman that was not gorgeous and desirable.....and mine.  Breaking the spell she cried out softly as I did this for even as careful as I was, the small amount of oil still remaining on my finger was enough to cause her vagina to burn a little.  The root was amazing, miraculous!  With just the merest touch of ginger oil to her clit, her vagina opened up and a silky vaginal fluid literally began to pour out and drench the insides of her thighs. 

But I was not yet finished with the main course.  To increase the burning effects, I once or twice pulled the ginger out almost two inches and then pushed it back in even deeper before I relented and allowed her anal ring to lock back onto the carved groove once again.  I also ordered Kate to clench together the firm muscles of her butt.  She did this one time and then cried out in shock and great pain as the burning horrifically increased by what she later told me seemed at least ten-fold.  My mother's best friend reared her head and struggled to stand at this point, but I held her head down until she lay unresisting once more.  But Kate had finally regained her voice; she began begging me to make it stop and ended bout of pleading with soft, almost prayerful whimpers of submission.

Needless to say I was hard as a rock, and she could help but notice my excitement as I continued forcing her to rest on my lap.

I was not yet sated with her performance and wanted more.  I ordered her to clench again, but the minx refused.  I slapped both buttocks hard in punishment and then repeated my command.  She whimpered and shook her head no, for her voice was suddenly not working well.  It seemed my jellyfish had grown a spine!  As a result, I was forced to spank her on both buttocks for several minutes until each was rosy from my blows.  We quickly reached a performance plateau.  I hit her, she capitulated and clenched; she screamed and refused to continue.  I spanked again; she reluctantly clenched once more and then denied me my pleasure yet again.  On and on it went, a dreary yet still exciting circle in which my giving her pain and controlling her actions was the primary driving force. 

This had gone on for almost fifteen minutes now and we had reached the point of maximum pain for Kate; the ginger’s effect would quickly decrease from here on to the point where any discomfort came from the size alone rather than any oil on the root.  Regardless, in the end, after all of my motivating her, it was clear that I’d finally succeeded and that she'd given up any thoughts of further opposition.  Her whole world now it seemed rotated around the ginger root I had rammed up her ass.  A quick study, she probably wouldn’t willingly clench for me again.  But I didn't care; I was somehow repelled by the woman yet still fascinated and incredibly turned-on by her helplessness. 

I watched the pain die away and she lay quiet on me now.  Not willing to let it end this way, in a moment of malevolence, I pushed her ass cheeks tightly together and held them shut....she howled once more for me to stop and eventually I did.  But during the whole time, even when she was begging me to stop, only once did she try to stop me herself by moving to get away from me.  Even when Kate refused to clench for me again towards the end of her time on my thighs and I had been forced to spank her until she complied, she never once denied the basic rightness of what I did to her. 

Her tears of frustration and humiliation were splashing on the floor when I was finally satisfied.  But I felt a deep satisfaction for this woman now knew she would earn some kind of punishment any time she tried to deny me pleasure, and she had tacitly given me her approval to treat her this way.  The bitch was mine to do with as I pleased. 

I was so turned on by how well Kate had performed that I had actually cum in my underwear.  A little annoyed, I abruptly pushed her off my lap and onto her hands and knees.  She fell heavily but now faced me still on all fours.  As I looked into her eyes, I grabbed her ass one last time and told her that it would please me if she squeezed once more. 

She mutely shook her head no, closing her eyes so that she did not see the punishment that she knew must be coming her way; I grabbed a nipple and twisted….hard.  Quickly choosing between the real pain in her breast and potential pain in her ass, Kate gasped and ass-clenched for me one last time, holding it fitfully for a couple of minutes.  The ginger’s effect had mostly dissipated so I released her nipple after half a minute and at the end of the clench, her whole body was shuddering as she kept her sphincter muscles locked around the once-terrible root. 

I finally told her it was okay to relax and she did, her face filled with gratitude.  I removed the root, took her to bed, held her and stroked her hair. 

Kate was embarrassed at first over how she had reacted and later was upset with me for putting her though what she called “..the torment.”  However, as I knew would happen, she soon calmed down and we were back to being lovers again.  It was as I had hoped; Kate was a truly needy woman, literally not capable of breaking our relationship on her own almost regardless of what I did to her.  Whether this was because she liked or even loved me, or was due to fear of losing a steady supply of money or perhaps fear of not having a man ready to satisfy her sexual needs all the time, I didn't know and didn't care.  All I cared about was that I was continually taking her past sexual boundaries she never would have crossed on her own.  Soon, I would have my full anal delight.

All she said at the end was, "WELL!!  I'm not sure I'll ever let you do THAT to me again."  This was accompanied by appropriate groans and laughter.  Then we cuddled some more. 

What a dumbass cunt!

Dressed For Success or Costumed To Fit The Mood

The web site wasn't active yet, but I continued downloading and editing videos of Kate and myself.  Only two things were constant; I never put anything of myself in the picture that could be recognized and I always used full facial and body shots of Kate, showing her in the nastiest, crudest, sexiest, most embarrassing and most compromising positions and acts.  My video vignettes were also edited to look as if Kate had created them herself, as if she had added her own titles for the various scenes and dubbed a running commentary for each act of sex with the unknown man, the man without a face or identifying scars. 

With the attractive owner showing free hard-core porn in which she starred, the web site had to be a success.  But I was consumed by the need for more material.

I showed up two days later with her first costume.  It was a "sexy" nun outfit made out of vinyl, and I thought it appropriate for her first dress-up fucking in front of the cameras.  The black vinyl dress barely covered her crotch; the off the shoulder elbow length sleeves helped emphasize a low cut, square front neck that barely covered her breasts and which I guarantee had never been worn by a nun.  From the shoulders to the belly button, the front of the dress was set up with Velcro to be pulled open when a rueful penitent needed to pray in the bosom of the church.  Embarrassed, the still religious Kate had not wanted to wear the costume at first, but I insisted and she finally accommodated my demands.

And when she turned her back to me, the dress was so short I could see the rounded curve of her delightful ass-cheeks.  Combined with black pumps which came equipped with ridiculously high stiletto heels, she looked like she represented a ....... religious experience one might say. 

There were no stockings with the outfit, but that was fine.  Kate had begun getting waxed at the beautician's.  Her legs and between her legs.  Her skin now glowed; it looked absolutely lustrous and felt smooth and silky.  She was very bad that night and I kept her penitent for several hours.

But something seemed wrong with Kate at first and I wasn't sure what. 

Like a queen surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, Kate sat on her bed with Jimmy's purchases huddled around her.  At her feet was piled the first costume he'd purchased for her.  They were both enjoying themselves; he had assumed a sexual dominance she could never conceive of allowing another man.  But their relationship had matured and this seemed to Kate to be some kind of major declaration of intentions, and it worried her.  It was like a symbol of ownership, of possession.  And as much fun as Kate was having with him in bed, she hesitated to make that kind of commitment to a boy his age.  She didn't want to be possessed, to be caged by any man.  Finally, she decided it would be okay to humor him, for at least this one time.

An Untrained Woman Becomes Accomplished or She Couldn’t Say No In The End

Kate and I went on as before and a couple of weeks of sexual carnage passed between us before I decided it was time to push for another new, and certainly higher level of performance.  Softly, softly, catchee monkey, I thought to myself....slow and sure was the way with a woman like this.  If my calendar was right, she would soon be having her period again.  In any case, I wanted to experiment some more with Kate's body before she took the next week off. 

Intrigued, I wondered if I could talk her into.........nah, she would never consent to that....although a video of her being fucked while she was having her period would look great on her website 

Accordingly, when I first arrived tonight, instead of heading straight for her bed, I made her sit down and we just talked.  Tonight was unusual, for at my request, she wore a light yellow and white sun-dress, bare legs and yellow heels instead of the usual lingerie.  It was late autumn now and we both liked variations in our themes; so even if the dress was inappropriate for the season, it was just right for tonight.  Tonight I was pushing for a lot more change than she would be mentally prepared to accept. 

I stroked Kate for a while before finally banging the shit out of her pussy the first time.  She was a wild woman now, thrashing under me and screaming her head off.  It was routine for me to muffle her screams when she achieved orgasm just so that the neighbors wouldn't think she was being attacked by an intruder. 

I had learned that, like most women, she always came better with a little warm-up and I wanted her in a happy and relaxed mood after I'd given her a good fucking.  She would no longer be an ass-virgin when I was done with her tonight.  I didn't necessarily want to hurt her a lot, but I wanted a backdoor visit and tonight I wasn't prepared to take no for an answer.

His face was only a few inches from hers.  Kate's heart raced and pounded as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.  She inhaled, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin and hair.  His fingers slid up into her hair and her head dropped backwards as he brought his mouth to hers.  She savored taste and sense and scent that could only be imagined by the less fortunate.  She touched the back of his neck, ran a hand over his chest and felt a bump on his collarbone from a youthful fall from a tree. 

She knew his body better than hers now and Kate felt the heat rise in hers, overwhelming her in the room.  She held him closer, ground against him and heard the groan rise in his throat, then felt him pull back.  His breathing was rough and his lips had swelled and reddened--his eyes held triumph and lust and joy and love and just the slightest shadow of fear.  Then he leaned into her again.

Everything disappeared for her after this.  Only this moment existed, unanchored and drifting free of time.  She was unwilling to release him and they were swept up in their feverish hunger for each other.  Then everything moved beyond simple thought and became something else entirely, something deeper, beautifully complex, both musical and magical.  His every touch scorched her skin and burned new pathways through her brain, her soul.  The secret symbols his mouth inscribed on her breasts and belly were ancient, archetypal, Jungian, the language of lovers who have known each other through many lifetimes, in many eras. 

They rolled and turned and explored, and the wind blew outside her bedroom, whistling through the nearby barren trees.  They moved as if against a powerful, impossible current, like river creatures struggling to return home.  And when it was over, neither of them wanted to let go of the other.  It was wonderful having a lover as considerate and thoughtful as Jimmy.

Some women think there's a sort of cranial defect that makes a man feel it's necessary to poke his dick into her anal region.  Why do guys like me like anal sex so much?  Probably, it's because activities there are "forbidden" when compared with those of her vagina; you feel in some ways as if you're both violating one of society's unwritten moral codes; the man for wanting it and the woman for allowing it.  For numerous reasons, I knew Kate would surely hate it at first, maybe she'd never come to like it.  But I'd do my best to introduce her to it gently because if I were to be successful then I'd get as much ass as possible without the constant bitching and complaining that accompanied most anal fucks. 

But in another way, a perverse part of me really didn't care about how successful I was in acquiring what I wanted through gentleness because I knew that in the end, the bitch would always submit to my will in whatever I wanted, for as often as I wanted it. 

Kate was a fastidious woman and wouldn't exactly be thrilled at the prospect of having something that felt like a solid 8" x 13" kielbasa shoved into an area that had only previously shared gifts with the toilet bowl.  She would be tight and dry too.  I planned to touch her a lot and use a full tube of lubrication; the more the better....too much in this case was just right.  That was an early lesson I’d learned in college.  One eighteen year old first-timer that I backdoored almost jumped up to the ceiling and then dug her nails into the plaster. 

But it turned out okay in the end because I nailed her again on the way down too. 

But like almost any normal woman, Kate would be scared of the initial pain that came with a first time ass fucking.  I knew I sometimes wasn't a careful enough lover that way….and I certainly didn't look at this woman in the same way that I would a girlfriend.  I was pretty neutral about this woman…I sorta liked her, but to be perfectly honest, I felt little real tenderness for Kate.  Most of the time, it was just the opposite in fact, for in looking forward to degrading my mom's best friend in this particular way only gave me an overwhelming desire to dominate her even more.  On the more practical side, another reason for teaching her to take it this way was to set her up to be used by other men in the same way.

Anal sex is 90% brain and 10% body.  One of the things she'd hate most with this was the realization that she was virtually handing me all the power in our sexual relationship.  If she learned to accept it or even enjoy it, there was a control issue--I'd have the ability to prevent her from having any orgasms.  And since I would penetrate her from behind, I'd possess her sexually in a way and from a direction where she couldn't see me.  Further, my erection didn't have to come into contact with her sexual organs, which ultimately left all control of Kate's sexual satisfaction in my hands.

On the flip side, it was all new territory for her as had been the bondage.  And because her rectum shared a wall with her vagina, the sexual nerve endings were actually closer to her anal side.  Women have told me that that's made the sensations unique; a hard cock filling their rectum often gave them stronger and totally orgasmic sensations.  So even though she didn't know it yet, if I was gentle with her at first, anal sex could be very pleasurable for an older woman like Kate.  A few of the bitches that I knew had even ended up preferring it from behind.

Further, venturing into the foreign and “prohibited” aspects of anal sex excited some women.  They might have been apprehensive at first too, but for a man who employed all the right moves, he was getting two holes for the price of one for as long as she remained his woman; and I planned on keeping Kate's aged ass around only for as long as I still desired her and not a moment longer. 

But the bottom line was, in all honesty, why did women ever let a man like me near their behind if they knew what I wanted was going to hurt them?  Personally, I thought it was because some women wanted to know how it felt too.  These were the women that knew the pain was inevitable, but perversely, that was part of the thrill of it too. 

To these women, pain is often pleasurable.

Warming Up The Machine or Preparing Her For Pure Glory

I slowly touched her for another ten minutes, taking my time with different parts of her body.  Finally I said, “Kate, we're going to try something different tonight.  Have you ever had anal sex?”

She froze and turned her face to me.  “No.  Please.  And I have no desire to try it."  Her voice was firm and there was no doubt in her mind.  She hesitated as if her next argument was futile, then faced away from and continued.  "It'll hurt, it's dirty and it's immoral.”

I laughed at her last line of defense.  “Kate, we're going to try it tonight and I promise that you'll have a different opinion when we're done.”

She got up and sat on the edge of the bed, then smoothed her short dress over her thighs.  After a moment, she said in low, firm voice, “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.  There's no way I'll do that for you.  No way.  Not ever!”

I pretended to get a little mad.  “We've gone over this before.  You don't have any choice; you’ll do exactly what I want, when I want it.'

She didn't want to argue and changed her tactics.  “But not that,” she said in a pleading voice.  “I didn't know it included that.”

“Kate,” I let anger tinge my voice, “I've been making love to you for months now.  We’ve been taking it to continually higher levels, making it more exciting every night, doing things you've never done before.  Admit it!  You've enjoyed every minute of it.  You know you have!  And just like that, you'll learn to like this too.  It won't hurt much at all……it isn't dirty, at least not for you…..and I won't even discuss the morality of two consenting adults doing whatever they wish.”

“Please, it will hurt and I don't want you to hurt me like that.  YOU know you don't want to hurt me like that.  I…I can't take that kind of pain.  And besides, doing this with you would mortify me.”

I replied soothingly, “I'll be gentle with you.  You'll only feel a small, momentary twinge and pinch, then your body will adjust and you'll love it.  Promise.”

As much as Kate protested, and as much as she would have hated to admit it, I instinctively knew I could convince her; that she bordered on undecided.  It was clear that a deep part of her hated the thought of giving me total sexual freedom with her body in this even more than she hated the thought of any accompanying pain.  But at the same time, this woman had finally begun to truly want to please me.  She wanted to make me happy, but didn't want to take the next step too willingly, without the appropriate amount of coaxing; these obviously conflicting emotions and desires fought each other as indecision flashed across her face.

Then Kate looked at me doubtfully as she said, “You promise you won't hurt me?”

I thought to myself, Christ, you stupid woman.  That's a lesson you should have learned at least a month ago.  Run from your bedroom, now, right this moment, screaming for help.  Instead, I said, “Kate, nothing comes for free.  I promise I'll do my best not to hurt you.  It's going to be taboo for you at first, but you will eventually be in heaven and you'll find you’re going to LOVE it.” 

Reassured somehow by my words alone, she nodded reluctant agreement and sank back into my arms.  I slowly began touching Kate again, stroking her belly and breasts, softly stroking the insides of her thighs and her buttocks.  She'd already cum several times and it was easy to get her to relax in my arms.  I continued rubbing her lower back before I moved on to her firm butt cheeks, spreading them and then squeezing them together again.  I didn't just head for her glory hole right away and disregard the rest of her body; it was all there for the taking…..and I took it. 

I started with a gentle massage of her belly, groin and perineum first, then had her lay on her belly and open her legs so that I could easily reach her crotch from behind.  Then, I used my tongue while stroking the lower edges of her labia.  I massaged her back again and held her waist, giving the rest of her fantastic body the full attention it deserved. 

I kissed her some more and continued stroking her body, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin.  Every muscle in her body had relaxed by now, but all of this was planned solely so that I could enter her more easily and ultimately enjoy a hole I knew would eventually fit me as perfectly as the most expensive leather gloves.  I lubricated my index finger and massaged her anus until it opened; my finger slid inside her like magic and I continued to massage the shallows there.  I moved a little deeper and rubbed and massaged her there too for another minute, and as she relaxed even more, I eventually put a second finger inside her rectum and used them both on Kate. 

It took about five minutes, and then Kate was screaming in my arms as she had a giant orgasm.  It was a pain in the ass when all I wanted to do was bury myself in this woman, but it was also worth the effort if it meant there was a chance I didn't wind up with a weeping, screaming female impaled on my cock.  I wanted her to look forward to having my cock up her ass, not dread it.

When he kissed her, Kate closed her eyes and sighed into his mouth.  They stayed like that for a long time, as if neither wished the moment would end.  She smelled his scent rising to her and it seemed as if she had been magically transported back to her first shuddering climax with him.  She felt horrified, mortified, grateful that she’d taken a shower.  This was something she had sworn she would never do, something she could never get into, but somehow he had talked her into giving herself permission to do it.  When at length she broke away, Kate knew she had one last thing to say before she abandoned herself to what was to come. 

"Please Jimmy," she asked him softly with eyes dropped submissively, "don't hurt me.  Don't use me, don't betray me."

"Never," he whispered.  "Never."

A Real Back Door Story or It Was So Disgusting She’d Only Read About It Before

I took Kate doggie style the first time.  I had her on all fours, knees wide spread and her dress flipped up onto her back to bare her beautiful buttocks.  She was ready and I was ready….I'd spread her feet widely apart so I wouldn't spear myself on one of her high-heels and my erection was well lubricated.  My hands had worked themselves under the top of her dress and were busy now, squeezing her breasts as if they were fruit at a produce stand and I was testing her for ripeness.  Her state of mind was such that once she'd committed to this act, she was totally obedient, voluntarily holding the totally vulnerable position in which I had had posed.  Psychologically, there was nothing Kate could do now but try to hold on to her composure and not give into her fear. 

I sensed that she wanted to look at my face as I sodomized her, but instead she lowered her head and just waited for me to begin.  Her long dark hair fell to the bed and covered her face.  I reached down and gathered it, then gently draped it over her right shoulder.  This was not an act of tenderness as many might think; rather it ensured that one of the cameras now had a perfect view of her profile as I gave this woman her first ass-fucking.

I said, "Just relax, Kate.  When you feel yourself start to open, try not to clench hard with your muscles, as if you were trying to push me out.  That feels good on me, but less good for you."

She didn’t respond, only nodded her understanding.  I gave a soft, quick laugh, "You’re in charge.  We'll go slow and easy.  And when you want me to slow down, just let me know.  We’re going to do this tonight, but I don't want to hurt you.  So just let me know if it gets to be a little….overwhelming.”

"Please, go slow with me," she begged for the third or fourth time. 

I’d worked on giving her a sense of control in this, but actually it was just an illusion that allowed her to continue without too much panic.  I grunted softly with effort as I slowly began working my cock past her body’s first guardian.  Even though I had already loosened her up with her first anal orgasm, Kate still groaned deeply at the stabbing, pinching, ripping pains.

“Ohohhhhh….godddddgodgodgod…..wait…wait…waitwaitwait!”

Kate gasped softly once, but then bit the sound off as she maintained her position under me, panting now. 

“Ugghhh…….”

She wasn't really ready psychologically and that unfortunately allowed the physical side to become just a little too much of the total experience; she couldn't keep quiet.  “Please, Jimmy.  Pleasepleaseplease!!  I'm begging you.  Jimmy, slower…much slower please.  Stop.  I can't take any more.  You're too big, it's too much!” 

My voice became softer as I stopped pushing and began coaxing her.  "Come on, baby.  Relax.  I not going to stop, I'm not going to leave you alone until we're done.  But you've got some say in this too.  Let me know how you're doing.  C'mon baby, relax; take it all in.” 

I started pushing again and suddenly I felt her sphincter pop open all the way for my pleasure.

"Ohh, ohh, waitwaitwait……..JimmypleaseWAIT," I heard her beg, but it was too late, I didn't slow down.  I couldn't slow down when I had a woman like this; asking me to stop now was like asking me catch air with a butterfly net....it was impossible. 

Damn, had she ever felt this good before??  She felt hot and was incredibly tight on my cock; my mind wasn’t working particularly well at the moment so I gasped out the only thing I could think of, "Relax, baby.  It'll be all right if you just relax." 

I was breathing harder and harder, groaning with pleasure as I teetered on the edge of totally destroying the woman with one thrust of my hips, totally dominating her by controlling her ass.  But somehow, I maintained control as her tightly grasping rectum continued to accept more and more of my cock.  All I heard was her moans….

“Oh god…..oh God Jesusss……Jimmy!!  No….guhhh….more…..gahhh…waitwait….!!”

At the end, when I completely possessed this woman, I stopped, frozen at the moment of my success.  She went silent too at that moment.

“Jimmeeee….I don’t……please…..stop…..no more!  I….no mo…….”  She began to sob.

I owned her body now, as well as her mind as she hung on the end of my cock, crying softly.  My eyes were closed as I faced the ceiling, reveling in sensations and emotions that all but devoured me.  Finally, I realized I had been consumed by my pleasure and was ignoring hers.  Rather, the truth was that if I didn't help her try to enjoy this experience, it would for damn sure be difficult to get anything like this from her again.

For a moment, just a short moment, it got more physical, more brutal.  Kate tried to rise from her knees once and I grabbed her breasts inside the dress, pulling her back down onto her forearms with just her jugs alone.  She cried out in pain, but whether from my clenched hands pulling on her breasts or my cock filling her asshole, I didn’t know.  All I knew for sure was that she was easy to physically dominate at this moment. 

She had a tight hole and I knew that I had to be hurting her.  “Let me go….let me GO!!!  Jimmeee….your hurting mee….let me go!  Aaaahhhhh….!”

But I also knew that if she'd just settle down and relax, it wouldn't hurt her nearly as much.  The reality was that Kate momentary struggles had only allowed my cock to bore out her asshole even more. 

After Kate had frozen under me following her minor attempt at freedom, she then scrambled wildly for few short seconds, pawing at the sheets in an attempt to get away from what she knew I was determined to keep shoved inside her ass. 

“Gaaaa….naaa……let……me…up….I….don’t…..gaaa…”

My left hand was wrapped around her belly now and I'd grabbed a handful of her long hair with my right.  I kept her pelvis pinned against my groin and didn't move my hips.  My meat stayed buried in her backdoor up to the root and after a minute she realized she could never free herself with these feeble struggles.  Kate finally began to calm down then, apparently accepting her physical position on the bed beneath me and her inferior role in our relationship.

In the end, regardless of how she had struggled, Kate had finally accepted every inch I had to offer.  She froze then and groaned softly in discomfort, yet I kept on talking to her, soothing her, stroking her body, comforting her.  It was almost as if I were riding a skittish horse or something, and had to calm it down before I could finish my ride. 

“Come on baby, it’s gonna be okay….you can do it…just relax and let it be…”

I rubbed her ass for a second and then reached around under her belly and began to manipulate her clit as I soothed her, and after a moment of trembling when it could have gone either way, Kate finally chose to cooperate by putting her head down onto her folded arms as she then spread her thighs just a little wider for my accessing pleasure.  She couldn’t see it, but a huge smile of victory lit my face as I left my meat buried between Kate’s asscheeks for another minute or so without moving, just to allow her sphincter time to adjust to its’ extended revision in diameter that I had forced upon her. 

In the end, there were few sounds coming from my mistress.  She wasn't necessarily enjoying it, but I wasn't hurting her as much either. 

Now that I had gained entry and stretched her out a little more, it was time to take my full pleasure.  I started to carefully drill her ass, taking it nice and slow as I kept her dilated, totally controlling every parameter of her physical world.  I stoked her flank and her shoulders, and kissed her ear.  I talked to her, soothing her, reassuring her.  At the same time, I let Kate's body talk to me too, listening to every soft gasp of pleasure or bitten-lip moan of pain; allowing her responses to dictate what I was doing to her……giving her just what I knew she could take, when she could take it…. and no more. 

She was a natural.  It got easier and easier for her in a very short time; I was going deeper and deeper now all the time, probing the forbidden depths of her body without seeming to cause the awful pain that had so consumed her in the beginning.  I stopped and added a lot more lubricant; then it began in earnest.  I was thrusting deeper and harder and faster now.  And finally she began to respond!  My hands were on her hips, continually guiding her, controlling her. 

"Come on Kate,” I said, “take your time.  Come on, mama.  Learn to enjoy this, because we're going to be doing a lot more of it!”  You've got a nice tight little shitter for an older woman, mama, and I'm gonna' open it up all the way for you, and then I'm gonna' work real hard at keeping it open, I thought to myself.  You can always thank me later, baby. 

She continued to cooperate and I was soon giving long, deep strokes into her ass.  The sensations of Kate's tight, hot asstube buried around my cock were incredible.  At the end, I could hear myself grunting as I lunged into her hyper-stretched anus again and again with irresistible momentum of a runaway locomotive.  I'd already cum once in her pussy, so we both knew she was in for the long ride this time.  But Kate didn't seem to care now.  She slowly began grinding her buttocks into my groin and wiggling her hips against my groin at the same time. 

After a couple of minutes of taking it doggie style, she gave a couple of soft gasps as several small orgasms wracked her body.  These further reduced her self-restraint and helped bring out the verbal side of Kate.

“You…..I…….Yes....yes.....yes.....oh, deeper now.  God, that's right.  Thatsrightthatsrightthatsright.  Now hard, harder.  Harder!  HARDER!!  Give it to me as hard as you can!”  And I did, even as I continued to manipulate her stiff clitoris.  After an extended period of brutal, bowel-deep thrusts, she came again.  But this time it was a big one.  Any inhibitions totally gone now, she howled her pleasure as I was once more forced to muffle her voice.  

A Grateful Woman or It Was A Definite Game Changer

It had hurt at first, but not now.  Kate suddenly noticed that there was a brief moment at the onset of her very first anal orgasm when she was consciously aware that it was about to occur, but it had not yet become inevitable.  It seemed that this place of….perpetual…..onset….was where Jimmy somehow kept her; where it pleased him to have her spend most of her time. 

As for her, she wanted it to last forever!! 

In her receding rational mind, Kate knew she had eighteen to twenty muscular contractions in a typical orgasm when with Jimmy; how many she had may have varied at times but not by much.  But now, rather than trying to "suppress" an orgasm, Kate tried to let one or two contractions happen and then relaxed by breathing slowly and letting her abdominal muscles go limp.  She repeated this over and over again, trying to imagine herself right on the edge of a wave of pleasure, a wave which never seemed to break over and run onto the shore.  As for her wonderful lover, he continued driving her home again and again and again.

Suddenly, it could no longer be denied, no longer delayed, and Kate howled her pleasure through pleasure cascade, through what must have been at least thirty mind-blowing, gut-shaking contractions.  Eventually Jimmy had to quiet her with his hand and she didn’t even care.  Thoughts crashed through her mind like bullets, she was exhausted, she couldn’t breathe, there wasn’t enough air, it was wonderful!!

Only at the end did her head snap up one last time as she gasped in pain.  I could feel her rectal muscles involuntarily strain against me as they clamped down and tried to expel me.  This last gripping sensation was too much and I slammed into Kate's sweet buttcheeks hard and began to pump one last load of honey-thick cum inside her rectum.  I had wanted Kate's first ass-fuck to last; I knew my needs well and had always before managed to stop before cumming.  But not this time, not with the way she'd just grabbed onto me.  Eventually, I groaned as I felt myself finish cumming inside her ass. 

I was empty and it was over.

When I finally had my breath back, my shrinking cock had already slid out of her now loose asshole.  I've had women who truly wanted me to beat up their anus once it got comfortable for them, and this old hag just might be another one of them.  It was a lovely feeling when a woman that I was ass-fucking begged me to give it to her harder.  And when I pulled out after I'd just watched the bitch spread her cheeks for me, I knew I'd left behind both an appreciative slut and a still gaping asshole full of jizm. 

Just as I had with Kate only seconds ago. 

I sighed in contentment as I looked down; this was a woman that could be the perfect ass slut with only a little more training. 

She was embarrassed at first as my seed began to drain from between the crack of her cheeks, but we both laughed, she a little sheepishly and me with poorly disguised pleasure, and it was no longer an issue.  I wasn't fooled by her mood however; she needed to be reassured of just how much I had treasured the offering of her virgin ass flesh.  I leaned down and pulled the hair away from her neck and kissed her.  To Kate, it was a soft, tender, grateful kiss.  To me, it was just cold manipulation, for I knew it was what she wanted me to do. 

I had finally sated myself upon my fantasy woman's body.  At least for tonight. 

She did not mind the light by the side of bed, and I looked at her that way.  Her after-sex sprawl, part sloth, part tease, had an unthinking beauty, a discounted glory I had rummaged through like a previously unknown treasure found in a yard sale, keeping this, discarding that.  She lay molten and melted in the broken surf of bed sheets, her skin clear and beautiful.  But at that moment, her eyes watched me without seeing and I wondered where she had gone.  I felt a tiny curiosity, but I did not ask for I was just content to admire the gorgeous, sated flesh I now owned. 

One of Those That Liked It A Lot or Her First Exposure To A New Male Delivery System

Later, Kate sat on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins in a self-protective embrace.  She was thinking about what had just happened and I could see her mind endlessly processing; cataloguing each step, each feeling, and each emotion.  I watched her in silence, taking in every detail.  I looked at the way the light caught the taut firmness of her thighs, the way she ran her fingers through her hair in apparent confusion.  I thought about myself and what I'd done, thought about my plans for the woman next to me and tried to figure out how I felt and what I was going to do next.  There was no point, I told myself, fretting about things that were done and beyond recall.  I had to concentrate on what I could control.

Five minutes later, she looked up and found me staring at her.  Suddenly, Kate lay in my arms again.  She raised her head up and looked at me.  Tears filled her incredible eyes as she said in a small, little girl voice, “I'm sorry I wasn't better.  But I'm willing to try it again if you want me to.”

Kate’s voice became stronger, more enthusiastic.  “I promise that I'll do a lot better next time.  It definitely hurt at first, but thankfully you used a lot of lubrication.  If you’d told me in advance what you planned, I…I probably wouldn’t have been up for it.  But it just happened like it was meant to be and it wound up being a really pleasant surprise.  You were right; different things….vaginal sex, clitoral stimulation and anal sex, they all give me unique and different orgasms.  And I'm ready to experiment on everything, all of them now, as long as it's with you.  You know?  It’s silly, but I’m proud of myself.  I feel like I’ve just won a Girl Scout badge in sexuality or something.”

She was silent for a moment.  “All the while you were inside me…..I ached and burned like the crater of a volcano filled to the very top with molten lava.  I tingled all over and felt an overwhelming sense of......sexual frustration?  But I was also filled with a delicious sense of......satisfaction too.  And my body…I somehow felt thick and encased, as if I were lying in a bed filled with blood-warm honey.” She stopped for a second and smiled at the memory. 

“And you know, there was just a slight dull kind of pain at first, but after that it just felt better and better as you moved in and out.  At the end I had the most amazing orgasm; it felt like you stimulated me better this time than almost anything else we've ever done together.”

She looked at me, grabbed my cheeks and gave me a quick kiss.  “Thank you for going so slow then, for being so gentle and for letting me control your speed and depth.”

Funny.  I didn't quite remember it that way, but it didn't matter.

The old bitch was pathetically grateful to have a man fucking her.  I may have had to use Kate's need for money to get into her bed the first time, but now all she cared about was getting a steady diet of my cock.  That was what was keeping her happy now.

Kate continued enthusiastically. “I was really surprised…..there was a little pain in the beginning, but as long as you stopped and waited for it to go away, after a few seconds it felt really good when you started again.  And I felt your penis going inside me at an angle that I've never felt before.  My pussy and rear end are so sensitive and the wall separating them so thin, it was almost like I felt you in my vagina the whole time.”

She paused to catch her breath. “At the same time, you were an absolute master at massaging me and getting me ready.”  Kate smiled a dreamy smile.  “You sent me into earth-shattering orgasms with just two fingers.  Needless to say, when you pushed yourself inside me at the end, there really was only a little pain after that.”

Kate looked at me and gave a crooked grin of complicity, “I'm hooked for life.”

After we lay in bed for an hour, Kate got up to fetch us some red wine.  As soon as she stood up, she gave a small shriek and theatrically grabbed her buttocks.  She looked at me accusingly over her left shoulder and said, “I ache.  I hurt there a LOT!” 

I laughed and said, “You'll get used to it.  It only hurts for a little while.”

Kate gave me a mock glare for a second and said, “That's easy for you to say.  You're not the one that just had a telephone pole shoved up your butt!  How am I supposed to poop?”  Then she stripped off her yellow dress and threw it on the floor.  Wearing only her yellow stiletto-heeled T-strap sandals, Kate looked at me suggestively, then cupping her petite breasts with both hands, she pushed them both up into one mound of delightful flesh as she raised one eyebrow and waggled it at me. 

I looked at her beautiful face, her long dark hair and teenage-slim body; the long shapely legs spread in a wide stance with calf and thigh muscles dramatically emphasized by her high-heels.  I looked at the waxed pubis she maintained just for my pleasure and at the delightful breasts she pushed up with both hands. 

I felt a pleasurable sense of ownership and couldn't keep the satisfied grin off my face.  This beautiful woman was mine; the woman I had wanted for as long as I could remember; the only woman that had ever really made it past my defenses.  Kate turned and left to get the wine and some glasses and I laughed again as I saw that she was walking almost bow-legged, as if she'd had a fire hydrant stuck up her beautiful, firm, well-used rear end.

Kate looked back as I laughed and she laughed too.  She flipped her long dark hair out of the way, then gave me a wiggle of her bare cheeks as she once more coyly looked over her left shoulder at me.  She followed this up with a burlesque bump and grind of her hips, all of which was immediately followed by a quick groan, then she started down the stairs. 

She knew what she looked like and knew too that I'd take her that way again.  Soon.

Secretly Bending Her To His Will or Softly and Slowly Broken To Her Lover’s Hand

“Now,” she cried hoarsely, “fill me up.  Please…….fill me UP!”  Obediently, Jimmy pushed against her, held still for a moment and then pulsed within her.  He was a wonderful lover, the best she’d ever had.  He collapsed upon her then, the lightness of engaged muscle suddenly turning into dead meat.  But Kate liked that.  The weight of body.  She liked the covering, the near suffocation of a male body on top for about ten minutes.  Then she wanted him off.  But for right now, it was warm and rich and her groin radiated heat.  He smelled of fresh, golden sweat and she liked all of it.  She tightened her legs, wanting to keep him inside a little longer.  He panted, a finished athlete, his head upon her shoulder.  Satisfied, she looked at the ceiling, cool and endless as it protected them both from prying eyes. 

It was an hour later; we had just finished again and Kate was in my arms again.  She trembled when I pulled her to me.  Head back, neck arched, she seemed to rise from the foam of sheets.  Her bare skin was lightly sheened with perspiration.  I said nothing.  She looked at me and said, “I finally understand; I totally get it now.  In the beginning, I felt like I was too old to do what you wanted, that I wasn't attractive enough anymore.  I didn't want to wear any lingerie for you, especially the nylons; and because I didn't know anything about them, they kind of embarrassed me and I was afraid you might laugh."

She thought for a moment.  "But even then, I thought they might be……oh, I don’t know......interesting.....there's definitely a sexy look to them.  But it took me awhile to catch on....that you absolutely love them on me along with the lingerie; and it took me a while to realize that this desire went right to your core.  I know I made a few mistakes along the way, complaining about dressing up for you, but now I enjoy it.  I really do.” 

She stopped for a second and then continued.  “It takes a little longer to get ready, but now that I realize how happy it makes you and after getting more comfortable doing it, I love the look too.  I'm going to try to wear stockings now whenever I wear skirts and dresses and suits.  You already buy everything for me; garters, stockings, lingerie, shoes, even dresses and skirts...so why not wear them?  I just wanted you to know, regardless of my hesitation in the beginning, that I completely understand now and I appreciate you persuading me to wear them.”

Persuade my ass, I thought to myself.  I had to force you to put them on your sweet little well-used ass.

“So, mister,” Kate rolled over and punched me in the chest, “I like wearing stockings because they make me feel sexy, elegant and unique.  To me, now they are far more comfortable than panty hose, and it makes you happy when you see me wear them for you every day and then again just for you in the bedroom.  Even more, I look good in them…I look really good in them.  Finally, you've got great taste.  And that's why you're with me!”

She looked at me brightly for a second and then put her head back against my chest.

Kate could feel the heat of his body where she leaned against his arm.  His face was tilted towards her, his breath ruffled her hair.  She couldn't bear to look at him.  For every time she did, she felt things she wasn’t sure she wanted to feel.  His hand slid over hers, locking it against his chest.  A burst of sweet fire surged unexpectedly through her, making her heart skip a beat, making her catch her breath.  Made her realize how far she'd fallen and that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.  Finally, she had to say something; she tried to keep everything out of her voice when she did.

“I don't want to scare you off with female things,” Kate sighed. “But I need to talk.”

She hesitated and then plunged in.  “I feel like I don't know what to think about you, about us.  I mean, we really have nothing in common.  I'm an adult; compared to you I'm an older woman.   And you, look at you; you're a twenty year-old kid.  I'm not super-experienced either, certainly not as experienced as you.  Oh, I've had plenty of offers from men, but I didn’t want a series of short time things.......and stupidly, when I was with an experienced man that might have made a good lover, I refused to indulge myself.”

Kate sighed.  “I thought I knew my body, but….but I hadn’t had a real, full-on, hold, on to your hat orgasm in years,” she stopped and cocked an eyebrow at me, “real or artificially induced.   But then this.....this thing with you......whatever it is, I'm helpless before it.  Time after time, you make me do things I don't want to do.  And when it's done, when it's over, I'm so very glad I did them with you.  Nothing ever slows down with you, I never get a chance to catch my breath; I’m always being swept out of control.  I'm thirty-eight years old and I have never had a romance like this or a series of orgasms like this before.  Never.” 

“I hate the fact that there's such an age difference between us, yet I'm overwhelmed by the feelings you arouse in me.  Don't take this the wrong way, mister," and here she waggled her eyebrows at me again like Groucho Marx.  "But I adore you…I adore the delight I feel in my heart leaps when I unexpectedly see you, at the way the ground shifts under my feet when you smile at me because I've made you happy with something I've done.” 

“But you hold all the power between us and I guess despite my age, I must still have a ways to go to grow up, for I still do not like that feeling of complete powerlessness when I'm with you.”

Kate looked at my face, deep into my eyes.  “I feared caring about you, I was afraid it was going to make me weak.  I don't doubt for a moment that I've begun to love you, and I can't afford to do that to you.  And….if what I've just said scares you off, then we'll still have had these moments.”

She lay silently next to me for about five minutes, turned to look at me once, then put her head back in my arms once more.   She sighed, “All I can hope is that with time, it will become easier.”

She drank in every detail of his face.  The sometimes disheveled look with his clothes often wrinkled; his hair windblown and his jaw unshaven.  She looked at his face closely and saw a broad forehead, beautiful, dangerous eyes, a magnificent bone structure that seemed to hint at a forbidden bloodline somewhere back in his genetic history, the union of an Olympian goddess and a mortal Celtic king.  Mythic, she thought; that was how Jimmy looked to her.  Why had she never noticed this before?  Then he turned to her and they just stared at each other.  Everything around them went motionless, frozen in time and space.  Their past both bound them and separated them. 

She desperately enjoyed what they did and Kate knew she was falling, had fallen in love.  She hated the weakness, the overwhelming need it implied in her….the fact that she was not in complete control of her destiny now.  She was changing, evolving as she realized that there were no secrets in life, only hidden truths that told others too much.

Things Can Always Change or Reality Is Sometimes Quite Different From What One Expects

I awoke and it took me a minute to work out where I was.  We had watched late movies last night together.  I was lying on her sofa, still dressed, but someone had covered me with a duvet.  I pondered the significance of the gesture.  It was a very good sign.  So where was she now?  There was no one in the kitchen or her little office.  The bathroom was empty, though a pair of panties was drying on the towel bar.  That left only one possibility. 

I opened her bedroom door as quietly as possible and padded across the room.  She was in bed, and I could see the outline of her body under the sheet, the shock of her dark hair pitch-black against the white pillow.  As she breathed she made an occasional snuffling sound.  I smiled as I recognized a long-forgotten emotion...one I didn't want to have to face.  Fancying a woman for her body was one thing.  But when you heard her snore and thought it was cute, well, then you knew it was becoming serious.

The bedroom windows were opened slightly and a breeze fluttered through the half-drawn linen curtains.  Morning sunlight washed over Kate and I brushed away the long hair from her forehead as I gently lay down next to her.  Even without makeup, the early morning sun pouring through her bedroom window gave Kate's face an angelic cast.  Her pale, sleeping profile was perfectly silhouetted against the bright light, emphasizing her patrician nose, her elegant neck.  I'd made plans to destroy this woman, but now, even as I tried to remain hard and cynical towards her, I felt something unfamiliar, something….unwanted; a warm, tender, protective feeling that stole lightly over me.  I watched over her for a while as she slept.  Unlike the last few weeks, yesterday afternoon she had slept in my arms in a sleep so deep that it seemed she would never awake. 

I looked closer and saw that there was something different about her now, or perhaps I had been too occupied, too busy or selfish to notice.  There was a glow that was new; the sense of self-imposed restraint I had first noticed seemed gone now.  In its place was a look of relaxation and contentment that encompassed total surrender; on her face was a look of....a look of actual happiness, something she had never before let me see. 

I softly ran my hand along her smooth, naked thigh, up to her waist, and then down her flat stomach.  My body was pressed against her; front to back, her head resting on my arm.  This emotion I felt was not at all part of the plan, but in retrospect, it shouldn't have surprised me either.  She had gotten beneath my defenses…..there had been sign posts that should have warned me; furtive glances, comments we made only in jest.  The tension that had been building between us, each of us silently wondering…..neither of us wanting to even think about it going to the next level. 

I kissed her bare shoulder, nudged a lock of her silky black hair with my nose and listened to her breathing.  Kate was awake now but still pretended to sleep as she lay in bed by my side.  Suddenly I was intoxicated by the smell and touch of the beautiful woman lying next to me.  I hadn't felt this alive in a long time.

I shook her and she pretended to just awaken.  She looked at me for a moment and smiled, then hopped out of bed like a ten-year old girl and shook her long hair out.  Before she left the side of the bed, she slipped on her yellow stiletto-heeled sandals and fastened the multiple ankle straps---it was a wonderfully, sexy touch that brought a smile to my face.   This was a woman that liked to please her man. 

We made love again that morning.

Kate lay under a thin sheet, limned in ribbons of light.  She was aware of Jimmy's gaze tracing the swell of her breasts.  As if in direct response, her nipples rose.  She bit her lower lip, sexually excited and yet ashamed of her immorality, all at the same time.  She felt as wanton as a teenager, as if her entire body had suddenly become a sexual instrument, as if a flood of hormones, pheromones and endorphins had somehow attuned themselves only to this young man.  These feelings, so long kept hidden away, frightened her enough that she kept talking when she should have perhaps kept silent. 

Kate moved closer to him and then whispered in his ear, "I think I love you.  I truly love you."  She turned then and climbed swiftly on top of him, spreading her thighs.  Their insides were as soft and warm as melting butter.  She reached down for him and pressed his hardness against her flat belly.  Jimmy kept his gaze on her face. 

Kate knew she had been using this young man in the beginning.  But she could not put a number on the times she had imagined this moment, the very second when she finally let him know how she truly felt.  Only to want to wipe it away again in disgust, profoundly ashamed that she so coveted her best friend's young son with a desire that transcended even her iron will to keep it fully suppressed. 

Instead of giving in to her feelings, she had begun at times to think of him as the enemy, the intruder in her life.  The truth was that she'd had no real life before him.  And so she was reduced to this.

She stroked him with her fingertips until he moaned and arched up against her.  Her obvious urgency mirroring his.  Kate slipped him inside her and hunched forward, expelling all her breath, all her feelings in one steaming motion.  She mouthed his name as if it were an incantation that could wipe away all the years of terrible yearning when she had been so alone.

Kate felt like a cauldron inside.  He had money and youth and looks, and he seemed to want her.  She didn’t really understand it, since he could surround himself with gorgeous creatures with their glowing skin and youth, none older than himself.  She was by far older than him and she felt so dull at times, with the crow’s feet around her eyes and the creases when she smiled….

But she thrilled to see that he had no power to resist her.  And her desire for him was like a second heart, frantically pumping, hard in her lower belly.  It fluttered like a butterfly, until her thigh muscles bunched and rippled against him, until she groaned with each stroke into her, with each brush of her hardened nipples against him, until her whole pelvis clenched and spasmed.  As he exploded inside Kate, her head came down beside his and he held her tightly.  Kate couldn't help herself as she began to cry.

Beware The Happiness That Success Can Bring or He Loved That Newly Lost Look In Her Eyes

Her next period came and went; she had time to herself and I spent it editing the videos that I less and less felt like using.  Then we were back together and the month cycled to a non-eventful end. 

My anger towards this woman, towards most women, seemed spent, mostly gone; I cared for her too much to think about the past, about what I had been like, about what she may or may not have done to me.  What was done was done.  Our relationship had by now taken over much of our time together, and both of us enjoyed, at least I knew that I enjoyed what we did to the other too much for me to stop on a whim.  Much of what I asked of her….had at first actually forced from her….was of a nature that told me as much about myself as it did of her.

We hadn’t slowed down in any way.  I still used physical dominance at times during sex now, spanking and even asphyxiation, but more out of a pure physical drive that we both seemed to enjoy, rather than in an attempt to hurt or humiliate her.  But for me, there was still an additional motive; an intellectual conquest of this woman that was mixed with curiosity, I wanted to see just how far I could take Kate from the world she had built for just herself and in which she was still the most comfortable.

I have no real answers or excuses for what I did, nor do I know why she continued to allow me to do these things to her.  Money was surely part of it; or at least it had been in the beginning.  But once I'd used this to wedge my way into her life and her bed, our relationship soon took on a life of its own.  It was true that she tried to steer me away from some things and towards others, but I knew what I wanted and Kate soon capitulated, giving me pretty much whatever I asked for. 

There were dark and unknown, unplumbed depths to this woman, and I believe she eventually came to enjoy what we did to each other as much as I, using our private rendezvous as both motive and opportunity to explore her sexuality.  But for her, an additional allure was the privacy in which these things took place; nothing threatened the social position she'd fashioned for herself in her community. 

Kate eventually came to enjoy doing these things for me; she did anything I asked just to satisfy me.  But always in the back of my mind, I wondered if I felt the presence of a smugly tolerant older woman giving theatrical sighs of exasperation as she indulged her younger man, doing what she felt necessary to keep him happy and satisfied, and most importantly, staying at home.  It was true that she was living in a type of fantasy world, but the more we talked late at night, the more I understood this complex woman.  And as much as I hated to admit it now, the more I came every day to enjoy her company.

Kate was not a perfect person by any means.  She tried to be kind to others she considered less fortunate than herself, but it was a studied kindness.  With the sophistication and natural sense of dignity she displayed when in public, Kate rarely seemed to connect with others at more than a surface level; I'm not even sure she realized this. 

She said little to me, but it was soon clear she didn't much like Mormons or Catholics or Jews; she hated or feared most immigrants, illegal or otherwise, and most of all, how our culture was being changed for the worse by so many things out of her control.  Most people were to her very shallow, uneducated and unsophisticated people, with no real personal convictions whatsoever.  To her, they had a misplaced sense of their own value and their overall character was always defined by both frivolity and impertinence. 

Subtly racist at all times, a few times she seemed overtly such too, giving quick sniffs of disdain when she saw examples of what she called "ghetto culture" that came too close to her home and community.  To her, whatever else one called them, as a group blacks were a mongrel, lawless people who took pleasure in murdering the representatives of any central authority; and the ones from the ghettos were the worst of the lot.

The woman rarely made overt comments, but several times mentioned that their culture was too crude and too tribal, a code word that I came to understand implied an absolutely primitive society.  I finally understood that while it was a class thing; it was more than that but was still absolutely very real to her nonetheless.  If I make her sound less than perfect, please keep in mind that she was no different than any of the rest of us and that we all have beliefs and histories and feelings of which we are not particularly proud. 

Our conversations were by turns shocking, provocative, and even humorous, but always interesting.  Kate was clearly no admirer of non-whites; unstable peoples she called them.  She dismissed them with an impatient gesture as chronic malcontents, definitely America's underclass. 

"Many are godly enough in their own way," she once said, "but one has to be realistic; the world has been divided naturally into those who succeed and those who do not."  For her, this more realistically could be interpreted as those who ruled and those who were ruled.  In her mind, that was the way that God ordained things, and that was the way the world had worked since the beginning of time.  Whites, for all their regrettable excesses and personal vices, were rulers.  But most blacks fit poorly into this scheme, proving quite worthless at anything requiring original thought.  She felt they had proved themselves more hopeless, even more dangerously chaotic on a larger scale, their disorganized, disintegrating sub-culture far too attractive to disenfranchised white youth. 

Me?  I had no real opinions on these particular things and usually let her rattle happily on.

Boston’s A Charming Town or It Was A Successful Nocturnal Charade

I’d hired a private detective part-time after I met Kate the first time.  Then I’d rented a room at a five star hotel in Boston I knew Kate liked and had him wire it with multiple cameras for sound and picture.  I had planned to use this whenever we were in town together.  Now, it seemed all had been wasted effort and I had no plans to use what I'd set up.  In fact, I knew I had to be quite careful to make sure that Kate never knew any of this.  If she found out what I had done to her, she would never forgive me.  It would be over between us and that was the one thing I now didn't want.

The weather had begun to cool off, and I had finally coaxed her out of the house.  We met in Boston where no one knew us and stayed in the room that I'd had wired.  True to her word, no matter what she wore now, she almost always figured out a way for stockings to be an essential part of the outfit.  Most of the time, she looked demure enough that no one really knew for sure whether she did or didn't.  Sometimes however, when Kate felt an impish moment, she'd wear a long skirt split up the side or a short dress, and then everyone knew for sure.  And the men around her couldn't get enough.

We had plans to stay for two or three days.  After shopping in the afternoon of the first day, Kate came back to our hotel room with a red face.  She was embarrassed, furious after having overheard a couple of women talking about her, because she was wearing stockings. 

I laughed and said, “That supposed evening of fun tonight is now going to be nothing but extra clutter in your underwear drawer now?  Because someone said something and your feelings were hurt?  So, just because of that, you're ready to bag the pretty high heels and the garters and frump back into your jeans and Nike's, just so that you can fit in?”

I was a little angry.  “Shame on you, woman!”  I got up and fixed her a drink.  “No one has to agree or disagree with what you say or what you choose to wear.  Pretend you're a crazy Hungarian gypsy that loves life or something, a beautiful woman that loves wearing stockings because it's your choice and you desire to be happy.  No one has the power to take that away from you.  C'mon, live for today.  Be happy in garters and stockings.  I certainly am when you are.  You may not be chasing fashion, but who knows, in the end it may be hot on your tail.”

This was what Kate had needed to hear and while she obviously felt better afterwards, I knew that she still needed a little more stiffening.  “It seems to me that a lot of 'modern' women's objections are centered around what the feminist collective thinks about various feminine lifestyles.  A woman being sexy is out.  Some clothing is just off limits to the 'sisterhood'.  The banned list includes nylons, sexy bras, pushup bras, corsets and just about anything that's red in color.  If a sister revolts and is seen wearing any of these things, why, she gets outright hostility or at least an obvious sniff of disapproval.  But to men, this list seems to contain basically anything we feel makes a woman feminine, pretty or sexy.....because then she's a slut.”

I shook my head in confusion.  “The approval thing is really about approval from other women.  Most women don't like to be seen as different or as standing out too much from the crowd.”

“I'm just about finished now, ready to get down off of my soapbox,” I said.  “But the thing that really confuses men is that the same argument about women's approval can't be applied to high-heels…even although they're restrictive, uncomfortable, sexy and men find them attractive.  Men don't get this...I don't get this.”

Kate laughed and I knew she was better.

She Wore A Wonderfully Monochrome Look or A Mature Woman Dressed In Black Can Be Quite Beautiful

The next night, we had tickets for a highly rated live performance and she'd gone shopping again that morning since she '......had nothing to wear and needed something nice.'  She came back with rosy red cheeks and bags of things that she'd purchased.  She was in an exceptional mood that afternoon and we fooled around a lot.  My God, was she hot! 

She showered, then toweled herself down, blow-dried her hair and came back into the room with me.  I was still lying on the bed, draped in a thick hotel robe, waiting my turn in the bathroom.  Kate pulled out her thong and took off her towel.  I was intoxicated by the intimacy of watching something as simple as her slipping into her panties.  I relished all the sights and sounds that are so normal, even banal to a woman, yet which are so fascinating to a man; the slither of fabric over her skin, the snap of elastic, the little twists and adjustments of a woman’s body, the self-absorption as she examines her appearance in a full-length mirror. 

Yet there was nothing showy about her actions.  Kate seemed indifferent to my watching eyes, as if, like a dancer or model, she were so used to being naked in the presence of other people that any modesty or coyness about her body had long since evaporated.  Nor was there any vanity in the way she looked herself up and down.  Her expression was serious, her self-examination meticulous.  We were going out in public, together, and she was determined to make me proud to be seen with her. 

As Kate stepped away from the mirror, she finally glanced at me.

"What do you think?"

I grinned, "I think you'd better get dressed before I lose all self-control."

"No," she said.  "Fun time is over for now.  Time for business, for what you promised."

She walked across to the dressing table which was already dotted with bags of make-up, pots of skin cream, a can of hairspray, brushes, combs, and a couple of shopping bags.  She twirled her mascara brush through her eyelashes and for a few moments we were silent as she next concentrated on her lipstick.

When Kate was finished, she looked like she had been sprayed with money.  Her hair tumbled around her bare shoulders and her skin seemed to glow.  Her lips were a liquid red.  There were small diamonds glittering on her ears and in the bangles round her wrists.  Long dark hair in a sophisticated “up and loose” style, a simple black dress that was cut low in front and fell to a point between her upper thighs.  She also had on what I later learned were a pair of Manhattan-heel taupe seamed stockings and a new pair of Steve Madden black cross-strap stiletto evening sandals. 

For the first time, I was sure; I loved this woman, I loved everything about her.  I was fascinated by her; my mind dwelled on her all of the time now  and I wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. 

Finally ready, we departed the hotel and Kate gave the people on the streets a sardonic appraisal as our car rolled through several of the rundown parts of downtown.  It was evening now and the lights were coming on, the usual blue-white fluorescent tubes that cast a deathly glow on every face, making the streets look like they were crowded with the living dead.  She had an expression of acid disapproval on her fine-boned face that would have etched glass. 

“God,” she said in her best upper crust drawl.  “Remind me to have some more children so that I can drown them.”

We endured what I felt was an over-rated B-level show.  However, Kate made up for it since the dress she wore was little more than a sliver of material.  When she half-turned to whisper and giggle in my ear, I could see as, could everyone, that the dress left her back completely bare before flirting with her half-naked buttocks in a whisper of material.

After drinks, we went back to our hotel and were soon lying together in bed.  Kate had had a wonderful day, loved every minute of it and was still running on adrenaline; she couldn't get to sleep. 

She kept chattering, “Fully-fashioned stockings are becoming increasingly rare,” she said, “and I was lucky to find some.”

“I'm glad you thought I looked really nice tonight,” Kate stated for at least the tenth time.  “Did you really think I looked okay?”

As I complimented her once more, I could see her eyes in close in pleasure, like a cat being stroked.  Kate HAD looked spectacular tonight and I fucked her brains out as both punishment and reward upon our return.  She may have cost me a lot of money getting ready, but it had been worth every penny when I was fucking her later.

Now sexually satisfied, Kate squirmed and snuggled some more before I had the chance to answer. 

She continued excitedly.  “I quit counting the compliments after a while!  I really enjoyed that younger man telling me that my stockings and sandals (he called them shoes) looked “very hot.”

She hit me on the chest, “Did you know I could still look hot???  Each time I went to the ladies room, the girls and women had all types of questions about how and where I got my stockings.  These Manhattan-heel stockings are real eye catchers and they did the trick on tonight.”

She preened again, “I guess it ain't so broke at thirty-eight, after all.  I guess I won't have to fix it, 'cause it just keeps on working fine.”  She loved being the center of attention.  But I was tired and finally fell asleep after listening to another ten minutes of her chatter. 

Driving home the next day, he kissed her; kissed her deeply despite the fact that he was driving.  One of those kisses Kate knew you got only once in a lifetime if you were incredibly lucky.  Her left hand dropped to his lap, fingers tightening around him.  Her senses quickened and released all desire and need and decorum.  Kate reached out for him in every way possible.

A Profound Revelation Occurs or Her Perfidious Nature Ensured All Mercy Was Now Gone

In addition to my mother, Kate had a few other close friends.  I guess we all need to be able to talk to at least one other person.  She found it difficult to talk to my mom now, and when she couldn't talk to me, she used Gina instead.  Gina was a thirty-five year old woman of Italian heritage, the mother of an eight year old boy that Kate had met years ago during one of her committees.  While Italian, Gina still passed my woman's acceptability test.  The two were like young girls, sisters actually, when they got on the phone, always talking about anything and everything. 

Gina was the only one with whom she would really let her guard down.  With Gina she was no longer sophisticated, dignified, or even classy.  These two told each other everything, and I mean everything.  I listened to Kate's comments to Gina on my surreptitious videos numerous times and they had often cracked me up. 

It was only to Gina that Kate had confided that she now had a "lover".  And she talked about some of the things that we did together.  Of course, Gina was thrilled for her and demanded all the gory details.  I was amazed at first at the racy details these two routinely passed back and forth; I was embarrassed by Kate's graphic descriptions of what we did just as I was duly pleased at how she rated my performances.  All Gina could do was sigh with delight for Kate.  As much as she loved her husband, Gina still wished her life was as exciting and romantic as Kate's now seemed to be.  

Being the bastard that I was, I routinely listened at first to Kate's conversations with Gina during the day, but these efforts had finally began to taper off once we began to know each other better.  Besides, Kate was a wonderful woman and I was feeling pretty guilty about my original plans.  I had decided before our trip to Boston that I would listen to selected conversations for only another few days; and there was a backlog of conversations that once reviewed signaled the end of that part of my life. 

One of these had been a recorded conversation between Kate and Gina on the morning immediately after our return from Boston.  Kate was giggling like a breathless teenager when she began:

I have the most incredible story to tell you......yeah, yeah, we had a great time, but that's not what I want to tell you.  I'd gotten some money to shop for clothes....he likes me to shop for things that make me look good for him.....he's great that way.

I was looking for something to wear and I found this fantastic little shop sort of hidden in among some book stores and shoe stores.  It had a little lingerie on display, but there was an amazing number of different kinds of nylon and silk stockings in the windows.  I was intrigued and so in I went.

There was a woman clerk at the desk and after a polite smile......yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about....well, she just ignored me.  But then I met the other clerk who was a man.  Yes, a man about my age.  I was kind of depressed....oh, I'll tell you about it later....no, it wasn't something he'd done......I said I'd tell you later!!

But when I told this guy I wanted something sensational to wear, he immediately knew I meant stockings.  There was something very sexy about him, but he was one of those guys that you don't know if they're gay or not. 

I followed him over to a large display of stockings and garters. As we approached the racks, I reached out to touch one pair, but his hand grabbed mine....he treated me as if I were a child reaching for something breakable.

"Let me," he whispered..............I know, I KNOW!!!

Then he chose a pair for me, but instead of offering them to me, he lifted them up and drew them across my cheek.......yes.....yes......I could actually feel my face turning red.

The stockings were a beautiful midnight blue.  I reached up, meaning to press them tighter to my face, to inhale the scent of their newness.  But he quickly drew them away.

"Uh-uh," he told me clicking his tongue. "First we must get the garters."

Gaaawwd, I was just mortified.  But like an idiot, I just followed him around.

He selected a pair; they were so blue they were almost black.  How delicate, I thought to myself, as he flicked his fingers through the lace that decorated every edge. I just KNEW my eyes were gleaming, I wanted them for my own so bad.  Then, without another word, he produced a skimpy pair of blue panties, again surrounded by lace.

Ohhh my God, I was so embarrassed on the inside, but I tried to be cool on the outside. 

"Would you like to try it all on?" he asked.

I...I didn't know what to do and just nodded; I didn't want to appear.....over-anxious, but he was dangling them in front of my face like....like a forbidden treat or something.  He led me into their dressing room, then stopped by the door.

Now he became very masculine and I knew he wasn't gay.

"Slip off your shoes," he ordered me.  I felt like a robot as I lifted my legs, one at a time, and let each pump fall to the floor.  I swear to God, I felt like I was mesmerized, like I'd been hypnotized or something.

Then he said, "Now your panties."

Long silence as Kate listened.

Quit screaming....I am NOT making this up! 

I knew my hands were sweating and my fingers were shaking, but for some reason I DID it! 

Yes, I swear to God I did it....just like that.

I reached up under my dress and pulled off the white thongs I'd been wearing.   The most embarrassing part was that there was a wet spot and it was quite noticeable. 

The thought of staining the new silk pair flashed through my head and made me feel very.....well, extremely naughty.  I sat on the lone chair in the room and he knelt below me, then he took the garter and traced around my ankle with it.

"Lift up your leg," he whispered.

Yes, he actually whispered. In fact, he was whispering a lot now.

He kept the garter pressed really close to my calf and thigh, and when he reached the hem of my skirt, I pulled it up to my waist. He didn't ask me too and I wanted to stop, but I just couldn't. 

His face was so close to my pussy that I remember vaguely wondering if he could smell me too.  I could feel his hot breath on me there, and it sent tingly vibrations throughout my body.

I couldn't help it; it was like something out of a really stupid Victorian novel, but I actually gasped when he did it.  Then he smiled as he picked up one of the stockings.  And again, he rubbed it across my face.  I know I closed my eyes.  I could feel the silk moving over my lips and down my neck.  It felt so sensual, you know what I mean?  So.......good.

He lifted my foot and massaged my toes..........

Another long silence as Kate listened on the phone.

Oh shut up and let me finish the story......

He rolled the stocking over my toes, then drew it up over my ankle.  It felt so incredibly cool and soft against my skin.  He moved it up over my calf, then up over my knee, pressing his thumb into the spot in back where I'm so ticklish.  He pulled it over my thigh, drawing his fingers across my skin.

When he reached the spot where my garter lay, his hand slowed down and lingered.  With both hands, he brought the stocking up to meet it and then fastened it for me.  I know my breathing slowed as he did this and my eyes were closed; you know, like in a dream when each touch brings absolute tiny spasms of delight.

Then he did the same thing with the other one; I finally opened my eyes and watched as my legs were transformed from pale white to deep blue. This time when he reached my thigh, he bent in and planted a tiny kiss on what little skin of my thigh still remained uncovered.  Then he began making a line of kisses; as soon as his lips left a spot of my skin, he unrolled the stocking and covered it. 

I was absolutely SOOOO wet now.......he kissed his way up my thigh until his mouth was inches from my......my....from between my legs.  I know I accidentally clenched my legs as his mouth kissed me...there.

I also know I moaned at this point.  And I am NOT a moaner! 

As his hands worked at attaching the stocking to my garter, his tongue found my clit.....and it felt as soft as silk.  I was already so wet, and it was moving in and out and flicking me between my legs.

I couldn't stop myself as I reached down to touch his hair, to pull him closer; it was like I had this incredible need, and it was rising with every stroke of his tongue..........

I know, I know, it's like the worst written porn novel in the world.........

But he wouldn't stop.  "Uh-uh," he breathed onto my flesh.  I brought my hands to his shoulders to push him away, but after he just looked at me for about a minute, I put them back up to my breasts and rolled my nipples between my fingers.  He went back to what he'd been doing, plunging and stabbing at me with his tongue.  His hand moved from the clip on the garter and worked its way inside me.  I gasped and raised my hips to take his fingers in deeper. 

I'm such a slut......I wanted him, all of him.  I forgot where I was, I felt like my insides were actually clutching at his fingers as my orgasm started to build.

Quickly he pulled away and then he pulled down his own pants.........

Yes, he did.  I swear he did.....

He had a good cock, it was long and hard and at that moment, I wanted it so deep inside me.  He lifted me up and then planted my pussy right on himself.  I couldn't help it; I was so hot at this point that I just slid down on him and I moaned as he entered me, filling me; he put it in me again and again.  But he was always holding me close.  I know I buried my face in his neck, held on to his hair, clutched him to me really tight.

Then we stumbled backwards and I was drowning in silk.  His hands were still tight on my ass as he thrust harder and deeper into me.  I tried not to cry out as he found his rhythm and began to hit my clit.  He drew himself in and out of me, and it was like neither one of us wanted to stop.  I dug my nails into his shoulders and then, with one more move of his hips I began to shudder.

That climax blew over me and I was glad he was holding onto me.  I fell onto him and as he gave me one final deep stroke, he pulled out and I could feel his wet heat soaking into my new silk stockings.

And then it was over.  He held me tight for a moment, then gently lowered me before he began to fix himself up.  I did the same.

......then he asked the most incredible question......

"Would you like to wear them home?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered; it was me whispering now and I know I was grinning like a stupid fourteen year old. 

Silence as she listened.

What did I do then?

Then I pulled out my money and paid for the stockings and another designer pair.  And when I walked out of the back room, the woman at the front counter gave me the same polite smile. 

I nodded at her, even though I knew I had a faint smile on my lips too. 

Then, I decided to go to the shoe store to see if a new pair of heels would bring me as much luck as my new stockings.

God.  Isn't that just the most incredible story?

I just hope the man I'm seeing doesn't find out.  I'd just die if he knew.

A Sudden Reminder Of Plans Past or A Short, Undignified Life Was The Best For Which She Could Now Hope

Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge…are all founded on lust.

-Marquis de Sade

No trait is more justified than revenge in the right time and place.

-Meir Kahane

I'm not real big on repentance ... I like revenge better.

-Laurell K. Hamilton

I knew that I didn’t exist in the everyday world that most other people inhabited.  As a card-carrying semi- to total sociopath, I understood that what I felt and what I sometimes did was not always acceptable to others.  But as a marginal psychopath, I’d stopped caring years ago about what others thought of me.  I lived most of my life in a dark hole and this woman had brought parts of me back into the light for a few brief moments.  But now, I felt like I was lost in a dark tunnel once more.  I ached, I hurt in a place that wasn’t here…..wasn’t now.  Or maybe it was me that wasn’t here, wasn’t now.  For the first time, I realized how much I had allowed myself to care for this woman.  Even though it had begun on a lie, we had seemed so right for each other during these last few weeks and months—she giving everything and me taking it all. 

But I had to thank her too for reinforcing my beliefs about women, about all women.  About how worthless and untrustworthy they were.  I knew that I had been right all along to exist in a world in which no woman could be trusted or taken in too close.  Too, it took something like this to make me realize what I had found after so many hopeless years, and now had lost again.  My mind was full of swirling thoughts, none of which were connected or made sense.  I didn't know what to think. 

I remembered how perfectly radiant she had been when she returned from shopping that day, how her cheeks had been so flushed.......but now I knew it hadn't been from the cold.  I remembered how we had talked for so long in her kitchen when we first got back, how the honesty that had so impressed me and which had only confirmed the rightness of what I felt…all of it, everything had really been nothing but a sham. 

The more I thought things through, the more certain I was that I had always known how this would end.  I cursed myself for my willful refusal to look beyond my pleasure to what the woman had actually represented; my refusal to see the full and predictably awful consequences of trusting what I had always known to be a slut.  Her fault, but it was my responsibility. 

Furious inside, I still laughed out loud.  You’ve done a great job, asshole.  So busy looking at the details of screwing her over that you allowed her inside your defenses, failed to understand that win or lose, you would always lose with her.  If I had only been able to stand back and view us from a distance, what must happen was obvious given the way I had always felt about her.  And somehow, I had always known what she was like inside, what she would do. 

I reflected on the matter for a few more minutes, and then all of a sudden, my mind was made up, all doubts and affection for her gone so quickly that it took my breath away.  A cold, quiet commitment settled over me.  At that moment any feelings of tenderness, any love or even affection I'd felt for this woman turned to ashes in my mouth.  Her voice continued out of the speaker as I raged in my pain, but I know I never made a sound so it must have all been in my head. 

I had been so smugly oblivious in my own little world and it had really been her using me all the time.  I wanted to confront her; I wanted to destroy her; I wanted to hide from her and the world forever. 

I used women, they didn’t use me!  This was the woman of my dreams; literally the woman of my dreams.  Had I meant so little to her that she would do this to me?  I had manipulated her, but she in turn had left me desolate with her cheap betrayal.  If someone were keeping score, who would be the winner now?  It certainly wasn’t me, for I’d cried like a child; the big man had not cried like this since his father had died.  THAT was the level of this betrayal.  Emotionally exhausted, I fell asleep, remaining unconscious for over twelve hours. 

When I awoke, I knew the real me was back after a very long absence.  Never let it be said that I was not a deep thinker.  My needs might be basic, but I had thought long on how to satisfy those needs.  My mind was clear and I knew what I would do.  I would follow through on my original plan, but I would modify it too.  I would, I vowed, do everything in my power to destroy this woman I had once thought I loved.  But she would never know that destruction was immanent, right up to the very end.  My conscience was clear too. 

All She Ever Wanted Was Love or The Rest of Her Life Decided In One Short Moment

Kate sipped a cup of coffee in her kitchen and thought back to when she and Jimmy had gotten back from Boston a couple of days ago; the thought of that last night in the hotel still brought a smile to her face. 

They'd sat right here upon their return and she'd looked at this man, leaning back in his chair, totally relaxed by their wonderful weekend together.  She was aware that she represented some kind of mystical respite for him, a way to face the world again after re-charging his batteries.  She was also aware that despite his....adult tastes in sex, he was still a child in so many ways and that this must be a fleeting thing between them; that it could not possibly last.  And as they did things together that continually surprised even her, she could feel the old, dark fantasies die away inside only to be replaced by the new ones he represented.  She couldn't help herself; she enjoyed his companionship, enjoyed their relationship far too much to give it up; she needed it because it made her feel whole and healthy for the first time in many years, and suddenly Kate realized she wanted it, needed it to endure.

They had talked in her kitchen and she cared too much to swat away his questions with a joke or change of subject as she had learned to do with countless other men who had come-on to her in so many tawdry ways.  She was honest with him, and it was difficult after being so long alone.  She had looked at him earnestly as she answered his questions honestly, as if she were handing him a fragile object. 

She had learned emotional self-sufficiency over the last twenty years, but he was such a new phenomenon and he made her so happy, she'd just had to talk to someone about him.  But there were so few people she with whom she could really talk.  She couldn't talk to Jimmy about how she felt about him; she couldn't talk to Jimmy's mom about the affair she was having with her son....yet.  And that left Gina.  She could pretty much tell Gina anything.  But this thing with Jimmy was getting too complicated.........she liked him waaay too much. 

Damn it!  She might be almost twice his age, but she deserved to be happy just as much as any other woman in this world.  He made her feel so good, so young and alive again.   He was a sex maniac too, but that completely satisfied her, for she felt so good when they were together doing the things he wanted to do.  How long had it been since she wanted to be with a man, let alone perform for him like she did for Jimmy.

She could actually see herself settling down with him.  It would drive his mother away as a friend, and it would drive her son nuts.  But Kate smiled as she thought, I don't give a damn.  I think he's beginning to fall in love with me, and I'm already more than half way there with him.  I can see myself wanting to make him happy for the rest of my life and I can see us happy together. 

Her grin got larger.  She'd needed to talk with Gina, but cared enough about her wonderful young man that she just couldn't tell her friend everything; about what was really going on between Jimmy and herself, about how the ice queen had finally fallen for a man half her age.  She couldn't tell Gina yet, at least not right now, not until she knew better herself.  But Gina had come to expect all this racy stuff about Kate; she lived her life now vicariously through Kate's now. 

And so, now Kate chortled out loud at her clever duplicity, that's why she’d made up that whole thing about the quickie with stocking salesman.

A Monster On The Prowl Again or Only Cold Emptiness Inside For The One He Had Loved

If there’s one thing on this planet that you don’t look like, it’s a bunch of good luck walkin’ around.

-Cormac McCarthy, in “No Country for Old Men”

I thought I had learned a long time ago to not get attached to any place, to any person.  But I’d made a major mistake falling for her.  But now I was back and resolved to totally destroy this woman.  I could have done it to her myself, but that wouldn’t hurt her enough.  I needed help to fuck her over in a way from which she would never recover. 

I wanted to destroy Kate's pride by sexually humiliating her; by sexually enslaving her to a man she viewed as being so much less than she.  She had to immediately recognize this man as coarse and crude and vulgar; the shock and disgust at being forced to service him, at being forced to perform for someone so much less....worthy than she….it must be something that was overwhelming to her dignity, her femininity, her identity. 

And if he were black, then so much the better. 

And when the two of us were finished with her, I wanted to have ripped Kate's pride and dignity out by the roots.  And after forcing her to be intimate with this man in every possible way, I would reveal everything about her in the most public method I could find, ensuring that she was humiliated and totally degraded in the eyes of everyone that knew her, reduced even in her own eyes….especially in her own eyes. 

And so it began…….

Early the next morning, I talked to a guy I had known in school; my favorite freak, he was a glam-vampire dude named Sylvester who lived in Jamaica Plain.  He came up with a couple of names and I began my search for the man that would help me destroy Kate McCullough. 

I traveled to some of the seediest parts of Boston to talk to the first three on the list.  I picked up Mass Ave in the Back Bay, went past Symphony Hall, through Roxbury, down to Columbia Road.  It was like a ride from the top of Boston’s real estate ladder down to the bottom, though despite the real estate bust prices were still so crazy that the bottom here was higher than the top in most towns. 

Twice I felt physically threatened, but my need for revenge drove me on.  Third on the list was DaShawn Booker, a sometime pimp and muscular street thug with turf in Roxbury; as soon as I saw him I thought just maybe he was what I was looking for.  He was a street-wise import from East Africa.  A top-gun bottom-feeder when it came to bringing women around to his way of thinking.  Always over the top, he was still at this time under the radar of most authorities.  He liked his sex hot and rough; you couldn't shut him up and you couldn't dumb him down.  He almost never smiled, not even with the psychotic glee of a pimp that had killed at least one of his whores.  He was empty, a vessel of ice filled with the lung-suck of nothing.  But he was also filled with male pride, and that might have been his only weakness. 

He was perfect. 

The Cafe Sufa had two rooms known as the Long Bar and the Short Bar.  The former was legitimate, while the latter was a strictly drink and run client-base.....we met in the Short Bar. 

I stared around me.  Ancient movie stars laughed at me from stained brushed aluminum frames on the walls.  Bad music played from a hidden sound system and neon signs blinked and glowed on a shelf above the hall that led to the Long Room and the bathroom.  Occasionally, there was laughter and shouting; the smell of food grew stronger then. 

He walked in wearing nice slacks and an unflashy designer shirt, not at all what the public pictured a pimp wearing.  He sat down beside me, suspicious; at first he thought I was a cop trying to trap him.  He possessed an air of ruthless competence; a tautness which when combined with an invisible twitch under his skin spoke volumes of aggressiveness stronger than a starving shark.  It took a while, but I finally convinced him I really did want to pay him to help me fuck a good looking woman as well as help me fuck her over.  Once we got that straight, I listened to him talk about the expertise he brought to controlling "his" women.  Much of it seemed hype, but some sounded like it might work with Kate. 

He was not an easy man to miss.  His skin was so deep a black color that it reflected light with an almost purple tinge, while his forehead and cheeks were filled with tribal scars and his voice was a strong baritone, as deep and rich as chocolate poured over chocolate ice cream.  As he talked, I became fascinated at how easily he moved in and out of a ghettoized African-tinted street vernacular I barely understood, full of slang and sub-cultural references and then back into a more educated baritone which sounded of a soft British accent.  His dark eyes seemed rarely interested in our conversation, dulled by an incessant calculation of greed and profit from feminine flesh.  Mr. Booker was definitely street trash, but there was also more depth to this trash than I had expected.

At our third meeting, he told me about one of his "specialties."   If it was true, I'd love to have him try it on the old bitch.  He called it, "...giving them the bone and magic chocolate."  Sometimes he called it the "ebony bone" and sometimes the "niggah bone", but mostly he just called it "boning” the bitches. 

I asked, "So what do you actually do to them when you bone them?"

"No' sure," he replied.  He described the first time he boned a female in his street dialect.  "Dis cu' li'l blon' bitch from Iowa, ah mean, i’ was lak a movie or sometin'.  Seventeen year ol’, pretty face, sweet body, lon' blon' hair, naive as hell; but angry at da worl’, kno’ whut ah mean?  Just luck, met her at da bus station, took her ta mah crib, fucked her 'til she bled.  At da end, she be cummin' and ah's ready ta' cum too.  Just seemed like dere were a way all a sudden ah cou'd ge' a li'l deeper in dat sweet young pussy afore ah cum, so ah pushed some more ’n den cum like a motha' fucka'." 

"She screamin’ n' yellin’, buckin’ ‘n all unda me, try'n ta t'row me off lahk she a horse or sometin'.  Course, ah hung on ta her ass ‘n rode da bitch ‘ta da groun’, den finished puttin' mah loa’ whey i' nee’ to be.  Latah, da dum ass bitch wan' to cuddle.  Ah hadn' turned her yet, so ah played alon' ‘n she tol' me felt like ah's cuttin’ her on da inside or sometin' a’ firs’.  Say i’ was da bes’ thin’, a’n da wus thin’, she evah fel’ all a’ dah same time.  The bitch be damnear a virg’n, so ah didn' thin’ nuttin of it." 

"But ah knock'd her up dat nigh' ‘n she knowed fo' shur t'ree weeks latah.  Ah’d pu' her ass on da stree' by den a course, ‘n she cum 'n cryin’ ‘n all, swearin' she always make 'em use da rubbers.  Course, didn' believe her at fust, slapped her a li'l ta make shur she kep' tellin' da same story, ‘n she di’." 

"Ah foun' out dat givin' 'em da bone's a good way ta keep mah new bitches in line.  Take 'em ‘n when dey fust show up ‘n ain' go' nuttin ‘n knock 'em up real quick, den when ya gots dem fixed up, dey so fuckin' gra'eful, ya make dem thin’ dey owes ya ‘n dey works it off layin' on dey back.  Sol’ Blondie's ass to TJ, a niggah workin' sou' Mass Ave.  Dat's a ruff piece a turf he gots, ‘n she don' look so cute no mo; a swee' lil whi' thin’ like her don' keeps a looks lon' ‘n da bidness.  Dat's why ah sol' her ass so qui'k."

"Ah don' know eggzactly what tis, but ah tried i' ag'in a mon' later on anudder bitch ah’d jus’ took off da stree'.  Same thin’.  Ah's always so quick ta cum ‘n da bitches dat ah hadn' noticed dat if ya ge' da bitch ta cum fust, always seemed like she jes natch’ally open' up mo’ on da inside.  ‘N if ah times i' jes righ', ah kin go anudder half inch deeper ‘n deh pussy ‘fore ah drop da magic baby-batta'.  An’ when ah gives dis sweet piece ‘a blac’ ass mah bone, she 'bout come off the bed try'n to climb onto the ceiling too.  Moan’ a li'l afterwards, cry' a littl’, say she love i', bu' hur' lak hell too.  Didn' fuck her agin, made da bitch use rubbers wit' da johns too.  Bu' same as blondie, a mon' latah she come ta me cry'n ‘n say she pregnan'."

"Ah calls i' givin' dem da 'ebonee' bone ‘n magic chocolate jet.  Bury dat niggar bone deep ‘s ah kin in dey belly, fill 'em full a dat magic baby-batta a' jes da righ' momen', ‘n don' matta' wha' color, wha' type, wha' age dah bitch.  Long ‘s dey ain't takin' da pill or ah be wearin' a rubbah, den you lock dah bitch up in a cage ‘n t'row 'way dah key.  Nine mon's latah, she gonna' be havin' mah kid.  Work’ on seventeen year old whi' bitch dat only’s fucked one udder guy, ‘n worked on a t'irty year old niggah stree' ho dat fucked a t'ousan udder guys; works on blac' ‘n whi' bitches, ‘n yellow an' brown ‘n ever' color between.  No bitch take da niggah bone ‘n magic jet ‘n don' get knocked up.  Gay-ron-teed."

He stopped for a second and looked at me as if he were bored trying to live up to what I expected.  Then he continued in his soft, educated manner.  "Funny thing though.  I do this to one of these women, she's got no idea what I've done to her.  But her body, oh maaaaannnn, it knows exactly what's just happened."

I was incredibly turned on by the thought of dominating a woman this way.  I laughed hoarsely and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Every time a bitch takes the bone and some chocolate magic, she gets upset and cries at first, then they get all soft and fuzzy-like, hanging on to me like it's Christmas or something and I haven’t bought them their presents yet.  It's like their body's trying to tell them something, trying to tell them they're gonna be a momma.  But they just aren’t listening.  I give them the bone just right and all they want to do is tell me how good they feel, how close to me it makes them feel."

He laughed, "I just knocked the whore up and she wants to snuggle just to thank me."

I nodded and thought about it.  If the bone and magic chocolate really worked, I'd love to see Katie get a load.  A full load.  Finally, I'd decided.

"Okay," I nodded.  "I'll pay you good money to help me fuck this bitch for at least four weeks, triple what you're making off your whores.  I want you to bone her good, help me tame her a little, and if you knock her up, it's another five thou’ for you.  She's thirty-eight years old…..."

"Whoa, white boy," he said as he held the palms of his hands out towards me.  "I don't bone Geree-Atrics and I don't do charity cases."

The Man Had Principles or She’s A Good Looking Slut And He’s Being Paid A Lot of Money

I slid four shots of Kate wearing nothing but a white waist cinch with garters, white choker, cinnamon-colored stockings and white pumps with five inch stiletto heels.  The photos were so tightly focused on Kate you could not tell they were taken in her bedroom.  She was dressed for me, but I hadn't arrived yet.  Waiting in her bedroom when these photos were captured by one of my cameras, she stood in various poses in front of a mirror at her dressing table and had no idea she was being filmed. 

In two photos, she held her hair up in an impromptu bun and had her head turned to one side, then the other in thought; her beautiful, high breasts jutted arrogantly into the air at the mirror.  In the third, she had her legs spread and both hands intimately framed her vulva.  The middle finger on her right hand, the finger next to her ring finger was missing, having disappeared inside her pussy.  Her eyes were closed, her lips pursed in concentration and she had a red spot on each cheek.  In the fourth photo, she had her gorgeous ass pooched toward the mirror and she was looking at herself over her right shoulder. 

"Damn," he exclaimed as he pawed over the four photos.  "That's a tasty piece of ass."

"Yeah," I said.  "Tasty's the word.  And the photos are about two-three days old."

He looked at me sharply, "You got a grudge on her?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice dead.  "I've got a grudge on the arrogant bitch.  But she doesn't know it yet.  She likes me, likes my money.  Belongs to me; I'm paying for her, but she can't keep her legs together.  You know what I mean?"

He nodded his understanding.

"The best part," I continued, "is I know she likes to fuck.  But she'd never let a guy like you fuck her." 

His eyes snapped to my face; evidently that got Booker's attention. 

I piled it on.  "She's too good for that; and someone like you, especially you being black, not in a million years."

He thought for a moment.  "So," he asked, "what're ya' doin' to her?"

Rather smugly, I replied, "Everything I can.  She's a stuck up bitch, but I've got her eating out of my hand.  I'm doing just about everything to her.  Filling her pussy until my dick's sore.  Fucking her in the ass too.  I'm getting more ass off this woman than a public toilet seat.  Eat her pussy sometimes when she's sucking me off.  Make her dress up and beg to be fucked."  Okay, the last was a slight exaggeration, but not by much. 

Booker shook his head.  "Ah don' stick mah face ‘n no wom’n's cun’ n’ ah don' ea’ no stree’ pie even if i’ belon’ to Beyonce or Rihanna.  ‘N tell ya sumtin' else too."

He looked at me with great interest.  "Whassa wit’ you whi’ boys always wantin’ to stick yo’ dic’ up sum wom’n's ass?  Ah mean, dat's jus’ nasty.  Seriously nasty.  Ah kin fuck a wom’n ‘til her knees don' wor’ no moh and she can' wal’ afterwards.  Bu’ ah don' stick mah mea’ down no shi’ hole.  A’ leas’, no’ on purpose."

"’Sides," he continued.  "Ah ain' met me no wom’n’s wha’ truly likes ta be fuck’ der.  Dey may take i’ and smahl, bu’ dat ain' dey fust choice.  Any wom’n dat laks ta be fuck’ lak dat...  ‘N da ass?  Dey’s sumtin' seriously wron’ wi’ dah bitch."

"But on the other hand," he continued without the street slang.  "This is one seriously good lookin' woman."

"I guess," I prompted him with a grim smile, "eating her pussy and fucking her in the ass is out then?"

"Dey be out," he laughed back.  Then he gave me a big grin, "but everything else is still in."

Booker looked at the photos again.  "No more than a month?"

"Four to six weeks, tops," I guaranteed.  "And I'll pay good money for you to help me break this bitch hard, tame her good.  Then use the bone on her at the end, leaving her knocked up.  Just as used and knocked up as the rest of your whore's."

He pursed his lips for a second and then looked at me with a slowly building smile.  "I ain' gots nuttin bettah ta do, ‘n a bitch lak dis truly duz need ta be brough’ down in dah guttah wid’ dah res’ uf us po' fool, donchee?"

"Yeah," I smiled back.  "Just like the rest of us."

He was exactly what I'd been looking for.  Crude and physical when he wanted to be, he was a man that still looked at women as he had years ago when he first began dealing in their flesh.  An immigrant at fifteen, a year later his first whore had been two years younger than him.  He'd always had a way with girls, and I had no doubt he could easily handle Kate too.

In the beginning, I'd been angry enough with my mother's best friend that I had vowed to finally fuck her before I destroyed her.  But then I'd been sidetracked by her still vibrant beauty and what I’d thought was true love.  Now I was back on my original course with a vengeance.  With Booker on board, I was planning to fuck her just like she'd fucked me over; better yet, he'd given me other ideas.  Putting them in play turned out to be a little embarrassing, but less difficult to accomplish than I thought. 

With creepily grim determination, I checked out Kate's bathroom cabinet and determined both her method of birth control as well as where she was in her menstrual cycle.  It turned out she was taking the low-dose mini-pills that contained only progesterone.  Taking them every day without break, she’d popped them out of the original blister pack and kept them in a jewelry-quality designer case.  I thought it was kind of stupid, but she was a woman that pretty much did as she wished.  And in the end, it was also quite convenient for my purposes. 

At the appropriate time in her cycle, it would be easy to sneak into her bathroom during a “fuck intermission” and exchange her actual pills for my doctored ones.  She’d then be working on a new thirty-day supply of BC pills that I had provided.  And they wouldn’t work worth shit.

Oh, there would be signs.  Her body would be rather erratic during the following month as it readjusted to going off the pill.  She would spot some and perhaps suffer from almost visceral feelings of anxiety and anger; too, there would be some muscle aches, bouts of unusual fatigue, mood swings and the overwhelming sensation that something was wrong, that something had changed as her hormones went from being artificially controlled and back to their natural state.  But she really wouldn’t be able to pin down what was the matter. 

In the month after that, her hormones should be about back to their normal cycle.  And for a ten day period beginning about a week after ovulation, she would be at her most fertile. 

If I could pull this off, I was sure that Kate wouldn't twig to the fact that I was doing my best to ensure that she got knocked up by Booker.  I'd given her everything else; I would just consider a half-black baby my parting gift. 

He’s Still A Little Pissed or Purity Of Heart Is NOT Good Protection

Next I talked to an old friend, Manny Roccoco.  He lived in a horrible new building near Ayer.  I rode the elevator to the top, went down the hall to the end.  I raised a fist and knocked on the door.  The door opened and the thing in the door said, “What do you want?”

The manikin who opened the door looked like a strange hologram from A Star Wars bar scene.  He stood a full 5’ 6” tall, from the bottom of his embroidered high-heeled silver cowboy boots to the top of his orange dyed head.  His hair was cut short, except for black bangs which parted on his forehead like a swallow’s tail and draped down over a pair of enormous rhinestone studded eyeglasses.  He was dressed in a long, bright red dashiki, and apparently nothing else, and it swirled around him as he stepped back from the door to motion me in.  Then he walked in rapid little steps over to a pedestal that held an enormous object that looked like a giant ball of animal vomit dipped in plastic and spray-painted with Day-Glo graffiti. 

“Speak to me.” 

Manny never had been much of a conversationalist.  It took me less than a minute to explain what I needed, and about ten to haggle over the cost.  But, ultimately, he offered to help.  Manny talked to some friends, who talked to some friends......  Within a few days, I had the name of a doctor that would be willing to help, if the price was right. 

We met a couple nights later and I told the Doc what I wanted.  The man in the white coat took off his glasses and rubbed a hand across his bearded face.  He looked at me through tightened eyes, trying to focus his reptilian stare for a second and then shrugged his shoulders.  It was none of his business what I wanted with what looked like a two month supply of my “wife's” normal birth control pills, but which were in actuality nothing more than blanks, simple placebos. 

We then quickly moved onto my second request.  He was sitting at a desk, like any other practitioner taking a consultation.  There was no brass plaque on the door, even though his remarkable, if unorthodox, approach to pharmacology attracted large numbers of wealthy clients who felt the need for prescriptions that would never be written by more conventional doctors.  Behind him stood a series of wooden cabinets, and above them shelves of glass bottles, plastic containers and small white cardboard boxes. 

"So we need to induce a sense of relaxation and empathy, yes?"

"Correct."

Then we want sexual arousal."

"That's right."

"And finally, we must lower mental defenses, maybe create a sense of disorientation."

"Exactly.  That's the plan.  But one important detail; the whole thing has to be soluble.  It's going into drinks."

He smiled and put his spectacles back on.  "You know, this is going to be some party.  Can I come?"

"Sorry."  I didn't smile at his attempted levity.  "This is strictly business.  One more thing; the doses have to be packaged in a way that they can be easily delivered, without anyone knowing."

The doctor shrugged, apparently unbothered by the request.  "That's no problem.  A simple paper wrap will be sufficient.  But what to put in it?  To start with, for relaxation, I would suggest methylenedioxymethamphetamine - MDMA for short."

"Ecstasy," I replied.

"Ah yes, the drug of choice for modern pleasure seekers.  Makes you feel good, relaxed, full of love for the people around you.  Of course, it may also make you psychotic in the long term, but that's not our problem right now.  Immediate side-affects can include feeling hot, sweaty, even a little sick.  But we can take the edge off of that."

He swiveled his chair, reached for one of the plastic pill-jars and brought it back to the table.  "Soluble in water, so that's no problem.  Sadly, your target is not male, so Viagra can't be used for the next part of your request.  We'll have to be more adventurous with this element of the formula.  I would suggest a buffered version of Intrinsa, a variant of Viagra designed just for women and which contains only male testosterone."

Again, another pill bottle appeared on the table.  "Unlike Viagra, this acts on the brain, boosting dopamine - that's a neurotransmitter, you understand - and effectively promoting sexual desire.  Strangely, this affect wears off after thirty or forty doses, but again, that's not our problem.  It's not soluble in water, but it is soluble in alcohol, so please bear that in mind.  And the same applies to this...."

He turned to the shelves one last time and reached inside a white box to pull out a rectangular piece of silver-foil with eight clear blisters, each containing a small diamond-shaped pill.

"Flunitrazepam," he continued.  "Better known as rohyponol, or roofies.  As you may know, this sedative, which is a first-rate treatment for anxiety or sleeplessness, has acquired an unsavory reputation as a so-called "date-rape" drug.  It diminishes inhibition and stress while promoting a sense of euphoria.  It can also affect short-term memory.  We must be careful to not give too high a dose or it will simply knock the patient out.  But combined with the other two chemicals it should supply, I would say, a rather interesting experience.  Now tell me a little about the person who will consume this cocktail."

"She's thirty-eight years old, very healthy and weighs maybe 120-130 pounds." 

The doctor showed no surprise that the victim was female.  He reached across his desk and grabbed a mortar and pestle set.  "OK.  So a standard dose of each drug will be fine.  You want four doses?

I nodded agreement.  He popped four pills from each of his choices into the stone bowl and began to grind them down.  "Just like an old-fashioned apothecary, huh?" he remarked, looking up at me.  Then he smiled rather nastily, “Everything will be enhanced with this -- her senses aroused, engaged like never before.  It will be an intensely pleasurable experience; this will ensure she wants more and more as she obtains a level of enjoyment almost equivalent to that of pure crack.” 

After a couple of minutes, he opened one of the small, brass-handled drawers in the cabinet behind him and rummaged around until he found some small, clear capsules.  He squeezed each one between his thumb and forefinger, splitting it in two.  Very carefully, he poured the powdered pills from the mortar through a plastic funnel into one half of the capsule, before pressing the other half back on to it. 

"There," he said, handing me the four completed capsules.  "That will be five thousand dollars."

"That's a lot for four doses."

He smiled nastily.  "It isn't the doses you're paying for."

I knew I would be doing a terrible thing to this woman, but I didn’t give a shit.  In addition to everything else I had planned for her, I knew an unplanned pregnancy at thirty-nine would be difficult for Kate; on the upside though, I really didn't give a shit.  I was pretty sure she wouldn't carry to full term, especially if it were Booker's child.  So then we would see just how deep her convictions about abortions really went. 

Damn, I hated this woman with a passion that grew colder every passing day.  The days went by slowly, and even though we continued fucking, it got harder and harder to get it up in order to play the part of her love-toy.  The only thing that kept me going was the delicious anticipation of her total ruin. 

So I continued fucking Mrs. Kate McCullough, the woman that everyone else thought was such a good woman, such a fine mother.  Sometimes it was easy; I just hit her or pretended I was humiliating her in some terrible way and I got hard.  Other times, she displayed a softness, a humanness that made it much more difficult. 

But I was nothing if not driven, and so I persevered. 

First Lesson On The Futility of Resistance or The First Of Many Saturday Night Specials

It was the weekend and finally I had everything ready to begin her slide into total ruin.  I gave Booker a copy of the key to her home; together we set up a plan to take this bitch down permanently, and this late November night was perfect for act one. He moved inside her home as soon as I left her alone, and an hour later I began to patch together a rerun from the remote feeds of multiple cameras.  The screen on my monitor was split into four parts as I brought in all the pertinent cameras.  As it began, I watched him slide in noiselessly and sit down in the corner of the poorly lit dining room. 

Kate soon walked out of the kitchen humming softly; relaxed and satiated, glowing from the sex we had just finished, walking as lithely as a relaxed cat in the nurse's outfit I'd made her wear.  She was a study in white; goofy little hat, tiny low cut dress with the big red cross on her flat belly, sheer-white seamed stockings covered her gorgeous legs, white pumps with five inch stiletto heels on her feet.  She'd donned the ridiculous little white apron taken from a French Maid outfit I'd made her wear previously, then she’d wrapped everything under her favorite worn and frayed robe as she walked out into the dining room. 

Most of the lights were off downstairs but there was still enough for my cameras to resolve the action.  She glanced into the corner and before her eyes had adjusted and all she could see was what looked like an unnaturally wide killer grin and the bulky impression of a sweeping cloak or coat.  An unwelcome chill ran down my spine, for he actually looked like something out of a fucking horror or vampire movie literally come to life.  The face and hands?  They were nothing but blackness…..inky shadows not yet come to life.  I knew what was what going on and I saw on the monitor still sort of freaked me out….I had no idea what the bitch must be thinking, but she glanced at Booker once and it almost seemed as if she hadn't really seen him at first; like her mind couldn’t process what she was seeing.  Finally, she reacted in horrified shock and the impossible stretch of smile widened in the dark corner as he quickly moved to block her escape to either the kitchen or living room. 

She didn’t move like a thirty-eight year old woman whose brain had just been fucked out; rather she moved like an eighteen year old track star so that she could keep the large dining table between them. 

An enormously tall man moved into the light and stood across the table from Kate, staring down at her without expression.  The man was so tall that his head seemed to almost brush the ceiling, and his skin was so black that it drank in the room’s dim light and glowed like gold.  A row of round, lighter purple scars the size of pencil erasers lined the man’s forehead above his eyebrows.  Three more scars followed the line of his cheeks below each eye; each scar a hard knob like something had been pushed under the skin.  The scars terrified Kate; they looked so creepy and obscene.  She was so frightened.  Then he smiled as his eyes gave her a frank, cold look of assessment.  In the end, she recognized in his dark eyes both arrogance and even grudging admiration.  Both looks scared her to death.

Then his terrible teeth tried another wide smile even as his eyes stayed sub-polar.

Sprinting In A Nurse’s Heels or It All Ends The Same No Matter What She Does

I expected her to scream, but surprisingly, she remained silent.  Kate quickly looked at him for a second in disbelief and then looked desperately around the room.  The silence extended into a long uncomfortable stretch as her head moved in quick jerks as she looked for something to use in self-defense.

Finally, she could speak, "Get out now.  Get out now and I won't call the police." 

Booker laughed softly, sardonically, then spoke in an eerie, soft tone.  "Name's DaShawn, but ya kin call me Booker.  An' mama?  Ya wan' da phone, ya got's ta ge' by me.  Ya wan's ou’, same deal; all ya gotta do's ge' by me."  It was clear the man didn't care if she knew his name.

Without hesitation, she faked to the right and desperately ran on high-heels towards the outside door.  Booker blocked her.  Kate tried to go the left, but he stayed with her.  She went right again.  He was too quick and that didn't work either.  She moved left again more quickly.  Blocked again by the unknown black man.  But now they were both on the same side of the table.

Her eyes narrowed and she made a sound, half-rage, half-desperation.  She stepped back, grabbed a chair and tried to swing it at his head.  Booker went with the blow, dissipating the force as the chair broke into three or four parts.  He closed the distance between them in one quick move.  She turned to run again and was jerked violently backwards.  DaShawn's hand was full of her hair and she was being dragged backwards, then shoved against the wall.  Kate tried to pull her arms free, but they seemed held fast, as heavy now as concrete.  She somehow turned and faced him.

Now he grabbed her and pulled her in close.  Kate started screaming and swearing, hammering him with one fist, venting the rage and fear and frustration that had built as he played with her.  There was no attempt at evasion and he didn’t flinch or shift under the impact of her blows.  She simply didn’t matter one damn bit to him except where he could make use of her.  Finally he moved and caught her with an overhand left that snapped her head back and to the left, then slammed her to the floor.  She cried out a little as she fell and then lay sobbing and motionless.

He said in his educated voice, “Bitch, you make another sound and you’re dead.”  She continued sobbing on the floor. 

Booker knelt next to her.  “Do you understand me?” he repeated.

She said nothing, her face hidden in her arms, her body shaking.

Booker gently stroked her hair abruptly, with a disdain that bordered on the casual.  Kate cringed at his touch.

“I’ll only ask you one more time,” he said.  If you don’t answer, I’ll put my boot in your ribs.”

She looked up suddenly, tears streaming down her face and screamed, “Yes.”

He continued stroking her hair, but Booker’s voice took on an icy-cold quality.  “One more thing.  If you raise your voice above conversational levels again, you’re dead.  And I mean there’s no question about it.  Cross the line with me again and I’ll fuck you up permanently.  I understand your need to fight me, but if you make any more noise, you’re done.”

Kate just stared at him with a pathetic look of disbelief and helplessness. 

“Do.  You.  Under.  Stand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.  “I understand.  Please don’t hit me again.”

Suddenly, Booker pulled Kate to her feet by her beautiful, long, dark hair.  She looked so pitiful—blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, fear in her eyes, her beautiful face lined with tears.

Booker wiped the tears and blood from her face with one gentle touch.  Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been pulled in Kate and she came back to life again.  She no longer screamed at Booker, but she began to fight him again and what she knew he planned to do to her.  She hit him in the face unexpectedly and then went wild with her blows. 

She might have been thirty-eight, but she was in good shape and pounded him longer than I expected.  But eventually the power of her blows lessened and the intervals between them lengthened.  Finally she stood motionless, her breasts heaving in and out.  He had just waited her out.  She was exhausted and now it was his turn; Booker slapped her face again, once.  The blow snapped Kate's head to her right and the look on her face was as if her senses had short-circuited, she clearly didn't know what was going on or from where the pain had come. 

Now he slid a huge hand under the frayed robe to squeeze her leg.  "D'ya hear me in there, mama?"

A Certain Fascination With Her Body or A Good Employee, He Concentrated Solely On The Job At Hand

Kate's heart was thumping, her body still writhing against his in futile protest as he held the inside of her thigh.  All her initial fear had disappeared, replaced with determination.  Full of fight, she glanced around the room, looking for a weapon.  Something heavy and blunt, or sharp, but she didn't see anything that would do the job.  Kate looked into Booker's eyes; she saw his pupils were enormous and black. 

Her panting punctuated her words.  “Get out.  Or I call….the police.  Now.”

Suddenly, she pushed off the wall and charged against Booker, catching him off-balance.  But he grabbed her arms and held on, then grabbed her biceps and shoved her against the wall once more.  Hard.  This time the pain shuddered all the way through her, reaching the top of her skull.  Kate wondered if he had shattered her spine.  She wanted to double over, but he held her upright as if she were a doll that would slump into a heap if he let go.

Weak, she tried to hit him, but he took hold of both of her wrists and slammed her arms up against the wall on either side of her head.  Their faces were inches apart, his cheek pressed hard against hers.  He dropped his face to her neck, as if trying to bury it there.  But then he was trying to kiss her instead.  Kate sobbed, “No, no,” as she turned her face away.

Keeping Kate's arms and body pinned to the wall, Booker brought his face around to kiss her on the mouth.  She twisted her face away again.  He finally let go of Kate's wrists and took her face in his hands.  She tried to push him away for a second, but he was too strong and her hands fell uselessly by her sides.  His left hand stayed curled in her hair for control while he ran his right hand down her breasts and squeezed her waist, then her ass.  Finally, I realized that he was kissing her hard and all the fight had gone for the moment.  Booker said to Kate softly as he pulled back slightly, "Kiss da blac' man, mama.  Kiss da nigga good."

Then his hand went back under the robe, but higher now as it clamped itself between Kate's legs.  Her eyes opened wide in shock, then began to water.  She wanted to fight him.  He knew she wanted to kick, but he was too close; she could barely move her legs.  And still his hand was squeezing her, grabbing her crotch the way you would grab a man's balls if trying to inflict the maximum punishment.  

He reached up and tried to undo Kate's robe, but his hands were shaking from excess adrenaline.  He yanked her robe off her shoulders and down her back to her wrists, then spun her around so that she was facing the wall.  She started to struggle again and he put her left arm in a wrist lock and bent it behind her back. 

"Ya like dat, mama?" he said as he leaned in towards her.  His voice was hot and breathy in her ear.  Suddenly, she felt a sensation that made her quake.  The breath on her ear had turned moist, just as she registered the unmistakable sensation of a probing tongue.  She shuddered.

"Nah?  Don' like dat?  Den b'have ya'self."

Booker held her wrist high, almost to her shoulder blades, and shoved her up against the wall.  He reached under her robe with his free hand to find that Kate was still steaming hot, soaking wet from my having fucked her just a few minutes before.  Energized, he gave one great pull and ripped the robe off her body, then let it fall to the floor.  He kept her wrist pinned high and stepped back for a view.  Her naked buttocks were beautiful and firm, her incredibly shapely legs covered in the sheer white stockings were gorgeous.  From my viewpoint, it was obvious he was hard; ready now to take her.

Booker crushed his groin harder against her and pressed the side of his face against hers so that Kate was now pinned entirely against the wall.  Her upper body was rigid with horror and disgust and fear; even so, anger had a place too as her chin was still raised defiantly towards him.  He reached down and began to touch her softly between her legs.  Kate closed her eyes and her lips drew thin with revulsion, after a moment she groaned through clenched teeth.  Booker moved his fingers inside her body and she shook, but did nothing else. 

The hellcat seemed gone, at least for tonight.

He looked around, then shoved her over to the serving bar.  There was a stack of magazines on top along with a few dishes and Booker swept everything to the floor with his free hand.  He bent her over, bearing down on her arm and pinning her upper torso against the bar.  She struggled silently but the wrist hold was too tight, too effective.  He stepped to her side, opened his belt one-handed, and undid his button and zipper. 

It was clear that her rapist wanted to feel her body next to his.  He stepped on the bottom of his right pants leg with his left foot and dropped his pants, stepping clear of them with his right leg as soon as they hit the floor.  He repeated the move with his left leg, then slipped off his underwear. 

Booker stepped between her legs and pushed up her stupid little white dress again.  Kate gasped for air now rather than breathed normally.  Even though I'd already gotten my nuts off in her less than an hour ago, just watching Booker get ready to fuck the old bitch made me hard as a rock once more.  Still pressing down with the wristlock, he started touching her again.  I don't know what he was waiting for.  Maybe he wanted to torture her a little.

Booker ran his free hand along her back and flanks as he moved to her rear.  I watched her struggle weakly against him and from the back I could see the oversized mound between her legs darken as it filled with blood.  My heart was hammering so hard I heard it thudding in my skull. 

He’d finally released her wrist, but she felt helpless as he almost objectively surveyed her body bent over the serving bar.  "Ya gud lookin’ wom’n, jus’ perfec’ lak dat," he commented as he leaned his hard body over hers.  He straightened up and with his left hand gripping the serving bar for extra support; he slapped her ass hard with his right.  Kate thought to herself, yes, I can handle this, it stings, but it's not so very bad.  Don't cry, just stay as still as you can, it will be over soon.

The scarred black man moved in, pushing his cock lengthwise between the lips of her still slippery pussy.  Before his dick could begin to slide inside her, Kate instinctively tried to snap her head back quickly, to catch him in the face.  She missed and he grabbed her wrist again and twisted even harder than before.  She gasped then in pain and horrified anticipation. 

It was as if he had expected it, for his eyes never left her alone.  She felt him almost absorb her emotions, taking in her humiliation and savoring her abject shame.  Kate tried to reassure herself somehow; she’d been strong, she hadn't cried yet.  But he had won nonetheless, for he couldn’t even begin to imagine just how insignificant she felt at this moment.

She shuddered at the thought of his filthy, unwashed manhood inside her.  But he seemed determined to take whatever he wanted from her.  He suddenly began licking her neck again and she felt his rough tongue enter her ear just as he placed the tip of his cock in her vagina and pushed.  And as he continued to push harder and harder, he whispered in Kate’s ear, "Bitch, push yourself onto to it.  NOW!!"

The whore had overstepped her boundaries and Booker knew she needed some discipline; all his new bitches did at this point.  He twisted again and heard her moan from the new pain in her arm.  He laughed softly and started to pull his cock out, then felt her vaginal muscles unconsciously begin to tighten on him as her abdomen tensed. 

It was a delicious sensation, but he kicked the bitch’s feet even further apart, wiped some of her wetness on himself, pointed his great cock with his hand and started to push into her pussy from the rear again in one smooth motion.  She cried out this time, squirming to avoid what they both knew was inevitable. But the pressure of his cock was unrelenting and slowly he worked his way inside her vagina. 

A Private Lesson From The New Master or She’s Gonna' Learn To Do It Right The First Time

Her knuckles had turned white from holding the server so tightly.  Kate somehow resigned herself to do it, just push back against him and get it done with, forget for the moment all the fear and shame that she was feeling.  As she pushed back against him, she felt him sheath his manhood inside her vagina.  He pushed the rest of his cock in further and further until she felt his balls against her ass and she knew he was fully inside her.

He moved the hair from her neck and kissed Kate there.  But she had no time to register how unexpectedly tender his touch was, because as soon as his lips left her neck, he began to enthusiastically fuck her.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn't catch her breath.  Kate felt overwhelmed by shock and disgust at the feeling of being impaled by this black man over and over again.

In a few seconds the old bitch was fully impaled; she shuddered and then gasped so loudly in horror at the last inch he gave her that Booker felt the sound run back into him like the screeching feedback from a cheap microphone on karaoke night.  He froze for a second to enjoy the tight wetness of her pussy before he started driving into her with long, slow smooth satisfying strokes that buried every inch, his coal black belly and hips sliding up and forward to slap against her bare, alabaster white ass, his gut and ass clenching and releasing with each profound stroke.

Suddenly the woman beneath him begged between gritted teeth.  “Please.  Please don’t ejaculate inside me.  I’ll cooperate; I’ll do anything you want if you just don’t do that inside me.”

Booker stopped and looked down.  “Okay, ya gives me wha’ ah wan’s and ah won’ giv ya da full load inside.  Promise.”

The woman moaned once, then nodded her head.

Looking around, Booker grabbed the single magazine remaining on the food bar and after rolling it up loosely with one hand, slapped her bared flank once fairly hard. 

He exhorted her.  "Moo’ bitch.  Or ya gonna' regret it.  Moo’ yo skinny, whi' ass, ‘n wiggle yo bu' real nice up agins' me.  Now."

"Please," she sobbed.  "Just finish.  But don't hurt me.  Just leave when you're finished and don't hurt me."

Booker slapped her flank again and said, "Move yo ass, wom'n or we ain’ go’ no deal.  I won' say i’ again.  MOVE!"

Immediately, Kate sobbed as her hips settled into a guiltily obedient, steady rocking motion.  Her firm, white, hot ass ground into his coal-black groin and it felt like tightly compressed heaven to him: her hips were making springy, short moves as her body reluctantly formed itself to his needs and took him all inside. 

She had been so very wrong.  Even as he raped her, he landed blow after blow on her ass, sometimes alternating from one cheek to the other, sometimes landing a seemingly endless series of strikes in the same spot.

Kate felt stunned, frozen inside with horror now.  She wanted to beg for his mercy, to scream her frustration and anger, to curse his abuse of all civilized rules of behavior; but her mouth wouldn’t open and the words would not come.  He dominated her: physically, mentally, emotionally; there was absolutely no hope of fighting him off anymore.  He was not civilized, he was a beast and there was nothing she could except endure.

All the while she knew that he intently watched her face; she tried desperately to avoid looking at him.  She wanted nothing more than to hide her face, bury it so that he couldn’t see her, but she was afraid to move, to provoke him even further. 

There was no thought of fight or flight now; Kate was panting for breath under him, solely engaged in trying to satisfy him.  Anything to make him go away sooner; her pelvis made the necessary collected and controlled movements of a mature, experienced woman as her weight shifted back towards Booker to gather his meat and then moved forward to empty herself of it again.  He let go of her arm, but she never seemed to notice and continued her fucking motion. 

He Knew How To Lead In This Dance or Her Education Grimly Continued

I stared almost open-mouthed at what Booker did to her.  Time was collapsing in on itself and as I tried to think what must be done, a weight blossomed in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.  Booker flung himself against her from the rear again and again.

For a while, DaShawn Booker enjoyed Kate filling her with cock like one of his whores and then grinding on it to give him added pleasure, but then he got bored and gave her ass another single sharp whack.  Like a thoroughbred responding to the jockey’s quirt, I watched my beautiful bitch instantly respond, increasing her speed, her buttocks obediently grinding into his loins even harder as she took everything he had.  She moved beneath him in a controlled beat that only she could hear and Booker bottomed out inside her more than once as he tried to serve her that last half-inch of steaming hot dark meat.  She cried out in pain each time and he looked down at Kate the last time with a smile on his face. 

The right side of Kate's face was pressed against the dresser as she faced one of the hidden cameras: her eyes were squeezed shut so hard that it forced out a line single tears multiple times.  Her mouth was open and she was panting in pain and embarrassment.  But to Booker she was like livestock, nothing but his meat, and whether or not he was hurting her never entered into the equation.  He kept going and didn't slow down at all.

A minute went by, maybe two. There was only the room, the heat, and a rhythm as old as man being generated by two bodies, even if unwillingly by one.

He waited a bit and then hit her ass with the magazine again and again.  Each time, my beautiful woman unwillingly humped him a little faster, increasing the speed of her moves with each of his blows.  Like a jockey riding the winning horse on the straightaway, he had Kate fully extended at the end, her head as low as it could go on the serving bar.  Her hip movements had shortened to small, quick grinds of her ass into his groin, but Booker still rode my woman hard, staying bent over in a crouch, maintaining contact with hands on her hips like a jockey as he demanded everything from her.  Kate tried to hold back, but the black man was merciless and took everything from her again and again. 

I knew Kate felt him moving more and more urgently on her back, increasing his speed and the violence of each thrust, until finally, he reached a natural culmination; the air in the room seemed to freeze as it waited for what must naturally come next. 

Then it began. 

First Lesson Learned The Hard Way or A Heavy Load Was Deeply And Deliberately Delivered

I heard a deep groan and realized it came from Booker.  Or maybe it was Kate.  She opened her shiny eyes and looked back at him, pleading, begging for something.  He took both her hips in his hands to maintain the control she had already relinquished to him.  Kate gripped the edges of the dresser, her chest heaving for air to fill her lungs, her tiny white nurse's costume bunched up around her waist and their bodies connected only by the thick blue-black rod of his steel-hard cock.

Finally ready, Booker dug his fingers more deeply into her hips as everything seemed to be welded into a single, synchronous tapestry of sense and feeling: the pounding in his chest and head fused together with everything else, his legs, his balls, his gut, her hot, tight body beneath and before him…..everything merged all at once. 

Then there was the massive explosion towards which he had been building; he sighed in ecstasy and groaned with pleasure as wave after wave of sexual release dumped and poured and raged into her unwilling body.  The bitch cried out in horror and tried to rise onto her toes to at least partially avoid what he was now righteously depositing so deeply inside her pussy, but he rose easily with her, his chest and groin welded to her back and ass as he continued to empty himself into her already full love canal.  Booker gave a long sigh of contentment as he completed disgorging his first load of liquid love inside the woman he still kept pinned under him. 

Beneath him, Kate cried out “Ohhh noo noo oh oh oh nononooo,” at the first explosion of heat as it blossomed inside her vagina.  It continued for what seemed forever and then somehow she knew he was almost empty.  As if from a distance, Kate heard herself give a soft moan of desolate anguish, the desperate cry of a lost child as the black man finished leaving his full load of angry lust inside her.  Kate felt as she didn't have complete control of her body when the inside of her vagina was suddenly flooded with this monster's semen.  And as his body's heat bloomed in her belly for the first time, an involuntary shudder of revulsion ripped through her.  Then again.  Finally, it subsided and she lay under him, crying silently, draped over the edge of the serving bar. 

She knew what he’d done to her, and she also knew in her heart that there was no way she could have avoided it.  Finally, finally he stopped unloading into her body.  After what seemed a moment of pure enjoyment at her distress, he slowly withdrew his moist, still hard cock, stepping back to inspect his work.  Kate’s knees felt so weak, her body so spent, her mind so devastated, she just wanted to slide to the floor and die there. 

But before she could, he said softly, "Don’t move, bitch.  Don’t make a fuckin’ move.”  He never shouted and his tone was calm, lacking all emotion.  There should have been rage or satisfied lust or even exultation.  However, there was nothing but control, under which hid explosive violence.  The calm, everyday ordinariness of his tone frightened her enough to overcome any weakness Kate may have felt and she gripped the edge harder, forcing herself to remain erect as he demanded.

Oh God, he had lied to her.  He had lied, he had LIED!  She didn't want to cry in front of him; but her head swirled, her mind flooded with terrible and contradictory emotions.  Above all, she wanted him gone.  She felt so dirty now, soiled by him and what he'd just done to her.  But she was filled with rage too at what he had just done and terribly shamed at the ease of his accomplishment.  Even as Kate was filled with anguish at his act, she felt detached too as her mind buzzed with chaotic scenes and disconnected thoughts. 

Kate realized her lips were moving, but if there were words no one could hear them.  The only outward physical sign of the awful inner turmoil she felt were her trembling legs, her widely spread legs which shook both from shock and exhaustion.  She was filled with a sense of humiliation – that other than her relationship with Jimmy, her first sex in years should be rape, that a woman of her age could be used by a man that way.  She had just learned that sex could be a deep source of hatred.  At that moment, she hated him as a man just as much as her apparently despised her as a woman. 

Booker eased his weight down on top of her and I could see Kate almost seem to slowly relax and shrink somehow at the same time, becoming almost physically smaller as the rapist finished injecting his final gift of deep, unrequited love.  They stayed that way for a long time, male and female, black and white, giver and receiver, rapist and victim, their breathing slowing down, sweat drying on their bodies, finally coming back to themselves and their respective positions in the world. 

Booker reached down, grabbed a handful of long dark hair and pulled her head up.  He looked down without expression at my old woman; she looked back at him out of the corner of her arctic blue eyes.  He finally let go and her head fell back to the dresser as she closed her eyes.  We both knew that Booker had just proved his ownership of her body and her soul. 

It had all been so successful.  I grinned; felt the muscles in my cheeks tighten, as though I was using them to crack nuts.

I looked down with bittersweet emotions on the woman that had so used me, the woman that had allowed me, no, had wanted me to care for her and then had betrayed me in the most coarse and cheapest way possible. 

Booker's hands in the video rested on her hips with the appearance of casual ownership as I thought back to the last time I'd met Kate at my mother's place.  She'd sat across from me, a proud, arrogant woman.  She'd appeared a class act then, but I knew now she was nothing but an expert games player.  She'd pretended interest in the real me, but her actions had finally told the truth, incorporating a smooth sheen of indifference that disguised any real emotions. 

She was a strong-minded woman unused to men or to sharing her life in any meaningful way; and she certainly was not used to losing battles of will with a man.  I knew now that she had manipulated men in her earlier years, back when she had been a wife and a mother and perhaps even a young widower.  But now she was just a bitch alone.  And the haughty look always before so common on her face?  It was long gone now after Booker had finished with her.

As the tall, attractive woman with long dark hair lay bent over the dresser beneath him, panting, with his spent cock still rammed into her pussy, DaShawn felt the intense buzz of total sexual release and the absolute satisfaction that came with completely dominating a beautiful woman.  For a man like him, it could never get better than this; this was ownership of another in its most profound state.

He gave her buttocks one more quick slap of his groin, a quick last hitch to finish her off, to ensure she took every last silky drop of his seed.  Then he leaned on her back with satisfaction, still maintaining his presence in her body as he took a moment to catch his breath. 

"Mama," he said.  "Ya one big wom'n 'n i' takes a buncha mea' ta fill ya.  But I's go' da tool ta keep’s ya happy."

Her mind almost shut down, Kate barely felt or heard him.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  She didn’t want to see him, see anything; no light, no shadows, no kaleidoscopic swirl of color.  Nothing!  Kate tried to breathe slowly, but heard her heartbeats louder and louder.  She knew that if she lost control, she would shriek and thrash about.  She held on to the buffet, held on to her discipline until all she could see was a calmer black.  She inhaled deeply, exhaled, and felt knives inside her chest withdraw a little.  Then Kate opened her eyes again.

Thoughts crashed through her.  Why is the happening to ME?  I know I won’t get pregnant, but is he going to hurt me?  How did he get in the house?  How can I tell Jimmy what happened?  Did I somehow provoke this?  Is this my fault?  Is this just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon?  Why now, why now when I look like this?  Should I tell Jimmy?  No, he wouldn’t understand.  Should I call the police?  No, how would I explain what I’m wearing and the DNA of two men…it would make me look like such a slut.  Does this monster have any venereal disease?   Is he HIV positive?  My God, all of these people are!  Thank god he can't get me pregnant.

God, please just make him go.

She’d searched his eyes for madness.  If he was, then she was almost resigned to her fate.  But he wasn’t.  And for as long as she was alive, Kate knew she would will her body to resist. 

He'd taken what he'd come for, now she prayed he'd just leave.  Please let him leave now.  Her mind was made up, all she wanted to do now was throw away the clothes she was wearing, and then take a full twenty-four hours to shower away the stain and filth that covered her body and emotions.  Then she’d sleep for a week as she tried to forget this evening and him. 

Still leaning over the end table under his weight, Kate tried to not sound too defiant as she gasped, "I'm not your woman.  Please.  Get off me, get out of here; leave me alone.  If you leave now, I promise I won't call the police."  But she knew it made her sound weak, defenseless, the natural prey of a man like this.

"Well, ah surely don' think da sheeps wan' da cops here.  “N’ ah gots a dick dat would dis'gree wit' ya 'bout bein' my woman," he said.  "But i' can' tawk righ' now too well," he boomed the next part out, "coz i’ sti’ buried n’ ya pussy."

He laughed.  "So, who belong ta who, bitch?"

Kate was silent.

When he’d finally caught his breath, she felt him run his hand up the back of her nylon-clad legs before he stepped away.  Booker now sat down on one of her upholstered dining room chairs, his wetly glistening cock and nutsack staining the fine fabric with moisture from both their bodies.  He slouched in the chair and looked at the woman he'd just enjoyed, his face drained of the anger and need he'd earlier displayed, displaying instead only a profound satisfaction.

It Was Her Darkest Hour or This Was The Way Her World Ended

Kate McCullough was a woman that took quiet pride in her looks.  She'd realized from an early age that she had nothing to do with the glamorous beauty with which she'd been graced, that she'd simply won the genetic jackpot.  But the men she’d met had never recognized that, never been able to get past the surface beauty, never taken the time to actually know her.  When she'd been younger, at least at first, she had used that beauty, used it on the men around her to get what she needed to survive. 

But now she was older; to those few she allowed to see it, her beauty was perhaps even more striking than it had been twenty years ago.  But it was a mature beauty now, and certainly less overt as she consciously downplayed her attractiveness.....it just caused her a lot less trouble.  But just as she appreciated that she'd been given a rare gift and exceptional body to go along with her rare looks, she’d also known they both required a significant amount of time and effort to maintain.  As the Bible said; her body was her temple.  To this end, she conscientiously exercised and watched her diet. 

And look at what all of this care had just brought her.

She felt ruined; her vision of herself destroyed.  The independent spirit; the confidence that she could accomplish any goal; it was gone, all gone.  It was a modern-day story of Samson and Delilah, but with the roles reversed.  The giant black man had just pulled down her temple, and along with her body, he had pulled her life too down around his feet; her life lay in metaphorical and emotional ruins because of his sexual assault. 

Minutes after Booker had finished disgorging his pent-up load of angry love into her belly, Kate still had not moved.  Her head still lay on her forearms, which rested on the serving bar.  Her shapely legs still remained bow-legged, knees spread obscenely wide where he had pushed them apart to obtain access to her body from the rear.  Her eyes were closed and she still panted for breath.

But she would not cry; she would not indulge herself or satisfy him that way.  Crying would not change the fact that she'd just been raped.  Finally, Kate pushed herself away from the table and stood up.  She swayed then, almost falling to the side. 

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since before the rape and said, "Get out.  Get out of the house before I call the police."

Booker laughed and said, "Mama, we bof' kno' ya ain' callin' no one.  Nah da pigs, nah dat juiceless whi' boy ya fuckin'.  Nah no one."

"Why me?  God, why me?"  Kate's face had aged in the last half hour, making her look like a young hundred years old.

"Woman, ya thin' ya too good for da likes a me.  Ah’s seen ya uptown actin' dah spoiled, rich bitch, ignorin' people's who don' drive a car good as yo's.  No one good enough for ya 'cept dat skinny whi' motha' fucker dat moons over yo ass.  Ah kno' ya ain't tellin' him 'bout me, tha's fa sure.  Pretty as ya are, dude like dat already takin' one step down when he fuck yo aged ass.  Ya tell 'im ya jus' bin banged by a guy like me, he be gone.  Jus’ lak dat.  He ain' gonna wan' nuttin to do wif an old bitch dat jus' bin stuffed wit' DaShawn's dick."

He laughed, "My advis', bitch, ya keep i' to ya'sef and kee’ ahn do’in bof a us.  Dat way, ya ge' da goo’ mea' from me n’ still keep thos' dead prez'dens comin' frum yo whi' mea' too."

He shook his head as he continued laughing, "Bitch, yu ‘n I ah gonna get to know each utha' real well 'fore we' dun.  Now fix me sumtin' ta eat."

Kate looked at him incredulously for a second, then with a choked sob staggered to her robe that lay on the floor where Booker had thrown it after stripping it off her body.

He said, "Leave da robe, honey.  Ah wanna seeda jugs and whi’ pussy wha' ah jus' fucked."

Kate froze a second, almost nauseous with shock.  Finally she asked, "What do you want?"

"Ah wan' steak."

"I don't have beef in the house.  Just a little ham," she replied with her eyes closed, waiting for the explosion of rage she was sure would come.

"Chris', wom'n.  Wha' good are ya?"

"Awrigh', make me a san'wich n’ a beer."

Resigned to wearing nothing but a skimpy, fouled costume in front of the man who had just taken her so violently and against her will, Kate painfully limped into the kitchen.  Booker still sat naked at the dining room table as she prepared a small sandwich and glass of beer.  Kate returned to the dining room with the sandwich in her left hand and the beer in her right.  She walked to his right side to serve him, when he suddenly reached out and pulled the top of her dress down just enough to expose a nipple hardened by fear.  She froze in terrified confusion as his arm went around her waist and pulled her closer.  He gave the nipple a long lascivious lick, then took her breast into his mouth and sucked for a second.  Kate's head snapped up and she closed her eyes as he hungrily nursed on her for a second, then roughly pushed her exposed chest away. 

Kate's face flushed with embarrassment, but she moved back in to finish serving him with her breast still exposed.  As she placed the sandwich in front of him, she moved the beer to her left hand.  Suddenly, she dumped the beer on his head and lunged for his neck with the small paring knife she'd hidden in the right pocket of her nurse’s dress.  If she could kill him, she could at least change into something more appropriate before calling the police.  Maybe she could spare herself that shame and ignominy at least.

But it seemed that he was waiting for just this kind of move and easily pinned her right wrist, then twisted, forcing her to drop the knife.  Now defenseless again, her blue eyes wide in shock and hatred, Kate slowly backed away from him, her beautiful chest heaving from exertion and fear. 

"A toy?”  He pulled back and glared at her.  “Ya threat’n me wid a toy?  Shud’ I make ya eat yur toy?  Ya fuckin’ sheep.  Shud’ I ram i’ down yur t’roat inch b’ inch?”

He reached out and grabbed her hair, shook her hard, and then pulled her to him.  “Or shall I put something somewhere else?  Not inch by inch, but all at once?”  He said in his smooth educated voice as he stood up.  And when her glance flicked to his waist, she was horrified to see that her attempt to kill him had instead aroused him. 

Enrolled In A Harsh School, She Was Trained With Alarming Realism or Double Pumped And Down About It

“The sheep’s been naughty.  What d’ya think I should do wit’ a naughty sheep?”  Still holding her hair, he reached down to the floor and pulled the belt off his pants, then wrapped it around her neck.  Now he tightened the belt, pushed her to the floor and began pulling her around the dining room and kitchen like she were a dog wearing his leash.  He showed her no mercy.  Only one of her hands was ever braced around the belt where it left her throat, so Kate was forced to move wherever he pulled her or she choked to death.

When he beat her and dragged her down to the floor to wear his leash, she felt no real pain, only huge disappointment at having failed at disabling him, at having freedom within reach and then losing it like she had.  And Kate still had no idea why it was her, and not someone else that he’d singled out. 

"The sheep mus’ nee’ ta be trained a little mo’.  C'mon, baby.  C'mon."  He clicked his tongue against his teeth as one does when calling a dog.  After they had made several loops around the room, he lifted her by the impromptu leash and led her back up against the dining room table.  Once there, he removed the belt and just looked at her.  She gasped for breath and rubbed her neck.  Despite something inside saying, no, don't do it, her glance flicked down once more and she could see that he was huge now.

Kate was about to cry, her lips were quivering.  "God, no,” she heard herself begging him.  “Please.  No more.  Not again.  Please, not again."

She backed away, shaking her head no, no, not again; but his was an unstoppable physical force.  Within seconds, Booker had her pulled her back and then pinned her buttocks against the dining room table despite her struggles.  He grabbed her wrists, pushed her flat on her back on the table.  The position put a terrible strain on her lower back for Kate's legs hung over the table with the edge cutting painfully against the backs of her thighs. 

The Second Times’ Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be or The Futility Of Resistance Was Pretty Damn Obvious

Almost as if he could read her mind and had done this a million times before, he shot his arms under her knees, and along with her hips, he shrugged them into the air.  The backs of her knees were pinned in the crook of his elbows, her thighs forced far apart to fit around his waist.  Kate felt paralyzed, there was no struggle left as Booker lifted her knees further and raised his arms until her feet slid down the insides of his arms and the backs of her ankles were hooked over his shoulders.  Booker then leaned forward between her spread thighs and pinned Kate's knees against her chest.  His hands snaked down and quickly pinned her wrists above her head again.  He leaned over her, leering into her face, drops of warm beer beading and rolling off the thick mat of his hair on to her chest and belly.

The sheer snow-white of her costume and the stockings on her legs were in stark contrast to the coal black hue of his skin.  Suddenly, the reality of what was about to happen again hit like a ton of bricks and Kate's shapely feet desperately thrummed against his shoulders and neck as she began of fight, but she was unable to escape his grasp.  Nothing she did stopped him and she knew she could not deny him his second victory. 

But Kate still fought him desperately, crying out, "No.  Not again.  NO!!!  Not......a......gain."  Her face contorted into an ugly grimace with her extreme efforts, she fought, screaming silently, trying to bite him, anything to deny him what he wanted one more time. 

Finally, he leaned over and looked into her eyes as he lifted her pelvis even higher, lifting her into a position so extreme it was painful, but which also perfectly placed her hips to satisfy his needs.  With both hands occupied, Booker was forced to probe between her legs with only his erection.  Suddenly, he sensed victory as the fleshy folds of her labia parted easily, allowing him full access to that which defined her as a woman.  Kate fought like a woman possessed.  She kicked her legs and twisted her body, but suddenly.... suddenly..... the effort was no longer...... appropriate..... for it had begun a second time. 

"Mama, fo ya can finish tellin' me ya not tha' kin' a woman," he grunted with effort as he fully buried his thick, meaty shank in her body again, "ya are."  Still leaning into Kate's now unresisting body, Booker began to give her a slow, leisurely fucking that they both knew could take up to half the night to finish.  After a few minutes, Booker released her wrists and rested his hands on the tops of her nylon-slick thighs.  As he took belly-deep strokes into the woman he kept pinned beneath him, his hands explored the multiple textures of the silky-smooth fabric stretched so tightly over Kate's firm thighs. 

There was no fight left in the woman now; Kate no longer struggled against him but instead lay on her back with her arms spread wide on the dining room table, her face turned towards her right shoulder.  Except for an occasional gasp of pain at a particularly deep or violent penetration, she remained silent, but her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her lower lip quivered. 

Booker looked down without pity at the woman he was fucking a second time.  Nice piece of ass, real nice piece of ass, but a little slow on the uptake.  He'd talked to the white boy for another hour about her; what he'd been doing to her, what she was like and what he wanted Booker to do to her.  Then Booker had checked her out himself for two days.  He'd finally figured out that she didn't seem like a woman who'd necessarily run to the police right away.  He read her as a weak woman that thought she was a fighter; he’d bet that she'd actually try to tough it out, to fight him in his own game.  And by doing that, she’d play into his hands, trying to beat him with his own rules. 

He'd give her a cock and bull story that he'd make up on the fly.  By the time she figured out the game was rigged, that it was her boyfriend that'd set her up, he'd be gone and she'd be knocked up.  And in the meantime, he was being paid to fuck this good-looking piece of white meat until her head collapsed. 

A nice job when you can get it. 

Like a bone worried by an unseen terrier, Kate's body was in constant motion beneath Booker; driven half a foot up the table with each of his thrusts, then dragged back down the smooth surface as he pulled on her stocking-clad thighs just to impale her on the next pile hammer drive that his hips had already begun.  The small part of his mind that could still think was amazed at how hot and tight and moist this thirty-eight year old woman's pussy was the second time around.  She was, he thought, a great piece of ass.

He finally lowered his arms to his sides, allowing her legs to rest in the crook of his elbows as they nervelessly fell off his shoulders.  She groaned with discomfort at the new position, but he could have cared less what she felt or was thinking.  He just continued pumping her pussy as he enjoyed every lush sensation her body gave him.  After another minute, he released her legs, leaned over her body and grabbed her breasts in both his hands. 

He said, "Bitch.  Wrap ya legs 'round me."  He squeezed hard in emphasis.

Reluctantly, Kate shakily obeyed, widely bowing her knees around his waist and then locking her ankles together behind his back.  Booker nodded his satisfaction at how quickly she'd acquiesced, then continued manipulating her breasts and filling her pussy.  This second sexual performance, this follow-up act of sexual domination, degradation and control took much longer to complete than the first.  Kate lay beneath him with her legs wrapped around his body for what seemed hours as he grunted with effort, sweat dripping from his brow onto her body. 

Nothing inside her body was too small, too insignificant for him, and he explored it all.  But finally, horribly, this ended just as had the first.  For Booker, it ended with a long drawn out groan of base masculine satisfaction at spreading his seed a second time as demanded by the genetic imperative.  He felt loose, happy, drained. 

Kate however, felt his horrible, burning hot semen explode inside her abdomen for the second time in less than an hour.  She was devastated.

He rested again on her motionless body until his breathing had slowed down, then stood up as he backed away from her.  She continued to lie on the table as he began putting his clothes on. 

When he was dressed, he stood next to Kate and said, "Plan on sharin' da welf, mama.  Tell yo boyfrien' dat ah'm yur lon' los' lover, tell ah'm yo ex-fiancée, tell 'im ah'm yo brotha'.  Ah don' give a shi' whatcha tell 'im, but ya'd better let 'im know dey's a new bull in town, an he's gonna be sharin' yo pussy.  Betta' tell 'im bitch; betta come up wif a convincin' story or kick his ass ou' yo bed 'cause ah'm coming back fo more n’ don' wan' no surprises."  

He heard the thud of one of her feet and looked down at the motionless bitch still lying on the table leaking his semen from between her legs.  He felt no sense of exhilaration as he looked at the beautiful woman he had just raped twice.  If someone measured his pulse and heart rate, they would both have been near normal.  Emotionally, he was entirely unaffected other than savoring the slight looseness he still felt in his groin that came from getting his nuts off twice in a nice looking piece of ass.  He was just doing what he had been born to do.  He was just doing what he’d been paid to do. 

Kate couldn’t bear to look at the man and couldn’t bear him watching her.  But the sight of him was etched in her mind’s eye.  Everything about him repulsed her.  She was so ashamed of what he had done that she wondered if she would be permanently stained.  He must have sensed this which is why he said:

"Don’ worr’ bitch, ya won’ go crazy from one little fuckin’  I’ weren’t DAT unpleasant.  ‘N by da way....ya kin keep da san’wich, i’ ain't dat good ‘n I kin ge' betta mea’ den dat righ' c’here."  With that, he roughly pulled her up by the hair, kissed her on the lips and then let her head drop back to the table with a solid thunk.

Her Reason Had Been Assaulted or There Was Nothing Left Inside But Ruins

He left her lying on the table, silent, still fighting to keep her emotions inside.  Kate expected to cry afterwards, but she felt something worse.  The house was silent, the darkness oppressive.  Heaviness had spread inside, as if her chest were turning to concrete.  She sobbed softly once in her grief, then rolled heavily off the table onto the floor.  Finally, she crawled into a chair and sat frozen in anguish.  After a moment, she leaned forward, elbows on her nylon-clad knees.  It was done, it was over; he was gone.  But he had promised to come back; and even if he did not, it would never be over in her head. 

Kate sat motionless in the chair, literally unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what had just happened.  She felt physically sick, clammy with sweat, her head heavy, blood pounding in her ears.  Her vision blurred, crackles of light flashing across her eyes, fragmenting the world around her. 

She had been raped. 

Raped by one of those she despised.  Nothing could have been more devastating.  Rudyard Kipling had been right, they were truly “…the lesser breeds without the law.”  And this one had impossibly chosen her for his physical release. 

Kate suddenly rocked back and forth, hunched over in the chair, her elbows on her knees, her face resting in her hands.  Her fingers were steepled over her mouth as if holding back words she couldn't bear to say.  Words of anger and humiliation stabbed at her mind as if made out of ice.  Finally she clutched her hands to her mid-section and then doubled over.  She took long deep breaths, repeating over and over to herself I can deal with this, I can deal with this.  Her survival instincts finally kicked in and she got a grip on her emotions; her pulse slowed and her breathing slowly returned to normal.

Her latest attempt at a normal life with a good man was failing just like everything else had in her life and now here she was one more time; it wasn't her fault, but Jimmy would hate her for what had just happened and she would be alone again.  Kate knew it was because of her wanting to have it all with him.  God was punishing her.  She had thought a relationship with Jimmy would put her life back together, but in the end she had been consumed by it. 

She straightened, raised her head and gazed dry-eyed at the darkness that lay ahead, knowing it was quite within her to stay like this, staring and frozen inside, all night.  The prospect was appealing and she fought surrendering to it. 

Kate felt outside her own body, yet the air seemed alive on her skin, and the house was so quiet now the silence was noise.  Like being in the same place twice at the same time, each overlaid on the other and not quite connected.  Except for the fear, she felt nothing.  She tried to make herself feel something else, but a switch had been thrown and now she felt empty.

Finally, feeling too old, far too old, she got up and walked slowly, awkwardly, into the kitchen.  Her legs did not work very well and he’d bruised her vagina when he’d taken her the second time, making it even more painful to walk.  Okay, she thought to herself as she splashed her face, forcing herself to try to make a fresh start. You can do this, you can....you really can.

The shaking began as Kate slowly limped up the stairs to her bedroom. 

She lay in bed after many long, hot showers and tried to cry herself to sleep.  Not only did the shame of the ordeal seem indelible, she was grieving anew for what Kate knew she had lost.  Irrationally, she was somehow angry at Jimmy for not having been here to protect her.  Kate looked at the ceiling and it seemed that some essential part of her was pouring from her eyes, entering the air and rushing away, past the neighborhood and her friends, past the seamless join of dark sky and horizon, pulled irresistibly towards a point in which the world's vitality was emptying.  She felt herself emptying inside as well, growing cold and vacant and slow.  Her brain became incapable of thought, capable only of storing perceptions.  The clean vanilla smell of her bedroom made her nostrils flare and the stars were only distant pinpricks of sensation. 

The uneducated and unwashed dark masses ruined everything they had ever been given, anything they had ever touched.  And that ruin had now somehow been visited upon her. 

Her cheek was bruised from where the monster had hit her and she ached terribly between her legs.  Kate steeled herself, then drove her fist into her face and cried out her horror at what had been done to her and at the anger she felt at herself for not having been able to stop the intruder.  She hit herself again, a third time.  She held her hand tight against her chest and tried to muffle the pain.  And she cried. 

Finally, Kate knew she had to stop this, she had to pull herself together or Jimmy would know something bad had happened. 

Sleep is a strange thing.  The more you need it, the harder it was to get.  And Kate needed it desperately.  She didn't sleep that night, but something inside her finally slept.

When she awoke the next morning, exhausted and full of anxiety, she thought about calling Jimmy to tell him what had happened.  But the pure…….degrading sordidness of what had been done to her prevented Kate from phoning.  The more Kate thought about it, the more she doubted if she would ever tell him, or anyone, about the black man that had raped her.  It was too dark a secret.  However, as badly as she felt, she did want to see Jimmy, but she just could not, not yet anyway, not until the bruises had healed enough so that she could hide them.

Earlier, I had stood out in the parking lot near my car beneath a sky that had grown heavy and dense and the color of shale.  There was a cold wind coming from the east and a formation of large black crows beating their wings a hundred feet overhead.  Because of the wind, the crows were pointing in one direction but traveling in another.  I wondered if they knew it, and knowing it, understood it, or if they were simply oblivious, carried along by a force that was felt but not seen.  The same thing happens to people, but most of the time they don’t know it, or when they know it, they think it an action of their own devising. 

They are usually wrong.

Kate called me the next morning and said she wasn't feeling too good and wouldn't be able to see me for a few days.  Solicitously, I asked if there was anything I could do to help. 

"No," Kate replied in a low, strained voice, "I just need some time alone." 

I fast forwarded through the videos taken over the next two days and other than take a couple of long, slow cathartic runs, pretty much all she did was lie in bed, huddled in a fetal ball under a blanket.  Sometimes she cried, often she just stared at the ceiling for hours without moving. 

I felt no sorrow or remorse for what I had put in play….the bitch deserved it.

It Was The Ultimate Exercise In Power or They Both Knew She Needed It Again

The monster's acts had been horrific and she'd changed the locks on the house immediately after he’d departed.  Kate next called Jimmy and told him where she'd hidden one of the new keys for him outside.  The attack had taken place three days ago and the brutality of the rapist’s attempt to control her life was always with her now.  Even though the sanctity of her home had been violated, it was still difficult to leave it too.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the sky her whole life, but she’d found that the world had suddenly become a much smaller and terribly frightening place. 

She’d never been a terribly demonstrative woman, so there were few additional tears or histrionics.  No one would ever notice anything different about her, except perhaps that her shoulders were a little hunched and her face more still and emotionless than perhaps was normal.  She kept her hands thrust into the pockets of her jacket.  And while nothing physically had been taken away, Kate held her head more carefully than before, always looking forward as if her neck hurt or as if she were trying not to notice something happening to the side of her eye.  Instead, she’d just get that look, a way of turning her head very slowly as if she were imagining the worst that could happen to her and was dragging her eyes away from the awful scene.  To anyone skilled in the nuances of appearance, it was hard to read her body language, but it was immediately obvious that she’d endured some terribly stressful event.

But even so, Kate felt better today physically; her stomach had finally stopped the cramping brought on by the assault and the accompanying darkly suicidal thoughts had also begun to lift.  And her regular mental toughness had finally begun to reassert its natural optimism.  She was a little sad though, for an old friend had passed away yesterday, finally giving up the fight against cancer.  Her funeral was in four days.   She knew she had to attend it even though she wasn't much looking forward to it. 

Today Kate wore a pair of nylon running shorts that were soft pink color and a light gray sports bra under a light-weight gray sweater.  The weather was cold and clear, perfect for running once she was warmed up.  She selected the best music on her iPod, mindlessly stretched out and then she ran.  She'd run for three hours yesterday.  At the end, huge ugly sobs of anguish had been indistinguishable from gasps for air.  That had been the worst part so far, and also the beginning of her life's return to normalcy.  Today, she enjoyed the cold warmth of the sun beating down upon her back for another three hours. 

Kate's light colored top was dark with sweat, for running was the only way she could get it all out as she tried to clear her mind.  She ran until she was in the zone and didn't have to think about the monster anymore.  She ran like a woman possessed, until her muscles screamed and her limbs ached and her heart hammered.  And when it seemed her body had refused to go any further, she continued running until her well-honed body finally rebelled in exhaustion and her mind became a merciful blank.  Only then did she feel better, as the fatigue literally drove the memories away.

But now it was time to go home.  She slowed the pace a little and soon it seemed her body had been washed clean of that horrible night.  A crisp clarity had seized her; Kate realized she wasn't the first woman this had happened to and she wouldn't be the last.  A strange calmness claimed her too…..she would go on with her life.  She would not let this man destroy what she hoped existed between her and Jimmy.  Somehow satisfied with her decision, Kate turned to the final path that took her to her home. 

Booker laughed to himself silently.  One thing for sure, the bitch hadn't believed him when he said he'd be back.  She'd fight him again; of this he had no doubt.  But this fucking would be up close and personal just like the last time, and it would go just the way he liked with his sheep as he trained them...it always did.  Just he and she, wrapped in a tight lover's spiral that grew ever closer despite the violence that always accompanied his initial encounters.  He felt like an anaconda ready to pluck some warm-blooded prey from the bank of a stream. 

She would feel the heat of his body, smell his scent and give her muffled cries.  He would be facing her and be able to see the helpless, pleading fear in her eyes.  He would make her look at him and then she would see how hopeless it was to fight.

He couldn't help but smile.  She stretched out again in the front yard after her run.  There, the stupid bitch was walking in the front door with music from her earphones blocking her hearing.  She was begging for it and he'd be giving it to her again. 

What a stupid cunt.

Kate unlocked the front door and entered without taking off her sunglasses or iPod earphones.  She kicked the door shut behind her, concentrating solely on how good a frigid glass of orange juice would taste.

Suddenly, she sensed movement to her left, but before she could turn, she had been grabbed by her pony tail and swung in a tight circle so quick and so hard that she was thrown to her knees.  Now she was being pulled backwards across the floor on her butt by her hair.  It had to be a man, only a man could be that strong.  She grabbed the wrist still twisted in her hair with both her hands and tried to claw him, fight him.  Kicking at him, twisting her body, Kate finally got a look at her assailant; God, no!  NO!!  He had come back as he'd promised.  The monster had returned. 

She gave out one scream and it was as if he'd been waiting for that tactic, for with a quick slap that rattled her teeth, just like before and without saying a word he had just made it clear that he'd allow her to physically fight him, but not make noise unless she was prepared to accept massive physical punishment.  She ignored his initial warning and tried to scream again, but another quick, very painful blow stopped that one too. 

After a moment of shock, Kate once more acknowledged his physical ascendancy as she struggled in a desperate silence broken only by her sobs of effort; her hate-filled voice that told of the efforts to which she was willing to go to avoid this man's awful attentions.

"No....NO!!!" She panted.  "Not... again.... no.... more..... kill... you.... bastard... kill.... you....dead"

But nothing deterred his now heavy need.  He pulled Kate to her feet by her pony tail and began stripping her with his free hand.  She continued to fight, trying to scratch his arm and kick him in the groin, but her sweatshirt disappeared to the floor with one rip of his muscular arm, and this was quickly followed by her running shorts.  Ten seconds later, her panties lay on the floor and soon her sport bra was pushed up over her breasts to expose nipples now hardened both by fear and her attempts to free herself from his horrible grasp. 

The man dragged her to the couch and threw her down upon it as he began to undress.  By this time she had her wits about her, but it was too late and he had pushed her knees apart in order to lay upon her belly.  She managed to rake his shin with the rubber sole of one shoe.  This must have hurt him for he stopped and pulled the offending shoe off and threw it to the side, then grabbed the other and attempted the same with the second shoe.  But this one proved a tougher foe and stayed on her foot.

Then it began.  Her hands pinned above her head by his, she endured another cold, hard, prolonged intimacy from him, a familiar intimacy which her body had again not been prepared to accept.  He brutally drove into her, separating her dry labia with the massive head of his cock and continued on, plunging inside her body in the most obscene and uncaring way until she had unwillingly accepted his every inch. 

This time he didn't seem to care about her soft cries of pain.  Once he possessed her in this way, it seemed nothing could stop him.........and nothing did.

Spreading His Violence A Second Time or Nothing Suave Here, Just Brute Force

Breathing heavily, trying to hold back the tears, Kate laid on her back with her knees spread wide, one leg draped over the back of the couch.  One Nike lay on the floor, knocked off by the relentless brutality of the attack.  The other shoe still hung from her foot, but only by the toes now.  Her pink running shorts lay in shreds where the monster had thrown them, her sports bra lifted high to expose her now bruised breasts.  He had gone to the bathroom and his silky-thick semen cooled again on the soft white insides of Kate's thighs and on her belly. 

No!  Not again.  Not AGAIN!  She sobbed once and struggled to pull her top down around her breasts.  She slowly lifted herself from the couch, kicked off her remaining shoe, then staggered to the kitchen on stocking feet where she quietly pulled out a large carving knife.

Kate wobbled for a second, then put the knife by her thigh and waited for his return by a door jam.  He was back in seconds, his brutally muscled body moving as sleekly as a leopard's.  He was back too soon for her to be fully prepared.  And he must have sensed something, for he moved too quickly, getting in too close to fight him.  This knife was gone just quickly as had been the first time four nights ago.  Now he was choking her from the back and it felt like her head would explode, like all the air and blood in her body had been trapped in her head and would now shoot out of her under immense pressure.  Soon the blackness flashed across her eyes and she knew in a matter of seconds she would pass out. 

Finally, he let go then only to hold her up by her hair.  Booker slapped her softly once in the face almost as if in disgust and finally allowed her to fall to the floor as he said, “You be one stubborn sheep.  You aren’t a good little girl, you are baaaddd.  So ya pays the price again.” 

Kate fell to her hands and knees and then tried to scramble away from her rapist on all fours, but he was too quick and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her neck.  He then reached between her legs from the back with his free right hand.  Caught with her thighs spread wide in a vain, scrabbling attempt to escape, Booker easily inserted his middle finger in her still wet vagina, then shockingly pushed his thumb deep into her anus. 

He now pinched finger and thumb together and lifted the struggling woman onto her toes by her hips even as he kept her head forced down almost to the floor with his other hand.  Kate mewled her humiliation and rage as Booker forced her to perform a spider walk back to the couch on fingertips and toes, dragging the struggling woman by her hair while he literally steered Kate with his two fingers buried deeply in her pelvis in a tight bowling ball grip.  Booker threw her on her back on the couch this time and then leered directly down at her. 

His manhood, previously hanging limp both due his exertions as well as having already satisfied himself with her body, now began to grow menacingly again in front of her eyes.  With the horrified paralysis of a mouse watching the approach of certain doom, Kate saw it change before her eyes, growing from something large and soft and non-threatening to what seemed a huge, baseball bat-sized weapon of masculine destruction.  Not again!  Not….a….gain!  She tried to fight him, to turn and roll away.  But time seemed to slow and her limbs felt as if she were moving through molasses. 

Then it was too late as he lowered himself upon her belly, the look on Booker's face challenging her to do something to stop him.  He forced her to look at him, into his eyes, though in her helpless rage and shame she would have rather torn her own eyes out.  She stared at up his dark face as if her eyes might somehow drill down into his and extract his soul, destroy his life like he had hers.  It was clear this time that what he did was nothing more than an attempt to punish a wayward female as he dominated her by sex alone. 

Suddenly it began again.

Booker had finished with the woman for now and was dressing, but he still was not satisfied.  He stood in front of Kate and looked down on the dumb bitch as she lay sprawled upon the couch once more.  He’d satisfied his physical needs twice with her body, but he still sensed a resistant core within the bitch’s persona.  The look of horror upon her face at the end when he was slipping that second fuck into her had been immensely satisfying.  But she’d tried the knife thing twice and that pissed him off.  The bitch needed a little more training in humility and obedience, and suddenly he knew exactly what to do. 

She lay on the couch without moving as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged around until he’d found some thin rope and a disposable camera.  He returned to the living room and removed the lace from one of her running shoes.  Booker picked up the pink running shorts and then grabbed Kate by her hair and dragged her to her feet.  He shoved the shorts into her unresisting mouth and tied them in place with the shoe lace. 

Next he tied her wrists tightly together in front of her belly with the rope and led her to the door that connected the kitchen and the dining room.  He flipped the loose end of the rope over the top of the door, wrapped it around the door knob on the other side from Kate and pulled it tight enough that she was forced onto her toes.  Having tied the rope off on the opposite door knob, he now closed the door, effectively pinning Kate against the closed door with her wrists bound over her head.  There was no fight left; the naked woman faced the door with her eyes closed, waiting for the unknown as his sperm drained from her vagina and onto the insides of her thighs. 

Booker took off his wide leather belt and with one quick move whipped it across her buttocks, hitting her hard enough to raise an immediate, wide red welt.  Kate screamed into her impromptu gag and pivoted to face the rapist. 

“Da sheep makes anudder wron’ move,” he said with a smile as he hit her across her lower belly and groin, leaving another wide welt. 

He stopped for a second.  “Ya can take i’ on da ass,” he smirked, “where i’ won’ hur’ as much.  Ah ya can take i’ on ya belly, where i’ will hur’ lak hell.  Ya choice.  Bu’ ya ge’ i’ ‘til I ge’ tired of hittin’ ya, bitch.”

As he wound up again, Kate quickly turned and presented her buttocks as his target.  Booker laughed at her obvious decision and spanked her ass hard one more time.  She cried out in pain and hopped involuntarily on her toes as the shocking pain coursed through her body. 

“Ah am tired,” he said slowly, “uf ya tryin’ ta ‘nife ma ass.  Dat’s no’ nice, ‘specially after all I’s dun fo’ ya.  Bitch, ya’ll learn ta show me sum r’spect.’

He spanked her hard again and then stopped for several seconds, making her wait for the next blow before he hit her again.  His aim was either erratic….or perfect, depending upon the point of view.  Soon Kate’s buttocks, lower back and the tops of her thighs were red with wide crisscrossing raised welts.  She tried to handle the grotesque situation by taking his blows without reacting, but he used the belt hard and the pain quickly went beyond what she could tolerate. 

Within sixty seconds, her face was red both from the pain and the humiliation of being spanked like a small child; tears of frustration and anger ran down her face.  Kate’s body was trembling now, covered with sweat and she was soon hopping on her toes with every blow.  She screamed into her gag with each slapping blow and was jiggling up and down on her toes, her body bouncing, hopping each time he spanked her, anything to channel the pain away from where the belt landed.  But conscious movement was soon impossible and then her body just reacted to each blow, her actions child-like in their simplicity and honesty. 

At the end, the thirty-eight year old woman leaned into the door and cried like a baby.  Legs and feet together, breasts flattened against the door, face turned away from her tormenter and wearing only one cotton sock, Booker knew that they both knew he had won. 

Using the disposable camera, he began taking pictures of Kate hanging from a rope against the door.  Eighteen shots of her ass, legs, face, breasts and belly; every part of her beautiful, bruised body was captured in photographs.  And after removing the gag and gently clearing her hair away from her face, he made sure to take plenty of face shots to prove it was her, naked and spanked, that sagged against the door. 

Finished, he opened the door, untied the rope from around the door knob and let it go.  Kate’s legs were nerveless and without strength; she slid down the down the side of the door and collapsed into an untidy pile of arms and legs and bruised femininity. 

Booker reached down and untied her wrists.  Her face was blotchy and her eyes red from crying.  The humiliation so obvious on her face after being spanked and the abject submission to his strength that every move of her body now screamed to the world, it all was really quite satisfying to him.  She'd had an insolent look about her mouth that first day, and it pleased him to have almost surgically removed that arrogance…forever.  He'd gone through a lot of sheep in his relatively short life and knew that a woman like this one needed to be under the firm control of a demanding man to be happy.

She just didn't know that yet. 

"Ya though' ah was kiddin' 'bout comin' ba’k fa seconds, didn' ya, bitch?  Ya bettah learn dat when da Booker say sometin', he mean i'.  Ya gonna be sharin' dat nice pussy a yo's, mama.  Sharin' i' lots ‘less ya wan’s ta see ya face all ova’ da naybahood.  I gots sum grea’ shots a ya ass ‘n pussy ‘n tits.  Ya bes' figah ou' how yur gonna' spen’ t'ree nigh's a week takin' da blac' snake witou' lettin' 'im know yur fuckin' dah Booker too.  Ya tell ‘im dat, ya lose ‘im fo' sure.   ‘Sides, lak I tell’s ya da firs’ time, ya keep ‘im on da strin’ an' ya ge' da money from da whi' mea' all da while da blac' mea' keeps ya satisfied."

Booker looked at Kate one last time and winked at her before he walked out of her life for the second time.  "Bitch, ya betta figga ou' wha' ya tellin' yur boyfrien' whe’ he see ya shaved yur pussy clea’ a dat line a hair ya gots.  Dis yo las' warnin'.  Ah don' lak hairy snatch much n’ don' wanna see i’ when I's cum back.  Latah, mama.  Ya knows ah'm always gonna make time fo fine, fine pussy lak yo's, mama.  'Specially whe’ i' be free lak dis."

Suddenly he was gone, but his last comment had opened a mile-wide hole in her stomach.  God.  She somehow knew for sure that he would be back.  Her muscular buttocks ached and throbbed from the spanking, but Kate waited another five minutes after he had left before rolling heavily onto her hands and knees. 

Sweat was running into her eyes and the contents of her stomach surged in her throat.  Kate retched once but somehow kept it down.   She heard the rush of her own blood through veins and arteries, and her bones felt like they had turned into Swiss cheese; her head spun erratically and she felt disoriented.  All the constricting pain she felt suddenly came together to form a ball of agony in the pit of her stomach.  She doubled over, and in her body's attempt to expel the ache, she retched again and everything she had inside her belly roared out onto the floor.  Coughing and sputtering, it continued until she was empty and gagging on her own bile.

Her mind screamed, yet her lips remained powerless as if stitched shut with bloodied, black sutures.  She lay on the floor as if paralyzed, unable to fight or even cry, unable to strike back at this thing which kept circling her and kept returning.  She felt the weight of a thousand men like him on her shoulders and chest.  They were all in the background waiting their turn, standing at the monster's side.  They were laughing.  A mocking hyena-like cackle that surrounded her, drowning out her very thoughts.  Knife-like, their laughter reached out, sharp and deadly, to perform a task she would never have dreamed.  It was like this man had cut her soul from her body.

She finally sat back on her heels, realized for sure that he was gone.  Sobbing now, she pushed herself up from the floor and swayed as if she were on the deck of a ship in rough seas.  Then she slowly made her way up the stairs to the shower next to her bedroom.

Accepting The Inevitable or She Was Sweat-Stained At The End And More Than Just A Little Frayed

I found that Kate had immediately changed the locks again, then called me after a couple of days and said she still wasn't up to going anywhere.  But there were new keys to house again, and as before she told me where I could find my new one outside her home.  I knew Booker would appreciate the update. The early December weather was surprisingly cold and blustery; she had a convincing story about a chest virus and how it had knocked her out.  But the videos told the truth; a woman that had been crushed by her new reality.  A woman that looked at the end of her nerves, one who needed help. 

Well, fuck her!

The videos continued to show a woman teetering on the edge of sanity.  Finally, the day of the funeral arrived.  I was interested in how she would handle leaving the pitiful safety of her home and the stress of Booker's next promised visit, so after changing the camera batteries at Kate’s in her absence, I stopped at my mom's house and waited for my unfaithful lover to return from the funeral.

She had already departed for the service by the time I had downloaded the files and watched her get dressed.  Nothing sexy this time.  Her ass was a spectacular mass of partially healed purple and blue bruises; Booker had really gone to town on the bitch with his belt.  Heavy makeup covered the dark circles under her eyes.  Conservative underwear, black bra, panties and pantyhose pulled up gingerly over her buttocks.  A conservative, almost frumpy black knee-length dress and black pumps with medium heels; everything topped by a small black hat with a discrete veil.  She’d dressed to disappear, to float in the crowd without ever being noticed. 

I hadn't seen a woman wearing a veil in twenty years. 

The most interesting part though, was that I noticed this was also a woman who had shaved off all her pubic hair too.  I grinned when I saw this as I remembered Booker's demands.  She obviously thought he might actually be coming back and had already begun to prepare for him.

The funeral was on a gray Tuesday and the skies were releasing an intermittent, soft yet cold rain.  Kate saw the turnout was small, perhaps because of the weather, or perhaps because her friend had been a quiet, intensely private person.  The cold, overcast skies perfectly fit how she felt inside.  She stood huddled, freezing with others near the casket, staying close because it was hard to hear the voice of the minister over the patter of a misty, freezing rain on her umbrella.  In one of those quick moments of weirdness, Kate found she liked the smell of the rain on the earth they’d dug up.  It was a fresh smell, a smell that seemed displaced in this setting, especially when taking into account what she had gone through in the last week.  But she was grateful for it, nonetheless.

While the minister spoke, her eyes wandered.  She did not wish to stare endlessly at the casket and could not keep her eyes on the ground as everyone else did.  As she scanned the cemetery, she became aware of a figure under a tree on a hill about a hundred yards away.  He was the only person there who did not have an umbrella, but he stood tall, oblivious to the rain.  It was a young black man, and there was a familiar quality about him that she did not recognize at first.  Kate looked closer and he raised his face; it might have been Booker, but she just couldn’t be sure. 

Suddenly sick to her stomach, Kate gasped as she looked down at her feet in fear.  Others looked at her, but she was frozen like a rabbit that had just seen the snake that would end its life.  When she looked up again, the misty figure had vanished.  It was as if she had imagined him for there was no place for him to have gone. 

All other emotions were submerged in dread and confusion.

Kate finally pulled up in front of her house after the service and parked.  I smiled to myself; she didn't trust the darkness of her garage and I guess I didn't really blame her.  She looked pensive and sad, very sad.  She looked exhausted too, like a woman that had reached the end of her rope.  The rain had stopped, but it was still gray and overcast.  Several neighbors happened to be walking by as she parked out front and she seemed to make a point of talking to them.  She had been instrumental in passing local ordinances forbidding the parking of cars on the street in front of the houses.  It was then I realized that she really didn't want to go into her own home. 

She was afraid.

I watched Kate from afar, as she delayed her entry into her own home, clearly spending far too much time talking to neighbors with whom she would normally not have spent more than a minute.  I watched Kate look at her home and then begin a new conversation, further delaying the inevitable.  Soon, even from across the street, I could see the tableau had become a little strained; it was obvious to even the dolts she was with that there was something else on her mind. 

Always the proud woman, I could see the moment when she finally recognized she could no longer delay without raising comment.  I watched Kate slowly say her goodbyes, and as her quizzical neighbors looked on, she began the journey up her front walk.

She Hesitated For Good Reason or All Concerned Were Pretty Much Sure It Was Time for Act III

Kate felt frozen, but still hesitated to go inside.  She looked at the front door to her home and felt shivers of unaccountable dread run through her spine once more.  She was drawn to the door as inexorably as a leaf is blown down the street.  She might be struck dumb with cold terror, but she knew there was no other option; she would have to go inside. 

But he was inside.  HE was inside right now waiting for her! 

Somehow she knew this. 

She absolutely knew there was something wrong, but was unable to recognize or pinpoint any actual threat.  There was no evidence of HIS presence, nothing suggested HIS presence; no strange car out front or in the back, no unexpected movement of the curtains as someone inside looked out.   But he, HE was inside waiting for her none-the-less.  On this she would bet her soul.  But it was as if there were powers here beyond her control; as if there was no other course for her.

She could call the police, but what would she say? I've been raped four times in the last week and he's waiting in my home for me again? Why hadn't she called them after the first time, they would ask.  If he wasn't there inside, they would ask for a physical description and the circumstances.  Even if she could keep Jimmy out of it, and Kate doubted she could, she would still be humiliated in the neighborhood and in front of her friends.  And if he was inside.....if he was arrested inside, it would all come out; every last part about what he had done to her and what she and Jimmy had been doing.  Again, she would be humiliated in front of everyone.  My God!  And that didn’t even take into account the awful pictures he had taken of her.

Kate shook herself mentally and tried to pull herself together.  She was suddenly angry with herself and her weaknesses; she hated what this terrible man had done to her life, how he made her second guess every move she made.  She told herself she had not come this far in her life to be afraid of the dark or of any man for that matter.  This was her home; the black bastard rapist wouldn't drive her out of it.  Besides, she needed to decide soon.  She'd been on her feet all day; she was tired and needed to lie down. 

Decision made, she squared her shoulders and began walking up the path towards the front door.  Even as she got closer, she realized that the silence behind the door had a different quality from before.  Suddenly, her body felt wooden, her legs unresponsive as she stood in front of the door.  Kate couldn't know if someone was on the other side of the door, if someone waited for her in the shadows.

Kate paused as she teetered at the very edge of her old life.  The average woman, ignorant of instinct or unwilling to listen to it, merely paused before stepping over the edge into oblivion.  Only those few people equipped with a special gene, that animal talent which cannot be learned, would withdraw from the abyss. 

Kate was just an average woman in this way. 

The fire of her fierce determination had begun to die away when the idiots out in her front yard yelled their goodbyes one more time.  Feeling compelled to act now or look like a total idiot she unlocked the door and savagely opened it.  Then she hesitated on the doorstep, turned and waved at the neighbors before she entered and closed the door behind her. 

Kate felt as if she had just stupidly walked into her own special hell.  Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness; sudden relief flooded her veins when she realized that her very own dark avenging angel from hell was absent.  Kate sighed and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.  

For the first time in days, Kate felt like she could breathe again.  She walked into the dining room on the way to kitchen to get a drink for upstairs while she changed into something more comfortable.  There was nothing there and she felt something in her stomach unclench for the first time in several days. 

A Sudden Realization Of Her Fate or It Was The Peace That Total Surrender Brings

For a moment she did not recognize him. 

Kate froze when she finally did, but by then it was too late, for just like in the previous two times, he had positioned himself in a way that prevented her easy escape.  They stood, not close, but not far apart either, just looking at one another.  After a moment, Kate ran her hand through her hair and her eyes flickered for just a moment.  An immediate tension filled the room like the hum of high-voltage electrical lines ready at any moment to explode into violence.

Knowing this time that everything about to happen was her fault and hers alone, she closed her eyes for a long minute as sick weariness spread from top to bottom throughout her body.  A tough woman, a pragmatic woman, Kate nonetheless felt sick to her stomach and quite hopelessly stupid, having willingly put herself in this situation.  But in a way, her nightmare was over now and for this alone, she almost felt relieved.  At least the terrible uncertainty that had so ruled her life and destroyed her health over the last couple of days was over; she knew his intentions. 

And in a flash of unwanted feminine insight, she also realized that she had decided several days ago to submit to him this time rather than continue her useless fight or have him hurt her anymore.  Intellectually, Kate knew she was rationalizing, but still couldn’t fight the emotions that drove her to do what she was doing.  She told herself that as an adult, as a strong woman, she would only submit long enough for she and Jimmy to make their plans to escape what had now become her own personal hell.  She just somehow knew that Jimmy was worth the terrible sacrifice she was prepared to make.   

Booker was not a man known for his patience.  In his mind, this was what had led him to the little success he had achieved in life so far.  A part-time pimp, he was a decisive man, a man who worked his women's bodies as if they were land his serfs plowed.  He wore his reputation as a badge of honor and if his whores were dumb enough to follow the rules, then that was their fault. 

"Ya know’s why ah'm here," he said.  "I ough' ta bea’ da shi' outta ya, bu’ den I taught ya migh' axally be sma’t nuff ta learn fum yo mistakes.  Da only problems is, I gotta history a changin' ma min'.  So if ya wanna save yo ass, ya'll do eggzactly as I say."

He saw the woman had an almost a semi-detached air about her now, as if newly released from the panic that had arisen from long lasting uncertainty and self-doubt. 

From multiple rapes. 

Except for the eyes.  She may be moving like a zombie but the eyes were still alive.  Feverish.  Agitated.  He could see in them that she had already given something of herself to him.  It was irrevocable, this thing that she would give him next, and they both knew it.  Like a batter hitting a pitch over a center-fielder's head, he felt she was almost happy to give him this entre into her life.  That didn’t make sense except in a contrarian world in which by doing this, the trapped woman tried to appease him, placate him, buy him off by willingly giving him her body just this one time.  He could see in her eyes she hoped that the sacrifice would be enough to make him go away after this. 

Later, as I watched the video of their encounter, I saw Booker make a small gesture with one finger: come here.  Kate hesitated and then slowly moved from where she stood as though she no longer had any volition of her own.  She moved towards him, almost like a fish being reeled in, stepping between a table and a chair to pass from where she stood towards the steps that led upstairs.  It wasn’t a pleasant spectacle to watch and for a moment, just for a moment, I almost regretted what I had set in motion.

With each passing moment, Kate felt a greater sense of impending doom that had somehow become perfectly mixed with her relief.  The feeling reminded her of immediately after her husband had died, of how everything wonderful had turned hopeless in a matter of minutes.  Kate knew nothing of the psychology of a rape victim, but still somehow sensed that before he even laid a hand on her or took her clothes away this time, she knew she was at least temporarily his property.

Wearily, feeling somehow as if glad the game between them was finally over, Kate nodded to him her understanding of the situation in which she found herself.  She was a practical woman; she knew firsthand how fast and strong he was.  How violently aggressive he was.  The door was closed; there was no escape.  She also had firsthand knowledge of his appetites, his needs; and there was no way she could physically deny him that for which he so obviously waited.

She was a rational woman.  Kate took a deep breath; there was no use in delaying it either.  Outwardly calm now, her heart thudded in her chest.  Her decision had been made, a decision that was in any case irrevocable in the face of his determination.  Kate walked by Booker and leaned against the wall by the foot of the stairs that led up to her bedroom.  She slowly removed her pumps one at a time. 

She stood next to him barefooted now.  Quietly he said, “On your knees.”  Kate knew he was speaking English, but the words just didn’t seem to make sense to her at that moment. 

Suddenly, he roared, “On your knees, BITCH!!”  For a second, Kate’s mind went blank.  Then it all came crashing in on her, just exactly what was going to happen, what he was going to do to her in just a few seconds.  Her legs now weak and powerless, Kate collapsed to the floor rather than knelt as he had ordered.  But for him, the difference didn’t seem to matter, for he said with an unattractive smirk, “Women like you were born to kneel for men like me.”  And with that, he crushed her hat as he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled Kate to her feet and pushed her towards the stairs that led to her bedroom. 

It was if she were being controlled by forces outside of herself, as if a bank of instincts were making decisions on her behalf.  Her mind had stopped working.  Heavily, as if her body weighed hundreds of additional pounds, holding her heels in her right hand, sliding her left hand along the wall for support, Kate silently led him in stocking feet up the stairs to her bedroom, neither of them saying a word.  She preceded Booker into the room, opened it for him and then turned to close the door behind them.  The afternoon had already saddened her; she knew that this threatened to destroy her. 

As quietly, as bravely as she could, Kate McCullough slowly closed the door on all her happiness.

The brutal man took her right hand and led her towards the bed.  With his other, he pulled the hat away from her head in an unhurried, rather awkward motion.  Pins dropped to the carpet around her feet and her hair fell around her face.  Determined to be brave, she still was trying to not weep now, making no sound, but she flinched then as if being beaten.

"Ah," he said, smoothing out her hair.  The tenderness of his gesture or perhaps the sound of his voice roused a sense of herself and where she was.  She almost wished then for that all-embracing mental fog again to help hide whatever must come next.  For a moment, Kate looked at him, her face a mask in which he could read neither recognition nor emotion of any kind.  She tore away from his grasp and backed away from the bed, keeping her eyes on him all the while as if he might follow her.  What had possessed her to lead him here?  She had not been thinking clearly.

Kate shook her head, anything to delay what was going to happen.  "Please don't hurt me.  I'll cooperate.....you can do whatever you want, just don't hit me anymore."

Kate's voice trailed off at the withering look Booker gave her, and she felt defeated.  Her heart was heavy with the ash of countless pyres burned at the tombstone of the memories he had left her.  His power over her at this moment was almost visibly radiant, icy-cold and blue and compelling.  She hated him and what she knew he was planning to do to her, but this was still the way she saw him. 

He looked at the woman he was preparing to rape for a third evening.  "Nah gonna hi' ya.  Don' nee’ ta trea' ma wom'n ruff allatime.  Only da ones dat don' kno’ dey status yet."

She looked sharply at him, but said softly.  "I am not your woman!"

"Yah, ya are.  Don' ge' uppity, mama.  Ya jus' don' kno’ yur mah bitch yet."

"Please don't use that language around me please, I don't like it."

Booker slowly looked at her for a second like she was from Mars and then moved with incredible quickness as his hand snaked to her throat.  "I'll call ya whatevah I wan', bitch!  Dat include cun', ho, slu’, bitch ‘n anythin’ else I wanna.  Dat clear, bitch?"

Kate choked as she grabbed his wrist with both her hands and then slowly nodded her agreement, knowing she had further cemented the acceptance of her new role as she did.  She lowered her eyes submissively as she took her hands from his wrist; after a second he removed his hand from her throat.

"Bitch," he said with a confident smile.  "Yur mah wom'n already.  Bu' ya jus' don' kno' i' yet."

Kate looked at him and for the first time, tears threatened to fill her eyes as she asked, "Why?  Why me?  Why do this to me?  I've never done anything to you."

"Don' nee' no reason, woman.  Jus' take a look at yo'self in da mirror.  Yo uh gud-lookin’ wom’s, ‘n dat's reason nuff."

"Now ge' ready.  Takes i’ all off.  Now!"  With that, he stepped in back of her and unzipped her dress to get her started.

She looked at him in the mirror for a second as her eyes teared up and then put her head down so she wouldn't have to see the naked lust in his eyes as she undressed.  Kate shook her head as if to escape a dream, then slowly shrugged the dress off her shoulders and numbly, yet lithely stepped out of it.  She laid the dress over the back of a chair and then hesitantly removed her black slip.  After another moments' hesitation, Kate reluctantly removed her bra and gave Booker's hungry eyes their first feast of his new woman.  She stood in front of him now wearing only her pantyhose and panties.  By this time any bravery she might have felt initially was long gone. 

Tears built up even more in her eyes, but she refused to cry.  You, she repeated to herself, silently, desperately, unconvincingly, are an adult, not a child.  This was your choice.  Now, right or wrong, learn to live with it.

Still in a partial daze over what she was doing, Kate gingerly sat on the edge of her bed and removed her pantyhose, then stood and slipped off her panties to reveal the full extent of bruising on her buttocks.  Her skin felt frozen and with her clothing gone, she felt reduced, smaller somehow, as if part of her were missing.  She stood in front of Booker now, gloriously naked.  Besides the bruises on her butt from his previous beating, the only other marks on her perfect body were the red pressure marks from the straps of her bra over her ribs under her arms, and a red ring around her waist that marked where the top of her pantyhose had cut into her waist.

Kate stood in front of him and wondered why didn’t her hands shake?  She needed to do something, anything, just to keep on living.  There was a stranger inside her, with her arms and legs, moving, breathing, eating.  Kate suddenly saw the stranger this man had forced her to become and wondered would she ever be her again?

They both knew what came next.  He with anticipation; she with the terrible reluctance of one powerless to change her fate.  Soon Kate lay in her bed next to Booker, frozen, stiff, unmoving and unmoved.  She lay beside the monstrous black man, silently staring at the ceiling.  He had pulled her down on the bed and she'd flinched, prepared at least mentally to accept the coming brutality.  But he surprised her with his horrible tenderness; with the amount of time he took in what he mistakenly thought passed as foreplay for one of her class.  Her mind had shut down in preparation for the coming horror, even as she stiffly accepted his caresses.  Of course, he could fondle her from now to eternity and it would get him nothing. 

She now realized that she had been steeling herself for just this moment over the last three days; that she had unknowingly already accepted both the consequences of her decision and of his brutal advances....and the intimacy they implied after Booker had promised to return a third time.  She had believed him and felt this was the only way she could possibly salvage her future with Jimmy.  Let this monster do what he wanted now, but soon, when the time was right, she and Jimmy could flee together and begin a new life.  Together.

It took two hours for him to finish.  Sick almost to death with the awful realization that this situation was her fault, the result of her stubbornness and unwillingness to heed her intuition, Kate grimly accepted the terrible responsibility for her fate as she lay on the bed and spread her legs for this man's pleasure.  Moving like a man with vast experience, the monster covered her gently with his body.

Finally, he was ready and he took her with little mercy and certainly no tenderness.  Filled with disgust, Kate remained uncooperative and motionless beneath him.  He seemingly ignored this “insult to his manhood” as he continued to feed his driving need on her body. 

Her body felt cold, but when he entered her she was awfully surprised at first by the furnace-like warmth of his erection.  But then, her body almost seemed to rejoice as her belly was probed and filled by a source of heat so much more potent than the pale sunlight that washed over both of them.  The warm, hard thing between her legs, the thing that filled the inside of her vagina, incredibly it began to thaw her from the belly out.  And Kate hated this feeling, something that from Jimmy would have been so welcome.  This massive, iron-hard piece of meat that linked them was the warmest object in that empty cavern she called her body.  But Kate was horrified, terribly troubled that her body could still realize an almost innocent pleasure in it, and she was determined not to let the man know that she had, at least for the moment, if not willingly, she had at least reluctantly accepted him and his all-engulfing heat.  She closed her eyes in confusion and that seemed to make him think she was rejecting him. 

“Look at me r’ll I’ll poke ‘em out,” he said as he pressed his thumbs into her eye sockets. 

Let him blind me, she thought, if that keeps him from finding out that her body had responded to him in even the tiniest way.  She hated him with her whole being, and it horrified Kate to think that her eyes would show him that fact if he looked in them now.  Finally, he stopped pressing and Kate unwillingly opened her eyes once more.

She’s A Submissive Ride Now or She Still Had A Long, Unpleasant Learning Curve Ahead Of Her

Once, he raised his trunk off her, keeping her hips pinned and vagina filled, and reached to side table.  Her mind was in that safe spot a million miles away and it took Kate a couple of seconds to realize that she was no longer being actively raped; that he had instead grabbed a small camera. 

His first shots, before she knew what was happening, had been into the large mirror that stood in back of her makeup table; they were shots that most assuredly showed him lying between her legs, of him obviously fucking her.  Even as Kate frantically responded by trying to bury her face into his shoulder and hiding her identity from the mirror, she knew it was too late.  Her face had been visible and she could never deny it had been her lying with this man.  Who would ever believe it was not by choice? 

It only took one slap for Kate to admit defeat and to stop trying to hide her face a second time.  His next shots were close-ups of her face as she lay on her back facing him, her beautiful dark hair fanned out on the pillow.  Once he was satisfied with the sheer number of photos taken of her lying beneath him, he finally fulfilled himself on her unwilling body.

In the end, she flinched only a little this time when he came inside her.  After a long rest on top of her body to recover his breath, Booker rolled off of her still covered in sweat.  He then lay close beside her, close enough that she could smell the raw, unfamiliar scent of his body.  There was no point in being upset now about having unprotected sex with this monster, given what he'd already done to her.  She could only pray he didn't have HIV or Herpes or any of a million other diseases or degenerate conditions....but you never knew with ghetto trash like this. 

Soon, far too soon, he was ready for sex a second time.  Again, he spent time touching her body and trying to prepare her.  Then he pushed her knees apart and slid between her thighs and slowly filled her a second time.  And when he had recovered his breath this time, after what seemed only a moment's respite but must have been almost half an hour, he made her fuck him the third time.  But this time he insisted that she mount him.  He laid on his back with his huge black....tree sticking in the air.  Hating herself for what she had just done with him, hating the feeling of being so controlled, so intimidated by his presence, Kate silently submitted as she first stroked him back to hardness, then slowly spread her thighs to straddle his thick waist, parting her labia with one hand and tentatively grabbing and guiding his hardness with the other. 

She stopped only for a moment to gather her courage. 

As Kate slowly lowered herself onto his groin, she reluctantly steered him inside her body a third time.  A belly-deep groan was forced from her throat as his massive bulk finally filled her.  She hesitantly impaled herself upon him until thankfully there was nothing left, for in all honesty, she wasn't sure she could accommodate another inch.  She absolutely hated the feeling of having her belly filled like this with the engorged cock of the black rapist, but was still helpless to prevent it. 

She was determined to not give him anything more than what he had already taken from her tonight on his own, but making her be on top was maliciously clever.  She did all the work now and it left his hands free to perform terrible……mischief.  While she was reluctantly sliding up and down his pole, he was fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples hard and manipulating her clit.  He twice used her hair to pull her head down, attempting to kiss her on the lips.  But she turned her head and refused him this act.  He might force her to give him her body, but kissing him like that, like he wanted, that was far too intimate.....it was an intimacy she would never willingly allow him no matter how long he kept her trapped or how many times he hit her. 

Booker made her ride him the whole time.  Being taken so close to the first two rapes tonight, he took an extraordinary long time to achieve his final orgasm.  She was exhausted at the end, her body covered in sweat.  She felt him shudder and heard his gasp of anticipation; she tried to ride his saddle more lightly then, keeping her pelvis higher than usual in an attempt to place his remaining sperm at the entrance to her pussy, rather than deep inside her body like she knew he planned.  But just before he came, just as she was sliding down his pole one last time, he grabbed her hips and pulled down hard at the same time that his hips lunged off the bed, totally filling her.  Then he held on tightly to her hips and they were deeply joined again, just as he had wanted. 

She cried out, but it was too late.

Panting for air, thighs spread wide and her crotch tightly welded against his muscled lower belly, all she could do was close her eyes and wait for what she knew was coming.  Head hanging in defeat, she finally felt a thankfully lesser amount of his sperm explode deeply inside her well-used vagina for the third time in two hours.  He held her hips tight against his stomach until she had taken every last drop, then he made her sit astride his belly and hips for another minute before he released her and Kate could finally roll off him.  It was as if he'd known exactly what she'd planned, as if she were as predictable as a laboratory rat trained in a maze.  

Kate hated how he made her feel like less of an individual, how he seemed to decrease her worth as a person, as a woman by just existing.  She hated what he made her do, but hated even more that fact that she now found herself responding to his commands, like any other of his owned women.  She had responded if not eagerly, then at least thoroughly and repeatedly to his needs. 

Finally, he had sated himself upon her body and he needed rest as much as she.

He Was Being Paid To Develop A More Or Less Permanent Relationship or She’s Still A First-Round Pick

She lay stiffly beside him, waiting one more time for him to leave her life devastated.  Instead, he moved the hair from her neck and kissed her there, then said, "I'm thirsty.”

He got up from her bed naked and walked to the door, before he returned and took her phone from the bedside table.  "I need something to drink.  I’m going to go get something, but you’d better not move.  I’m telling you, you’ll regret it if you mess with me on this.”

Kate’s voice was hoarse and whispery, the scratchy sound surprising her as she replied, “I promise, I won’t do anything.”

He held up the phone, “I never want to tempt my women beyond their control.” 

Kate was too tired, too exhausted emotionally to rise to the bait he had just thrown across the bed.  After a couple of minutes, he was back and sat next to her as he drank from a cold bottle of water.  He raised the bottle to her mouth, but despite her thirst Kate refused to drink from Booker’s bottle.  She would have given anything to have a drink of cold water to cool her throat, but she just couldn’t force herself to do this, at least not with him, not now.

Booker stood up and looked around her bedroom as if seeing it for the first time, as if looking for something.  Finally, he picked up a calendar and said, “pick a day, any day.”  Without thinking or asking why, Kate reluctantly picked a date two days from now.

He looked at her and laughed, “Be ready for me at seven peee emmm.  That’s when I’m coming back. 

Kate wanted to beg him, to plead with him, but didn’t have the strength.  Instead, she froze inside and somehow wordlessly accepted the validity of his demand.  But nothing, she knew, would ever be the same in her life again. 

He'd pumped the bitch’s belly full of semen three times tonight and he felt real relaxed, his groin comfortably numb.  Booker looked over at the reluctant woman he'd just fucked to exhaustion; he'd bent her to his will and he thought again of how predictable she was.  He'd known he had owned her beautiful ass from the very beginning, from before he'd even taken her the first time.  She thought herself a free and independent woman, but she was in fact a slave to her social standing and her reputation, to her need for security and "suitable" companionship. 

This was nothing but a job to him even though his loins still smelled of her sex and throbbed with freshly remembered pleasure.  But still, he thought of the smell of her hair when her head was pressed against his chest and the tickle of fine down on her neck.  He had controlled a lot of young, trashy women, successfully turning all of them into his whores.  He thought of himself as a man of the world and had just enough experience with women of a certain type to make that claim plausible.  However, a classy, thinking, feeling woman like this was different, one like this could almost take his breath away if he let her – but he would never respect her that much or let her get that close.  Besides, it was time to bring her down to his level, time to cement the role of master and slave.

The bedclothes upon which Kate lay told the whole unspoken story.  There had been recent fierce activity here; the bedding was rumpled like old skin.  And there was the strong smell of sex that one would expect, that faintly sweet odor, the one that not even bathing can erase.  She lay on her back facing the ceiling, turned away from the one who lay next to her, his semen cooling on and in her body.  If she tried hard, it was possible to not look at him in the reflection of the mirror that hung on the wall opposite them. 

Twenty minutes of being touched and stroked, followed by another twenty minutes of being fucked by a man obviously knowledgeable in the ways of women had been a......terrible experience.  Suddenly, she was overcome by a sudden feeling of revulsion, and for once Kate knew how important it was to admit the truth.  He had been surprisingly gentle at first and she had submitted this time without fighting him.  But even lacking the fierce physical battles that had characterized their first two encounters, it had still nonetheless been rape.  They both knew this, but she lived this terrible truth while he savored it.  

Then it was finally over, but now there was yet another outrage after being raped by him three times.  Now he demanded she touch him, fondle him intimately.  He'd forced her to willingly share an intimacy of which she could not have even conceived ten days ago.  An intimacy from which she still had to physically control shudders of revulsion.  But this, this last demand of his seemed almost blasphemous in its total lack of understanding of her situation.  He'd forced her to submit and then demanded continued access to her afterwards.  And now he wanted the intimacy of lovers long accustomed to the needs and pleasures of the others' body. 

She tried not to cry now, but fresh tears edged their way through her closed eyelids.  Kate opened her eyes for a moment to blink them away. 

Left with hardly the strength to lift her arms, her heart filled with the conflicting feelings of hot anger and overwhelming resignation, hoping only to see this impossible situation concluded, Kate finally rolled onto her side and tentatively reached down to Booker's groin.  With distaste, she slowly grabbed the soft purple-black penis that still glistened wetly with her vaginal fluids.  Kate gently cradled Booker's manhood in her palm, wanting more than ever to destroy him, to hurt him as much as he had her.  But she knew the half-closed eyes that glittered in his brutal face were carefully watching her.  And there was the caressing hand that was so nonchalantly twisted in her hair. 

And as she heard his breathing slow and deepen, she knew she didn’t have the luxury of the escape of sleep, for when she awoke, she would still be surrounded by him in her own bed. 

She changed her grip on his penis and softly cupped his scrotum, the engine that provided the energy and drive and need to the sexual machine that was in the process of destroying her life.  Her long fingers gently lifted and rubbed and stroked between his legs, and soon the monstrous man seemed asleep.

His new bitch lay on her left side, her right hand touching him.  Her fingers were long, slender, supple and strong looking; her hand gently rubbing him, stroking his soft cock, cupping and touching his balls and sack.  He knew she hated touching him, but had predictably acceded to this demand too.  The uppity white bitch somehow recognized the black man’s willingness to cause real pain to any of his women that might try something stupid; already personally familiar with his brutality, she now willingly obeyed his demands after giving only one soft note of anguish. 

Booker liked to fall asleep next to the woman he had just taken, even as his whore stroked and touched his genitals.  Only once had he seriously misjudged a new bitch he'd been trying to recruit.  He had a high tolerance for pain and the Oriental cunt had been pissed because he'd been a little rough with her.  She'd tried to cripple him, but made the mistake of not taking him out at the beginning, of leaving him capable of reacting. 

She didn't make that mistake again, for he broke her jaw in two places and crushed the supraorbital ridge around her right eye.  She was in the hospital for two weeks and he visited her only once.  Told her in graphic terms what he would do if she went to the police, and in even more graphic terms described his punishment if she didn't come back to his string of whores.  She'd turned out to be one of his best money makers before he'd sold her to another pimp. 

Finally bored with Kate's submission and gentle touch, Booker got up and prowled first her bedroom, then the rest of the house, becoming familiar with the layout.  He found the costumes the white boy had told him about and then went through them in more detail. 

This bitch had some potential.  He'd just have to make sure that she got used to some of the toys that he would start bringing with him on future visits.  But now it was time to finish it for today.

It was time to begin training her, time to let her perform a little oral action just to conclude their “love-fest.”  He grabbed the old bitch by her hair and dragged her off the bed and heavily onto her knees.  There was a shocked look on her face, which amused him no end after everything he’d already taken from her.  But the bitch hadn’t really sucked him off yet and it was time for her to get on the train. 

Public Relations Was One Of Her Strengths or He Was Being Deliberately Cruel To Her

"Her" web site was up and running now.  I called it OBB, which stood for "One Beautiful Body."  No advertising but word of mouth.  The internet was full of free porn, but with me capturing the numerous disgusting and perverted things that I'd paid to be performed on Kate, I was sure to be getting a huge number of hits in only a matter of days. 

I love Madison Avenue.  Guerilla marketing at its best!  

Everything on the site was designed to seem as if it came directly from Kate; all the videos and pictures, all the additional commentary that made her seem like such a whorish slut.  No one in this day and age does anything for free, so since it had to seem like Kate was undertaking some kind of a commercial venture, I put in a Photo Shopped section that offered tacky "Kate the horny housewife" items for sale.  I was particularly proud of the various items I dreamed up even though nothing existed except in my mind. 

I had her offering the usual tired-out personalized T-shirts and various sex toys, but then I got inventive and came up with items like an ironing board cover that showed her flat on her back with her breasts pooled heavily on her chest and legs spread wide to show her hairless vagina.  Kate's head went towards the top of the board and her legs towards the bottom.  "Iron your man's shirts on My Beautiful Body," the ad offered, and the way the picture was oriented, every time you moved the iron in one direction, you drove steaming hot steel up her twat.  I came up with a computer mouse pad that showed her vagina under the heading, "Use my mouse instead."  Under the title QBP which stood for "Quality Body Productions," I had a BBQ apron with a tasteful shot of Kate from the back with her sitting up and legs spread wide.  If a man wore the apron, it would look like she was climbing his crotch and had her legs wrapped around his waist. 

Of course, there were various coffee cups with Kate and her smiling face, and I had several different calendars with all sorts of cheesecake shots of Kate in various costumes and lingerie.  I also put in a section that allowed the video audience to make comments and even requests.  I started it off by inserting a few randy, rather disgusting comments and requests for Kate under a couple of fake names.  Soon, it seemed like all of the perverts of the world were concentrated here; it seemed her web site had gone viral. 

While some of the requests were fairly imaginative and gave me good ideas, others were just stupid.  "Get some teeth pulled and become a pony-girl" sort of thing.  But overall, my plan was going great.  But sooner or later I would have to end it.  And when I did, I thought that as a grand finale, I would post her real address on the web site and see how her neighbors liked having a thirty-eight year old born-again porn star living next door.

I showed Booker some of the better suggestions without letting him know the source.  One that intrigued me was, "Kate, I want to see you throat fucked by that big black buck."  I was surprised at the amount of hostility towards Booker from some of the posted comments, but kept these from him, only asking if this was something he'd like to do to Kate.  He was immediately enthusiastic; it was his night for "doing" the woman and I knew she was in for one hell of a ride.

You Are What You Eat or Sipping The Wine of Violence

Kate was on her knees in front of Booker, her face buried in his groin.  He smelled of sex and a deeper male odor that was not particularly attractive.  She was sore from what he had done to her, and the shame of being used like this made her face burn. 

“Suck on it, mama.  A woman your age should have a lot of experience with this and you know you want to do it, so let it go baby, and suck me good.  NOW!”  When he yelled at the end, Kate jumped in shock and fear.  Suddenly brought back to reality, she reluctantly leaned forward and took him in her hand, then stroked his soft length in the way that she knew pleased Jimmy. 

At the thought of Jimmy, her eyes teared up.  Please God, please.  Never let him find out what this man made her do.  She didn’t think she could both take that shame and lose Jimmy too. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Kate leaned forward and slowly took the black pimp into her mouth once more.  As his cock rested on her tongue, she realized there was both a male “salty” taste and an indefinable “sweeter” taste.  In shock, Kate realized she could actually taste herself on this man.  She reluctantly closed her lips around him and slowly began sucking.  His fingers were entwined in her hair and he used the handholds to steer her mouth, banging her head back and forth as he added additional physical vigor to the up and down motions of her head.  Soon she had resentfully gotten into his rhythm and followed it as best she could. 

Within thirty seconds he began to firm up and then it got more difficult as he constantly attempted to ram his growing length down her throat.  Her cheeks were hollowed out by the suction from her lungs now, but Kate tried to keep her throat constricted enough that he never succeeded in drilling to his full depth.  She did NOT want to be deep-throated by this man. 

Thankfully, Booker must have been preoccupied with something other than forcing another woman to give him a blowjob, because he allowed her this deceit without complaint.  And then suddenly, it all come to a climax as he groaned and then grabbed the back of her head and forced Kate’s face even harder into his crotch.  After a couple more quick pumps of his hips, Booker finally came in her mouth.  The amount was small, but still devastating. 

Looking down at her, he said, “Swallow it.  Swallow it now, you whore.  DO it now!”

Kate gave him a quick, short, miserable nod of acquiescence.  He had already cum several times today, but she still got a good taste of the pimp’s short load as she gulped down the last of his thick, slick-sticky sperm.  Kate couldn’t help herself as she shuddered involuntarily; goose bumps rose on her arms as the final strings of slimy black love flowed like burning lava down the back of her throat.  Her stomach turned once as she swallowed and Katealmost vomited on his feet.

It was salty and had an awful consistency, heavier than Jimmy’s, and the inside of her mouth remained coated with the residue of his black demon’s slime even after she had swallowed again and again the bile that rose from her stomach.  The slick slipperiness of his cum adhered to the inside of her mouth and allowed her, no, forced her to endure tiny tastes of his sperm over and over as the diluted waste drained from crevices between her teeth.

Suddenly, Booker pushed her face away from his groin without saying anything, stood up and began to dress.  He was finished with her for today. 

As she thought of what she had just done, sucking off a black man and eating his filthy cum, it nearly made her sick.  Still on her knees, Kate remained frozen in disgust and her eyes teared up again; would this nightmare never end. 

Little did she know this was how she would end most of his visits from this point on.

She Was Entering Uncharted Territory or Only A Thin Line Existed Between Normal And Insane

It was over, at least for now.  Kate shuddered once again as she watched him depart from the back of her home in the upscale neighborhood.  Hopefully no one would see the brutal, unsophisticated black man leaving her home late at night like this.  Filled with anger and grief, Kate moved in a daze, like a beauty queen stripped of her crown on a mere technicality.  She felt embarrassed too, desperately hoping that no one, especially Jimmy, would ever find out what had happened to her. 

The trembling began almost immediately.  After a minute, Kate was shaking so hard that the brass bedstead rattled.  She thought of the victims of long-term trauma she’d seen.  The blank stares, the long silences, the sudden and unprovoked shudders and withdrawals.  She’d always prided herself on her rational nature, sometimes being accused of being too rational, of keeping too tight a rein on her emotions.  But deep down inside, Kate’d never been able to shake the feeling that if she ever really let herself go over this, she’d fly apart like a busted watch in a cartoon.  It was the fear of weakness, fear of falling apart, fear of losing Jimmy that held her together. 

Kate sat on the edge of the bed and hugged herself tightly, rocking to and fro as she struggled for control.  She was physically and emotionally exhausted.  As much as she wanted one, as much as she needed one, Kate was just too tired to take a shower tonight and she couldn’t stand to be in her bedroom…..at least not right now.  She washed her mouth out about a million times, then wrapped herself in a blanket and lay on a couch downstairs, trying to think of a happier existence, of her new future with Jimmy.  Everything about their lives was uncertain, unscripted, unknown; and she had felt so naively, absurdly happy only a few days ago.  It had all seemed so simple, this emotion, and so alien to anything she’d felt in the last fifteen years that it had shocked her.  Then this.  Somehow, she would get Jimmy to take her away from this, to free her from the monster and his demands.  She had worked too hard for too long to give up this life that she loved, and her place in it. 

Kate started awake in the middle of the night, feeling as if she had never fallen asleep.  Her hair was plastered by sweat to her forehead and to the nape of her neck.  Automatically, still on the verge of a nightmare, she reached out for Jimmy, and when instead she found the cool material of the couch, Kate ran to the bathroom with dry heaves.  She flushed the toilet several times, even though it wasn't necessary. 

The minty sting of mouthwash cleared away the sour taste of stomach acid.  She spit into the sink and watched the blue-green liquid swirl down the drain.  Kate could not at first return to bed, could not if fact ever imagine sleeping in it again.  Instead, she prowled the ground-level rooms of her home, lights turned as high as possible.  At last she turned on the TV as if it were a light and watched soundless music videos with the distracted, almost manic inattention of an autistic child. 

Finally, exhausted, Kate turned everything off downstairs, forced herself upstairs into the bedroom and remade her bed.  She threw away the soiled sheets and forced herself to crawl into her bed.

Kate choked and found herself awake.  The ceiling was lit with a soft, vague morning light that seemed to emanate from somewhere below.  She breathed slowly and tried to let the dark images of yesterday afternoon and last night slide away from her like drops of rain down a night window.  But it wouldn't work; what he had done, what he had made her do, the way she had willingly cooperated, none of the images would leave her mind.  The sweat-damp and sticky sheets were wrapped around her legs as she slowly extracted herself.  A short groan of effort was forced from her lips as she tried to move. 

She slumped back in bed.  What had she done?  What had he done last night?  Oh God, why had she allowed it to happen?   There must have been something she could have done other than submit like some kind of a brain-washed sex slave.  And with a man like him? 

It was like he was a savage animal that had taken multiple bites from her and, having acquired the taste for her flesh, had come back for more and more, until she had been consumed.  And the bleakness of her future gave no optimism. 

Kate felt so dirty it seemed a hundred showers could never get her clean again.  She rolled to the edge of the bed and put her feet on the floor.  As she pushed herself to her feet, Kate gave an involuntary gasp in horrified recognition of last night's activities.  It was impossible not to; once more she was so sore between her legs that she could barely walk.  Tears filled her eyes again, for the suffocating smell of his sex was so concentrated between her thighs that his aroma filled the bedroom as she walked to the shower.

For the first time since it had begun last night, Kate allowed herself to cry.  God!  What had she done?

Obedience Is Right Up There With Godliness or Apparently He Was Her Tenured Instructor

After changing the sheets again, Kate lay in bed the rest of the day, trying to pull herself together.  Curled around her misery, she sometimes dozed, trying not to think, trying not to remember, anything to help the time pass. 

It was late afternoon and the sudden ringing of the phone woke her like a siren.  She surfaced from blessed sleep, gasping and confused.  For a second, she thought it was the doorbell and was half out of bed before she could focus.  It was close to dusk and the clock radio by her bed said it was almost six.  Had she been awake, she would have let the machine get it, sure it was a wrong number.  But dazed from sleep, she picked it up without thinking. 

"Yes?"

"I'll be wit' ya n’ hour, bitch.  I wan's ya wearin' da school-gir’ outfi'.  Da won wit' da pretty pleated, plaid skirt."

"I...I......"

"Don' disappoin', momma. Don' preten' wit' me, don' pla' cha games.  Be ready 'n ‘our.  A’ be ready to pay yo daddy ‘n swe't ‘n pain."  The line went dead.

Kate looked at the dead phone in her hand with horror.  He’d promised her two days, but it’d been less than twenty-four hours.  She could literally feel herself losing control of her life, of her destiny; at first it had been by inches, but now it was foot by terrifying foot.  It was like he was killing her, then forcing her to be re-born again and again in ways that satisfied him and his needs.  And the thoughts that she would have left afterwards would be only the ones that he allowed, the only feelings she would be allowed to feel the ones that he had put in her body.  He was forcing her to change to suit his needs, forcing her to evolve, forcing her to acknowledge that there were no secrets in her life anymore, only the hidden truths that he now laid bare to his touch.

Dully, helplessly, obediently, Kate stood in front of her closet and looked at the costumes hanging there.  Hands shaking, she picked out the costume he had demanded and slowly removed it from the rack. 

It seemed her life had truly ended.

She Was A Credit to Her Craft or Apparently She Used Her Instrument Well

I used what Booker did to Kate that night when I created the video titled "A Bad, Bad School Girl."  A lot of men truly admired Kate's work in this piece.  Almost as many as emailed again about the night a week later when he made her perform numerous demeaning acts while wearing a Marie Antoinette-like dress and wig, and then fucked her brains out in a rather depraved slave and slave owner's wife setting.  They especially liked the part where the white woman stood motionless after giving a soft moan and waited glumly while her black servant slipped a collar over her head and then dominated her.  A LOT of people liked the "What the movie 'Mandingo' never showed" vignette I finally posted on Kate's site. 

But what did I see?  I saw a woman who collapsed on her bed for the night without changing the sheets after he’d left her both times.  A cold-blooded bitch left without hope.  A self-serving whore who deserved everything she got.

The night she suffered through Mandingo's revenge, Kate felt weird, uncertain; her body shaky, as if she were in some kind of a horrible time machine.  I am, she thought to herself, standing here wearing a tiny costume that no one would have worn two hundred years ago, ready to pretend that I am one of the most well-recognized women in history as she is forced to satisfy an uneducated.......black…...rapist. 

I think I am losing my mind. 

I didn’t mind sharing her, and she was a changed woman because of it.  Over the next few weeks, Kate obviously learned to fear her new master, Booker.  She fought obvious bouts of depression, broke into tears or flew into frequent outbursts of rage at odd times and had trouble focusing on “our relationship”.  She showed large mood swings and was often sarcastic; nonetheless, while she was still a superior fuck, now she had a lousy attitude to go with it.  Some of these things I accepted; but several times I was forced to physically chastise her for the more serious attitudinal offenses.  Gratifyingly, she had learned to accept whatever I felt she deserved.  And best of all, she never, not once, showed any inclination to end our relationship. 

And when I suggested she might need some time alone, time away from me, she became enraged, then tearful and almost afraid.  But after almost three weeks of enjoying Booker’s tender ministrations, Kate suddenly seemed to come alive again, almost as if she had been in a trance since his arrival and had only now come out of it.

He Liked What He Saw Cumming Over Her or Her Descent Into Hell Had Truly Begun

Three weeks had passed since the rapist had first begun making his demands.  Booker had been gone for several hours now from this last tryst.  Kate had woken from a fitful sleep that was really nothing more than a semi-conscious doze.  It was a way to escape her present life and she slept a lot now.  Slept as if she were dead, without any dreams.  But she always woke up feeling like hell and it got worse every time he showed up.  The exertion of not dreaming about what the black man did to her almost drove Kate to sweat.

Kate winced as she propped herself up in bed.  The restraints he’d used were gone now, but light bruises showed up a soft blue against the skin on her wrists and ankles.  She had tried to resist performing for him at first and there'd been violence then.  The worst part was that he had incorporated her resistance into the evening's entertainment and the memories of what he'd done to her were as vivid as the welts on her body.  Kate knew she had to eat, but she just wasn't hungry.  She didn't feel like she had even enough strength left to lift the food to her mouth.  Later, she thought.  Later, maybe she'd try to eat something.

It was the end of the second week in December and Kate felt she truly was going mad trying to balance the hidden horrors of her new life.  The terrible demands from Booker she had so far kept concealed from Jimmy, from her neighbors, somehow from even the very psychological reality that allowed her to continue functioning even if somewhat schizophrenically.  Protecting her sanity from the rapist’s awful requirements, demands that came more and more frequently, and which now began to impinge on any remaining time she might have spared for the younger man she loved.  The more Booker saw of her, it seemed the more he wanted of her. 

Kate knew she had regressed since it all began.  She knew she was changing, but there was nothing she could do about it.  She didn’t trust men.  For as long as she could remember, she’d seen the lust and sexual greed that filled every man’s face as soon as she looked into their eyes.  But she was so tired of men now, even her useless son.  Every man, that was, except Jimmy.  Jimmy was the one man she could respect and who respected her; he was her anchor, her savior.  He was the one that was going to save her, take her away from everything bad that other men wished to do to her. 

But it just never seemed to stop with Booker as he did more and more things to her about which she had to lie to Jimmy. 

She had learned to hate her bedroom, the very bed upon which the black man kept her spread-eagled so much of the time.  She hated his insistence that they begin and finish every degrading sexual act, every marathon of forced eroticism and submission in and on and around the king-sized bed.  She hated finishing each evening with him in her mouth, as he laughed about training her to a “professional” level of performance.  She hated lying to Jimmy about the unexplainable bruises around her wrists and ankles, claiming that the faint blue lines which never seemed to heal, the marks left on her butt after multiple spankings and the bruises and bites on the insides of her thighs were all actually from he himself, from when he put her into bondage and punished her.  Truthfully, many of them actually were from Jimmy, but not all of them.  She had even recently begun actually requesting additional bondage from Jimmy so that she could more realistically claim him as the sole source of bruises on her body. 

Kate desperately wanted the man she loved to protect her from the monster that was destroying her life, but it was too late for that.  She hated lying to Jimmy about everything; the bruises, the demands for odd sexual behavior, the fact that Booker had forced her to completely shave her vagina immediately after telling Jimmy she'd gotten waxed just for him.  Then there was the physical and emotional and psychological exhaustion Kate so often felt when she finally did break free of Booker's attentions long enough to be with her real man. 

She was tired of juggling Jimmy's needs against Booker's awful demands, trying to satisfy the man she loved while placating the one she feared and hated, all the while ensuring the two never met. 

He’d showed up unannounced again last night and then demanded she don a French Maid costume before again suffering his sexual predations.  The black man had this fetish about her dressing up for him, and while he was still aggressive and even brutal at times, she also realized he had put aside, at least for the moment, the senseless violence that had marked their first encounters. 

She Was A Dangerously Fragile Female or Hers’ Was A Life Stolen Piece By Piece

No one saw the woman with the elegant model-like beauty exit the taxi and walk along the cold Boston street.  She was tall, with a beautiful face framed by long dark windblown hair.  Underneath the long winter coat, she wore a softly cut white blouse over a tight navy blue skirt.  Her long legs were encased in sheer flesh-toned stockings; her high heels exactly matched her above-the-knee skirt, as did her elegant little shoulder-bag.  The woman looked classy, perfectly respectable…and totally desirable.

It was four days before Christmas, the mid-morning hour when she’d left her house.  Leaving home had become somewhat of a ritual now.  It had snowed recently; it was cold and there were large piles of snow pushed to the side of every road and sidewalk.  Slush had started to form under the afternoon sun and snow was predicted for tomorrow.  But none of that mattered right now. 

Wandering through the nearby streets, sometimes almost running, sometimes walking, often just sitting at a convenient park bench, but always trying to figure out what had happened to her life.  Even more important, what could she do to put it back together again.  Because of Booker's demands, Kate felt semi-dazed all the time, filled with hatred for men she’d never even met before.  But she also felt determined, committed more than ever to somehow recapturing what she'd had with Jimmy in the beginning, that which had saved her, ensured her salvation.

She had finally talked Jimmy into getting his own place, a place not too far way where they could meet in privacy.  He’d bought a loft on the skirts of the city and had spent three weeks having it remodeled.  She’d been seeing Jimmy there for a little over a week now.  Kate had felt that if Jimmy no longer visited her, then hopefully she would have a better chance of keeping the two men apart.  At least long enough for her to convince Jimmy that they needed to move in together into his place or move away to another city, another state, anything to flee the sexual hell in which she now found herself in the suburbs.  And while Booker had gone along with Jimmy moving into his place, he had also demanded "more interesting" diversions as compensation for allowing her the freedom to make changes with Jimmy's schedule.  She ached all the time from those diversions. 

Kate was approaching the loft she had talked Jimmy into renting.  She had planned on meeting him at around two in the afternoon, but Booker's unexpected arrival had delayed her by at least an hour.  Only an hour!  Dear God, the man had such immense animal vitality that it had taken all her effort and self-control, all her wiles just to finish him in only an hour.  She had actually willingly used her body this one time to give him enough pleasure to satisfy him quickly. 

Now, she was tired and sex was the last thing on her mind.  Yet even as she wore what Jimmy liked her to wear, she despaired about him and how he felt about her.  She wasn’t an idiot; she knew she was trying too hard where he was concerned, always trying too hard to please the man she felt was somehow slipping away from her.  She’d never felt this way about a man before and didn’t know how to act.  Kate really did feel desperate for she’d already sworn to herself that she would agree to do anything he wanted, no matter what he wanted to do with her or to her.  And this was a hard decision for her to make, for between the sexual demands of the two men, Kate found herself being fucked several hours a day, at least six days a week.  Sometimes, she had three or four hours of sex with both men on the same day. 

Kate was learning to just hate the idea of having sex with a man, any man, even with the man she loved.  Mostly now, she just wanted to be held, to have someone just want to talk to her, to feel like there was someone else in the world that cared for HER, rather than about what she looked like or what she could be forced to do for a man or to a man.  Living the lie that Booker represented in her life, keeping the knowledge of the monster's existence from Jimmy was tearing her up.  God, she hoped they could get away from this life soon, she just didn't know how much longer she could keep it up. 

She looked around.  This was her fifth or sixth time here, but it seemed that this was the first time she had really looked at the structure and she was a little shocked.  It was not a good part of town and the brick building on Green Street looked dirty, tired and weary of the cold.  But then, that was how most of the buildings in this part of the edge of town appeared to Kate even though the realtors assured anyone who would listen that despite the real estate downturn gentrification was working its way towards here, albeit at glacial speed.  The words Warehouse had been painted across the bricks decades earlier.  Now the name had faded and looked worn.  Birds swept back and forth between a feeder that hung from one of the bare trees out front, twittering and singing and adding a touch of life to an otherwise oppressive atmosphere. 

Jimmy's loft was on the second floor; he'd said to come up, that he had some more surprises for her.  Anyone could walk through the large black doors at the building’s front entrance and into the narrow front hallway without encountering a security guard, a need for keys, or a coded card.  And here in the hallways were the elevator, intercoms and mailboxes.  Four mailboxes, each one labeled. 

Kate stopped for a minute and closed her eyes as she rested her forehead against the wall.  She literally didn’t know if she could continue with her double life.  She despised herself half the time, hated all the time what her stubborn stupidity had gotten her into with Booker.  And now, like a drowning woman looking at the one person with a life buoy, she looked at Jimmy as her only salvation.  God!  She’d do anything for him if he would only get her out of her present life.  But she couldn’t say anything; he had to offer of his own free will. 

After another moment, Kate stood upright and straightened her clothing.  After that, she checked her face in her compact mirror and touched up her makeup.  She had to appear fresh for Jimmy and more than willing to accept whatever he wanted from her today.  After another deep breath, she pressed his intercom button several times, but no one answered.  Same story with the other intercoms.  It was still early and everyone was at work or school.  She stepped into the elevator, a claustrophobic box no larger than her closet, and was deafened by the racket it made even as it ascended at a snail's pace.  She suddenly wished she had been able to find the stairs. 

Kate knew that body language was important and she tried to keep in mind that current impressions were made as soon as one entered a room.  All of this knowledge, Kate tried to impart to her aching bones as she walked through the door and met Jimmy.  She wanted him to have no idea what had happened to her over the last week, the last month, just hours ago; no idea of what a horrible place her home had become for her. 

Growing up, Kate had never understood the girls at her school who had not breathed a word about Father Riordin, despite everything he’d done to them.  But she understood now.  God, did she ever understand. 

Women were so much stronger than men in so many ways.  She knew Jimmy would never have understood Booker and the compromises she had been forced to accept just to maintain her sanity, her relationship with him; even as the monster continued to show up unannounced three or four nights a week to enjoy her.  She just hoped that at some point, she could get Jimmy to take her away from the horror that was her life. 

Thank God for Jimmy and the hope and sanity that he represented.

She’d Become A Toy For A Master She Didn’t Know She Had or The Things He Did Were Best Done In Private

She slowly undressed for me, removing the skirt and white blouse, the small white bra and white thongs.  As usual, in the end all I allowed her were the stockings and navy heels. 

I looked at her face as she stood in front of me and I marveled at my success as I realized how Kate had changed over the last few months.  On the outside little appeared to have changed to her friends and acquaintances.  She still ran, had begun attending various weekday meetings again and church every Sunday morning.  To the unknowing passer-by, she was still the sophisticated and dignified widow that carried on with her normal life after her husband's untimely passing.  And even though she had enemies in the neighborhood, Kate was still widely admired and respected for what she'd accomplished.

But in the afternoon and late into the night, with her full cooperation, I had turned her into an erotic male fantasy, routinely dressing her in tiny, sexy outfits, demanding she assume erotic positions for me and allow me to do things to her that offered always greater opportunities to sexually debase and degrade her.  She knew exactly what I was doing to her, and with only minor exceptions, she seemed to have settled comfortably into her new role.  With only minimal exaggeration I was able to make Kate appear on her website’s videos as an insatiable slut, a slut that just couldn't get enough cock. 

I was absolutely astounded at the woman’s ability to handle all of the totally different facets of the new world I’d specifically designed for her.  Kate’s face continued to make the right expressions; her mouth saying the right words, entirely, it seemed, on automatic. 

But I wasn’t fooled.

Early on in our relationship, I’d asked Kate why she did what she did, allowing me to do what I did to her.  She had replied that she liked me and now understood why some women liked dangerous men; that my edginess and barely concealed violence appealed to her; that I had taken her out of her old life and somehow made her feel younger and adventurous, almost like a princess.  She matter-of-factly tried to explain to me the base emotions that she was feeling for the first time; that it was her need to be possessed, but only by the right man, that allowed her do the things that she would never have had the courage to do on her own. 

In fact, I think the most important part was that while she thought loved me, she still had enough of the Catholic schoolgirl in her to feel a little guilt at what we did together.  The woman that would do almost anything I asked sexually still needed the comfort of knowing that the responsibility for everything that she did was always in someone else’s hands and that therefore she wasn’t really responsible for doing the bizarre things that I liked her to do.  It was like she always had a good excuse now, "He made me do it".

Meanwhile, like a computer program running behind a monitor, her brain was also continually processing what both Booker and I did to her.  Or was she?  It was hard to say because she typically kept any emotions associated with the black man tightly controlled, making only the tiniest slipups that a paranoid freak like me would recognize.  If she was feeling emotions but channeling them to some small part of her brain for later processing, it was compartmentalization on a truly heroic scale.  But that seemed almost too mechanical a description for what this woman was able to pull off for at least a while. 

And if it wasn’t?   Then it was nothing more than denial; a full on, 100% inability to handle her new life as she incessantly whored for two men. 

Frankly, I didn’t really care which it might be, as long as I could use her right up until she crashed at the very end.

I had not told Kate about leasing this place three months ago, just after meeting her again at my mother’s place.  It had taken me that long to get it ready for Kate’s visits to my playroom.  So, when Kate had begged me to find a place in which we could meet away from her home, the loft was finally ready and I had allowed myself to be easily persuaded by the logic of her argument.  Kate had for several days showed me her unqualified appreciation over and over again for doing what she’d asked of me. 

But the truth was, Booker and I had both known that this request had to come at some point, and we’d both agreed that it gave us even more opportunity to use her.  And while this was not her first visit to my loft, I’d been planning this particular day for a while now….I was going to introduce Kate to a new toy, a cage I’d designed especially for her. 

Even though she asked me for bondage now, I knew deep inside Kate did not particularly like being tied up.  I smiled to myself at that thought; regardless of her likes and dislikes, I knew she’d had a lot of recent practice with ropes and hand cuffs and more was coming her way.  I knew she really wouldn’t like what I had planned with the cage, but I also knew she couldn’t stay angry at me for long.  Her willingness to be treated as a cheap, sexual object, her readiness to be humiliated and demeaned by both Booker and I just to please me was instead actually beginning to annoy me.  Were there no limits to what the slut would let a man do to her?

I smiled as I looked at the cage; it would be interesting to see how she reacted since it would push her to the very edge on multiple levels.  My design was about four feet long, a little over two feet wide and about two and a half feet high.  Built of light but strong aluminum tubing, the front, back and side walls all consisted of horizontal three quarter-inch diameter pipes welded at eight-inch intervals.  The floor consisted of a one inch thick pad covered with heavy cotton, while only a single one-inch diameter bar went over the top of the cage from side to side, currently dividing the cage about in half.  Hinged at one end, this top bar was attached to a sliding sleeve so that I could position it wherever I wanted it on the top rail of the cage before locking it into place.  There was also a complementary catch on the other side that could be moved as well and which accepted and locked the bar down as it went across the top of the cage.  Once in place, a person had to be standing outside the cage to release it. 

One-inch diameter vertical aluminum tubes were also attached in the middle of the front and back walls, but inside the cage, not on the outside.  These had been place slightly offset from center and welded only at the top and bottom.  This allowed another sliding collar to be slid up and down each upright and be locked in place by a large butterfly nut.  Another six-inch long collar had then been welded perpendicularly to each of the sliding collars, making it look like T.  The interior diameter of these last collars was just large enough to allow a one-inch diameter aluminum tube to slide freely in and out.  Again, I had another set of butterfly nuts to lock these longer pieces in place. 

In essence, the design allowed me to slide the metal pieces up and down the front and back vertical pipes to any height and then lock them in place.  The second collar, six-inches in length, accepted any length of one-inch pipe and allowed me to push it into the cage as deeply as I desired before also locking it into place.  Finally, the back wall had an additional set of connectors that allowed me hook up, lock in place and then operate an electrically powered piston-driven fuck-machine on whoever was locked inside.  This would be the first time I tried this cage on Kate, so I kept the mechanical banger out of sight until I needed it.

We talked a little and then I made it clear that I was ready to have sex with her.  I think that she had begun to question our relationship a little because I was unavoidably brusque with her at times.  But I honestly didn’t have the patience anymore to play the game long enough to make a woman like Kate comfortable.  Regardless of how she may have felt, irrespective of any reservations that may have been nibbling at the base of her mind, she quickly agreed to get ready for me.

Although Kate was naked except for her stockings and heels as I led her to my play room, I felt little sexual attraction….she hadn’t been shamed enough yet and I was finding that that was what I needed more and more to excite me, at least where she was concerned.  In all honesty, I felt an almost total disinterest in her body now except for how I could further abuse it, but my facade of love and concern for her was apparently still convincing enough that Kate couldn’t seem to tell the difference. 

At the same time, I knew that it was real enough for her; she truly enjoyed rolling around on various beds with me – when you brought a woman to an orgasm that caused tears after you had been sexually torturing her?  That was real. 

Love, it seemed, really did make a person blind.

But at this moment, confusion and a little fear played across the stupid cow’s face as she looked at the cage for the first time.  After giving her my sincerely fake reassurances, I attached a nylon cuff to each of her wrists and Velcro’d them tight.  Her face was filled with reluctance as I told her to step inside and then get on her hands and knees.  Kate really didn’t want to do this, but as was usual, she immediately obeyed now without comment or complaint, always doing exactly as I wanted. 

Finally on her hands and knees, I lowered the bar across the top of the cage and then told her to put her hands behind her back.  This was a difficult position for her to hold, but she obeyed again without complaint.  Next I lifted her wrists just high enough to slide the top horizontal bar between her arms and her back, and then run it up to her elbows.  Once in position, I locked it in place…now she could not get up as it pressed against her back.  At this point I attached a light rope to Kate’s right wrist cuff, ran it under her belly and then to her other wrist cuff before I pulled it tight and tied it off.  With this, the woman was locked in place until I let her out again.  She gasped in discomfort as she looked up wordlessly at me while hanging from her elbows.  Her arms were locked into place, elbows held high over her back and pinned by the bar that ran between her elbows and back, while her wrists were tied together under her stomach. 

Quickly I lifted her head with a handful of hair and unexpectedly slid a two-inch ring gag behind her teeth before fastening the strap behind her neck.  Kate hated to be gagged, and while the ring gag didn’t stop her from making noise, at least now I didn’t have to listen to the old cow ask her dumbass questions.  Clearly, I had some apologizing to do when we were done with this particular exercise.

Her knees were spread wide, braced against the inside of the walls of the cage; I quickly tied her left thigh against the wall with a velvet rope just above her knee.  Surprisingly, she fought for a second having her right knee tied against the other side of the cage, but I was quickly successful.  Knees spread wide to expose her vagina and anus, she knelt helplessly in the cage before me. 

I had two three-foot long metal tubes, each one capped on one end with a one and a half-inch thick, twelve-inch long silicon dildo.  After using half a tube of lubricant on it, I slid the first one of these through the sliding collar on the back vertical pipe and then moved the collar up until it was perfectly aimed at Kate’s still exquisite rear end.  After I locked the sliding piece in place, I then pushed the long tube into the cage through the collar until it just touched her puckered brown swirl before I locked it in place.  Somehow, she knew what was going on in back of her, and although bound tightly in place, she still shied away from it as best she could….but the measly two inches she could move wouldn’t save her ass, but she didn’t know that yet.

Now I walked around to the front and slid the remaining metal tube through the sliding collar and into the cage.  Quickly, I had the dildo covered end of the tube aimed at her mouth.  Kate shook her head and made some loud garbled noises, but these quickly came to a gargling stop as I pulled her head high with a right hand full of her hair and pushed the dildo through the ring gag and into her mouth with my left. 

Once it was firmly seated in her mouth, I released her hair and slowly pushed about four more inches of cold, solid, hard-ribbed rubber into the back of Kate’s mouth and then locked the bar in place.  Her head bobbed and she finally raised her chin as high as it could go to relieve the pressure on her mouth and jaws; as a result, it was now a straight shot from her mouth right down into her gullet and stomach.  Kate could barely move her head now, so I leaned down, looked deeply into her bulging eyes and told her how much I adored and loved her, how much I appreciated her doing this to me, and then ended the fairy tale with loving assurances that she would enjoy it too.  I could tell she tried to shake her head no, no to my actions, but she was pretty much frozen in place with the metal tube that went from her open mouth and down into the back of her throat.

I moved to the back of the cage, unloosened the restraining butterfly nut on the bar there, then rotated and slid the metal into the cage until the dildo-end had slowly penetrated just her light brown sphincter.  I waited a moment for her to dilate to full acceptance.  She wiggled as she fought a little, but then seemed to settle down as she accepted the first intrusion.  Then I gently shoved another four inches of rubber dildo up her ass and locked it in place.  Her initial acceptance had only lasted a moment as Kate now gave a soft gargling scream at the more recent four additional inches and she hunched her back in an effort to avoid taking any more.  But the bar across the top of the cage running between her arms and back prevented her from avoiding any of the rear-mounted dildo. 

At this point, I walked back to her head, unlocked that bar and slowly began shoving it further down her throat.  As expected, Kate struggled against swallowing any more of the penis-shaped rubber, but she was helpless to stop me as an additional two inches went down her throat hard; suddenly she began gagging.  I pulled back an inch and waited for a couple of minutes, allowing her to get used to deep-throating the dildo, then I gave her back the inch I’d taken away along with and additional inch of hard rubber.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and her mascara was running, but I didn’t really care.

I locked the bar in place and walked around to the back again.  Back and forth, back and forth.  A busy man’s day was never done.

There was just a little slop in the way I had her bound in the cage and she had been able to back away slightly from the bar going down her throat.  However, in doing so, she had to willingly accept another two inches up the ass; that made a total of over eight buried so far between her firm butt cheeks and I personally knew she could take more than that. 

I max’d Kate out with another slow inch; nine in the rear was enough for now without taking a chance of rupturing her colon.  She wasn’t even trying to make noise now since she was still choking a little on the dildo I’d run down her throat.  Going back to the front, I gave her another half inch down the throat, waited for the gagging to stop, then gave her another final half inch. 

I was done with the first part so I stood up and looked down on my gagging hypocritical lover; seven inches down her throat and nine up the ass.  It was like she was a chicken on a spit and I was ready to rotate her whole body on the barbeque.  She was seriously fucked and wasn’t going anywhere now or denying me anything. 

I stepped back, just to view my prize.  Kate’s head and ass were up in the air, while her back had been forced into an attractive arch by the bar that kept her elbows pinned.  Her breasts hung free, swaying with each limited movement of her torso and it seemed like her nipples were almost dragging on the pad beneath her.  Her muscular thighs, tied against the walls of the cage, were adorned in sheer, expensive nylon and glinted lustrously in the angular light that ran from the windows high on the walls of the old warehouse.  Her perfect calves and slim ankles ended in the navy pumps that encased her shapely feet, the feet that were moving restlessly back and forth since they were about the only thing she could freely move.  All in all, Kate presented almost a magical picture of a woman willing to do anything to keep her man.

I walked around and squatted in front of Kate.  I used a tissue and gently wiped the tears from her eyes, then wiped off the drool that had collected in her mouth and spilled across her chin.  I mouthed I love you to her and she closed her eyes as if in relief. 

Christ, the stupid bitch’d believe anything, no matter what I did to her.

She Was A Submissive Ride or He Had A Truly Interesting Assortment Of Toys

Kate felt as emotionally overwhelmed by the man she loved as she was physically constrained by his cage.  The questions kept going through Kate’s mind: She’d requested he do some things, but nothing like this, never!  So why did so much of what he wanted to do always hurt her?  He knew she didn’t mind a little rough play, but why was he always trying to humiliate her too?  What possible pleasure could he get from this?  It was as if he felt compelled to do things to her that pushed her to the edge; that always threatened to drive her away from him for good.  But, God help her, she loved him, and wanted nothing more than for him to love her.  She wanted to keep him happy, not only for what she might get out of it, but for Jimmy’s sake too.  She knew she was good for him and did not want to let him down.  She just knew he cared for her, but how could he always keep on doing these awful things when they were together?  Suddenly, she understood why some women stayed with an abusive man.  She had never thought it could happen to her, but now she understood everything. 

Kate could barely see; her eyes were tearing and tears ran down her cheeks.  The awful thing in her rear was extremely uncomfortable; worse, it was in her so deep that it felt like it was pushing against her lungs and she couldn’t breathe.  Her head was pushed back and her neck was uncomfortably stretched out, her mouth was full of spittle and she could feel it running out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin.  Why, why did this seem to please him so?

I took the small, anatomically shaped piece of plastic and held it up so that Kate could see it…The Sucker.  An excellent choice, designed to perfectly cover the lower front of a woman’s shaved vagina.  Squeezing the attached bulb created a hard vacuum that allowed it to cling to the woman like remora; even better, the suction was also supposedly exciting to some women. 

I squeezed the suction bulb and applied it gently between her legs.  Kate's naked body arched helplessly in the cage, her feet moved together and spread apart again, and she squealed deep in her belly.  I waited a couple of minutes, and once she had settled down I attached a second set of purpose-designed vacuum shields to her free-hanging nipples.  I had hand-modified these three attachments by adding electrodes, and now I proceeded to hook up wires from them to outlets on a rheostat-controlled black box I’d purchased through the mail. 

Women who knew testified that the sensations offered by the three shields were rather unusual.  The electro-stimulation was supposed to result in a distinct "pulling" sensation in both the woman's clitoris and on her nipples, this coming on top of the actual physical suction.  When used correctly, the tingling energy supposedly played around a woman’s most sensitive areas like an invisible mouth sucking her inside out.  Well, we’d see what Kate said later.

It was said that women never seemed to fake their responses with these toys.  They never needed to; for at the same time that I went after their most susceptible areas with electricity, the powerful suction on such a tender areas as the clitoris and nipples inevitably further stimulated the slut's blood flow those tiny, yet sensitive areas. 

The Master’s Magic Lovestick or Caged Love, Sexual Abuse And Other Happy Thoughts

And as they say on late night television commercials, but wait, there’s more!!!

With Kate now helpless and immobilized in a totally vulnerable position, I brought out the fuck-machine and fitted it to the back wall of the cage somewhat lower than the bar that now kept her asshole frozen.  I mounted the machine so that it was slightly angled up towards her hips so that it could access her pussy without causing significant physical harm or pain when inserted.  She couldn’t see what I was doing, so never once made a move or sound. 

The machine itself consisted of a black box that protruded about two feet out from the back of the cage wall.  There was a small wheel on one side and a long rod was attached to the wheel by a cam shaft.  The adjustable rod protruded into the cage a couple feet from the front of the machine and I screwed a two-inch thick, twelve-inch long dildo on the end of the shaft and then lubricated it.  Finally, I put a flat shouldered hard rubber shield around the dildo about eight inches from the tip and tightened it down so that it would not slip.

Turning back to Kate, I carefully guided the end of the rod into the entrance to her vagina and turned the machine’s wheel once by hand.  This resulted in a back and forth motion with about an eight-inch range; depending upon how the rod was attached to the wheel, this distance could be significantly extended or reduced.  The shield in the middle of the dildo was perfectly placed since eight inches was about right for Kate, then the shield would slam into her labia, driving her hips forward and her head further onto the dildo that I’d run down her throat.

Kate felt awful and knew she looked worse.  She felt the strangest sensations, as if she were floating, detached, just outside her own body.  But anxiety washed over and through her, and she couldn’t get her eyes to focus; she didn’t know if it was due to weariness or shock at Jimmy’s abrupt, unexpected demands. 

She kept gagging on the long dildo that had been pushed down her throat, she ached everywhere from what Booker had put her through over the last few days, her lower back ached from the position Jimmy’s cage kept her in and the huge dildo in her rear end made her anus throb with each beat of her heart. 

Kate had not understood what he had planned, at least not until Jimmy had carefully guided the extended rods into both ends of her body….and then it had been too late.  The initial pain and shock of their entrance had been physically and psychologically horrific and she had shaken her head NO, NO as best she could and tried to struggle, begging him to stop, but the way he had her bound ensured there was no communication between them and that she stayed exactly where he wanted her.  It was the ultimate humiliation to be experimented upon like this by the one you loved. 

Kate tried to shake her head to free the tears that threatened to form in her eyes, but was unable to do so because of what filled her mouth and throat. 

Kate knew she was truly emotionally dependent upon Jimmy now.  As an independent woman, she hated being so weak and needy, but she was so afraid of losing him now that she always found herself agreeing to whatever he wanted.  But her best just never seemed good enough; it never seemed to satisfy him – he always wanted more.  No matter what she did or how hard she tried, he always seemed angry or dissatisfied with her afterwards.  She just wanted to please him, just wanted to make him happy. 

Tears of shame and frustration ran down her cheeks and dropped one by one on the mat below. 

I whistled while I watched her teary face and after I had lubricated the dildo, I then turned the fuck-machine on at one of its lowest settings and the wheel began to slowly turn.  With each complete rotation of the wheel, the rod plunged eight inches straight forward and then eight inches back in a smooth driving motion.  Her vulnerable position ensured that Kate received the full travel of the dildo inside her pussy; while on the withdrawal stroke, it always stopped just short of exiting her pussy. 

I moved closer as I watched her get fucked mechanically; my eyes were like lasers, willing the massive dildo to make ever quicker penetrations.  The tip of my tongue poked from between my lips.  I couldn’t help myself and moaned almost more often than did Kate.  Hands on hips, I stepped back and enjoyed my work of art. 

She was traveling that road beyond agony now, beyond the point of human endurance.  There was nothing the woman could do to stop it; she was bound too tightly in a way that left her very, very vulnerable.  She gave only tiny struggles at first, but even these ended as she finally accepted both the intimate embrace of being spitted by dildos at both ends and the machine’s robotic-like thrusts.  I began by making the machine perform in a smooth, slow in and out motion; even at that speed, the look of awful amazement on her face was worth everything I’d had to go through. 

Finally, I turned the suction on and waited for a second.  The head that covered Kate's clit began to buzz faintly and I knew it was working by the way her beautiful eyes widened involuntarily as her most sensitive areas were excited by an overwhelming combination of vacuum and electricity.  As part of an experiment, I untied both of Kate’s knees at this point and she immediately closed her thighs as best she could.  But it didn’t matter, there was nothing she could do to stop either the dildo that was fucking her pussy from the rear or to get away from the anal dildo that kept her beautiful body deeply pinned in place like a butterfly in a kill box.

Kate hated what Jimmy was doing to her…at first.  But after a few moments, everything had moved far, far beyond what any normal woman could conceive of as pleasure.  In fact, each action approached the level of perfect, exquisite pain when taken by itself, but taken together they somehow formed a unique set of sensations that was almost overwhelming pleasurable. 

Soon she found herself moaning, her vagina and clitoris and nipples experiencing wave after wave of pain/pleasure that continually increased in intensity until the sensations had become both deeply, almost religiously profound and quite overpowering.  As if from a distance, she heard him say, “That’s right.  That’s what daddy wants to hear.”  For some reason, she instinctively tried putting her knees together when they were first freed.  But her knees were quickly spread willingly quite wide for the machine within seconds and at that point she could hide nothing from it, wanted to deny it nothing.  It was terrible, awful, humiliating.  It was exquisite, wonderful, thrilling. 

I watched her take it from the fuck-machine for a few minutes and then turned the speed up almost to maximum over a period of about five minutes.  Watching her get maniacally fucked by the machine gave me much more satisfaction, almost as much as watching Booker rape her.  Her knees were spread wide apart again, but willingly at this point.  And each time the rod reached its maximum penetration, her body was slammed toward the head of the cage as the dildo shield jammed into her, and Kate’s breasts would jiggle seductively as another quarter inch of dildo was rammed down her throat.  Then her arms bound behind her back would pull her torso back into place just in time to receive the next slamming thrust from the mechanical monster.

Finally, I reached down and untied her wrists, but I left the bar in place that kept her crouched over for I didn’t want her to have the option of trying to stand up.  Instead, she tried to move herself into a more comfortable position that still willingly accepted the rod that penetrated her from the rear, but she clearly could not find one.  The bitch was still being fucked at full speed now and Kate’s hands suddenly went down to the floor to support her body, then both hands were abruptly wrapped around the rod that still penetrated her mouth.  She still could not get herself off the two rods that impaled her, but at least she could support her weight better this way.  This also allowed her for the first time to look up at me.

I lovingly pulled her hair away from her red, sweaty face and gazed deeply into her unattractively bulging eyes.  The cameras were perfectly placed for that last shot of her face as she crouched inside the cage.

Suddenly, although I hid it well, I was filled with rage towards Kate and disgust for myself.  This was the woman that had consumed my life for so long, and she was no better than a cheap whore.  She allowed men to do anything to her and never seemed to reach the point of resistance, where her pride said enough was enough.  She had no pride in herself; no sense of self-worth….she deserved anything she got. 

As for myself, I could not believe that my taste in women had been so….undiscriminating.  If I couldn’t do better than this from now on, then perhaps I deserved spending the rest of my life with an old crone that would always be twenty years older than me.  God, I think I truly hated her at that moment and the pathetic life she represented.  Nothing was out of bounds for her now as far as I was concerned.

After a few minutes of being fucked at the higher speed, Kate’s pussy was so sore that it felt like she was being fucked by a dildo wrapped in sand paper.  She began trying to throw herself around to get off of the two rods that kept her pinned, but she couldn’t avoid any plunges of the dildo tipped rod.  It just kept fucking her and fucking her. 

Even though she was continually gagging as the mouth dildo went deeper down her throat, incredibly, Kate’s body was also buzzing in places she'd never known she had.  Sex and physical pleasure had been the furthest things from her mind only seconds ago.  She knew she would hurt tomorrow, but right now it suddenly felt soo gooood, so incredibly good. 

When he untied her arms, she found herself hanging on to the rod that pushed down her throat.  At least this way, when whatever it was slammed into her pussy, she could at least avoid having to swallow more hard rubber.  But it never stopped.

It went on and on and finally, unexpectedly, Kate couldn't help herself as her body arched up as far as it could and held that stiffened position with only short quick quivering jerks to show that she still lived; every muscle in her taut abdomen remained frozen while her inner thighs actually quivered in ecstasy.  She saw nothing at this moment and no thoughts went through her mind.  She was experiencing an animal’s bliss; her brain was functioning only on the most primitive level.  The only thing that moved was her tightly clenched ass which gave short, quick pelvic thrusts into the anal dildo for almost thirty seconds before she collapsed to hang again from the two spits as she gasped for air through her nostrils. 

During most this last episode, Jimmy’s hand never strayed from her flat belly, ensuring that his fiendish machine stayed exactly where it did the most good/damage to Kate.  He didn't stop the tool when she finished her first orgasm and Kate quickly found herself hanging onto the rod in front for dear life, cumming a second time, then a third.  She was heaving for breath now around the dildo, she couldn't get enough air; he was killing her with it , with this terrible machine.  But his hand remained on her belly, where he could feel her stomach muscles clench with each round of orgasms. 

Finally after what seemed hours but must have been only ten or fifteen minutes, Jimmy peered down with an odd look and viewed her anguished face in silence for a couple of minutes, then he finally turned the machine off.  Coincidentally, it stopped with the dildo fully penetrating her body.  Silence filled the air as she took deep, shuddering breaths through her nose.  Although closed, her eyes were dry since she was long since cried out.  Jimmy moved the machine away from the cage, removing from Kate’s insides the blunt spear that had been methodically, mechanically raping her.

I took the machine away and then removed the anal and oral rods that had kept her spitted in place.  Still on her hands and knees, head down in the cage, she choked and gagged for a full minute as I removed the clit and tit suckers.  When finished freeing her, I helped the woman to her feet.  Her hair was a mess and her eyes were red and swollen.  She was near tears again and her lips trembled as she tried to keep her emotions bottled inside.  She stood in silence, her thighs quivering and her knees shaking.  I leaned forward to give her a hug and she pushed herself away from me.  She tried to climb out of the cage, but could not without my support. 

Finally, Kate began to cry.  I pulled her to me and although she fought at first, I held on and wouldn’t let go of her; she quickly collapsed into my arms.  Sobbing, Kate looked up and asked me in a hoarse voice, “Why do you like to do these things to me?  Why do you want to hurt me?”

I couldn’t tell her the truth, so I lied to the hypocritical bitch once more.

“Kate,” I said.  “I don’t want to hurt you, but you excite me so much.  I just want to experiment all the time with you.  Please believe me.”

She looked up at me from her cradle in my arms and replied, “Sometimes I think I’ll go insane.  You have no idea what my life is like, what pressures I have.  I need you to be a rock for me, to support me.  Not treat me like something cheap and disposable.  Sometimes I feel that you almost hate me.”

She began to cry again, “What have I done to deserve that?  To deserve being treated like this?”

I held her closer.  “I’ll try to be more understanding, more sensitive.  Alright? Come on now.”  And I led her towards the bedroom.

She held back.  “I don’t want sex now; please just hold me…please?”

I replied, “Okay, we’ll just cuddle for a while.”

She was still sniffling as I led her to my bedroom.  I noticed that her knees were red from rug burn even through her stockings and that she walked with her knees bowed because her rear end ached so much.  I was patient as I undressed and lay in bed with her. 

I was turned on by what I’d done to her and was aggressively fucking her within thirty minutes.  Her pussy was still sloppy, and although she groaned in pain and cried out at first, as usual she was a good to excellent piece of ass in the end.

She stayed the night and he held her while he slept.  Kate didn’t know how to process what had happened earlier.  But after a while, she felt she somehow understood….and then sleep came.

Kate knew now that she’d been waiting her whole life for a dominant man, one who made her feel helpless and needy; one who controlled her completely.  She needed this…and if nothing else she deserved a man like this.  Thinking of the man who desired her, Kate was sure now that she wanted him to take her by force rather than by insincere gamesmanship.  She’d have opened her heart to let enter any male who wanted her more than anything else in the world, who would risk anything he possessed to have her.  And even though he hurt her, she knew that Jimmy loved her that way.  Most men didn’t understand what happened to women and especially to a woman like herself.  But a few did, and to That One she had said, I’m ready, I am ready and waiting.  And God had responded with Jimmy.

She knew now what she was.  She was his; his to play with and his to hurt and his to love.  Whatever he wanted to do with her was alright, because she would be giving him pleasure in it, and that was what now all counted in her life.  Letting him decide what he wanted to do to her and with her would give Kate all the pleasure, and pain, that she deserved.  Right now she suffered.  She knew her cervix was bruised and her womb ached and throbbed; her rectum hurt and she thought he’d torn her flesh when he’d first penetrated her there with the metal rod.  But she would recover and she was willing to accept this in order to remain with him.

That was what love was all about. 

There Was A Cold Emptiness Left Inside or It Had Been A Deeply Unpleasant Act

A tall, model-like woman left the industrial area the next morning.  She had a beautiful face framed by long dark hair and underneath the long winter coat, she wore a softly cut white blouse over a tight dark-blue skirt.  Her long, shapely legs were bare and her high heels exactly matched her skirt, as did her elegant little shoulder-bag.  The woman appeared perfectly respectable and totally desirable…..except for the look on her face and the slight limp in her walk.

Kate felt a sense of loss that spilled through her body.  She felt swollen, as though if she were to fall to her knees, she would break open and infect the world.  And she was so terribly tired.  Her legs felt stiff and unwilling, and her back hurt.  She needed more sleep, but her heart feared the stillness.  As if only the machine motions of her legs prevented a collapse of body and soul. 

What he had done to her yesterday was indecent of him.  Ungentlemanly.  And she had somehow thought he was a gentleman up to now.  She laughed at her unintentional irony.  As if there were any left of that breed.  Men were all just monstrous children.  But the thought of never seeing him again, of not feeling him against her and inside her even one more time sent a chill through that made her want to sit down and the edge of the curb and cry.  Why had he needed to spoil it?  It had been good, grand even, fine as it was.  Why did men have to spoil everything?  She knew that he had a bad side now.  But she also chose to ignore it.  Because if she ignored it, it would not come crashing through the door now. 

She did not want to become one of those plunging women who diminished herself by scandal, but here she was, with everything tumbling out of control.  Deep inside, Kate knew that she had been raised far too better than to allow this, her mother would have been so ashamed.  Yet she knew she had plunged too deeply already.  She truly felt little remorse, but suffered only from the fear of being found out, of her private life being made public, of looking like a tart and a fool.  The voice was tiny and distant, and she worked to bury her feelings of uncertainty, but could not hide from thinnest, yet remorseless feeling of shame at the very back of her consciousness or from her pain, or from the certainty that she was lost, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

Booker insisted Kate meet him at a downtown hotel at three in the afternoon.  God!  This was the first time he’d demanded to meet away from her home and Kate's stomach burned with excess acid.  It had only been yesterday that she’d visited Jimmy’s new place and had endured the cage; she still ached from what she’d experienced there. 

She hated and feared the escalation that this represented; Booker taking her "cooperation" for granted, assuming he was now in total control of her life.  But in one way it was better, for he had become ever more demanding, more insistent and careless, more uncaring and oblivious to any need for secrecy.  At least at a hotel, they would be ensured privacy. 

She despaired of ever getting her life back.  It was inevitable that at some point he would be seen by her neighbors, that she would be exposed.  He had already almost destroyed everything wonderful she might ever have had with Jimmy.  And with that exposure, she would have been dragged down with Booker as he ruined the full life she had finally created for herself after so many years of loneliness and crushing near-poverty.  It was obvious he was getting what he wanted from her; he also obviously did not care about her own existence.  The black man would surely destroy her life with his selfish need for domination and physical gratification taken from unwilling females. 

A little over two months ago, Kate had lived a normal life.  She could never have imagined such a horrible situation in which she now found herself, for any woman, let alone herself.  It was as if some twisted, evil demonic being had taken a personal interest in destroying her life and she was helpless to do anything about it.

To compound her nightmare, a happy Jimmy had called out of the blue wanting to meet for a late lunch.  Kate knew the only way she could accommodate both men was to dress for Booker before she met with Jimmy. 

Kate took a shower, paying particular attention to shaving her legs, underarms, and between her legs as she prepared for the black man later in the afternoon.  She dressed in the tight cream-colored topless bustier that Booker and Jimmy both enjoyed, but this time without Jimmy's knowledge.  Camouflaged in a simple yet well-tailored pantsuit, Kate managed to cover the lingerie to her satisfaction, though she feared the snaps holding up her flesh-toned dress stockings might be revealed through the fabric of her business-like trousers.  Since it was a little cool, she also wore a fashionable dark-brown mid-thigh jacket. 

Although he asked her several times why she was so distracted, lunch with Jimmy was still pleasant.  They talked of how the weather had deteriorated so quickly, of their next overnight stay in town to see a show and other things that concerned lovers like them and then Kate departed, off now to meet the man that had forced himself to become her secret lover.

I was waiting when she arrived’ she was bundled against the cold, her feminine shape almost disguised under everything she wore.  For lunch Kate had on a conservative eggshell pantsuit under a light brown top and beige four-inch stiletto heel pumps.  Her nails and lip gloss were one of those colors between pink and flesh, and it went well with the eggshell.  Her fingers were slim and manicured and there was a single strand of white pearls around her neck.  She looked tired and harassed, but you couldn’t really tell for sure until she got closer.  Kate apologized for being a little late and then again for not being able to stay long.  An appointment, she said.

I watched her leave and smiled to myself.  Unable to concentrate during our short lunch, she was visibly distracted; not at all the cool and collected Kate I knew so well.  My pleasure at her unease turned to disgust once more.  If she enjoyed meeting men in a more public setting, then I would ensure that Booker obliged her more often. 

He had my script and I had provided the cheap hotel room – unknown to him it had of course been pre-wired with video and audio for my viewing pleasure.  It would be interesting to see how she reacted to what we had planned and how much material would make the cut for final use on her website.

The Hotel From Hell or It Was A Relationship She Found Impossible to Leave

The Fragrance Hotel rented rooms by the hour and the day.  The hotel looked like a concrete-block and corrugated-iron bunker with badly lit halls and soundproofed rooms with soundproof doors.  Of course, the inclement weather had cut down on the short-term clientele.  The clerk smirked as he took the dark-haired woman’s money, and her face burned with embarrassment when she was informed that she was responsible for paying for the room, paying the rate for a full day.  . 

The lobby was cold, the elevator didn’t work, and the stairs and hall smelled of bleach and looked like they got scrubbed a lot because they needed to be scrubbed a lot.  There was a sticky carpet and a concrete staircase off of the lobby, and the elegant looking woman was mortified at meeting the black pimp here.  The hallway smelled of urine and empty Cup-A-Soup containers. 

The beautiful woman slowly walked to Room 29 and after hesitating to gather her courage, she opened the door with the old-fashioned key given to her by the smirking baboon downstairs.  The man that was now effectively her pimp waited patiently inside. 

The room looked cheap in the shadowy late mid-afternoon light; the bed was a wreck of unclean tangled sheets scattered with implements of pleasure and torture: ropes, rubber and plastic, wire and clothespins. 

The curtains were drawn and the room was surprisingly dark.  The reluctant woman looked once at the navy blue nylon gym bag the pimp had brought with him.  Filled with his “party” toys, it contained duct tape, several different gags, a coil of rope, gloves, handcuffs, two or three dildos and more.  Bitter anger flared briefly and the woman at first tried to resist his demands, but was once more coerced with only a few quick blows. 

Booker could feel his veins gleaming with steely excitement while the roaring of his pulse egged him on.  He stripped, bound and gagged the unresisting woman.  Hands tied to the head of the bed, her nipples were quickly suctioned erect by mouth and then her breasts tightly wrapped with long, very thin strips of elastic.  Booker wasn't sure what the white dude had ultimately planned for this bitch, but it was obvious he hated her.  Didn't matter to him, he regularly got to knock off a nice piece of ass and was paid good money at the same time.

But first he had to get her dilated.  The initial dildo was shaped like a silver bullet, eight inches long and two inches in diameter.  After a couple of minutes, he fucked his reluctant whore with it until the hard rubber glistened with her juices.  Finally, he pushed it in and left her impaled. 

Now for the second piece, another dildo.  But this time six inches long and one inch in diameter, so he dribbled some baby oil down between her legs and then followed it with his finger until it was over the bound woman’s gristly anal ring.  He began to massage her there and looked up quickly as she closed her eyes in humiliation and then groaned softly as she turned her face away from him in shame. 

Booker pushed his finger in and out for a while until he sensed that the protective muscles had relaxed.  Applying constant pressure on the rounded end of the dildo, Booker moved the free end around until it began to penetrate her body, then slowly pushed it home until it met more resistance....this evoked another long groan from the bound captive, but heart-felt and belly deep this time.  After giving her a minute, he then fucked both holes at the same time and soon she fit sloppily around each of them. 

Now for the finale of Act I, as written by the white boy.  He leaned over her spread-eagled legs, quickly poured oil over his right hand and then removed the dildo from Kate's pussy.  Before her muscles could begin to contract, he had his four pointed fingers poised at the entrance to her wet, reddened slit. 

Outside, softly muffled, yet heartfelt cries or protest could be heard emanating from the room but no one noticed.  On the disgusting be inside the room, the bound woman was bucking mightily at this point, but nothing she did was capable of stopping him now.  He released the pressure, resumed pushing, released and pushed again, over and over, until he was in up to his knuckles.  Shifting focus for a second, he gave the dildo in her ass a push and it went in another inch.  Thirty minutes later, finally finished sexually humiliating and torturing the thirty-eight year old woman, the man now released her for just a moment. 

The room was quite dark now and the first rape soon followed.  Then more sexually demeaning acts.  As much as she ached, Kate thankfully knew it had to be almost over once he’d finally filled her vagina with his cum.  She was in the usual position that he demanded at the finish, on her knees, her face directly in front of his groin.  She was terribly sore from what he’d just done to her, and the shame of being used like a crack whore in this cheap hotel room was almost more than her sanity could bear.  As he firmed and grew, his erection went further and further down her throat.  Her eyes teared up both with shame and with her body’s normal gag-reflex as he deep-throated her.  He had become more and more insistent over the last few weeks, overcoming her initial unwillingness, forcing her to learn to take his whole length with little or no gagging. 

No one saw them coming.  The two big black men stood in the dim light outside Room 29 and listened for a while.  Low, faint voices inside, one commanding and the other submissive, the occasional groan of a woman being used.  The door was heavy for a cheap hotel like this and well set in a solid frame, but the lock was ridiculous.  One of them reached out and tested the knob.  Locked.

The second man stepped back and took a small Sony digital camera out of his pocket and held it in his left hand.  After setting himself, the first man breathed inward for a moment, and then lunged forward, his foot up and heel out, striking the door.  It slammed open and they were in the dank, half-lit room.

The camera started, running off a series of rapid shots and each flash lit up the room like a bolt of lightning: the big black man sitting on the edge of the bed, the naked white woman on her knees with her face buried in his crotch, his hands filled with hair on either side of her head. 

Then blackness and another flash; the long black cock pointing in the air towards her still gaping mouth, her ruined makeup and teary eyes even more obvious now as she fully faced the camera. 

Blackness and another flash; the white woman caught frozen with terror, backed into a corner, fumbling at her clothes, the naked black man standing up and moving towards the other corner of the cheap hotel room. 

Blackness and another flash; the woman flying towards the door. 

The intruder snapped a final shot and then slammed the door shut behind him, trapping the fleeing woman in front of him.  He turned the room light on and looked at his prey and knew that she was theirs for the taking.  A beautifully mature, hard-bodied white woman clearly and professionally free of those pesky gag reflexes. 

He pulled a knife and moved an unresisting Booker face first into the corner, then down on his knees with his hands clasped behind his head. 

After a moment, Booker heard the white boy’s girlfriend say behind him, “God, no.  No, PLEASE!” 

There was the sound of a hard slap, the sound of a soft masculine voice and then a feminine sob, “Booker.  Help me.  Don’t let them do this to me.”

One of the men said, “Come on whitey, you take it from him, bitch; you’ll take cock from us too.”

It was a dangerous situation.  The woman belonged to him, but they held all the cards.  A street smart man, Booker never moved a muscle as he heard a quick zipper unwind, softly murmured words and then Kate was sobbing in shame again.  While one of the men remained busy with the whore, the other went through Booker’s pants and wallet, removing any money he had.  The man said, “Brother, you don’ want no trouble, you best move on.  We’ll let the whore go when we’re done with her.  You keep this shit to yourself and no one’ll get hurt”

Without a look back, Booker quickly dressed and moved out of the awful hotel room.  He’d gotten out safely, he was safe.  For him it was pretty much over.  The two men left after another couple hours alone with the woman.

Night eventually covered the city, but the soiled and devastated woman lay without moving on the bed, clinging to the dim and formless dream of the man she loved and who was her only refuge from the hazy memory of the black men crouched over their victim.

The next morning found the woman in the same room, sitting on the toilet, fully dressed.  Even though she had never felt more soiled than this very minute, Kate couldn’t go directly home.  Her mind buzzed endlessly, erratically, playing tricks as she drove aimlessly for hours, never really seeing anything.  She felt dead inside now, totally devoid of emotions. 

She didn’t care whether or not they had taken her drivers’ license, for she found a few dollars in the glove compartment of her car.  Finally, the devastated woman found a tacky and rundown, but most importantly, a suitably empty bar.  Not a person that drank much alcohol under normal circumstances, Kate found herself alone, drinking cheap bourbon straight in an attempt to burn clean the foul taste she had in her mouth.  Even though she normally hated the stuff, it seemed an appropriate punishment for everything that she had allowed be done to her.

It was early evening of the following day when Kate awoke abruptly out of an alcohol-sodden sleep; the pain in her ribs was her first conscious sensation.  Then the slightly swollen eye and side of her face, the sour odor of her body, the salty taste of what could only be semen and blood and old liquor in her mouth; it all came back with a rush. 

But there was the feeling of relief too.  She was alone, in her own bed.  But she had no memory of how she’d gotten there. 

Jigsaw pieces of the previous day floated into her mind.  The provocative and terrible setting of the decrepit hotel room, the anger showed towards her by all of the men involved, the terrible things done to a normal, middle-aged and predictably decent woman who was the conventional pillar of her small community.  A small, choking sob escaped her passive body.

Yesterday had been her birthday and she was now thirty-nine years old.  It should have been a happy day, but she hated her life……it was such a nightmare now. 

She remained motionless on the side that wasn’t painful, the hangover throbbing like a disease through her body. 

Kate didn’t move for another hour, until soft footsteps on the carpet outside her door let her know she wasn’t alone.  She turned slowly as the door opened. 

It was Booker.

Kate knew she should cry out at him, scream her rage and shame at what he’d done to her, what he had allowed be done to her.  But she didn’t have the will-power or energy anymore to fight him anymore.  Maybe later, but not right now.

The black pimp didn’t give her a chance to refuse, didn’t even let her say anything at all.  Kate cried out in pain as he grabbed her arm above the elbow and dragged her off the bed and into the bathroom.  In a harsh, insistent voice, Booker told her to clean up, cover the facial bruises with makeup, to change her clothes and be ready to leave in one hour.  Shocked and overwhelmed by the sudden aggression, her exhausted mind not working, Kate soundlessly obeyed.  The man, now effectively her pimp, seemed like a force of nature, not to be denied by a mere woman like her. 

Obedient, moving like a zombie, she showered, without thought or pleasure, letting the hot water sluice over her body as it removed what seemed a decade’s worth of filth.  Her hands automatically soaped the narrow space between her shoulders and chest and belly – just the soap, no washcloth, extra carefully over the injured parts of her ribs.  Then, methodically, she washed the rest of herself, keeping her hair dry even as she leaned her head against the wall for balance as she did first one foot, then the other, eventually turning off the taps and pulling the fluffy white towel from the rail. 

She looked at herself in the mirror, but the numbness inside hid both the hopelessness and the fear of what the coming night might hold.  No matter they did to her, it couldn’t be as bad as what she’d just gone through.  The bruised eye still looked red and a little puffy, but she’d been able to hide it with a little foundation.  Finally she was done and walked out of the bedroom.  She was dressed and ready for Booker in fifty-eight minutes. 

Like Jimmy, Booker had begun parking his car in her garage when he visited.  No one saw as Kate reluctantly sat in Booker’s car as, unseen, they departed for Boston.  He drove a large, dark colored, late model, full-sized luxury car, not at all what she had been led to believe a pimp drove by television and the movies she had watched.  He took her into his territory and then took his time, tracking down each of the eight women that comprised his current string of whores.  He summoned each of them one at a time to the rider’s side of the car, lowered the window, and talked while looking at them over Kate about the night’s take and how they were doing at meeting their quotas. 

If nothing else, in order to survive, a whore quickly becomes a master at reading people and situations.  Each of the used women knew there was more going on than just talking with their pimp.  Despite the fact that she was at least ten years older than the oldest whore, all thought they recognized in Kate a competitor for the position of Booker’s main woman.  Each woman respectfully answered Booker’s questions, snarled at Kate with hate-filled eyes, and then went back to the tiny portion of street they called their turf. 

Booker glanced at Kate and smiled to himself.  The woman was either too dense or too stupid to know what he’d just done.  She’d just been identified on the street as one of his whores.  Word would spread quickly about Booker bringing in a classy new white bitch, perhaps trying to improve the quality of his string of women.  That was a stigma he’d ensure that she never lived down. 

Good Doin’ Bidness Wid’ You, The Pimp Said or One Of The Good Things About Being His Whore Was She Didn’t Have To Make Any Business Decisions

In the early evening, the mismatched couple walked into the men’s social club that had self-segregated in the blackest part of town.  Although she was unresisting, the man subtly steered the woman ahead of him with his hand at the small of her back.  He was tall and striking, the ebony skin of his face marked with tribal scars.  She was beautiful and very classy looking, but exhaustion made her porcelain white skin look pasty under the poor lighting, while strong emotion stripped any sense of life from her face.  She wore a black dress and black, stiletto heeled pumps under her coat.  A short, thick string of white faux pearls, held in the center by a gold clasp, hung down between her breasts.  Her long black hair looked glossy yet somehow unkempt.  The white woman was accompanying what had to be her pimp, but even so, she still looked too classy, almost conspicuously classy, to be one of his whores.

They sat at a corner table that had obviously been reserved; the man insisting the woman face the floor where a few early couples slowly danced to a soft blues tune.  She did not at first look at the man she accompanied, but finally half-turned towards him as if drawn by some magnetic force.  An unseen muscle twitched in her cheek as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  Her face, suddenly coldly beautiful and brittle, seemed drained of all spirit.  She sat straight and stiff, like a doll.  She was there for her pimp to look at, and to be seen with.  Although slightly old for the role, it was obvious that she was on display as his trophy. 

Several men turned discretely to look in their direction.  The man acknowledged one or two with a curt nod.  Within minutes, a large man slowly walked towards the table as a waiter scurried forward to pull a chair back.  The pimp turned towards him, face suddenly animated.  They looked familiar with each other’s presence, as if from long acquaintance. 

Both ignored the woman now staring vacantly at the dance floor, but if they had looked closely, they would have seen her eyes had narrowed and a small rosy fleck in the shape of a crescent moon had slowly appeared on both her cheeks.  The second man was gesticulating with his right hand, as if making a point.  The man with the scarred face remained motionless as he listened, then he nodded, raising his head and looking around the room. 

Terms agreed, the second man passed him a wad of money, rose to his feet and moved around the table.  The pimp gave his woman a command: it was not cajoling or encouraging in tone, but it damn well wasn’t a suggestion either.  The silent woman finally stood unwillingly, her natural elegance somehow diminished as the second man came level with her.  Still silent, the crescents were both bright red now as she allowed him to place a hand on her arm and lead her down the stairs to the dance floor.  Then they were locked together. 

As she danced, her face remained empty of emotions, as if her mind had been somehow disconnected from her body.  When the music slowly died, the beautiful white woman showed no obvious resistance as the black man led her off the dance floor in another direction away from the table; the couple finally disappearing into a hidden alcove.

Thirty-five minutes later, the smiling man walked briskly from the recess and sat down again with the first man.  The woman slowly followed a couple of minutes later.  As she arrived at the table, the pimp’s customer left the table and patted the woman’s beautiful tight ass in a familiar and rather possessive way.

Kate’s legs gave out as she collapsed on the chair next to Booker.  He looked at her face for a second and then said, “You’re like a newly acquired dog, woman…..completely disloyal and only partly trained.  But just like me, you’ve gone too far down the road to go back now.” 

The pimp snorted and then gave his freshly-used whore just enough money to afford a taxi home.  It was a horrifying thought, but Kate knew he was right; there was no way back from this.  She had heard doors slamming behind her one by one for the last month, the first closing the day he had initially raped her, the next when she willingly allowed him to rape her the third time. 

Somehow, she stumbled from the room without her legs collapsing under the weight of what had just been done to her in the back room.

Kate wanted to die. 

Nothing Had Changed As Far As He Was Concerned or There Still Remained A Debt of Pleasure

Have you ever noticed how people tend to revert to being children when in times of great stress?  It’s not necessarily that they want someone else to take responsibility or to take care of them.  And it’s not that they lose the capacity to understand what’s going on.  What they do lose however, is the knowledge that life isn’t fair.  So, as their life is literally falling apart around them, they still absolutely refuse to believe that it’s happening to them, right down to the last second when they finally lose it all.  They started life as a child; they end life as a child. 

She had to have had every clue in the world that I was somehow at least partially responsible for her life suddenly falling to shit, but she refused to see it because she didn’t want to see it.  Physically, she’d recovered from that night, but it had profoundly affected her in every other way.  She’d fallen into an ever deepening spiral of depression and had withdrawn from our relationship.  She didn’t want to be touched and for the first couple of days found it difficult to be in the presence of me or any other man for that matter.  She’d become very, very quiet and spontaneously broke into tears every so often.  The woman wasn’t sleeping well; nightmares kept her awake at night and it showed on her face.  She wasn’t eating and had lost a little weight.  She felt uncomfortable leaving the presumed safety of her home anymore and her hands shook uncontrollably.  She was a mess. 

My hatred was only fanned by the weaknesses of the woman I so despised. 

Kate spent Christmas with her son while I stayed with my mother.  And as the days passed, I found she was still a remarkably tough and resilient woman.  What Booker and I had done may have weighed heavily on her spirit at first, but by the end of the week she had finally begun to come to grips with it. 

It was Friday, New Year's Eve, a week after the hotel.  I had long ago promised Kate a fun evening on the town, and I was determined to get her out of the house.  She tried to resist my charms, but I insisted and in what I took as a sign that she was healing, she finally agreed. 

She looked spectacular in a sexy fitted black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps.  Mid-thigh length, it was made from a smooth, stretchy material that hugged her hips and chest, yet emphasized her thighs with each step.  The dress had an exceptionally low-cut back.  The revealed skin and musculature of her back was gasp-producingly erotic and the material below hugged her ass exactly right—as though her body, not the dress, was responsible for the arresting effect.  Her hair was pulled back and she had employed just a little smoky gray eye shadow and a hint of gloss on her lips.  Small diamonds glittered on her ears while on her legs she wore sheer black fully fashioned stockings.  She wore black five inch, stiletto-heeled ankle strap sandals.  The overall impression was sophisticated, confident, and sexy as hell. 

I made sure Booker had not demanded an impromptu show for the last few days just to give her time to heal from his considerations.  Happy at not having to honor his attentions for a couple of nights in a row, Kate made a determined attempt to rise to our occasion now.  I’d wanted to visit a new club called the "Den of Iniquity".  It started pumping at midnight; an exclusive playground of the rich, it was frequented by the elite of Boston. 

House Of The Counterfeit Dolls or All The Pretty Girl’s Next Door

The building was a converted opera house in which multiple tiers alternated between dance floors and lounges, offering everything from nice to nasty.  Its heart was the grand stage where the motif changed nightly like the set of a play.  It could be a rolling countryside one night, a dark medieval village the next.  Tonight it was ancient Rome; backdrops of a looming coliseum, gladiators squaring off against ferocious lions, toga-wrapped women swooning into the arms of victorious warriors.  This was decadence of which the Caesars’ had never dreamed. 

Yet the first room I planned to visit was in the bowels of the basement.  It was a place that few knew about and even fewer were ever allowed to enter.  You had to be both wealthy and debauched to gain entrance, and I seemingly fulfilled both requirements.

I led a quiet Kate deeper, past the musty stench of decay.  Suffocating darkness descended and as we walked, we passed old pieces from sets that had first seen the light of day a hundred years ago.  A mother screaming in anguish as she clutched her blood-soaked children; a warlord disemboweled those who cowered in surrender; tapestries that glorified death; canvas scenes that depicted decaying bodies.  Everything here set the tone and Kate was quickly, obviously uneasy, ready to immediately join the festivities that had already begun far above our heads. 

Finally we were there.

Above the door a sign read, "Old Fashioned Fun: Dolls for Every Occasion."  We stood at the entrance for a moment, the space beyond the door was gloomy, the atmosphere forbidding.  Already uncomfortable, Kate moved slowly, cautiously as she followed me in.  Our eyes took a moment to adjust and finally photos came into focus, photos arranged in pairs as if in a high-end art museums, the before photo simply labeled "Auparavant" and the after image "Après". 

All of the before photos had been enlarged to half life-size; it appeared all had been taken by non-professionals since many were poorly framed shots that had been expertly cropped later when the subject was presented.  As Kate and I drifted closer, it became clear that these subjects consisted each time of women in different settings. 

Each female was striking in appearance.  Smiling faces, serious faces, faces melancholy in repose; all women, all quite attractive, all appearing above average in character and intelligence.  It looked almost as you might imagine would be the class photos of an extremely upscale and exclusive woman's college.

My first impression had been wrong.  The after picture, those labeled Après, were not actually photos but rather images displayed on large flat-screen high-definition TV’s that had been hung vertically rather than horizontally.  The figure highlighted on each was close to life-size; the likeness professionally and tastefully lighted in a way that stylishly isolated it from the pitch-black surroundings in which it was presented.  The subjects were always female dummies the artist had created and which he called his "Dolls".

Each mannequin was posed in a different position, wearing different clothing.  It suddenly became surreal; for every doll had clearly been created to resemble the woman in the photo with which it was paired.  Quite successfully, the artist had crafted the face of the woman onto face of the doll he had created.  A wig had later been added that was generally, but not always, similar to the hair of the woman in the photo, then each doll dressed in a unique outfit and posed on an elevated display stand.

Closest to my right, the before photo showed a curvaceous, long-haired redhead with a generous bosom and hips.  “Laura” was the name listed under the photo.  The young woman possessed a determined chin and rather arrogant nose, but overall the affect was quite pleasing...she was clearly a very attractive young woman.  Obvious intelligence filled her eyes and she looked at the camera with a thoughtful, almost caring expression. 

On the TV screen, the “Laura” doll was dressed as a nurse.  It wore a frizzy wig that had been styled in a youngish-Bette Midler sort of way; an almost comically small nurse's cap had been pinned haphazardly on top.  Anatomically, the artist had rendered a faithful, if not exactly perfect copy of the woman in the photo since the doll had been crafted with a slightly over-generous bosom and hips.  Where not covered by clothing, the nurse doll's outline actually seemed to shimmer in an almost ghostly sort of way, as if a thick layer of clear syrup or clear, plastic furniture finish had been poured over it and allowed to dry. 

The mannequin was dressed in a tight, short, cheese-cake version of a nurse's uniform, and I now realized that the dummy’s large breasts HAD in fact been modeled after the real-life woman.  Created out of some space-age acrylic, the model required no bra as its enhanced breasts strained the fabric to almost bursting.

Sheer white stockings attached to garters had been pulled over the doll’s legs like you might see on a mannequin’s legs posed in a lingerie store, and white pumps with extreme six inch stiletto heels had been put its feet.  The hem of the nurse's outfit was so short that both Kate and I could see the doll wore no panties either, for although shaved bare of hair, its creepily realistically rendered groin had been left bare. 

The doll was arranged so that it was leaning forward as if to give a patient pills or some other treatment.  But in the poor light, it took a second look to realize it was actually supported in that awkward upright position by some kind of barely visible, clear acrylic rod that ran from the stand up between its legs.  The height of the rod was such that the mannequin's high-heeled feet barely touched the floor of the display stand. 

For some odd reason, even though the face of this dummy clearly resembled the redheaded Laura in the photo, the way in which it had been applied...or formed...or molded.....or whatever, made the doll look like a dumb bimbo.  For the seriously overdone makeup on its “face” gave the doll a perpetually surprised, almost air-headed sort of look.  A sign at the bottom read "Be Nursed Back to Health - This Doll for Sale" and then a phone number was shown. 

There were many more dolls to be viewed in that basement room and we took our time, but I could tell that Kate was not enjoying herself.

She didn’t want to be here, but even so, found the displays…..bizarre enough….that they had begun to pull her out of her shell of self-pity.  As Kate viewed the pictures, she realized that the dolls were nothing but variations on a theme; all showing women in either very submissive or demeaning roles, in some kind of sexual servitude or looking like some fourteen year-old boy’s sexual fantasy. 

It was clear the dolls were at the extreme end of what might be considered barely acceptable erotic art.  It was also clear that each had been created by an extremely talented artist, the result then captured by a gifted videographer and finally presented to a specific, and rather creepy, audience.  But it was also clear that the artist had pushed his art to the limits, even broken the boundaries of good taste with these disturbingly life-like dolls.  Overall, the effect was admittedly sexy, yet extremely nasty; it was the scary, misogynic work of a disturbed mind.

All of the sexually nuanced stereotypes were present; waitresses, nurses, harem slaves, cheer leaders, French maids, high level executive secretaries, teachers and various other bimbos.  Some were in bondage and others not, but all were dressed in an erotically suggestive manner, with many wearing only variations of latex and leather.

As Kate walked on, she saw young, dignified looking women turned into caricatures.  The mind of the artist was boringly predictable now, for each doll had been modeled in such a way that already large breasts were pushed fantastically up and out.  The artist had clearly achieved the erotically impossible, making the doll's breasts seem both free and bound at the same time. 

As with every other hi-def image of the finished doll, the artist had somehow done his best magic with the eyes, for these were always the most life-like part.  And as always, the videographer had somehow captured the essence of the artist's work in each shot.

These things were only dolls, but she sure knew how it felt to be treated like so much meat.  God!  Did she ever know how that felt.  The room seemed suddenly oppressive to her, the air dark and heavy to breathe.  Kate turned to Jimmy with a tentative smile and whispered, "What an odd room for a club like this.  But whoever created these dolls is a real artist.  Creepy and weird and certainly a woman-hater, but still an artist of sorts."

I nodded agreement, for this was in some ways, at least to women, an ominous gallery and the faces of the dolls seemed to cry out for mercy as if they were somehow trapped in each image.  As Kate and I slowly continued, we came across other sets of pictures. 

More and more disturbed, Kate now hung onto my arm as we looked at more after images of the dolls.  The more Kate saw, the less comfortable she was.  Soon, she was just shaking her head, wondering out loud who would buy this kind of S & M art. 

While all of the dolls on display in that dark room had initially been for sale; at least a third had already been sold.  The final photo hung at the end by itself.  There was no "Beginning" or “End” picture here, for the photo showed only a stand that was empty except for a hard-to-see human-shaped, clear acrylic clam-like shell that opened at the back.  A goofy looking, female face had been painted where the doll's head would go and a thick, now easily visible clear plastic rod rose from the base of the stand to about waist height.  On the end of that rod and protruding up into the lower part of the acrylic clam-shell were what looked like two, very long and thick protrusions connected at the base by a thin, gently curved bar of hard plastic. 

Kate glanced at this last display and didn't get it, or perhaps she didn't want to get it.  The dolls were nothing but clever marketing.  A means to display the illegal human product some "entrepreneur" had acquired.  Somewhere in this city, and perhaps in others, beautiful young women were even now being warehoused, waiting for an "owner" to raise them from the level of inanimate dolls to submissive puppets. 

On the way back to the exit, much to Kate's impatience and annoyance, I stopped and looked at the after photos again, but this time much more closely.  Again and again, I saw the same thing.  Superficially, the faces were the weakest aspect of the doll maker’s work.  Many approached being a cliché.  The eyes were too stark, the brows too furrowed, the cheeks and chins too rigid.  The mouths were often even worse.  Lips were contorted, twisted, never quite sealed.  It was as if he'd taken the undeniable agony of the body, each of them unique in the bald expression of the most abject submission, and mated it to a stereotypical male portrait of facial pain.  Each mouth called out with words to a world that could never be known.

It was clear to me now, all of the dolls, every one of them, were actually live women encased in a clear, plastic shell.  Each shell had a face painted on it, but tiny space had been left for the trapped woman to look out -- and for the world to look in. 

And once you knew what to look for, it became clear.  Above each gagged mouth, above each mouth painted on with such exquisite care, a woman's eyes radiated the helpless terror they were forced to keep mirrored inside.  The pleading, the hopelessness, the futile begging, the unanswered prayers.

Now I also realized that while behind each anonymous plastic mask there existed a mouth forced into mind-destroying silence; the eyes in each after photo would forever tell it all as they screamed for help and release, a rescue that would in all likelihood never come. 

Dressed as male fantasies and encased all in stiff plastic for who knew how long, each woman had been put on display for everyone's pleasure but theirs.  Kept upright in provocative positions within that awful plastic shell by the massive dildos driven deeply into young fresh vaginas and past clenched cheeks into virginal rectums. 

The support bar good only for maintaining the final awkwardly erotic positions desired by their owner.  Their feet barely touching the floor, each woman would be horribly impaled for as long as her weight rested only upon these two vertical "standards" and the terribly thin bar that connected them.  Forced to maintain that pose for the perfectionist taking that last terrible image, for however long it took, and for as many times as it took. 

I walked away from that room with Kate on my arm without looking back.  Another place, another time, and it would have been me bidding on one of these young beauties.  Idly, I wondered if I could contact one of the artists and perhaps get him to take Kate?  What an appropriate ending that would be to everything I wanted from her.  But I gave up the idea after only a second’s thought. 

Later, we danced a little, but left early and ended up back at the hotel room only to immediately continue a fight that had begun in the taxi on the way home.  Another woman at the gala had paid perhaps a little too much attention to me and Kate had become shockingly, viscerally jealous. 

The other woman was younger, much younger than Kate.  Maybe twenty-two or twenty-three.  Very elegant.  And very, very beautiful.  Rare and exotic like a model.  Lila was stunning.  And very natural.  She was tall, but not too tall, and she was slender, but not too slender.  She had dark skin, like a perfect beach tan and long dark hair.  No makeup.  Huge, hypnotic eyes, the brightest blue I had ever seen.  As if they were lit from within. 

She’d moved with a lithe economy.  Half the time she’d looked young and leggy and gamine, and half the time all grown up and far too self-possessed.  Half the time she’d seemed unaware of how good she looked, and half the time a little embarrassed by it.  She’d worn a simple black cocktail dress that probably came from Paris.  But she didn’t need it.  She could have been in something stitched together from an old potato sack without diminishing the effect. 

I paid little attention to the young woman until Kate had become possessed by her jealousy.  Even then, when I barely talked to Lila, it still hadn’t made any difference to Kate. 

After the display of erotic art, Kate had danced with Jimmy for another couple of hours, but it wasn’t very enjoyable.  She’d been more upset by the dolls than she had realized and consequently, she’d become irrationally angry at a minor misunderstanding between she and Jimmy.  Just after midnight, he took her back to the hotel they normally used when in the city, but it seemed very different this night. 

The woman had approached them from across the dance floor, young, twenty-five going on forty.  She’d walked at first with a long, authoritative stride that exuded self-confidence.  This had changed subtly as she had approached Jimmy.  Without conscious thought, Kate had scoped her then, head to toe: expensive if conservative hair; a decent black dress; striking, intelligent eyes; a hand bag three seasons out of date. 

She had introduced herself with, “Hi.  I apologize for being so forward, but I think we’ve met before….we were introduced at a party last year.  My name’s Lila.  Isn’t it extraordinary who you bump into at these things?”  Kate had disliked her on sight and all of Jimmy’s easy assertiveness had disappeared in front of the young girl’s now downcast, yet still frankly predatory gaze. 

What followed was a text book first encounter of instant chemistry, a series of split-second subconscious acts.  The previously confident woman had become the vulnerable young thing as she touched her necklace, her skirt, reached out to shake his hand and then ducked her eyes to the floor.  Jimmy, attempting to hold her gaze, had absorbed the young woman’s beauty in an instant, almost as if registering it as a challenge.  The very least part of the exchange were the words they used to greet one another.  Jimmy said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and the woman replied, “You too.” 

Kate had seen the way he’d looked at the beautiful young thing and it seemed a dagger had pierced her heart.  She’d have been able to compete on a level playing field against the woman ten years ago for sure, perhaps even five years ago.  But not now.  She didn’t have the confidence, couldn’t stand the possibility of competition like this taking away the love of her life. 

Kate’s eyes misted for a second; a phase of emotion that swiftly passed.  She fought back the anger and despair, because she loved Jimmy so much.  But it was hard because the feelings were so powerful.  She felt as if she were standing thigh-deep in rushing floodwaters; any moment she would lose it, lose her grip, get swept away by her emotions.  Like those people caught in the Asian tsunami.  God!  Love was wonderful and awful at the same time.  She realized with great distress a sudden truth: even as angry and hurt as she was, there was no price too great to pay; there was nothing she would not do for him, if he only asked with even just a modicum of respect. 

Like a terrible joke, as soon as she had removed her coat in their hotel room, he wanted sex, unexpectedly demanding she beg to wear "his" dog collar.  Aghast at first, speechless at his insensitivity and still angry with his earlier behavior, Kate somehow managed to hide her true feelings.  But the worst part was that even though she still needed freedom and space after what Booker had done to her, for some reason she was also embarrassed both by the intensity of her feelings toward Jimmy, which in turn gave rise to her reluctance to disappoint him.  So, wordlessly, she gave him what he wanted. 

Without asking permission and ignoring her uncontrollable flinch at his touch, he’d put the thick leather collar around her neck.  Tonight Kate felt intimidated both by the symbology of the collar and the air of bored ownership Jimmy automatically assumed as she donned the ridiculous strip of leather. 

Normally, he asked before any serious foreplay, but not tonight.  Her initial uncomfortable feeling increased slightly as he forced her to strip like…..like….like a sex slave.  She wanted him to stop this charade, but didn’t know how to say no without beginning another fight, and she didn’t want to fight with him anymore.  From his actions, it seemed clear, at least to Jimmy, that when the collar had gone around her neck, any remaining choices were to be his. 

But Kate was not in the mood for extended anal games tonight.  She tried to go along, only begging softly, "Not rear tonight, baby.  Please.  I've been gassy."

The truth was, Kate wasn’t sure if she had completely eliminated her bowels and she dreaded the embarrassment of any mess afterwards.  This was what she had been reduced to after being so enthusiastically trained by Jimmy: these were the inevitable thoughts that played on her mind when a serious ass-fucking was on his agenda.  But Jimmy just smiled.

Moments later, bundled onto the bed onto her knees and clutching at the sheets, Kate instantly realized what that smile had meant.  It had happened so easily and so naturally that she could hardly believe her lover was....suddenly....there.  But there was no mistake: he was indeed right...there...comfortably lodged so deep in her colon that she felt transfixed by his previously lubricated manhood, literally and figuratively frozen into a slavish stillness.

Even when not in the mood, nothing ever prepared her for the sudden onset of blissful submission that always engulfed her when they made love like this.  Just like always, after only a few minutes, Jimmy knelt behind and let her push her way backwards slowly and smoothly, past one or two slight twinges, right up the length of his cock to the bristly hilt, until her cheeks flattened against his belly and she hung helplessly in his hands, quivering and groping and gasping for more.

Not that the realization arrived in any coherent form, because when he fucked her like this, it was as if he erased, stroke by tender stroke, all conscious reason in her.  All she ever knew at this point was that she was yielding and opening, and from him there was the feeling of inexorable occupation, the deep rooting inside her and the becoming one with her.  There was joyful possession of her and proud ownership by him; a willing submission and the giving of trusting control to another.  Power exchanged: surrendered, taken, returned.

He’d mentioned before that she seemed to go to another place at times like this.  Kate almost blushed, it was so true.  When Jimmy fucked her in the ass, Kate knew her middle-aged body became motionless and accepting in the same way the mind goes still in meditation; open and relaxed, yet alert and one-pointed; she was always so focused on the single indescribable fact of his cock being right there inside her.  For her, these times were usually a state approaching bliss at the end, and she now understood what the ballerina, who when writing a memoir of anal sex, had meant when she wrote that her lover’s cock in her ass allowed her a “moment of immortality.”

It became to Kate a form of worship unspoken, an almost organic prayer of the physical body, a feeling so intense it gave voice to every mute and trembling cell in her being.  Afterwards the orgasm was, as always, unexpected and breath-taking both in its breadth and its intensity.  Especially after the stillness when, like a tsunami, it rose up with a roar and totally submerged her.  These orgasms were always different too: beginning from behind and radiating upwards and forwards like the lash of a thick whip through her core --- a strangely ass-foremost sensation and in no way unpleasant.

She had almost forgiven him his trespasses with that orgasm, and they talked about it afterwards, graphically.  Jimmy described the different sensations of entering Kate's ass compared to her cunt: it was smoother and hotter, often more sensitive to the movements of his cock.  But more than his own pleasure, he said liked to watch Kate's reactions when he fucked her in the ass.  That he enjoyed conveying her to that other place.

Asked what it was like after the first time, Kate knew at first she’d been almost incoherent, capable of nothing beyond a ludicrously inept bathroom allusion that had fetched an eye-roll from him.  Well, it was true!  But much later, when she had time to think, to query more deeply her trembling body, she had realized it had been just like a first fuck.  It was quite simply and truly another virginity that this beautiful young man had taken and which she had willingly given to him.

But there was more to it than that.  What she allowed him to do to her, more than any other kind of penetration, was an expression on one hand and an admission on the other, of total possession.  When allowing this, there was no doubt in Kate's mind that Jimmy owned her. He claimed a part of her as his and his alone; a part that had remained off-limits to every other man, open only to the one who had captured it through his love and his passion, his prowess, and his infinite patience.

Kate was silent for a moment as she snuggled next to him and then asked, "I thought you wouldn’t, when I asked you not to…."

Jimmy gave her a slight “humph” and that smile again.   The smile that said You are my fucktoy and if I want to fuck your ass, baby, I will.

All Kate could think was, amen to that.

He Really Hated Her or Metairie Is Where It All Starting Going Downhill For Her

I awoke early the next day and found she wasn’t in bed.  She sat in a chair by the corner of the room, dressed only in a white T-shirt, naked legs crossed, painted toes shining, her skin like marble in the early morning sunlight.  Her face was in shadow but I could tell that I still was not totally forgiven.  Tough. 

This was also the morning that I replaced Kate’s birth control pills with placebos. 

I also had at least another two months’ supply of what I called my “dry-runs” if needed.  Events were moving fast now and I planned to begin the final destruction of this woman in about two months, somewhere around the end of February or beginning of March.

It was almost March now.  She’d been off the pill for almost two months and had actually complained in passing about the severity and unpredictable nature of her last two periods.  The calendar I’d been keeping of her menstruation cycle told me now was the perfect time to set her up with Booker for the surprise boning. 

I decided to take a vacation, to have Kate stay at the Baton Noir in Metairie, Louisiana; a nice place that had survived the floods.  It had a good dining room and a friendly attitude towards multiracial convocations.  My sleazy private detective had already rented Kate’s room for two days and wired it for video and audio, so it would be easy for him to report on her activities and to take videos. 

Kate was happy as she flew down early on a Friday for I’d told her I would meet her there the next morning.  I’d also prepared her for my absence by using multiple opportunities to show how much work I had to do.  When I called later that day and apologized for not being able to meet her for at least another four days, she was predictably disappointed but professed to understand. 

She arrived in Metairie in the late morning, just before noon.  The day was unseasonably warm and a small but a pleasant swimming pool hung off a second-floor deck.  Kate put on a modest by current standards black bikini and went out to sun herself before the gathering of insurance salesmen and lawyerly deal-makers.  An hour later, she was back in her room looking for suntan lotion.  The pool was getting crowded and for the first time in years she felt like going from display to exhibition mode.  It was so unlike her, but she didn’t care: there was a bunch of guys from Texas out at the pool, and she was going back out so they could see what a real woman looked like.  She went back to her room after another two hours, glowing from the sun.  She took her bikini-ed self into the bathroom to clean up and dress, and when she came out she pulled out a book to read. 

Jimmy called then and put a slight damper on the vacation when he said he couldn’t come for another four or five days, but she understood since he’d been working so hard.  He was such a generous man.  It was so like him to be concerned about her, to want her to enjoy herself even if he couldn’t be there with her.

She was relaxing early that evening just before dinner when there was an unexpected knock on the door to her room….to her awful dismay, it was Booker.  He told Kate that he’d seen her ticket on the dresser the last time he’d been in her bedroom and thought she might want some company.  Shocked by his arrival and not thinking clearly, Kate immediately dreaded his presence but had no reason to question his unexpected appearance. 

Desperate thoughts ran through her mind; she needed time alone away from her terrible life up north, and now the main architect of that horror had showed up at her door here.  The fact that it was him here and not her lover, never crossed her mind. 

She had learned to always treat him with a surficial respect even though he used her like a disposable rag, something he discarded time after time when he’d finished using her.  The mellowness of her mood had disappeared immediately, even before he insisted she accompany him to dinner.  Kate turned him down at first, but Booker insisted.  She had learned from painful experience that when she denied him anything, he sometimes became violent, so she reluctantly agreed in the end, trying to do her best to not set his temper off. 

Kate wanted to change again, but he would not leave and so Kate dressed partially in the bathroom and partially in front of him.  The black man had already removed so many of her inhibitions by now that she felt little shame or even embarrassment when partially naked in front of him. 

Kate wore a black dress, moderate heels and small diamond earrings.  They ate at a small French café, half a block off M street.  He had something that looked like Pigeon, while she ate a small Sea Bass filet.  They shared a mediocre bottle of wine and because they couldn’t be seen or overheard at the table, she unenthusiastically talked with him more than she ever had before. 

Still disturbed by his unexpected arrival, Kate found it difficult to acknowledge his existence at dinner.  Given their public setting and the monster's unpredictable behavior, she said little, only responding with short answers to his questions.  For his part, Booker took it in stride, seemingly not taking offense at a few comments she was sure would have earned her a more physical punishment in some other less open place.  But rather than becoming sullen or getting violent and aggressive, Booker instead seemed to be on his best behavior. 

To Kate’s everlasting relief, he left her alone that evening after taking her back to her room. 

Recruiting Boston’s Favorite TV Hostess or He Really, REALLY Liked Mid-Morning TV

In Boston, Jamie Hernandez sat in her dressing room, staring into the mirror as she rubbed the creamy mask onto the perfect white skin of her cheeks and forehead.  She walked over to the small love seat and sat down to wait.  Jamie was beautiful.  She had never been anywhere since she was ten when somebody had not mentioned it.  Jamie hated work but she worked hard anyway.  She always got into the fitness center early before heading to the studio.  It was only nine in the morning and already she’d done five point five miles on the stationary bike, worked for half an hour on the exercise machines and done another half hour in the pool. 

Her mind drifted back to her husband, the subject that took up most of her thoughts.  She was so tired of him now, the way he was gone all the time and the way he acted when he was home.  Almost every man she knew bored her now. 

Kate was gone and I was suddenly bored.  It was mid-morning.  I prowled my loft, restless as hell.  I wanted another woman, a temporary woman that would fight me, something different from the old bitch.  But not a prostitute either.  I glanced over at a small TV I had set on the kitchen wall and an idea began to form.

I’d seen the Hernandez bitch numerous times on local TV, always working the mid-morning hours.  Extremely attractive, she did not appear particularly talented.  She inevitably sat perched on a tall stool next to her male co-host, generally wearing an abbreviated skirt or tight knit dress of some pastel color that flattered her complexion, usually yellow, orange or light green.  The tight gray dress she wore today was tightly tailored to best display her tiny waist and surprisingly large jugs. 

At around 5’ 2”, she had a bosomy, exquisitely sexy figure.  She had shapely legs that were surprisingly long for one of her height.  Pumps or dressy sandals with long stiletto heels elevated her to about average height, but never failed to emphasize her physical assets to great affect with what seemed a mostly male audience.  What did those drooling idiots do for a living anyway?

The woman had a small pouty mouth with the ends slightly turned down and when she smiled, laugh lines bracketed her mouth and soft wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes.  Medium-length blond hair with darker highlights fell to her shoulders and professionally framed her face; the color went well with a wonderful winter tan.  Long lashes on light brown eyes combined with everything else to create a truly stunning telegenic beauty that exuded a quake-proof business-like veneer.  But she didn’t fool me.  What she had was no conscience and a leg-humping rampant sexuality. 

It was time to attempt my acquisition.  It was dark and cold and a light but steady rain fell by the time I reached Jamie’s home.  There was no traffic in the neighborhood and I passed the house twice, slowly going in opposite directions and then parked a mile away in the back corner of a small, poorly lit lot set up for commuters using mass transport. 

I was in a hurry, so it took less than twelve minutes to walk the distance to Jamie’s executive ghetto.  The nearest neighbors were about a hundred feet away on either side and there were numerous small shrubs in front of her home; all were well lit and there were no hiding places.  But the sides of the property were defined by multiple rows of large thick ten-foot tall shrubs that remained mostly in darkness.  Once in those shrubs, I could not be seen by the neighbors on either side. 

I then meandered back, disappeared into the shrubs that lined the driveway and then began my approach to the house.  I short circuited the window alarms before I unlocked the old-fashioned window with a pocket knife and opened it.  I was inside her garage!

I disabled the garage lights and then settled down in the right hand corner of the garage behind a large lawn mower near the door.  Finally, the moment arrived.  The garage was lit up from the outside by a car on the drive as the door began to open.  The garage was dark inside and her side view mirror beaded with water.  Hunched over so low that I was almost on all fours, I moved to the right front fender of the car and waited.  Jamie had gotten out of the automobile with a soft muttered curse. 

I moved slowly behind her, and as I moved closer, I felt the first burst of adrenaline, a quickening of the senses that lightened my arms and chest.  Another two steps and I had crossed in front of her vehicle.  Moving as lightly as I could, my shoes were noiseless on the cold concrete.  My eyes were fixed on the narrow shoulders ahead of me.  I trained the stun gun on the neck above this space, my mind a spin of instinct and calculation.  I had imagined this for hours, but suddenly I was uncertain.  But then she opened the door and the decision was made for me. 

It was remarkably easy to move up from behind and take her – the poor little thing never knew what hit her. 

The bound woman lay in the dark, unable to move, mind still paralyzed with shock.  She wanted to lick her dry lips but couldn’t because something had been stuffed into her mouth.  She’d felt searing heat run down the back of her neck and shoulders, and though she had tried, it had been impossible to scream.  Finally, she’d felt something heavy and cold and wet and which smelled like a hospital cover her face, and then she’d been picked up and carried in the man’s arms.  Her brain was flooded with pain messages, each one felt with horrible clarity.  It was her vision that went first, filled with mad whirling silver shapes that flashed horizontally right to left, and then she officially lost consciousness.

I left my gloves on as I searched her bedroom, discovering in the process a surprising number of sexy dresses, lingerie and other items that appealed to me.  Grabbing a spare pillow case, I gathered up a few of the things I most liked and took them with me. 

My exotic little blond had finally regained consciousness by the time I parked in my garage.  I donned a black cotton hood to hide my identity and untied her ankles from her wrists, then removed Jamie’s ankle and knee bindings, leaving her wrists cuffed behind her back and elbows still tied together.  I helped her out of the car trunk, but she could barely stand by herself and leaned heavily on me. 

I carefully led her from the garage and up the stairs to my refurbished factory warehouse loft.  The room was remarkably quiet due the sound-proofed insulation I’d had installed and rather cold.    The walls were lined with a complete array of sex toys, purpose-built torture devices, whips, chains, floggers, dildos, and many other things I was sure the relatively innocent Jamie would not recognize.  I’d also had two adjoining sound-proofed cells built along one wall.  My current lover-to-be quickly took up residence in one and I removed the cotton bag that covered her head.

I wanted to scare the hell out of the bitch before I began to soften her up.  Preferring not to have to wrestle a stubborn female while I prepared her for the first taste of the rest of the week, I stunned the little minx again before I untied her elbows while leaving her wrists and ankles bound.  I removed her gag and made an X of duct tape, after which I made a small hole for her to breathe through her mouth as well as her nose.  I wrapped a kitchen towel around her head to cover her eyes and then duct taped that in place too.  Then I lifted her motionless, still fully clothed body and placed it inside a military style body bag.  I zipped it up and dragged her down the stairs to the unheated two-car garage that went with my large loft.  This was where I had set up an inexpensive, but rather large above-ground pool.  I’d filled it with water this morning and that splashed all over me when I picked Jamie up and threw her into the pool. 

She landed on her back and the woman freaked!  I could see her body immediately come to life and begin struggling in the bag as she tried to move but couldn’t.  Then the bag rolled and she was on her stomach, her hands and feet still bound.  She could breathe through her nose and partially through her mouth when facing up, but not at all when facing down into the water.  Her struggles became more and more frantic, and I finally rolled the sweet little bitch onto her back again.  She gave out soft, muffled screams of terror and panic, but it was only beginning. 

I went on and on.  Finally convinced she’d had enough, I pulled the heavy, sopping bag out of the water.  I held her upright and unzipped the bag, removed the tape from around her eyes and pulled the bag away from her body.  Then I hooded her again as she stood in a puddle of freezing water, shaking with a cold that had chilled her to the bone. 

I dragged her stumbling form back up the stairs to where several mannequin heads were displayed in one corner of the main room, each sporting a different type of leather or rubber hood.  For her first role, I chose a full-head leather hood with Velcro patches covering the mouth and eyes.  Her wet hair still smelled of chloroform and rubber, and she struggled as I pulled it over her head, but she was small and I handled her easily. 

With her head now encased, I removed the hood I wore and then used a knife on Jamie’s cold, wet clothing.  She didn’t like being stripped and tried to fight until I hit her in the stomach.  A quick learner, she displayed much better manners after that.  I was slowed down a little when I finally got to her tight jeans and heels.  I slowly cut off her jeans and panties, but left her heels on – I always liked women’s legs when they wore heels, and Jamie had exquisite legs.  The only problem was that her skin was covered with unattractive goose bumps and her knees were shaking so hard at this point that she could barely stand by herself. 

When she was naked, I pushed the hooded Jamie to the floor, forcing her to kneel before me on a mat made of coarse hemp fibers.  I tied a thin rope to her cuffs and ran down between her butt crack and up to the helmet she wore.  I tied the loose end to a ring sewed in the tip of helmet and pulled it tight so that her head was bowed down almost between her knees.  She was bound and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Jamie had an absolutely gorgeous body and I captured in my mind the play of light on it, the shadows and darkening hollows of her skin.  High firm breasts larger than one would expect from her build, probably implants.  Nice shapely legs.  Hips and buttocks firm and without saddlebags or any cellulose.   Flat belly and tiny waist.  Pubic area and legs waxed.  Very nice, very nice indeed.

She was already more submissive at this point than I would ever have predicted, but this did not necessarily please me at the time.  The more she seemed to accept her fate, the more she took on the psychology of a victim.  But perversely, the more she submitted in the very beginning, the more I wanted to punish her.  When I finally felt she was ready for step two, I led Jamie out of her cell towards two floor-to-ceiling wooden timbers located in the center of the room.  The 8” x 8” rough-cut beams were four feet apart and a series of hooks and cuffs hung facing each other at ankle height, while another set hung about seven feet off the floor.  Jamie’s arms were almost paralyzed at the shoulders from her elbows having been so tightly bound together, so she was frustratingly cooperative as I strapped her in so that she almost hung from the wrist restraints. 

Finally, it was time to begin.  The weak little bitch was crying out almost constantly behind the mask after an hour’s efforts, but her moans and screams were nicely muffled by the gag that completely filled her mouth.  Her body was shuddering all over and her beautiful chest was heaving for air as she tried to breathe through her nose.  Jamie continued to struggle uselessly against the bonds that held her hands and ankles frozen in place, but already her struggles had lessened as her strength gave out.  But I felt good, for I had helped her in some small, but measurable way, for at least now her body had been heated up by her struggles. 

Then it was time for something different.  Jamie acted almost grateful when she felt the first blow from the flog.  The cries that emanated from under the mask built towards a crescendo that begged for mercy, but I felt none that night.  For somehow, to me it seemed it was Kate under that mask, not Jamie.  Her beating had now turned into a primitive symphony of pain as my leather straps caressed her flesh over and over again.  But I couldn’t stop myself until finally my rage at Kate had reached an apex.  I was suddenly emotionally exhausted and I finished Jamie’s beating in a quick flurry of unmerciful blows.  Tears were streaming from my eyes too when I was finally too tired to continue.

I felt as if I blacked out for a moment for I had no memory of releasing the now well-beaten Jamie from her bonds.  The next thing I recall is throwing Jamie’s sweaty, bruised and bloody body on the thin mattress in the big room and then tying her limbs to the D-rings attached to the floor at the four corners.  She screamed when I released the nipple clamps, but not nearly long enough to satisfy me at that moment.  I was hugely engorged at this point, but still not ready to give myself relief. 

I could smell the ozone as I gripped the violet wand that rested by her head.  Without warning, I applied it to her legs….and between her legs….and her stomach….and her chest….and finally her vagina.  Jamie was thrashing violently against her bonds as I touched her sweaty, bloody skin over and over again.  Her body shook and twitched with each loving caress of the wand, but her mind seemed to have temporarily departed her sweet, beautiful body.  Finally, I was ready to consummate our first date.

She was dry and tight at first, but soon became lava hot and wet within a minute.  I fucked Jamie like a maniac for at least another twenty minutes.  Taking this woman was nothing like being with Kate.  Even though she lay motionless beneath me and moaned and cried out only occasionally, Jamie could still hide nothing from me….I was the man that had finally taken it all from her, and at the end, when I blew my first load in her belly, it seemed we both knew she would have only a short interlude of relief, a quick moment of relative freedom from the leather and the steel before we were joined together like this again. 

When I had finished with her, I patted her head in satisfaction and relaxed gratitude like one would a favorite dog as I hummed a short tune, “There, there, darlin’, you might as well know it.  Life’s nothing but a trail of tears for a woman like you.  You might as well know that now.”

I left her lying there, beaten and naked, exhausted, fully serviced, and having experienced that which only a few women are privileged to feel.

After I’d rested for an hour, I pulled on a pair of black leotards with feet and put the cotton hood over my head again.  Still hooded, I released the woman and made her crawl to her cell.  The door had an electronic key pad on both sides and opened noiselessly.  The cell was adequately warm inside and well lit, and contained a stall shower, a toilet, a sink and a futon with a light quilt.  The whole room measured about three meters square.  There was an obvious security camera mounted in one corner that I had not even discretely hidden.  She finally reached her futon, and I made the meek, weakened and still wobbly and hooded, but well-fucked woman kneel on the floor and then I told her to clean herself.  She moved like a hundred year-old woman as she wiped herself clean between her legs.  After that, she lay down on the bed and cried herself to sleep. 

I wasn’t bothered by any of this.  I had her for another week or so, at least until Booker returned from vacation with the old bitch that still thought she was my lover. 

That would be more than enough time to get my hard-on off on this bitch. 

Black Blade Taken Deep “Louisiana-Style” or He Had An Unfair Advantage And He Used It With Enthusiasm

In Louisiana, Booker called Kate the next morning, demanding they take breakfast together.  After saying no a couple of times, Kate reluctantly agreed to meet.  She was not comfortable being seen with him, especially here in the deep south, but also knew he’d left her with really no other choice since she dared not deny him anything.  The black man was early, and surprisingly, had already taken the liberty of ordering them Bloody Mary’s before she arrived.  Not particularly caring for the drink, she still accepted it as the peace offering for which it had obviously been meant and finished hers without comment.  They both ate a light breakfast and had one more breakfast drink before he offered to walk her back to her room, but Kate refused.  If ever left with a choice, she would never willingly choose to be alone with this man ever again. 

Booker seethed inside, but didn’t let it show.  He’d never before allowed one of his whores to show him disrespect, and by God he wasn’t going to start with this old bitch now.  It just made him more determined than ever to join with her boyfriend in ensuring the bitch’s total devastation.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at her door.  Kate felt odd, as if something were brushing lightly at the upper extremities of her vision, sucking gently at her eyeballs and leaving a faintly swollen feeling behind her brow.  It felt like the cut-rate eye-glasses that some people wore to read; perhaps doing the job, but always promising a dull ache behind the eyes from constantly trying to use the poorly fitted things. 

She managed to get to the door, only to find that it was Booker, blocking out the morning sun from the east-facing room.  Without being invited, he brushed past Kate and sat down in the only chair in her room.  She didn't care if she was rude to this horrible man, but she suddenly felt the need to lie on her bed.

Kate McCullough felt absolutely suffused by warmth.  For some reason, the room had just become much, much hotter in just the last few minutes.  It felt almost as if she was boiling in her skin. 

Christ, it was hot.  Kate flapped the covers, trying to stir the dead air, but it seemed only to draw the heat closer around her.  She suddenly didn't care what Booker thought and didn't care what he saw, she had to get rid of her outer clothes to cool off.  Kate had nothing on now but a bra and panties.  But she was still sweating and hoped that Booker hadn't noticed anything odd about her actions. 

The room seemed to change.  It became suffused with a kind of transcendent brightness.  The clear purity of the light took Kate’s breath away.  It filled her like a presence, sweet and clean, speaking to her in a language of pure beauty. 

Aaaaah, Booker.  She realized for the first time that despite his….scariness……he was also truly......wondrous…..magnificent even!  Additionally, it was truly amazing how well he understood her.  She suddenly realized how incredibly empathetic he was.  She felt a sudden and overwhelming desire, almost as if she had been lifted towards the steaming hot, glorious heights of an unknown ecstasy that somehow promised all the blinding delight ever possible in a world of hidden joy. 

Regardless of their past together, his voice suddenly seemed filled with magic.  It was so……smooth.  Smooth and clear and sensual, it really penetrated the fog, cutting through everything else that seemed so confusing to her today.  His words and voice were just….so…incredibly sexy.  He talked about the differences between men and women.  About what women needed.  What women craved.  What they had to have.  Release.  Protection.  Abandon.  Security.  Wantonness.  Strength.  Penetration.  Love.  Forbidden and pornographic…..

She didn’t know if she could ever describe what it was like, sitting here and hearing his words cut the air towards her.  Caressing her.  Prodding her.  Pushing her towards release and agreement and cooperation.  Now the words were so filthy and his descriptions so graphic.  Nothing she hadn’t heard before, of course.  Every schoolgirl knew the words.  But to hear them used like this, about her, to feel them scything in her direction like this…... 

He talked of ladies and whores.  About the differences.  About the need for ladies to be both.  About what the right man knew to do with his lady behind the bedroom door, to free her from her ladyship, from her courtly demeanor.  To give her the chance to wallow and grovel and glow and love. 

She truly could not understand how such talk could affect her so.  But it had.  She sat there -- perched really, on the edge of the bed, panting, chest heaving….  She felt excited because she just seemed to understand him for the first time.  She seemed to intuitively understand in her bones just exactly what release he talked about, she recognized just what euphoric abandon he meant.  And when he went on and on spinning his pictures and images, she saw her own skin glowing, her own fingers grasping, her own thighs spread wide and receptive and…..and……

For the first time in her memory, as these strange passionate sensations washed over and through and finally out and away, for the first time ever, she felt a true connection to a man.  Certainly, he'd hurt her and had never taken the time to get to know her, really get to know her.  But nonetheless, Kate still felt this incredible bond to him all of a sudden; she was filled with profound empathy now as though she could see right into his soul, and he into hers. 

Kate found herself talking to Booker as she lay on the bed, talking like she had never been able to do with any other man.  A mature woman, she found herself babbling like a schoolgirl!  She told him all about Jimmy, about her fears and confusion as to what his sexual needs really meant.  She'd been afraid the big black man would laugh at her.  But he didn't. 

This beautiful man finally took her hand in his and then very gently ran his perfect fingers down her cheek.  She almost cried at the consoling gesture before she grabbed his hand and held it against her face.  It had been so long since she'd felt this kind of comfort. 

Kate suddenly realized that it had been so long, too, since she'd been this turned on.  Maybe that was why she felt so hot - she was literally burning up with lust.  She couldn't help herself; she badly needed a man to screw her, to fuck her until she couldn’t even walk afterwards, and he was available.  She gazed at him, really looked at him for the first time, mentally stripping away his clothes, his rough habits and terrible profession, until she saw only the hard, beautiful body beneath. 

Kate realized she was dreaming about him while awake.  She couldn't remember what she had wanted to say next and for a moment, she didn't even realize he was talking to her.

"Sorry," he said, "did you say something?"

"I...I...was just saying that...."

"Do you just want to lay there and rest for a while?"

A pathetically grateful smile broke over her face.  "Oh yes.  I think that's where we should be, where we should stay, where I should stay......"  Her face reddened in confusion. 

She tried to stand up and suddenly became uncomfortable aware that the floor wasn't as steady as she would have liked.  Those Bloody Mary’s had been awfully strong.  Her vision seemed almost…smeared…at first and her mouth was uncomfortably dry.  Movement, however small, began to seem like an imposition.  Thought itself turned ponderous with effort.  But within seconds her head had cleared from foggy to the unbearable brightness of sunlight on a knife.  The soupy warmth of the air receded and inhaling became a languid pleasure, like drinking hot rum on a cold night. 

He skipped to her side and took her arm in his.  She couldn't work it out.  She'd only had two drinks and knew she shouldn't be affected like this.  Then she felt his hip against hers and the soft weight of his body against her breast; finally she let a big happy smile cross her face.  She didn't care how drunk she was.  She felt absolutely great. 

Booker led the molten, drooling Kate back to her bed.  She leaned against him and he could smell her hair, her skin.  Booker became suddenly, intensely aware of the curve of her back, her hips.  The image of the drugged woman lying on her bed gave him great pleasure, providing a striking image that aroused him and seemed to merge with the pulsing rhythm of rushing blood that filled the room. 

The woman leaned a little more towards him, bringing her body more in contact with his, the heat of her something that could have singed him.  She turned her head, enough to look him in the eyes, enough to look over her shoulder.  Her eyes burned, and her tongue flickered over her lips.

"This is a bit more comfortable.  Why don't you take it easy?  Sit back down and I'll fix you another drink."

"No," she said as she grabbed his arm.  "Don't worry about a drink.  Stay here with me."  She patted the bed beside her. 

She looked away for a second and when she looked back at him, he knew it had worked.  “Need you,” she whispered.

He sat down and she ran her hand up his thigh.  He only stopped her when she tried to unzip his pants.  "What would the boyfriend say if he knew I hadn’t forced you, that you wanted this?"

“Don’t think,” she replied softly.  “Touch me.”

There was silence for another minute.  "Oh screw Jimmy!" Kate said.  Then she burst out giggling.  "No.  On second thought, you’re here and he’s not!  I'd much rather screw you."

The woman dove at him, pushed him flat on the bed.  He gave a soft laugh of victory and squirmed out from under her.  "If you want me, you've got to do exactly what I say." 

"Anything!" leered Kate.

"Remove your bra and panties."

She obeyed at once.  And the best part, it was all her idea.

From there it was easy for Booker to position her for the bone and magic chocolate show.  Kate lay with her gorgeous legs spread wide for his pleasure.  Booker lowered himself upon her body, pinned her legs apart with his hands and then slowly began to penetrate her with a gentle move of his hips. 

He hadn’t had a woman in four days now, just saving up a full load for this morning.  He felt himself harden even more as she moved erotically beneath him.  Damn, did this old bitch ever want to be fucked!  And he had plenty of time to do it right…and he’d make sure he hurt her while he did it.  At first she was dry and tight, but soon her pussy had begun to lubricate.  Booker looked down at her face, drinking in the look of stunned pleasure, savoring the shocked excitement that had completely replaced all rational thought.  Everything due to the cynical manipulation of her mind by the drugs he'd put in her drink.

His first move was to slowly go to almost his maximum depth; she shuddered once with pleasure, still not realizing that he had not yet completely sheathed himself in her pussy.  After he’d held himself motionless for half a minute, he started to work her.  He took his time and it went on and on, until she was uncontrollable beneath him.  Finally he felt her whole body hold on to him; her arms grabbed him around his back, her legs wrapped around his waist and her tight vagina clamped onto his cock.

The rigid veins on his purple-black cock stood out in stark relief against his dark skin and felt like huge knobs that had been put on this earth for just her pleasure alone.  He was huge!  As wet as she was for him, Kate was afraid she would not be able to be able to adequately respond, not be able to show him how much pleasure he gave her. 

His first slow moves showed his instinctive mastery of her body that he had perfected over the last couple of months; Kate felt helpless beneath him and totally vulnerable.  Her pussy literally physically ached as his massive cock filled and then over-filled the delicate walls of her irritated and swollen vagina; her clit was intensely sensitive, almost super-sensitive to his every movement and her labia and the walls of her vagina screamed their tenderness with every move he made. 

Kate found herself looking at the ceiling over his right shoulder through eyes blurred by tears of pleasure.  Time turned to plastic and stretched for eternity.  It felt so good, so right.  The worst part was that she couldn’t seem to get enough air.  Even without fully penetrating her, his erection still seemed to completely fill her and all she could do was wait for him to do whatever he wanted to her.

With each thrust, Kate knew she had been possessed, truly possessed by a man for the first time in her life.  Then her eyes bulged, open wide in shock as the head of his thick cock seemed to bang against the base of her throat.  She screamed once in pain as it felt like her flesh was being torn, but Kate knew her cry was soft and would never be heard outside the room.  Booker's shaft was buried inside her up to hilt now and it felt as if it was the size of a tree trunk.  Kate finally admitted to herself that even if she could not understand how she could feel this way, she had to confess that it was oh-so welcome.

He now began taking long and slow, deeply satisfying strokes into her body.  With every thrust, his balls slapped against the crack of her ass.  To Booker the moist heat from her cunt felt great; the old bitch felt extraordinarily tight around his cock and he knew each time he thrust into her, he was filling her completely.  She responded to his every thrust with a muffled “Yesss” or “Oh Gawwddd” and to each withdrawal with a soft, heartfelt moan of disappointment. 

To Booker, this was always the best part; to be able to control a beautiful woman like this and to know that he could do anything to her in any way he chose.

Kate's whole world was dreamily centered on the sensations she felt between her firm, sweat covered thighs and in her burning loins.  She shuddered uncontrollably as she tried to breathe and kept losing her breath as he slammed into her again and again and yet again.  His hard erection seemed to be rubbing and pushing and sliding against every organ in her body.  The sensations were totally unlike anything she had ever experienced before; his cock gave her a feeling of fullness, as if her vagina had been expanded far beyond its natural size by his cock and was now pushing against her pelvis from the inside.

He was a machine made of flesh and wouldn’t stop.  Sweat rolled off of him too onto Kate.  Her body, already hot, was now covered with his sweat and it was especially slick on her belly and chest.  His sweat somehow felt thick and smelled musky.  Every now and then he would just stop and lay on her, always ensuring that his cock continued to impale her even as he just gazed into her eyes with his impassive face.  He might be breathing heavily, but that was his only movement. 

It was like a medieval torture when he did this.  His giant organ was buried completely inside her and although it was motionless, it seemed to throb and heat seemed to radiate from it in waves.  It seemed alive; an animal lying in wait, ready to take her by force as it consumed her from the inside over and over again.   During those moments in which neither of them moved, she was physically connected to him only by the rigid bar of his engorged flesh, but it was still enough to ensure control of her body and her every thought.

He then would begin thrusting into her again, keeping her legs spread wide as he randomly changed angles of penetration, first slamming into Kate at a shallow angle to her body.  With each of these incredible thrusts, he did his best to drive her body toward the head of the bed.  Then he would straighten his legs and slide up her stomach and assume a blunter angle to her body, so that each thrust now rubbed against Kate's clitoris. 

He also seemed to trying to drive her directly into the bed now, as if he had to break its springs.  The pressure and friction on her clit from the unending hammering her body took in this position was almost unbearable.  Once he was inside her body and he possessed her in this way, even if her legs had been free to move, she instinctively knew that she could not prevent him from doing whatever he wanted to her.

This was not sex like she’d previously ever had, but God, did she ever want it!  He was like a force of nature.  How could anyone deny a hurricane or a tornado?  There was no fighting this, all one could do was try to survive.  Kate knew she was being totally consumed and she wanted it all.  Finally, Booker groaned softly; Kate sensed he would soon be cumming.

Her vagina was hot and moist and productive.  The woman beneath him was so wet now that it almost seemed as if she was letting down buckets of melted love.  A strong musky smell emanated from between her legs like waves of heat off of a hot country road; nature had specifically designed a woman like this to ensure that men found her irresistible.

Booker had found Kate capable of accepting his full cock from almost the first thrust.  To extend his pleasure, he stopped whenever he felt an orgasm begin to build.  He always tried to maintain control when he was on a job, and he always knew when he’d gone far enough.  He felt a boiling in his loins now, and he knew he was going to cum soon and would be helpless to prevent it.  But he wanted this bitch to feel his ownership more than she ever had before; he needed to plant himself in her so deep that she would never again be touched like this by another man. 

If he’d had her in certain……other positions, Booker knew he’d have had to have been more careful.  But with her flat on her back and her legs spread wide, Booker knew he could finally let himself go, that he could finally give rein to his overpowering animal lust and fuck her as deeply as his heart desired without hurting her too much.  With nothing in his mind except the will to dominate and to subjugate; feeling no tenderness towards her, but rather only the overpowering need to prove his eternal ownership, he pushed off the end of the bed with his feet and tried to get that all important last half-inch deeper into Kate's hot, tight moist hole before he finally lost all control.

So Booker gave her more and he soon knew the time had come.  He could fill her as she lay on her back; make her cry out for mercy, the mercy that he didn’t feel for her or any other woman.  But now he had a goal -- he needed to be able to go deeper inside Kate's body, much, much deeper.  And to do this, he needed to position her so that when she came, and it was inconceivable that she would not cum for him this time, she would receive his gift of total sexual supremacy.  For this, he needed her posed in exactly the right way to ensure that he took away the last vestiges of her freedom, of her ability to think for herself. 

The black man's next move was to raise himself off of Kate's chest and hook his hands behind her knees.  As he raised his upper body off the woman, he brought her legs up around and pulled them into his chest so that they were now locked straight against him and could not be moved.  The back of her heels were now pinned up on his shoulders, but at the same time, he leaned forward onto Kate and kept his weight on her hips as he pushed her straightened legs back towards her chest.  Still remarkably flexible for a woman her age, she was none the less pinned under him like a helpless doe. 

The act of locking her legs, then pushing them onto her and raising her hips into the air even as he kept her impaled, allowed him to physically penetrate her pussy to the very tip of her femininity and even further if he desired --- the great blunt purple/black head of his steel hard penis now rested at the very uppermost tip of her vagina and pushed hard against her cervix.  It was a position he’d perfected on numerous bitches in the past and he was faultless this time too. 

Kate knew she was powerless, but she enjoyed her guilty helplessness beneath him because it felt oh-so gooood.  He grimly continued to drive into her, relentlessly working the inside of her body until she was finally reacting powerlessly to his unending and unforgiving patience.  Then he lifted her legs against his chest and bore down even more on her hips, penetrating her deeper than any man had ever before.  Even so, Kate was still thankful that he always knew exactly how deep to penetrate before he caused her too much pain.  In this, he gave her great satisfaction, but not the anguish that she feared from his moves; Kate was totally dependent upon his humanity and loved how good it felt to give herself emotionally to another. 

At the end, he had been hammering into Kate as if he wanted to kill her, like some maniacal torturer; then suddenly the intense feeling of pain/pleasure was completed like an electric circuit from her cervix to her clitoris, from the tips of Kate's toes to the top of her head.  Her cries of overwhelming delight seemed to quicken Booker though and he gave a final lunge that almost cleaved her in half.  Kate gave one final wail of anguish and of satisfaction in return, and then it was over.

When he finally allowed Kate to cum this time, it was real, oh God, was it ever real. 

Kate suddenly endured the first of a truly wondrous series of orgasms.  Off in the foggy distance of her intense sexual pleasure, she felt him lift his body while keeping her hips pinned and her vagina fully penetrated; frustratingly, the weight of his body prevented her from arching her hips as she so loved to do.  Still in her own world, Kate watched Booker's face as he held himself up by his left hand while his right hand slowly explored her flat belly, pressing hard as he felt her abdominal muscles contract and release with each orgasm. 

The walls of her vagina were clamped around his great penis in way that let him know exactly how wonderful was her pleasure.  And at that exact moment of orgasm, as has occurred in women throughout time, her cervix began to spasm, preparing to unfold and receive even more deeply her lover's sperm; to open and take it and suck it profoundly deeper into her womb, to ensure that her fertility kept the species alive.

Shooting A Full Load Deep In Louisiana or Nubian Eggs Buried Just Right

This was the moment, the payoff of many weeks of planning. 

This old bitch would never have cum on her own, no matter how many times he fucked her in her own home.  She'd allowed him sex when she couldn't stop him, but she never got any real pleasure out of taking his cock.  But all he had to do was get her to cum on her own just once now and her ass would belong to him for good.  Or for at least long enough to earn the boyfriend’s cash bonus for "boning" her.  Some “boyfriend”.

Booker kept his cock fully buried in Kate, pushing at the end until there was left only that final physical resistance over which even she had no control---he could literally go no deeper into her.  But with Kate in this unfolded and terribly vulnerable position, he maintained his discipline and still had shaft yet to spare; there was an iron-fleshed masculine tool poised and ready, eagerly waiting to reassert its mastery over its current victim. 

The man that had raped Kate repeatedly lay on her now and watched her more than willing face; praying he could hold himself back long enough.  He calculated her body’s reactions, patiently waiting for exactly the right moment, for the exact perfect moment in which he could ensure that this one too would become his willing slave forever.  He waited and waited as she continued to cum beneath him; and as he waited for exactly the right instant at the height of her orgasm, he knew it was as if she were begging him to be the one to finally master her, totally and completely. 

Inevitably, her moment of total physical subjugation had arrived.  As her cervix convulsed and finally opened to receive his gift of life, he felt that quick, momentary release of the barrier that had resisted him inside her body; and with one practiced move of his hips he plunged the head of his brutish black cock almost another half-inch into her body, directly into the opening of her lower cervix.  He pushed himself in and pinned her, piercing her at an unimaginable depth as he had so many women before her. 

Taken unaware and powerless to have ever stopped him in the first place, Kate's legs had been paralyzed by his last move even as the walls of her vagina convulsed again and again, involuntarily fighting the brutal penetration that had already taken place. 

When you suck on a large piece of ice, the cold invades your jaws and goes straight to the bone.  It paralyzes with sudden pain. 

It was that way with Booker. 

Her body momentarily slack and unresponsive, Kate's face initially showed an odd look that somewhat resembled great surprise or perhaps even horror as she lay immobilized beneath Booker's thickly muscled hips.  Wildly successful in his maneuver to penetrate her vagina, he now shrugged his shoulders almost contemptuously and allowed her legs to fall slowly, nervelessly away from his chest.  Kate’s nylons made a whispery sound as her legs slid slickly along his shoulders before finally dropping away from him and flopping to the bed. 

Lying frozen on the mattress now, each of her legs landed spread brutally far apart, the insides of her ankles and her knees and her thighs lay totally open, completely exposed to the ceiling---this woman could be no more uncovered or sexually defenseless if she’d tried.  But Kate had no thoughts as to her vulnerability---at this moment there were almost no thoughts in her mind at all. 

To ensure that he retained mastery of her femininity, as he allowed her legs to fall to the mattress, he leaned even further into her crotch to maintain his incredible penetration inside her body.  The black man smirked to himself; she was fully pierced and she was his, and the dumbass white bitch would remain exactly that way for as long he wanted. 

With his every inch locked tightly within her wildly pulsating vagina like the most perfectly fitting glove made of the most expensive velvet, Booker could feel his own loins seething and bubbling with the long restrained cum locked within and he now moved to ensure that he kept her sexually subservient as he prepared to give her what might be his final delivery.

He loved that he could do this to women and truly appreciated that the old bitch had been worth some real money to him on the way.  Surprisingly, she'd become important to him in some odd, poorly understood way…  But mostly, he was just pleased to know that even as old as she was, as classy as she pretended to be, in reality she wasn’t any different from the rest of his whores.  He looked down on the woman he’d just subjugated sexually and impersonally watched the way that Kate's body reacted without conscious thought to being "boned," just as he'd watched so many other women react to the same move before her.  Under his breath, he softly muttered, “Got you, bitch.  NOW you’re mine.”

But the physical moment overcame any remaining ability to think; the pure physical pleasure of what he had done, the psychological and emotional pleasure he experienced while controlling this woman’s fate…it all came together in a whirl that was so exhilarating that he could not control himself, and he began to cum inside her within only a few seconds.

At first Kate lay frozen: it was as if her body had been anesthetized and she had been left immobile and helpless beneath him.  And while her eyes were wide open and almost bugged out as she faced the ceiling, she still couldn’t blink—but that was okay for she saw nothing right at that moment anyway.  Then her mouth opened into a perfect ‘oh’ shape as she sharply inhaled until her lungs could hold no more. 

Ever larger beads of sweat magically appeared on her upper lip and on her face as her head slowly, mindlessly, began to turn from side to side.  Even as her head continued its reasonless turning from left to right and then back again, she never once blinked her bulging eyes.  At the same time, she lay with her limbs splayed out in ugly helplessness, her arms and legs extended and frozen into crooked immobility.  Nothing moved, not her legs nor her arms, not her fingers nor her toes. 

As she lay beneath Booker, it was as if the breathe of life in her body had been stolen, momentarily taken by some emotional or spiritual thief.  Her blood felt like it had turned into icy-grey sludge, as if her veins and arteries had been inexorably filled with a mass of stationary glacial ice in a matter of nanoseconds.  For, following that single moment of relentlessly perfect penetration, she had literally been overcome with the primal sensations of sexual domination and subjugation by an Alpha Male. 

No conscious thoughts came to Kate at that moment, but in the animal part, that deepest part of the lizard brain that controlled the most primitive reactions of the body, she somehow knew that this terrible man, this wonderful man, could go no deeper inside her.  He OWNED her with this one, single move. 

He had been painfully pushing at the tip of her womb and then somehow, unbelievably, he’d managed to invade ever so much deeper inside the most sexually intimate part of her body in one incredible moment of shock and pain.  In fact, because of that final thrust, he was so deep now that she literally didn’t feel that she could move, for he had temporarily paralyzed her.  All she could do was lay beneath him and somehow hope to survive the finale of the massive fucking he was still in the process of giving her.

A woman’s cervix is a small, complex and easily wounded part of her vagina; its opening much smaller than its length.  When her cervix had prepared to open and receive his semen upon her orgasm, the opening was still quite small compared to the tip of his engorged cock.  While the female organ was never meant to be used in this brutish way, Booker neither knew this nor would have cared if he had, for his job was still unfinished. 

But the one thing he did know is that flesh stretches and the spirit endures.  And by forcing himself into her like this, by doing what he had done to her like he had to so many other helpless women before her was an act of absolute sexual savagery.  But for his and Jimmy's purposes, it worked.

Still In Louisiana, Kate Didn’t Know What To think or She’d Just Been Impregnated Without Choice

Her mind slowly began to function again.  He had thrust a telephone pole inside Kate as far as it would go, and then it seemed, he had been able at the end to somehow push it a foot or two even deeper.  She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe.  It was as if she were a terrified rabbit, hiding from a hawk circling overhead.  There was literally nothing she could about her body.  Instead, there was only the blinding, freezing, immobilizing, all-consuming pain that began in her loins and which spread crashing throughout her body like a tidal wave.  The only sound she heard was that of rushing blood in her ears.

Then he began to cum and huge great waves of nuclear fire began to blossom inside Kate's loins as Booker began to inject his semen into her deeper than any man before him.  Sudden tears filled her eyes and blinded her even as these sensations continued to fill her body; Kate knew she could go no lower…but she could go no higher either. 

Without conscious thought, Kate suddenly realized that her arms had wrapped around his neck of their own volition and she found herself desperately squeezing him to her, holding on to him for dear life.  Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.  For the first time in her life, she knew she actually belonged to another person; she actually needed to belong to this man.  And this feeling, this wonderful feeling of truly belonging to another suddenly overwhelmed her. 

Kate hung on to her lover for dear life for the intensity of his ejaculations were that profound.  She could actually feel him, literally feel his manhood throb each time he ejaculated; Booker came in gushing, cutting jets of semen that seemed to travel almost to the tip of her womb, resulting in a series of impossible to describe sensations so intense she almost passed out a second time.  She could tell when each new spurt occurred because of the sudden lava-like explosion of heat each left burning inside her welcoming vagina. 

He came in torrents, leaving his scalding hot fluid buried incredibly deep inside her belly, drenching her insides.  Each spurt of his semen caused a scalding pain/pleasure throb that seemed to go on forever.  Finally, he was finished with her for the moment and he lay motionless upon Kate, catching his breath. 

This was what it meant to ‘stick’ or 'bone' one of his bitches.  To the woman, the pain must seem excruciating at first.  It must feel as if a titan had taken her pussy and had somehow erotically pinned both her body and every conceivable emotion she might feel against a cosmic tally board, like she were some prime piece of exotic meat.  He’d asked some of them what happened, what they felt at this moment, but none could really explain.

He himself had no real idea of what it must feel like, of what the female must be experiencing at that exact moment of sexual subjugation; but it had happened like this every time he’d done it to one of his women.  But the one thing of which he was absolutely sure was how it would end, of how it always ended; and he knew he’d just successfully done to Kate what he’d done to so many other women before her. 

He thought of his string of whores; how he had over time turned even the fighters into willing sex slaves, and how, like the woman that lay motionless beneath him now, they’d all at first assumed positions of frozen rigor upon his monumental penetration of their womb.  And as their flesh had eventually thawed from his brutal final thrusting desires and when the pain had finally receded from inside, each one had screamed her desire for him and her undying love.

He knew too what it did to all of them subsequently, how they all had always reacted after being stuck.  How, in conjunction with the drugs and coming at the end of everything else he’d put them through, it changed them, seemingly forever.  Every one of them had wound up being totally enslaved mentally, emotionally and physically after he’d manipulated them this way.  He slowly relaxed on Kate's body as a feeling of satisfaction came over him.  His giant erection withdrew slightly from the territory it had conquered, but there was no doubt who was still king here.

Kate lay as if stunned beneath Booker; she felt herself controlled, as if she were an insect nailed with her arms and legs spread wide to a piece of felt in some sexual giant's erotic collection.  She couldn’t move---she didn’t dare move because if she did, Kate just knew that she would surely die and fall into two separate pieces, her body broken in half at the waist.  As she laid there helpless, one tiny part of her tried to analyze what she felt, tried recognize and confirm the feelings now ricocheting around her lungs and her abdomen, into her arms and her legs…..but she couldn’t.  All Kate could do was endure.

She later found out that Booker routinely did this to the whore's he kept.  After about forty-five seconds---or forty-five years---the pain had washed throughout Kate's body from the groin out and had finally crashed back to where it began, as if it had reached barriers somewhere that wouldn’t allow it to depart her body.  As the ripples and waves of returning pain met once more at her groin, the source of all her anguish, it seemed they began to cancel each other out and Kate sensed that her agony was finally beginning to decrease a little---or perhaps she was getting used to the pain. 

Nonetheless, with this realization, she felt some small bit of life begin to return to her body again as she lay under his masterful hips.  Probably, as with all of the others before her, the ability to feel and move returned slowly, beginning with her eyes and fingers and arms, eventually spreading to her toes and feet, and finally her trunk, the core of her being. 

Kate felt her eyelids flutter once.  Then her eyelids fluttered again, and finally she was able to blink.  Kate had always been aware of the full weight of Booker's body on hers, but her vision had failed momentarily.  She now could begin to move a little beneath him; and then she could move even more as her body came back to life.  Finally Kate was able to exhale a little to make a small sound, but all she could do was say, “Oooooooooooh Ggggoddddddd!” as she breathed out the used air that had built up in her lungs. 

The blinding, paralyzing pain between Kate's legs and inside her groin continued to slowly recede and she was finally able to move a little more.  It was then that she felt the heat begin once more in her loins as a small gentle blaze, which within seconds had exploded into an out-of-control wildfire.  All Kate could do was cry out a second time was “Oooooooooooh mmmyyyy Goddddddd!”  She couldn’t control herself.  It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced---her arms and legs felt as if they’d been thawed and were free to move now, and they moved with greedy enthusiasm around and over and under Booker. 

But Kate's hips were still frozen in place by the steel-like bar of his flesh that he had buried so impossibly deep inside her belly.  The sheet beneath Kate was wrinkled and drenched with her sweat, and as he moved on her, it kept her in touch with the more normal sensations of her skin and her body.  Finally, the fire in Kate's loins had thawed the black ice in her frozen belly to the point where she could begin to move again despite the ache his firmly buried cock still caused. 

Once she started to move again in response to his invading presence, she knew there was no way she could stop herself; there was no way that she WANTED to stop herself.  Kate knew she’d finally become for Booker exactly that which she'd sworn she would never be for ANY man. 

She hurt from what he had just done to her.  Yet impossibly, Kate heard herself begging the black man for more of his cock, for yet deeper and more profound penetrations of her aching pussy by him.  And even though Kate knew he would hurt her even more by doing this to her, she found herself, at least for that single moment, grabbing him and pulling on Booker to get him closer to her, to get him deeper inside her.  There were no limits to the slut/whore/cuntdom that she wouldn’t admit to, just get what she needed from her lover at that moment.

This white cunt was an elegant bitch, and in his experience, money and power and fear made the world go ‘round.  But he was always scrambling to get ahead, pushing to make the process look smooth, natural.  One thing though, he knew women, knew what made them tick and the noises they made, what caused the squeals of delight, the squawks of lust, the base grunts of satisfied desire.  This one had been an impudent bitch at first, looking at every man as if she immediately knew his life story. 

Now, she was nothing more than another one of his whores.  But goddammm, she was still an elegant whore.

After about a minute or so, again, like all the others before her, the old bitch was finally able to claim everything he had to give her.  Sweat was pouring off her now just like all of his previous conquests; and like the others too, she was making frenzied claims on every part of his body.  He gave her what she demanded, but still always watched from afar within his mind as she approached, achieved and finally zoomed past a second, impossibly higher and even more intense series of orgasms.  He lay upon her sweaty belly and watched almost impassively as her arms and legs were thrust akimbo, moving in an almost mindless fashion, a mindless marionette reacting to his unfathomably deep presence inside her still lush body. 

The old cunt screamed and cried; she clawed at his shoulders, back and buttocks.  Her strong legs intertwined with his and then untwined to wrap around his waist again.  But this time, in the throes of a true mindless passion, she squeezed until he found it hard to breathe.  He was making long, smooth, slamming thrusts deep into her flat belly now, not trying to keep anything from her or himself, not caring if he hurt her or not.  His cock now was wet to the hilt with her juices as he ensured time after time that she enjoyed; no, that she was punished with every inch that he had to give her.  Kate was throwing her head back and forth in a manic frenzy of physical desire, babbling her love and her lust for him. 

He kept pushing into her and she kept pushing him higher and higher, begging for more and more, when suddenly he began to cum once more. And as he ejaculated a second time, it seemed that she had been filled to the top with his scalding hot semen as he came and came and came.  And as he was cumming this time, her desire seemed to reach a final crescendo which lasted about thirty seconds and then she collapsed beneath him.  She was drenched in her own sweat, sucking great heaving lungfulls of air, even as he was calm and controlled above her.

Booker was satisfied with today’s performance.  He had fucked the old woman like a machine; finally hammering Kate's early whimpers wide open into muffled screams of joy.  And he was happy, no…actually more than happy.  For when he had finally cum inside her cervix this last time, he had reason to rejoice doubly, for his ears rang with his own name ripped for the first time whole and dripping from her previously reluctant throat.

Finally, Kate had gotten what she had never before known she needed from Booker.  And then, in a sudden flood of indescribable pleasure, it was over.  Kate held him, her dark hair wild, breathing hard, her limbs around his, contracting and relaxing in slowing spasms. 

After a moment he rolled off her and she lay there beside him, breathing heavily.  They embraced for what seemed a long time, and yet it was all too soon when he quickly kissed her and then pulled away.  Only then did Kate realize she still didn’t understand what had just happened.  She covered her confusion by turning away for a moment.  As she did so, she realized she could not even remember what had led to their sudden embrace….they had just come together like magnets, actually, it’d been like super-magnets. 

She was still breathing hard, huffing and puffing.  She was a sweaty mess and when she tried to speak, all she could do was gasp and stutter and stammer.  Kate stopped in confusion, she’d never felt like this before.  Kate shivered slightly as she felt the sweat on her chest begin to dry.  She looked at him and tried again.  “Th...that was...that was....I...I...I've ne….ne….never…..”  Then she felt herself unexpectedly break down and begin crying.  Great sobs escaped…..she was overcome with emotion.

Her mind was flying a million miles a minute---it felt like her head was wrapped in cotton, but she felt so good right now at the same time, almost effervescent.  But she was so incredibly emotional too.  She tingled all over her body and felt a general, wonderful sense of wellbeing even as she continued sobbing for happy.  A gentle feeling of warmth seemed to be suffusing into every aching muscle and joint and Kate was experiencing an almost religiously profound feeling of pleasure and happiness.  She stretched luxuriously and turned to look at Booker with adoration on her tear-stained face.  "I've never, it’s NEVER felt like that before."  Then she hiccupped, trying to talk and catch her breath at the same time.”  She turned to the ceiling and concentrated on stopping the tears. 

No longer crying, Kate laid beside Booker, both still drenched in sweat, their chests still heaving.  Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but finally he turned on his side and just looked at her.  Her mind felt covered in cotton as she looked back at him and smiled; after a moment of drifting with no thought, she said, “What?”

Impulsively, Kate reached out to touch him, but he pulled back.  He didn’t say anything, but his look said Don’t. 

She had always before hated him, dreaded what he was capable of, feared what he could do to another person without feeling the slightest emotion like pity or mercy.  But now, amazingly, there was nothing she would not do to please him, so she pulled her hand back and instead stared blankly at the ceiling.  Inside, she felt only confusion.  Finally, Kate had to ask herself at what point does the prisoner cease to be a prisoner, and instead join ranks with those who imprisoned her?  What had she done?  What could she have done instead? 

There was no easy answer. 

Suddenly, she got up off the bed but somehow it didn't seem right to be standing, so she got back on her knees by his side.  Booker noticed this and nodded his immediate understanding.  Kate threw herself at his feet and begged, "Please, please, don't go away!   Stay here with me; let me stay here with you.  I'll do anything, anything you want." 

Booker knew the drugs he’d given her; he was aware of what they would temporarily do to a woman like Kate, but he asked her anyway, "What will you do for me voluntarily that I haven't already taken from you by force?  What are you willing to offer me now?" 

To Kate, they were good questions.  Questions to which answers came far too easily.

She had never felt this way for any man…..she couldn’t help herself.  Kate replied, looking into his eyes to show her sincerity, "I'll do anything.  You can have anything I own.  Beat me, do anything to me.  I just don’t care.  But stay with me, that’s all I ask!”

He replied with a superior smile, “I could have beaten you today instead of fucking you.  There’s nothing you could have done either way.  And you know I don’t need your money."

She felt crest-fallen, despondent; amazed that they’d fallen back into the old relationship, chastened that he could not accept her sincerity.  Finally, Kate began to cry again, somehow knowing in her befuddled state she had nothing left to offer this man.  The impasse of silence continued between the two lovers for more several minutes until it began to get uncomfortable for Kate once more.  Finally, she closed her eyes in drugged exhaustion and dozed for what must have been at least an hour.  He was gone when she awoke next. 

Still drugged, Kate didn’t want to wake.  Her mind was blank of memories, but it somehow was still dimly aware that her new reality would be bright and cold and painful.  She fought to stay in sleep’s cocoon for as long as she could, forever if possible.  Forever wouldn’t be so bad, to spend her life in a coma’s warm oblivion.  It sounded better than waking and facing the world.  The world was so much bigger and crueler than she was. 

But her body’s demands for attention seeped into consciousness like blood into water.  It was hours later and she was a little cold.  Her head hurt.  Her vagina ached.  Her stomach was queasy.  She badly needed to urinate.  The whole world seemed to be moving in a strange way, rocking sluggishly from side to side, like a slow, continuous earthquake.  The body could not deal with these sensations by itself any longer.  Attention must be paid. 

She groped clumsily around without opening her eyes; nothing.  Her eyes opened and immediately shut again.  The incandescent power of the light in the room seemed to approach that of the sun.  In the single eye-blink of vision, Kate recognized her room, but still had to fight to recall what had happened in it.  Her head hurt a lot, she knew this abstractly, but there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between her and her nervous system and her memories; she was aware but also felt not awake at the same time.

Kate tried to remember how much she’d had to drink, how she had gotten here, tried to remember the last thing that happened to her, but the door into that memory would not open.  Kate cast about for any recollection at all.  Jagged, unconnected kaleidoscopic images flicker through her mind.  Her dead husband, her son…..Jimmy.  This last is what seemed to finally partially open the lock on her memory. 

Her eyes snapped open and Kate pulled in a deep breath.  As dimly remembered scenes flooded her awareness, Kate moaned and said a little prayer she hadn’t used in months. 

Kate prayed they were just dreams, just barely remembered dreams that would soon be gone.  She loved Jimmy more than ever, but blushed as she thought of Booker again, knowing instinctively that in her dreams she had been nothing but a creature of his will; his pleasure slut…truly his willing….whore. 

She thought of everything she hated about him and the way that he kept women enslaved.  No matter what he’d done to her, made her do for him, she’d always tried to maintain her dignity, her integrity of self while around him.  She instinctively knew that taking that one thing from her had always been his goal.  But now she couldn’t even say she had denied him that in her dreams. 

Now, in that same way, if even half of what Kate still felt she had dreamed was actually true, he would feel that he owned her too, owned every inch of her flesh and every hole in her body.  And worse, this time everything had taken been with what now seemed like her willing cooperation.  In this inexplicable dream-like state, she had been willing to do anything the black man had desired just to bring the smallest pleasure to his day.  Worst of all, there was still a small part of her that felt compelled to go back to Booker again.  She truly loved Jimmy, but couldn’t deny that there was the smallest part of her that wanted nothing more right now than to repeat the last few hours with Booker……at least one more time.

Eyes filled with tears, she asked herself plaintively, “What happens to me now?”

Hours later, Kate had finally awoken from what was a most unexpected nap, but she was still filled with a great lassitude, a blissfully warm stupor that had finally ushered dreams of Booker into rightful oblivion.  She could not know this, but the unknown drugs were finally wearing off and she finally felt like a part of what was going on rather than a spectator in a body that belonged to someone else.  Her limbs reacted to her commands again and even though she hurt so much between her legs that she could barely walk, she was able to fumble her way to the bathroom to get a drink out of the faucet. 

Later that evening, Kate could tell that she’d been well-fucked by Booker, but she also felt exactly like she coming down from a hangover too.  Headache, furry tongue, malaise, waves of nausea when she thought of eating; all easily dulled by liberal amounts of codeine-fortified Tylenol.  Kate feared she’d been exposed to summer flu; the thought never occurred to her that she had perhaps been drugged by Booker.

Meanwhile, Back In Boston, The TV Woman Existed Only To Please Him or The Pain Was Only Meant To Engage Her Interest

Jamie remembered lying on the mattress last night, trembling, going from cold to hot and back again, staring at the walls in a complete state of shock.  She was married, her husband traveled a lot, and they had come to some basic agreements about their relationship, agreements that allowed her a certain amount of ‘flexibility”..  But she had never dreamed she could be kidnapped in Boston, be tortured and then used as a sex object.  She began to sob softly again; her kidnapper was a terrible maniac and she was so afraid. 

Jamie didn’t know how or when, but she must have fallen asleep because she suddenly awoke, sensing a presence standing next to her.  Startled, she looked up and saw him standing over her again.  She was too frightened at first to move.  His terrible, icy silent presence enveloped her; she felt its breath go right through her, course through her body like a thick, invisible mist.  Suddenly shivering in fear, Jamie felt totally alone, so vulnerable that she became dizzy.  Before her, a bottomless pit was opening, her body, her veins were freezing.  She wanted to die.  But she couldn’t help herself and instead began to cry uncontrollably as she tried to cower in the corner. 

His voice filled with disgust, he gave her one chance to void her bladder and bowels “…before they began.”  Fearful of what it meant, of what he might have planned, she painfully scrambled to her feet and moved stiffly to the toilet.  He gave her five minutes, just enough time.

When she came back, he threw her roughly on the mattress.  Suddenly, he was on the bed, his knees straddling her body, pinning her.  This is how it began, and it was a horrible day, a terrible day filled with rape and torture. 

And Jamie was helpless against him and his desires. 

Fourteen hours later, finally satisfied after a day filled with giving her pain, the awful man lowered his hooded head one more time to look Jamie in the eyes.  He’d hurt her more than any other person had and she was so frightened.  At any other time, Jamie would have laughed at a man dressed like him, but not now.  His look was fearsome, the look of a man that controlled her life, and he had already proved that multiple times.  After threatening her to cooperate, he left and then returned with a bowl of soup. 

That alone was her dinner. 

Jamie was in shock.  She felt helpless, her life totally out of her control.  Once he left, Jamie rested for a moment before beginning the struggle to remove the hated outfit he’d forced her wear while being tortured.  She hurt everywhere, and all she wanted to do was cradle the parts of her body that he had abused.  But she couldn’t; somehow, she knew she had to obey him in everything he demanded. 

Her arms didn’t want to work and the rubber she wore at his demand fought her every inch of the way, but she finally succeeded in getting the hated suit off her body.  She immediately covered herself with the bedding and cried for another minute before wiping her eyes and runny nose on it.  The soup smelled good; she ate the soup as ordered and wished for more.  After lying back to rest for a moment, she rose to her feet with a groan and staggered to the shower. 

On the way there, she stopped and looked at herself in the shiny steel mirror hung above the wash sink.  She looked like hell.  Her eyes were red and she had the beginnings of dark circles under them.  She turned her side to the mirror and looked at her ass.  The bruises were still red but had begun to fade a little….they’d mostly be gone in another two days.  But thousands of minute ticks of dried blood and tiny red spots highlighted where he’d tortured her by lightly puncturing her skin during the day. 

She stood under the lukewarm spray and washed her mouth out first.  Next she washed her hair.  Finally, Jamie soaped and cleaned her body.  After a moment’s hesitation, she reluctantly picked up the disposable razor and shaved between her legs. 

Extremely drowsy by this time, Jamie could barely keep her eyes open.  She wobbled back to bed and was unconscious in less than five minutes. 

An hour later, she was out like a light, breathing heavily but steadily.  I looked down at the stupid bitch with a smile that would have made her shiver if she’d been awake.  I’d begun planning for this particular moment months ago by taking a short course in cosmetic body piercing. 

After I sterilized the equipment, I pierced the outside of both of Jamie’s nostrils and planted silver studs in each hole.  Then I pierced her center cartilage and filled it with a small ring.  I moved down to her breasts and when finished there, I slid the opened ends of what looked like hoop earrings through the holes I had made there, and voila, locked rings now hung from each of Jamie’s proudly erect nipples.  Finally, I hung carefully measured chains from her piercings in very specific ways and I was finished for the night.  It would be interesting to see her reactions tomorrow.

Must’ve Been A Touch Of The Flu In Louisiana or It Was The Ultimate Exercise In Power

Kate opened her eyes in shadow, goaded by a nagging shapeless urgency felt through a warm woolen veil of sleep.  She blinked.  Her eyelids were extremely heavy - impossibly heavy – she closed them again.  She jolted awake once more; her entire body jarred with adrenaline, and now she took in more of what her senses told her: the rough grain of the sheets beneath her, the smell of heat and mildew in the air, the sound of cars and a distant television.  She reached out with her right hand and touched the sheet.  Her mouth was parched.  Her temples throbbed. 

Kate could barely walk when she finally forced herself into the bathroom.  She prayed that it had been a dream even as she felt a certain distant pleasure that he had not killed her with sex.  She could not believe what she might have allowed Booker to do to her, what they might have done together.  Her dismay was almost physical; suddenly she felt a touch of nausea at the thought of having been with him willingly, voluntarily.  She shook her head as she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth….it was like there was something in the water down here that had made her go crazy yesterday. 

Never again, she swore to herself.  NEVER AGAIN!!

She took her time dressing and put on a little makeup.  She walked out to her rental to drive to breakfast, and groaned at the ache between her legs.  He was a certifiable rapist, a real bastard.  It probably had happened, but what a night! 

Never again, Kate grimly reassured herself.

Booker lay in bed with his hands behind his head.  He smiled broadly as he thought of the woman he had fucked so hard and thoroughly yesterday.  Drugs just made everything so much easier.  He’d take another couple of days off, let her come back from her paranoia while he built up another reservoir of magic chocolate again, and then he’d give it to her one more time for good measure just before he left for Boston.  No need to waste any of the drugs he’d been given.  Besides, she really was a fantastic piece of ass when she didn’t know what she was doing.

Boston Television Doesn’t Breed Particularly Sophisticated Women or Even When Scared She Still Gave Him a Slow Happy

Jamie awakened and softly whimpered in fright before she remembered where she was.  She wasn’t sure what had awakened her, but she knew something was different.  Jamie was lying curled on her side and had to go to the bathroom, but as soon as she attempted to stand she cried out in pain and grabbed her breasts.  She peered in the soft darkness, then her eyes widened in horror as she saw the chains attached to her aching nipples and running around her neck.  She desperately felt around for a catch in back of her neck to remove the chain but there was none.  She struggled to the bathroom and sat with her head bowed down between her knees, but she still couldn’t get the chain from around her neck without ripping off her nipples. 

That’s where he found her.

The dumb bitch was sitting on the pot and had finally figured out she was wearing a new chain, but I wasn’t sure if she yet realized that she sported more piercings now in other places too.  Without saying a word I motioned with one finger, come here.  The young woman gave me a frightened deer-in-the-headlights look but immediately obeyed.  I removed the chain from around Jamie’s neck and gave her time for a tiny meal and to brush her teeth before I made her put on eye makeup.  Then it was time to put her in another rubber suit with the high heeled boots.  Scared and obedient now; this time I didn’t have to use force to make her obey and I didn’t make her wear a punishment hood. 

She wore rubber again all day long, and while she didn’t fight me, she also was not totally cooperative either.  I spanked her ass some more, hard, and then left her posed on a couple of full-sized toys for a few hours.  She cried and sweated and I fucked her afterwards like before.  We both were exhausted at the end of the day….. 

But perhaps I enjoyed it a little more than did she? 

That day and the following passed slowly, and I enjoyed the TV blond at my leisure. 

Kate was finally beginning to enjoying herself, but she was running out of places to go.  She just didn’t think she was cut out to be a lone tourist.  Oh well, the last couple of days had been peaceful and at least Booker hadn’t come sniffing around.  She just wanted to stay away from him.

Jamie tried not to think about what he’d done to her at the end of yesterday, it was too painful.  The memories gave her a sharp chest pain, as if she had a fractured rib digging into her lungs.  It was such a physical pain that she could almost vocalize it. 

The captive television hostess felt the terrible inevitability of her situation.  It was as if the monstrous kidnapper had felt the need to prove again and again that she was only flesh and blood, that she was good only for feeling the pain and humiliation he demanded she feel, and that he owned her sexually, even if only temporarily.  Intellectually, she knew all the reasons why this should not be happening to her, but all rules and civilized prohibitions suddenly seemed faded and remote, as dead as the autumn leaves. 

He walked briskly into the room.  He exuded energy and anticipation, and suddenly, it started all over again. 

What he did to her next, he did for days on end. 

He’d been here five days and Booker suddenly realized that tomorrow was his last day in Louisiana, the day on which he was supposed to bang the old bitch one more time like a cheap drum.  He’d leave and she’d stay another couple of days to recover from his fucking her.  After that, he probably wouldn’t ever see her again.  It’d been fun, but the job was almost finished.  Once it had been confirmed that she was knocked up, he’d get the remainder of his bonus. 

Taking The Louisiana Niggar-Bone One Last Time or Black Bone In The Back Hole

I was pleased with the storybook ending I had devised for Jamie a couple of days from now.  It was early evening and I was in my loft reviewing the daily’s of the two love birds my detective was sending up from New Orleans.  I was watching videos of Booker’s last day in New Orleans.  I had watched earlier videos of Kate and him in my spare time away from Jamie, as they walked together in the French Quarter early in the evening.  That pleased me. 

But I was looking forward to seeing this one since things seemed to be going well for DaShawn.  He’d already banged her good once.  Then he’d left her alone in order for his nuts to recover a little, but in this video they were outside her room now.  You couldn’t necessarily say that she was enjoying his company, but at least she wasn’t trying to fight him either.  It appeared that he’d drugged her early in the morning, fucked her good, then he’d let her recover for most of the day before making her go out with him in the evening.  I knew her mind still had to be fuzzy from the drugs, but at least she was up and moving around. 

From the video, it appeared that she was tolerating his company as they stopped at window displays; Kate even seemed at times to be pointing out various items for sale.  It had been rough when they'd first met and I knew she still didn’t trust him at all.  And she obeyed certainly him in bed, even if not willingly. 

As for DaShawn, he was just doing what he'd been paid to do, fuck her silly early on and then try to make her feel somehow more comfortable with him, attempt to develop a relationship with Kate that would allow him inside her naturally skeptical defenses.  I had to laugh.  It was an impossible task, especially for one such as him.  The man was basically a street thug, certainly not the hand holding type, especially not with a woman he was serially raping, a woman that was fifteen years older than him.

Ever on the lookout for additional ways to put pressure on Kate, it appeared obvious that Booker had picked her outfit.  Kate was dressed rather inappropriately for her age, wearing a short denim skirt and blue cross-strap sandals with five-inch stiletto heels.  But even without stockings, I was still struck by the beauty of her legs even though there appeared to be rug burns on her knees.  Her high, tight ass perfectly filled the rear of the mini-skirt and her unconfined breasts bobbed and swayed under a low-cut, white peasant blouse as she walked. 

I watched passers-by turn to look as the striking couple walked on, seemingly oblivious to the stares and clucks: the women glaring at Kate with disapproving looks and the men with quickly hidden lust. 

Suddenly, I looked closer.  There was something familiar about that walk.  Normally, Kate walked as if holding a softball between her knees after I’d backdoored her, but now the woman walked stiffly and her legs were bowed so much that it looked like she was trying to fit a basketball between her legs. 

Amazed, but with a smile of anticipation on my face, I returned to the CD I'd almost ignored and fast-forwarded through hours of material in minutes.  If I hadn't have been looking for it, I wouldn't have seen the hour and a half of gold that was interspersed between the hours of inactivity in their room.  I'd finally found one of the scenes that absolutely had to be posted on Kate's website. 

It was obvious that Booker had earlier given Kate another dose of the drug cocktail, and it seemed to take affect even as I watched them on the video. 

Even though she didn’t remember much, the early part of the day had not been particularly fun for Kate.  But, like earlier in the week, after confirming his dominance in their relationship, it had suddenly gotten better, much, much better.  All she could remember for sure was that they’d fucked, and again, it was like he’d driven a giant telephone into her body just to deliver a full load of his cum.  The way he’d made her scream, it had all felt so good and still hurt terribly at the same time.  But it seemed like it had been almost a dream, and she somehow knew that he wasn’t finished with her yet. 

He’d given her the niggar bone a second time and she’d taken it once more like the slut she obviously was.  To a woman like this, the mind was so much more important during sex than was the body.  But with the drugs I’d given him, putting her mind on a tight pharmaceutical leash ensured that the lush body trailed willingly behind.  So, I watched the video as Kate woodenly changed costumes at his demand; it was obvious to the most casual observer that the woman was drugged again.  Thus, even though her body was still covered in sweat, she now willingly wore a white garter belt holding up sheer flesh-toned stockings; her heels were off and she was naked on top.  Her hair was bound in a long ponytail that went down the center of her back.  Kate couldn’t seem to help herself as she held him and cradled him in her arms, almost lazily listing the ways she cared for him.  That period of calm lasted about fifteen minutes and then I saw the drugged Kate again.

An odd look had crossed her face as she semi-passed out again.  Booker ran his hand between her thighs, caressing her still wet pussy.  Then he rolled her onto a pillow that cradled her stomach and left her butt pooched into the air.  He still didn’t care to have sex with a woman in this way, but he thought it might be a nice way to finish her off for her boyfriend. 

Kate suddenly roused herself from the mental fog for just a moment.  It had been like someone else was doing the talking for her and now it was too late to take any of it back.  A small part of Kate’s screamed in the corner, What?  What???  My God, what was he doing?  Stop.  What are you DOING to me???  That tiny screaming little corner of dark sanity told her that she somehow needed to find a way to stop him, to slow him down even just a little. 

But it was like they both were on a runaway train and she had no real control over her emotions, her actions, what she said, or even what she did.  She didn’t really want this from him, didn’t in fact really want him at all.  Did she?  So why wasn’t she fighting him more?  What drove him to do this to her?  What had she become, that she had been reduced to this?  This wasn't love; he hated her and used her?  What was this?  What was she to him?

Suddenly, Booker was there next to her, hands pressing against the side of her face, forcing her to look up at him from the corner of her eye, to see him, to acknowledge him more than she had up to now.  His dark eyes looked into hers and although psychologically he still represented everything she rejected, for some reason she wallowed in the sensations of his kiss. 

His mouth; the skin felt cold but yielding.  His tongue slipped between her lips, dreamily familiar, yet still strange, almost hallucinatory, both a homecoming of sorts and an exploration of the unknown.  She didn't know what it meant, didn't even really care at the moment what it meant, just that somehow she wanted more emotionally from a man, any man at this moment. 

I listened to Booker’s voice, filled with brutal, uncaring authority as he said, "I’ve already fucked you once this morning.  But ya know, baby?  You’ve wanted it this way from your boyfriend for a while now?  Alright, now you’re gonna get it like that from me too.” 

He held his suddenly erect cock out towards her face.  “This is going in your ass.  This is going deep in your ass, and you're gonna cry out loud like a baby with each stroke.  You're going to whimper like a little girl when I fuck you and you won’t be able to stop.  But the best part?  The best part is that at the same time, you’re gonna want this more than anything you’ve ever wanted before.  You’re gonna beg me for this, beg me for more."

He roughly pushed Kate’s face into the bed.  The drugged woman wasn’t sure she wanted this, but she knew better than to fight him now and suddenly found herself begging him in a slurred voice for his slow mercy, Please don’t hurt me too much.  Please??  Booker brusquely lubed his cock and Kate’s asshole with a large tube of K-Y he’d found in the drawer next to her hotel bed.  And that was it.  There was none of the massage or foreplay in which I always indulged Kate.  It was time, he’d been challenged and now he felt the need to challenge her back. 

As Booker began introducing himself into her body, I knew he was taking a woman that was now immeasurably more experienced in doing this for a man than she had been even a few months ago.  I watched him press the head of his black cock into her lily-white asshole, giving my treacherous lover just the first tentative inch.  He slowly slid his hands up the back of her thighs, finally sliding over the top of her nylons and on to what was his ultimate goal.  When they reached her firm ass, he slowly spread her cheeks apart and bared her puckered brown hole that was currently stretched in such a tight, caressing, intimate kiss around just the tip of his purple-black meat.  As he moved in, her head came up off of the mattress and her moans became louder.  But he pushed her face back down, muffling her moans as he brutally forced her face into the mattress. 

He ran his hands over her muscular buttocks and finally spread them wide again to see the tight ring of gristly muscle his black meat kept pried open so wide; it looked good, real good.  After he played with Kate for a minute, his hands dropped between her legs again and he slowly massaged her still wet pussy.  He paid particular attention to her snatch and clit, leaning over her hips to reach his targets, incidentally giving back to  Kate another two inches of meat that he had moments earlier taken away. 

I shuddered with delight as he almost pulled out of her again.  The tip of his manhood looked to be the size of a medium-sized apple and his shaft seemed as thick around as my wrist.  God, he was just too big for any woman this way, let alone Kate. 

I hoped that he fucking killed the bitch by ass-fucking her to death.  I really did… 

“Jus’ relax,” Booker said.  “We take ah time wit’ dis.”  Translated, this meant that he'd fuck her when HE was ready, whether she wanted it or not.  She was still in the process of being taught that when it came to men, her needs and desires came second to theirs.

He was still upright on his knees; his knees were inside of Kate's legs, continually forcing her thighs ever further apart.  He looked down and could see her long dark hair fanned out to cover much her face.  Through the fall of hair, he could see that Kate had her eyes closed and tears ran from the corners; that her mouth still hung open in pain.  She was panting slightly as if from exertion and tiny gasping sounds came with each breath. 

Hair covered much of her face but I could still see her mouthing the words wait, wait, wait.  But nothing stopped the black man as he took this final gift from the woman he controlled.  And as he continued slowly pushing himself into her, I watched Kate’s body tense and her back arch in shocked acceptance of what was being done to her rectum, I saw the muscles of her back come alive as she strained to accept him.  This must be what it looked like when I took her that way too; whatever it was, it was also extremely pornographic in nature.  Even though in the dominant position, he apparently took a little pity on the bitch under him and stayed motionless for a minute while her body learned to accommodate his meat.  Or perhaps he didn’t want to rip her tainted white flesh apart too much…or too early. 

Then he began for real. 

He'd lubed his over-sized black cock with what looked like a gallon of the gel, but it had worked.  He was inside her now, and Kate was groaning with what I knew she described as the now familiar, yet ever surprising feeling of enormous fullness that she felt every time she took my cock this way.  Then, when finally ready to continue, the reluctant female somehow silently nodded her head to let Booker know it was now okay to proceed and he then carefully delivered another inch or so of hot meat up her welcoming rectum. 

Kate must have suddenly felt quite full for her upper body reared up as she wailed suddenly.  “Oh.....oh.....oh...stop.....STOP!”  But I could see that she had closed her eyes again.  She knew what was still left to come and was desperately concentrating in her drugged haze on trying to relax the muscles that were locked around his thick cock.  After a moment's rest in which her body finally accommodated his wrist-thick piece of meat, she said; “Please.  No more, I can’t take anymore.”

But Booker only said, “It’s coming whether you want it or not.  Your choice is whether or not you cooperate and I don’t tear you up like a cheap piece of paper, or you fight me and I’ll rip you in ways that you’ll need surgery to fix up again.  Give me what I want, or I take it anyway.”

The drugged, yet suddenly accommodating Kate sleepily nodded her understanding and then said, “Okay, okay, slowly.  I think…I think…I think I’m ready for some more.” 

He slowly shoved another inch of steaming meat up her ass and Kate stopped him again in a dreamy, yet still urgent voice.  “Oh, oh, oh.  Jayyssus Gaaaawd!  You are Too Fucking BIG!  Hold on, hold on, Hold ON!!!  Stop pushing!  Please stop pushing!!  Just let me......just let me get used to it.”  And Kate sleepily closed her eyes once more and took deep, even breaths. 

He held on to her hips and waited motionlessly as he said, “That is so what daddy wants to hear.”

Kate seemed to come back to life for a moment again.  “God!” She said.  “It's almost hard to breath with you in me as deep as that!  I want you there, but I need some time.  Give me another second.  It really hurts when you push too fast.”  Booker had showed remarkable patience up to this point.  But his hands continued to rest on her hips in obvious anticipation of still taking the drugged and pliant woman as hard as he obviously wanted.  Kate's eyes were shut again, but her mouth was open once more in a silent grimace of discomfort.  She held that pose for an instant, then exhaled deeply to calm herself and tried to look at him over her shoulder.

With that look, she had just wordlessly indicated that she was ready again; that it was okay for him to slip her some more steaming meat.  His glistening black shaft kept going slowly deeper between Kate's cheeks, disappearing into the firm crevice that hid her anus.  The mature woman suddenly groaned her final acceptance of yet another inch of the steel hard shaft that seemed to be made of burning, lava-hot meat.  Then Kate froze again and waited until the massively uncomfortable feeling of fullness and the cramping, stabbing pains in her abdomen had all decreased enough so that she could accept yet more of his cock. 

Finally, it was done.  DaShawn’s dark groin was pushed firmly against Kate's firm white buttocks, his steely-hard, purple-black meat tube fully buried in her rosy-ringed rectum.  They both waited; him patiently for the white slut lying beneath him to prepare her mind to accept the massive ass-fucking he was going to give her; the fallen woman, drugged into calmly accepting her fate.  I watched as she struggled to think, clearly trying to get her mind around both the sensations she felt in her rectum as her sphincter slowly stretched even further to accommodate the black man and the fact that she had somehow willingly allowed the black misogynist she’d first come to know as her rapist do this to her. 

It was obvious that now she was ready to accept him as he wanted.  She licked her dry lips and I could see the dazed determination on her face that was matched in every way by the anticipation on his.  Kate groaned again, but whether in pain or pleasure was not obvious.  I voted for discomfort myself.  “Okay.  C'mon.  I….I think I’m ready.” 

In response, he pulled out almost to the bulbous, circumcised tip, held that position while her sphincter locked around the ridge at the tip of his cock, then slowly drove it completely home again.  Once more.  He pushed her face into a pillow as Kate suddenly gave a muffled scream of mixed pain, shock and disbelief.  She followed this with a long squeal that sounded liked it came from a little girl. 

Finally, he’d become impatient.  I knew from the look on his face that at this point, she was now just another piece of his slut-meat; one of his whores that’d just along for the ride on his cock.  Booker was ready now, ready to move on to some serious ass-fucking whether she was or not, and he began to drill her accordingly.  Kate’s head twitched as it was beaten and slammed into the pillow in response to each of his thrusts.  If she had been able to look, she could have seen his reflection in the in the mirror over the bed as his dominant black body controlled her supine alabaster white one.  I recognized the look; Kate was desperately biting her lips, trying to stop herself from moaning.

But I wanted her to moan with lust again.  I wanted her to scream in pain again.  And clearly, Booker did too.

He thrust into Kate with the full length of his cock, pulled out quickly, and powered back in again.  And then began one of the most brutal ass-fucking’s I have ever seen.  Somehow Booker knew or sensed the rhythm that most subdued Kate.  He was experienced with women and just seemed to…..know somehow…..that the way to control my bitch sexually was to fuck her brutally hard, fuck her fast and fuck her thoroughly. 

I had awakened this woman from the coma her pathetic life had become.  It was obvious to both Booker and I that in her natural state, Kate was a member of that wonderful, yet all too rare breed of woman willing to make use of men for their own sexual delight.  The drugs that made her blood boil at this moment may have made the woman’s cravings crystal clear by lowering her inhibitions or even amplifying her need to be taken, bringing it all out into the open for everyone to see.  But these cravings, these needs to be taken by a man had been there before me and they were real.  And Booker, the man, had no problem delivering what the drugged slut needed. 

Booker kept his left hand on her hip to control her pelvis and reached down with his right to grab a handful of pony tail.  She’d stopped squealing loudly by this point and was just moaning and groaning softly now, so there was little chance of disturbing any neighbors.  He used her hair like horse reins as he pulled Kate's head up until she almost faced the ceiling.  I expected to hear her neck vertebra crack in response, but to her, impossibly, it just seemed to get better and better. 

I was shocked by the huge change in Kate that was immediately apparent in this video.  I'd had to almost blackmail the woman just to get her into bed at first.  Oh sure, once I’d got her there, she definitely learned to appreciate what she'd given up for most of her adult life.  Psychologically, she had quickly accepted her role in that situation as the submissive to my dominant.  And when first I, and later Booker, kept her in those familiar, controlled surroundings, she’d willingly submitted to our every sexual desire with nothing more than a little coaxing and some minimal physical intimidation. 

We might even have had to force her a little at first, but she always accepted the “rightness” of our dominance and need in the end, and had always been willing to come back for more. 

Within just a few more strokes, Booker simply couldn't help himself.  He leaned his head back and groaned to the ceiling at the feel of it all, the unique method, to him, of intruding into her, of claiming her body for his and the wonderful new sensation of totally filling a woman, particularly this woman, this way.  He wanted to take away every last vestige of respect she might have for herself, take away any feelings of independence and individuality.  He wanted to tear her up and make her scream, make the woman lose herself in this anal rape even as he wanted to keep riding her forever. 

Squatting on his knees on either side of Kate’s body, he moved the wobbly woman off the bed onto her feet and up against the wall for better control.  Falling out of her now gaping asshole during the move, he pushed her against the wall, quickly separated her buttocks with his hands and buried his cock between her sweet, firm butt cheeks once again.  Grabbing her shoulders for control and support, he used his strong thigh muscles to really fuck her like she needed, like he knew she wanted…..and like he wanted. 

He slapped the side of her head repeatedly, but she never complained, just accepting his physical dominance as her due.  Her knees almost buckling at times, the old bitch used her hands to hold herself away from the wall the whole time.  And all the time, Booker was talking to her over her right shoulder.  "You like it like that, don't you bitch?  You like it when it’s someone other than your boyfriend fucking you in your ass, don’t you?  Admit it!  You’re a whore for this, aren’t you?"  Finally, he spanked her right cheek hard, again and again, giving her what she so obviously wanted. 

Booker exhaled loudly and blew Kate’s long hair away from her sweaty shoulder.  She still could not speak coherently, so he took her moans for his answer, not wanting to stop the rhythm to make her answer him properly.  The woman was so lost in her own private, drugged fantasy world at this point that he was not sure she would even have heard his demands, let alone been able to respond coherently.  Somewhere in her mind, Booker figured that she thought she was probably being fucked by one of her fantasy figures. 

Breathing heavily, he leaned his body against Kate’s for a second and took a deep breath.  He could smell the musky scent of sweat from both their bodies and the scent of the sex between them.  

Outside of her home, this woman maintained a strong sense of decorum and self, always exhibiting a classy and dignified exterior.  But I now realized I'd seen her personality change over the last few months from that of an independent and secure, if slightly uptight suburban house frau-bitch, into a sexually mature female that had become quite submissive to the desires of the men in her life.  In new surroundings and with the drugs having lowered her inhibitions, the true Kate had finally been exposed. 

It was clear from his voice that Booker had taken complete control of Kate.  It was also clear from the look on his scarred, brutish face that he really had no plans to go slow from this point on, and that anything she might have been worried about was of no consequence to him, no real concern of his at all. 

Kate's beautiful breasts hung down, swaying with every move of his hard black body against her soft, yet firm body.  Her gorgeous pink nipples were fully erect.  They made a beautiful sight and DaShawn no longer had the patience to go slow or the desire to wait for Kate.  He reached around her ribcage and grabbed both of her breasts with his hands, then pulled back hard on them as if they were handles grown solely for his pleasure. 

The pain to her breasts must have been tremendous, for even in her drugged state, Kate still cried out and drove herself towards him as hard as she could to relieve the pressure on her crushed breasts.  At the same time, even as she was pushing into him, he continued to thrust into her still tight ass with every move of his hips.  It was clear that he was controlling her now, riding her like he would a recalcitrant mare, taking her over every barrier she reached.

Then Booker didn’t move again for almost a minute; all he said was, “Grab me, bitch.  Grab hold ahol’ my cock and hang on with your ass muscles.  Come on mama, you know you want to clamp down on me.”

Kate's long beautiful legs were splayed wide apart and her upper body had fallen until it looked she was about to do a pushup against the wall.  The muscles of her face worked in unison with her rectum, her mouth hung open as a single line of saliva ran out one corner.  A look of pure pleasure crossed Booker’s brutish face as Kate immediately obeyed his commands, her muscles rhythmically clamping onto him, working along the erection that kept her insides so over-filled.  And finally, he began to move his hips again in a driving, irresistible movement that wouldn’t be denied, could never be stopped.  When Kate began screaming and crying, he stopped again.  But only for a moment to allow her to work his cock with her anus again. 

Then Booker started pounding into Kate again and now he wouldn’t stop.  She cried and screamed as he pulled out and then did the same as he drove into her again.  Finally, after a couple of dozen long, deep thrusts, he stopped with his eyes closed for about a minute and kept his erection buried inside her all the way again.  She had her eyes closed again too.  But the woman couldn’t have seen anything because of her tears....and her heaving chest gave proof that she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. 

After giving her a moment to recover, he ordered Kate to masturbate herself with her left hand.  At the same time, he grabbed both of her breasts again and used them to pull her body onto his cock and then pull her off again.  The fingers of her right hand slowly rubbed her clit as his hands cruelly gripped and fondled her breasts.  And when she cried out once more in pain, he said, “Move with the pain, you dumb bitch.  Move with it.”  Eventually Kate stopped masturbating and pushed away from the wall and urgently ground her buttocks in small, tight circles into his groin as hard as she could just to relieve the pressure on her breasts. 

My woman had been tamed, literally fucked into submission by Booker.  Kate groaned and cried out as she determinedly forced herself upon him again and again, never once seeming to waver in her resolve to exchange the pain in her breasts for the full penetration in her ass.  After a minute or so, she could go back no further.  Kate was continually groaning and grunting now, but whether due to his grasp on her tits or his cock buried in her ass, I couldn’t tell. 

This was a great moment for me, for I now had video evidence that the independent and strong willed woman that I'd lusted after for so long, was finally mine psychologically, emotionally and physically.  But the woman I had wanted for so long had proven to be nothing but a whore in disguise, and an old worn out whore at that.  Her neighbors and church-going friends would love seeing it in living color. 

DaShawn seemed to like controlling women by their hair, for he had released Kate’s breasts and now had two great handfuls of her long hair again.  When he pulled hard, each time it forced her head up a little but mainly, it forced Kate to do a grinding motion with her ass as she continually backed into him to take the full length of his erection inside her colon.  Then he'd let go of his ‘reins’ and she'd lower her head a little with relief as she then slid a couple of inches off of his cock. 

At the same time, his other hand grabbed her hip and then he thrust and lifted with his hips at the same time in order to change the angle of his penetration into her ass; I knew full well that he’d hurt her with this move, hurt her on purpose. 

I watched with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered shut and I could see the wattage go out of the tentative smile on her face as she was overcome by pain once again.  But Kate accepted even this as she remained where she was, leaning against a wall while being finished off by being fucked in the ass by a giant black cock.

Kate knew she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t have stopped this dreamy, terrible, untrue thing even if her life depended upon it.  At the end, Kate's knees were spread obscenely wide as she crouched helplessly underneath him.  But she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t defend herself and found herself continually taking harder and deeper thrusts.  And Booker took ever longer and deeper strokes into her rear, always controlling Kate's hips and legs with his body. 

She knew the truth of what she was about to become, but just couldn’t find the emotional energy to care at the moment.  Just as his hips controlled the entrance to her body that he now filled with incredible ease, he also controlled the rest of her body and mind with his hands and voice alone.  She obeyed his every command like a well-trained dog, a look almost of stunned adoration on her drugged face.

DaShawn took Kate higher and down again, then rode her back up to the crest and forced her down the other side, never allowing her any release.  She was a woman that prided herself upon the aura of gentile class that she consciously projected towards the outside world.  She wasn’t impressed by vulgar displays or crass behavior; she didn’t even like to be around when others used vulgar language.  But none of that mattered anymore. 

Booker now began a furious fucking motion.  Stretched and aching, obviously in pain, her rectum still gripping and sucking him in, the drugged woman cried out for mercy until her voice cracked like a cheap mirror, leaving her with only low groans and soft moans to inadequately convey the terrible feelings that filled her. 

I watched as Booker controlled the rhythm at the end when he was about to climax.  Then it was over, as quarts and gallons of semen flooded Kate’s colon as his orgasm exploded and consumed both of them in its fires.  Her slim, aristocratic body shook beneath his heavy black one, the breath driven from her lungs and the sight from her eyes. 

Finally, breathing heavily, Booker collapsed on her back.  Her knees were shaking and unable to hold his weight; she collapsed onto the floor beneath him.  After a moment, they both crawled onto the bed and lay there while her uncontrollable muscle contractions slowly subsided, leaving her in a final drugged stupor, uncaring and unknowing as to what had just been done to her. 

Few Memories Remained Of The Lust In Metairie or He’d Really Fucked Her Over But She Was Still Wearing Heels For Him

Kate finally arose from her drugged sleep late in the afternoon.  Most of the drugs had already been cleansed from her blood, but it was clear to her even in her still addled state that Booker had obviously raped her again….even though she remembered nothing of it.  She could barely move after the fucking he must have given her; it felt like a terrible, giant gnarled hand had literally squeezed and twisted her intestines.  She felt a kind of buttery warmth in her chest, but there was a burning, almost oily feeling deep inside her rectum.  It was awful, and it left her feeling unclean, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

But that didn’t matter, because the physical was totally overwhelmed by the emotional.  Kate felt emotionally and psychologically devastated.  For despite what this man had done to her over the preceding weeks, she’d doubted that he could have ever made her feel worse than she had when he’d first raped her.  But he’d somehow succeeded! 

Kate required almost a day to recover from Booker’s last attentions.  She still felt woozy when they walked together that evening, but she only accompanied him because he demanded she do so.  Still filled with pain, Kate walked awkwardly with him for a couple of hours, just window shopping.  At the end, she was so tired that she literally could not keep her eyes open and Booker took her back to her room for the night. 

She never saw him again in New Orleans.

It took almost twenty-four hours for all of the drugs to be washed from her body.  During this time, her memories of everything after his last early morning arrival were incoherent fragments, vague recollections of sudden unexpected warmth and unanticipated desire, of shock and terror and of being used hard sexually.  It all felt so long ago and distant now, years ago actually, and so she thought little of these things as she lay in bed.  But when she tried to sit up the next morning, she screamed in pain and then froze in horror, shocked at the truth she felt in her body.  She knew now that none of those memories had been false.  Kate abstractly supposed she should be furious, but the comfortable lethargy left by the little remaining drugs in her blood were still strong enough to ensure that she could manage no emotions whatsoever. 

Later -- she didn’t know how much later -- Kate woke up again.  She still felt a torpor and a strange, languorous kind of confusion.  She’d had a dream, a terrible dream that she’d remembered; but it was over now and everything was fine; she would wake up to a beautiful fall morning.  The hideous, fragmented memories of the nightmare would melt away into her subconscious, and she’d rise, dress, have her usual breakfast, and slowly take on her mundane life again.

But as her mind gradually grew more alert, she realized that the broken memories, the horrible hinted fragments, none of these terrible things were evaporating.  Suddenly, Kate was struck dumb by shock and fear for she couldn’t bear to think that the memories could be true.

It was the first of March.  What Kate couldn’t know yet was that very soon life would be stirring in her womb as Booker’s sperm from several days ago had already won the race to fertilize her eggs.  Kate, the hidden racist, had been involuntarily impregnated while being drugged by her black lover.

On the way back up north, Booker thought about what he’d just done to the white boy’s bitch over the last few days.  He was surprised at the effectiveness of the drugs he’d used on her, surprised at the way they had made the woman act the whole time she had been tripping on them.  She hadn't been capable of refusing him anything; on that first night she had even, to his amazement, showed him how he might please her, stilling him with the touch of her hand to his chest so that he no longer needed to move upon her, but she to him, her breath quickening more and more until she bit him on the neck.

Booker knew for damn sure that the slut was knocked up, for when he had first arrived in New Orleans, he’d been so loaded for action that his groin had actually ached.  He hadn't fucked a woman or beat off in days just to make sure the first shot of baby batter in Kate’s waiting pussy was a good one.  After all, in addition to fucking the bitch over, he’d earn a good bonus for impregnating her. 

But at an even deeper level, Booker felt great satisfaction at having been able to take revenge upon the conceited woman because of her arrogance and bigotry.  He knew exactly how she felt about being seen with him, that she still couldn't accept it even this far away from her home.  But that had been okay to him because he’d known the bitch’d be getting hers soon.  And the best part was that it had been him giving it to her! 

He thought back to the first time he’d fucked her down here.  They’d come back to her room on the second day and she’d walked regally behind him, as if he was nothing but a bellman, just to emphasize to anybody watching that they definitely weren’t together.  But when they got inside the room, he’d slammed the door shut, walked up to her until his groin touched hers and he’d known for sure she could feel his erection.  He grabbed Kate's hands and held her against him as he fell on the bed, her body on his.  And then she’d been his. 

He settled back into the seat and sighed as he relaxed.  He’d already spent far too much time with the slut he’d left behind in New Orleans and it was time to go back and see how his string of whores had been behaving. 

Back In Boston, He’d Finally Finished With The TV Woman or It Was The Bitch’s Own Fault That He’d Chosen Her For A Little Comforting

Booker had been back for three days and the old bitch had been in Louisiana for almost eight days.  She was coming back soon and I had to get rid of the TV woman I’d taken.  It was about noon, and I’d finished threatening Jamie and preparing her for release.  I took her into town and parked at the far end of a huge mall parking lot just outside of Boston. 

We walked into the mall separately and I directed her towards the food court.  Once inside, I had her take off her jacket.  Every man that walked towards her did a double take as they saw her pierced chest pressed against the too tight top I’d made her wear.  As expected, the usual gaggle of teen aged males drifted from table to table.  Once I had located a table with five, scruffy-looking young men, I ordered my cast-off lover to approach the table and begin her negotiations.  After thirty minutes, everyone at the table got up and left.  Security tapes later showed that Jamie willingly went with them as they left. 

I later found out that the boys ranged in age from sixteen to nineteen, and that they’d taken Jamie out to one of the boys’ van.  When she was finally able to tell them what I’d to her, they still kept her for another week before letting her go. 

She became a real public figure following her release, rather than a manufactured television personality, but it didn’t last long.  Too many other people were being killed or hurt or robbed for her sad tale to last for long in the public’s eye. 

Jamie left TV after being released and I don’t think she ever went back.  She certainly didn’t in Boston. 

Impregnated By A Somewhat Lesser God or There’d Be No Rainbow at the End of This Shit Storm

It was mid-April.  Kate woke up early and started for the bedroom.  As soon as she stood up, she noticed something wasn't right.  The room came in and out of focus, her legs felt strange and her steps were unsteady.  She reached for the doorframe to steady herself and then dashed for the toilet.  She vomited once, and a second, and then after a moment, a third time.  She sat there for a few seconds, leaning against the cold porcelain of the toilet holding her hair in a make shift ponytail with her right hand.  A thin layer of sweat covered her upper lip, but other than that, she felt immediately better.  After looking at her body in the bathroom mirror, she glanced at her eyes as well.  Bad news there too; not looking particularly fresh-faced.  She’d been sick all day, all week really.  Tired and achy and pukey. 

Kate knew what it meant. 

She knew exactly what it meant. 

She must’ve had a catastrophic pill failure for this to have happened. 

So this is what morning sickness feels like, she thought.  She had never suffered this with her first child, but she'd been younger then and a lot more ready.  Kate pulled herself off the floor and regarded her reflection in the mirror.  She looked pasty white with a touch of gray.  Not very flattering.  She hadn't been sure until last night.  What would she tell him?  When would she tell him?  She had been close several different times last night but something had always come up at the last second. 

Kate turned on the faucet and dowsed her face with cold water.  She brushed her teeth and took a shower.  She felt almost normal despite the fact that she was famished.  After wrapping herself in a plush white robe, Kate opened the door and immediately registered the unmistakable odor of sausage and cinnamon.  Her wonderful lover had cooked breakfast!

She walked downstairs into the kitchen and found Jimmy sitting at the counter with a glass of orange juice in front of him.  Kate wasted no time in parking herself next to him and grabbing another glass of juice.  She drank nearly half of it before she put it down, and the relief it brought was nearly instantaneous.  She started slathering butter and warm syrup over the French toast he'd made, and her focus on filling her stomach was so thorough that she didn't notice Jimmy watching her.  She finally set her fork down and wiped her mouth.  After taking another drink of orange juice, she turned and smiled.  It seemed a bit forced. 

“What?” She asked. 

My eyes were narrowed as I asked, "Are you pregnant?"

Kate blinked at me, earnestly working at not understanding my question.  "What!!??"

I smiled to myself at the defensive nature of her non-response.  "It's not a difficult question."

Kate tugged at the neck of her robe and then crossed her legs, draping her left arm protectively over her abdomen.  It was obvious that she’d finally decided to tell me the truth.  She pulled in a deep breath and then looked me in the eyes as she replied after a long moment of silence.  “Yes,” she said, “I’m pregnant.  With your baby.”

I hesitated for a long minute and then asked in mock-solicitousness, “What do you want to do about it?”

“Marrying me would be good.”  She looked at me and smiled her most beautiful smile.

I was silent for a moment, then shook my head.  Often times the truth hurts, but sometimes it really feels good too.  “But I don’t love you.’

It looked as if the woman didn’t know whether she wanted to kill me or fuck me right there on the kitchen counter.  She pushed me away and laughed with only the tiniest touch of desperation.  “Yes you do.  You just won’t admit it.”

“No, actually I don’t”, I replied, enjoying the immediately hidden look of pain on her face.  “I enjoy sleeping with you.  I enjoy listening to you.  I enjoy picking your brains.  But I’m pretty sure I don’t want to marry you.”

Kate snuggled close.  “You’d miss me if I were gone.  But I’m here, and I’m going to stay here.  I’m not going away because you think I should.  You’re stuck with me now.  I can live anywhere you want me too.  I can live on a deserted island if you’re there.  I can live anywhere, as long as I’m with you.  Now come and make love to me.”

I was amazed at how a seemingly intelligent woman like this could care so little about her self-respect.  I’d struck this woman too many times to count, choked and tortured and sexually humiliated her, yet she never fled our relationship.  She never seemed to get it.  It was almost as if she liked what I did to her.  Felt she deserved it.  Wanted it.  In fact, a few jabs would probably do us both good right now, but I decided that patience would serve me even better.  So I held her in a tight embrace and said softly, “You’re right, I would miss you.”

I watched her every move, knowing the answer without having to hear it from her lips.  I reached out and placed a purposefully gently hand on her forearm.  I said, "If you are pregnant, it would make me the happiest man in the world."

I tilted my head and watched her intently.  Kate's bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, and then her eyes filled with tears of joy.  "That is," I continued, "if the child is mine." 

The tears spilled over and fell down the smooth skin of her cheeks.  She let out a half laugh, half cry and swatted at me. "Yes....all those other men I sleep with.  You'll all have to take blood tests so we can sort out the whole mess.  Of course it yours, you big jerk."

Kate was aware that they both knew she was on the pill.  As if she could read Jimmy’s expression, she said, "I know, I KNOW.  But I’ve been feeling sick so I took the test twice last night……plus I'm late."

"But how?"

Kate shrugged.  "It says right on the birth control package, 'Ninety-nine percent effective.'  I guess we fall into the one percent."

I faked a laugh and pulled her close.  I kissed her forehead and rocked her like a baby.  In a soft, almost apologetic voice I asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I...I... don't know.  How did you figure it out?"

I smiled. "There were a few telltale signs here and there."

"Like what?"

"Like, well....like I noticed when we were having sex last night that you looked...."  I gestured with my hands and seemed to be groping for the right words.

"Bigger," Kate offered.

"Yes, that would be the right adjective."  I smiled and then added, "When I met you yesterday, you were positively glowing.  I thought it was from shopping or something, but that didn't make sense.  The giveaway though, was your dash to the bathroom.  And then you came out here and inhaled half your breakfast before you noticed I was sitting next to you."

"But," I said in a serious, no nonsense voice, "I really do want a blood test."

Jimmy turned out to be surprisingly bullheaded about having genetic testing run on their baby.  Kate held off being tested for almost another month because she’d decided to have CVS or chorionic villi sampling rather than amniocentesis, because CVS was normally done around the tenth week in the first trimester of the pregnancy and involved taking just a small piece of the placenta which included the chorionic villi to be tested.  This piece contained cells of the baby and so could be used as a sample of the baby's DNA to test for paternity or certain genetic disorders.

Jimmy agreed with her reasoning for waiting for the test and the time passed quickly for Kate.  Of course, he paid for all of the procedures and obligingly gave her doctor a mouth swab so that she had his DNA too.  Kate had been blithely confident as she waited for almost two weeks for the results to come back.  Jimmy was busy, so Kate had made her last visit to the obstetrician alone; it had resulted in a terrible shock.  The genetic markers had clearly shown that an unknown African-American was the father of her child.  Kate knew she had to be carrying Booker’s child and she was devastated.  She felt like her body had betrayed her, as though she was carrying the child of a soldier that had raped her in a war.  She absolutely did not believe in aborting fetuses, but felt even more strongly about not carrying the black rapist’s baby to full term. 

That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, one hand half-consciously rubbing her still flat belly, she thought maybe it was better to not act so hastily.  It was still early.  Kate looked at herself in the mirror and struggled with what she should do.  Finally, she knew it was time to stop lying to herself.  Jimmy didn’t want a child, not right now.  And she wasn’t sure that she did either.  Certainly she didn’t want to have Booker’s baby. 

Surprised at her ability to throw away what she’d always before thought to be one of her deepest held beliefs, Kate knew deep inside that she’d already decided to get rid of it.  While part of her believed it was the right thing to do, the decision still occupied her mind like a dark, threatening figure standing in the corner.  It was hours before she finally been able to force herself out of bed and face it.  She’d finally decided, though, and knew inside that it was the correct choice.  It was her only realistic choice.  But it had to be done now.  Somehow, it just didn’t feel right being around drinkers and smokers and staying up late.  Even with his child.  Whatever level of being, formed to whatever degree it was, just didn’t deserve to suffer smoke in its lungs or alcohol in its blood.  Later that morning, she made an appointment at the clinic, determined to end the pregnancy immediately.  She would do her best to never think of it again. 

Let it spend its little remaining time in peace. 

Kate realized she had not been in a church in well over three months now.  And she wasn't sure she really missed it.  She’d changed in the last few months, been changed; she’d done what she’d thought was necessary.  And as disagreeable as much of it might have been, it had truly widened her understanding of human nature.  But at the same time, she knew it had coarsened her too. 

She felt so guilty, so totally unworthy of ever being familiar with happiness again.  Could any decent person do what she had done and submit to another in the way she had, and still retain any self-respect, any value as a person?  Perhaps the worst part was that, no matter how much she had tried to fight it, she had come to see that even as Jimmy loved her, he too treated her as an object sometimes. 

But the worst part was that she sometimes looked at all men now, with all their joys and sorrows, all their merits and shortcomings, as nothing more than objects to help her obtain her independence and freedom from them. 

She had really tried to maintain her attendance at her favorite neighborhood church, but had finally given up as she became more and more involved with Jimmy, and with his obsessions.  Then Booker happened, and everything increased another ten-fold in chaotic intensity.  And as this intensity led to behaving in a ways she could never before have imagined, she’d found it more and more difficult to feel worthy of regular attendance.  No, that was not being honest.  The pastor had called her, enquiring as to her health and the cause of her absence.  The man was a friend of hers, and it had become more difficult to face him as she willingly continued to satisfy Jimmy's most extreme sexual requests and fantasy's.....and also continued to take his money. 

Booker too had taken a terrible toll.  Here, with this, her pastor might have been of more help.  But by this time, Kate was far too embarrassed to talk to anyone in the congregation.  It sounded sick too, but at least a part of Kate was sure she deserved what was happening to her.

And now this.  The Abortion Clinic.  God could not help her with this. 

She’d told Jimmy that the tests came back showing the fetus was his, but that it also had genetic abnormalities, that it had a greater than seventy-five per cent chance of being born with Down’s Syndrome.  He asked her for surprisingly few details.  Thankfully though, he too agreed that the fetus should be aborted and became quite supportive of her during her time of great stress.  It was almost as if he’d been born to do this.  Kate suddenly realized that while she felt far too old to begin another family with him, he’d probably have made a great dad to their kids. 

We walked up to the clinic and entered together.  It was a nasty place in Boston where no one recognized us; a place struggling to rise to even second-class status in any detail.  There was supposed to be a waiting period, but we’d managed to avoid that by using one of the less legally constrained clinics and then making a “donation” to one of their pet charities.  We stood there for a moment looking at the worn out checkers of linoleum and all Kate could do was desperately cling to my arm.  Almost all of the faces looked back at us, some embarrassed, some carefully blank.  Eight women and four men on chairs and couches, but only two women obviously pregnant.  Mostly black, the rest were Hispanic except for one white couple that I was pretty sure had strayed in from one of the better universities in Boston.

A nurse behind the cheap desk said, “Your name?”

Kate let go of me and gave the nurse an obviously fake name.  The nurse checked a printout and nodded.  She gave Kate some paperwork that we filled out together.  I had to sign a waiver and a release form, not unlike the forms you filled out before getting your wisdom teeth pulled.  She looked at me in obvious surprise as I told her I would pay the doctor’s bill in cash.  I guess they weren’t used to too many clients paying their bills that way. 

Kate returned the paperwork and we waited another forty-five minutes before the nurse called her name.  We walked through the waiting room and entered another, slightly more upscale preparation room where Kate changed in a small stall that had only a cracked plastic shower curtain to provide a sense of privacy. 

Normally, the man waited outside until the procedure was completed before being allowed to see the woman again.  I’d been warned that while it would be relatively blood free operation, it still would not necessarily be a pretty one. But waiting outside wasn’t for me, the concerned boyfriend.  All it took was a little more money deposited in the doctor’s greasy palm to ensure I was in the room with Kate, scrubbed and wearing a sterile outfit, taking hidden videos of the pro-life main-stay of the lily-white neighborhood church aborting a black pimp’s baby. 

Suddenly, what I had been doing to her life seemed very, very real to me, nothing at all like the plot of some cheap Victorian novel.  But I was committed now and I could not, I would not stop; the ride we were on had taken on a life of its own and it was controlling both of us now. 

Finally it was over and Kate had been wheeled to another rundown recovery room.  As the doctor began removing his rubber gloves with the snapping sound of eternal finality, he turned to me and said, “The evacuation went fine.” 

I loved his euphemisms.

He continued, “She’ll be sore for a while and you two shouldn’t engage in any sex for at least sixty days.  But you know that, you’ve already filled out the release forms.  I’d also recommend re-evaluating your methods of birth control.  Other than that, there were no complications.  She was a model patient.”

I didn’t give a shit about her being a model anything.  And we’d be having sex in another couple of days, that’s why I’d trained her in anal.  And as far as giving the old bitch a preacher’s ride, I knew I’d be fucking her pussy in less than three weeks.  She didn’t deserve any slack from me and she wasn’t going to get any.

Jimmy had somehow got inside the room with her and had been standing off to the side, watching intently, supportively.  Kate knew she couldn’t have done this without him, without the critical, loving support he gave her.  All she remembered was looking at him tenderly as she being was put on a Valium drip, and then her head was lolling about loosely on the stiff sheet….and then the sticks had been inserted.  Finally, it was over and after waiting a couple more hours, Jimmy took her home.

It was done.  Jimmy had accompanied her all the way.  He had been so loyal and compassionate and sympathetic that her love for him felt overwhelming. 

Alone in her darkened house, Kate later wondered, if in the future one day, when she was ready, if God would remember that particular moment, if he would judge her unfit to be a mother, to ever have been a mother.  It had been less than a year since she’d met Jimmy and her life had been totally turned around and upside down, the changes had been serious, profound, unending.  She had experienced the greatest highs and deepest lows a woman in love could ever hope to live through. 

And as she sat in her darkened living room, she thought differently now about how she had behaved.  She knew that God had judged, that she had been judged.  Many nights with Jimmy had been orgies of sin and she was being punished for them by Booker. 

Kate approached the enormous doors to the Catholic Church slowly and with hesitation.  She wasn’t Catholic, had not been in any church for a while, and for some reason did not really relish changing that status now.  In her heart, she knew this was why she had chosen an unfamiliar church in an unfamiliar part of Boston.  Despite her reluctance, there was something still unmistakably awe-inspiring and magnetic about this colossal shrine.  As she stepped through the mammoth doorway, the heavy and unmistakable smell of frankincense swirled past her.  The church was filled with more people than she had expected, pilgrims of some sort returning from a long journey. 

Kate turned and faced east.  Sun streamed through a beautiful rose window, illuminating her in azure light that was streaked with crimson.  She wandered slowly, face elevated to the windows, enjoying a perfect feeling of almost bliss for the first time in many months.  A priest walked past and nodded a solemn greeting.  Kate stumbled slightly as he passed.  The priest stopped and held out a hand to steady her, addressing her in mild concern.  Kate only smiled and put her hand up, indicating she was fine. 

She looked at a row of pews that was in line with the rose window and sat down, steadying herself.  She didn't want to admit how pitiful she felt right now.  She wiped her hands over her face, then blinked hard.  She suddenly felt dizzy as kaleidoscopic beams of colored light from the window illuminated a large crucifix in front of her.  The crucifix seemed to be growing, looming larger and larger in her sight.  She grabbed her head as dizziness enveloped her. 

After a few moments, she felt better.  Kate heard a priest's voice ring out, asking if she was alright, and all she could do was shake her head no as she leaped to her feet and fled the church. 

Preparing Her For The Final Act or It Was Gonna Be Like Nothing She’d Ever Imagined

It had been a little more two months since I’d maneuvered the old bitch into getting an abortion and I’d been wearing out her pussy for at least a month now.  She hadn’t wanted to do it, but I’d been insistent since I’d become pretty bored after taking the backdoor route for three weeks.  In another attempt to fight the boredom, I had also begun to really hurt her when we had sex in my loft.  I knew she was puzzled by the sudden increase in sexual violence, for her ass was bruised and I’d left some good sized discolorations on the insides of her thighs.  I also knew that her tits had to be tender as hell after the way I’d been clamping and binding them.  But she shook her head, bit her lip, groaned in pain and just “troopered” on.  Every now and then, she even responded like a cat in heat and actually showed me real emotions rather than just trying to satisfy me. 

My God, anybody else doing even half of these things to her and she’d have run screaming for the police.  But not if it was me fucking her up.  Bitch’s like this were sooo fucked up in the head.

As far as my erstwhile “partner” was concerned, I guess to her out of sight, out of mind sort of covered it all.  He’d never come back to her after those last few days in Louisiana and it seemed Kate thought that Booker had apparently found other women to harass.  Consequently, she seemed more at ease both with me and when alone. 

But Kate had changed in some truly profound ways.  Regardless of those changes, I was still able to talk her into visiting Boston with me one more time.  Unknown to her, Booker and I had some interesting planned for the final evening, activities in which she played an integral part. 

After that, I’d be dumping her sorry, aging, well-used ass for good.

Friday, her day of reckoning arrived as a nice and sunny day, and she was dressed to fit the weather in a glamorous sort of way; hair up in a sophisticated bun, sheer dress, cinnamon-toned stockings, high-heeled pumps, short skirt, short leather coat and big sunglasses.  No matter what I’d done or caused to be done to her, she was still a proud, beautiful woman, determined to be noticed but not recognized. 

We hopped into her new BMW and I drove into town.  We entered our usual five star hotel in the late afternoon and again I saw the same young doorman watching her closely. 

The young man parking cars peered into the passenger window and saw Kate’s skirt had fallen away from her long, well-turned legs, almost half way up her equally splendid thighs.  He scrambled around to open the beautiful woman’s door and tried not to stare as a pair of long, shapely honey-brown legs slid out of the car on top of black stiletto heels.  She glided out of the car with amazing grace despite the shoes.  Standing straight, she turned and gave him a look that should have burned off his eyebrows even as she managed to avoid enlightening him any further on the subject of her feminine undergarments. 

Kate still moved with the beautifully choreographed heel to toe walk that models have and the parking lot attendant probably thought she was some glamorous rich bitch and I her lowly assistant....but no one really cared what the dumbass in a dead-end job thought.  We arrived at our room, the same room we always took when we came to town.....the same room that I'd had bugged months ago.

We relaxed for a couple of hours; she swimming in the heated pool, me reading a book while trying to make the time pass more quickly.  Finally, it was time to get ready.  She spent a lot of time on her makeup and looked gorgeous when done.  I had an outfit I wanted her to wear, but she absolutely hated it.  It took an hour of wheedling on my part, but I finally got Kate to agree to what I wanted.  Sweet talk.....how hot it would make me feel to see her wearing these sexy things......and the promise that we would have a good evening covered a multitude of sins, even though she swore she would look like the biggest slut the world had ever seen.  Plus, I think she was feeling more and more anxious about our relationship at this point.  I used this uncertainty, for if you have a good thing and want to keep it, you sometimes have to go along to get along.....you can't always have things your own way. 

Eventually, reluctantly, she agreed just to please me.  "Go ahead.  For once, you can put on your panties first," I said, and with this she raised a thoughtful eyebrow at me.  A garter belt with black stockings and open-sided evening ankle-strap pumps with five inch stiletto heels went on first.  The evening pumps were a little too dressy for the outfit, but they had multiple ankle straps; this was important because I didn't want her to be able to easily slip out of her heels tonight.  These were followed by a ruffled white peasant blouse that went on without a bra.  This earned me another raised eyebrow. 

What looked like a tight, front laced black leather waist cinch with thin shoulder straps then went over the blouse.  The front of the blouse was deeply scooped and snuggled up against the base of Kate's breasts.  Basically, she was wearing a topless bustier over the blouse which emphasized her chest.  Even better, the front of the cinch had a little breech cloth that hung down and barely covered her crotch, while there was nothing for her rear end.  She was absolutely appalled by this last piece and the whole evening was almost ruined until I finally coaxed her again into putting it on.

She was suspicious about why I wanted her to wear the outfit and absolutely hated how it made her look.  The only saving grace to her was a black leather wrap-around skirt which ended about an inch above her knees.  This went over the breech cloth, covering it, and finished the look in a much more acceptable manner to her.  It was the only piece of which she approved and sort of tipped the scales in my favor.  I made each of us one last quick non-alcoholic drink to both celebrate our lasting relationship and to cover the taste of the last remaining drug cocktail, and then it was time to go.  She again wore the long black, velvet cloak she said made her look like a vampire.  As we left, the same doorman had a chance to see Kate dressed up now and he was even more obviously impressed.  Me?  I'm sure to him I was still the assistant.

Kate and I drove to an unremarkable looking building in north Boston that looked like it might have undergone a little re-gentrification, but not much.  The place was named The Hot Spot and while it looked relatively tame from the outside, she was intrigued because a lot of interesting looking young people hovered about the entrance.  The women were of various ages, some dressed conservatively, others quite provocatively, a few outlandishly.  The men were uniformly young and good-looking; Kate quite appreciated this part.  We walked in and she checked her cloak at the door.  I love being able to say that; the woman I was with checked her cloak at the door. 

Cracked me up. 

As I opened the door, ready to step inside, something very odd happened.  A wave of tranquility washed over me, engulfing me like a warm bath, soothing my jangled nerves.  I didn't do anything to make it happen, it just did.  The bitch had it coming tonight and suddenly my heart stopped pounding, the knot in my stomach evaporated, and my whole body relaxed into a peculiar kind of stillness--I knew I was probably a sociopath of sorts because I felt alert and focused and entirely unencumbered by either remorse or second thoughts…..but I truly didn’t care about the consequences of what I had planned for the drugged whore I was with.

I knew that Kate was feeling warm as we entered, for there was a light sheen of sweat on her brow.  A few alarm bells must have been going off in Kate's head too, for she grabbed my arm possessively.  The music was loud and atonal, the entry way dark.  Before our eyes could adapt to the blackness, we were surrounded by a mass of bodies, a moving beast made up of young males and females.  They were a collective animal and now gave a mighty roar of welcome.  There was a brief pause, as if the beast were drawing breath and then a current of energy rippled through the crowd as most struggled ahead. 

But not us.  The hands that were touching us, wrestling with us in the dark, eventually led us in a different direction.  Kate struggled for a second before finally giving in and allowing herself to be led to a smaller room off to the side by two pretty, scantily clad black girls in their mid-twenties.  The most interesting thing about the two were their masks, for each was wearing the head of an exotic bird.

The doors closed behind us and immediately the cacophony diminished to almost nothing; the sound-proofing was excellent.  Ignoring me, they led Kate to the center of the room, and I could tell she was annoyed now.  But still trying to be a good sport, she allowed them to guide her to the center of the room between two thick wooden pillars that were about five feet apart.  Next to each pillar a rope hung from the ceiling with quick snap fastenings at the end. 

The girls began running their hands up and down Kate's arms and shoulders, everything ending with them velcro'ing wide leather wrist bands around each wrist before she'd even realized what happened.  At that point, Kate demanded in a loud voice that they stop, but the girls continued and within seconds had finished fastening the end of a rope to each cuff. 

Confusion is the result of prolonged inactivity dramatically kick-started to life.  Kate’s drugged bewilderment was gone now for the moment and she immediately began struggling with the girls now, panting with exertion brought on by panic, but suddenly her arms flew up to the ceiling as someone pulled on each rope.  Absolutely furious now, Kate found herself bound in place……she demanded to be set free immediately before she began screaming for the police.  It was interesting that she never thought to ask me for help.  From behind, one of the girls pulled hard on Kate's long hair and as her head snapped back and up, and her jaw opened helplessly in amazed horror, a gag was easily inserted in her mouth.  In a matter of seconds, Kate realized she was helpless as the strap of the gag was fastened at the back of her neck.  Her reaction time was slowing down a little. 

A Hot Bond Quickly Developed Between Kate and Her New Mistress or Celibacy Was Not Offered On Tonight’s Menu

She finally searched for me with a beseeching look on her face, but at this point I had already disappeared into the shadows to check the four small, low-light cameras that had been placed around the room earlier that day.  The lights came up just a little and I was not surprised when I saw a very tall woman dressed in black appear from within the shadows.  At least 6' 4" in her stiletto-heeled boots, the woman was dressed in a tight rubber bustier and mini-skirt over black fishnet stockings that only emphasized her great legs.  Her makeup was darkly dramatic, and with her long black hair hanging down over her right shoulder, she almost looked like a young version of Elvira.  Kate froze in her struggles and looked at the woman almost as if mesmerized. 

The tall woman stalked around Kate once, inspecting her like a piece of meat, and then said, "You are unusual.  Desiring no signals, no safe word to tell us when just enough is too much…..you want it all tonight, don't you?"

Kate was frozen for a second after Elvira finished, then began to struggle like a maniac to free her wrists even as she desperately shook her head no.  But it did her no good.  The two girls were now trying to attach leather cuffs to her ankles and Kate was kicking at them.  Finally each girl had one of Kate's ankles pinned and she was immobilized.  The tall woman in the Dominatrix outfit now reached out almost lazily and grabbed Kate's top; with one effortless tug, she ripped it off.  The soft white fabric tore easily and with no bra, Kate's beautiful breasts fell free from under the cotton material and jutted arrogantly into the dark room above the bustier.  Her firm proud tits, the nipples I had in my mind sucked on so reverently for so many evenings while a teenager, were now firm and goose pimpled with fear. 

In actuality, what the woman in black had done wasn't quite as impressive as it might have first seemed to an outsider, for I'd made sure the seams of Kate's top had been partially weakened ahead of time.  But still, it was amazing to see.  In turn, Kate was shocked into immobile disbelief.

The woman next unwrapped Kate's leather skirt and removed it.  Kate now wore only the waist cinch with its tiny breech cloth, bustier, garter belt and stockings and heels…and panties.  She stood there like a magnificent, furious goddess, glaring at the woman in black, while her wonderful chest heaved from her exertions.  The woman finally ripped Kate's panties apart at each hip and removed them too. 

I’d had nothing to do with this last; Elvira really was one hell of an impressive woman. 

While Kate was still in shock, the two girls had finished strapping the leather cuffs to her ankles and then attached a rope to each cuff.  Kate quickly found herself standing in a spread-eagle position between the two pillars, her feet bound well over three feet apart and her wrists pulled apart and pinned firmly to the ceiling by taut ropes.  She raged for a second into her gag, then finally stopped, closed her eyes and panted for air through her nose.  I looked at Kate amazed.  Her body gleamed with sweat, and I could have hung her cloak off either of her nipples at that moment, they were so erect from both her fear and her exertions.

The Dominatrix suddenly spoke again, "Tonight, my dear, you experience it all.  But I can see in your eyes that you've still a touch of arrogance and your behavior tells me you are untutored.  First, you need a little discipline.  You need to learn respect for your betters.  You've been a naughty, demanding girl and now it's time to pay."  Elvira walked around Kate like a lioness stalking her prey. 

"Stand up straight.  Straighter."  Kate pointedly ignored the woman's commands.

A riding crop that had been held out of sight by the tall woman’s side now flicked out, the tip softly caressing Kate's ass.  She shrieked into the gag more in surprise than pain.  "Once more.  Stand straighter or I'm going to have to be slightly more energetic next time."  Kate immediately stood as straight as she could, her stomach pulled in and shoulders thrown back, breasts thrust out proudly in the exaggerated pose. 

"Better my dear.  You might be a quick study despite the initial impression you give others.  We'll just have to see."  The woman nodded to her two female associates who had by now removed their bird masks. 

Elvira was a real dominatrix, but she was basically an unknown who had been imported from Los Angeles for this one night.  Hired anonymously through the internet, she was being quite well paid for a few hours’ work.  There were plenty of women like her in Boston, but her slightly hidden face was going to be splashed all over Kate's website and I didn't want it to be too easy for anyone to find her. 

The two black girls had taken off their masks because I wanted their faces to be seen on Kate's video.  Both were well-known Boston street whores Booker had brought in specifically for this session with Kate.  I wanted her captured on film cavorting with convicted prostitutes while being disciplined by Elvira.  When Booker and I wore masks as we fucked her after this, I hoped it would seem clear that she was not only a part-time prostitute, but was also into some really kinky stuff.  It would be a definite hit on her web site.

The two girls now began to slide a rubber-like anatomically shaped cup between Kate's legs and over her waxed and naked pussy.  There was a metal contact towards the front of the piece which Kate really didn't appreciate at the time, and a large hole that allowed complete access to her vagina.  Finally it was in place and a long, non-conducting rod with a two inch diameter metal ball was slowly inserted through the hole and into Kate.  I watched her shudder at its cold entry, but knew she could do nothing to stop it. 

Kate felt she was going crazy.  She felt a strange portentous hum, something almost physical approaching like a tidal wave--then suddenly it was upon her with tremendous force: mixed with the deep bass of the pounding music, waves of heat ripple through her body along with a raw, unidentified fear.  It suddenly wasn't important what others might think and Kate didn't care what anyone saw.  Panicked, she fought her bonds more urgently.  Then, incredibly, the music was somehow turned up another notch.

There was a strange taste in her mouth.  It was as if she could taste everything she'd eaten today, taste the way it broke down in her mouth, taste every little lump and flake, down to every fiber.  It was fascinating.  Down and down and down.  When the liquid light pumped in her mind, it seemed she could break anything down into its most complex parts.  There was darkness, and in the darkness, something with Kate was completely alive for the first time in twenty years, or perhaps the last time she'd been with Booker in New Orleans.  But now, entirely unbidden by Kate, something clicked in her heart and mind and body, and that light became an enveloping thing, giving her an odd crystalline clarity.

She was sure that he’d been assaulted; Jimmy was probably tied up and now laid low in another room….God, she hoped he hadn’t been hurt.  It was all so insane.  Then her mind was forced back to the physical realities as it felt like about seven inches was pushed inside her by the time they had finally stopped. 

To Kate's horrified dismay, despite her mumbled pleading, electrical leads were attached to both the cup and the end of the rubber rod.  When low amp current was finally turned on and run to the cup, it immediately felt like a huge vacuum was pulling on her clit, pulling really, REALLY hard.  She didn't know that the other wire led to the inside of the non-conducting rubber rod; that the electrical current was then routed to the metal ball that rested against the inside of her pelvis.  And as the black girl slowly moved the ball around inside her vagina, Kate sensed the girl watched her face intently. 

Suddenly Kate felt her head snap back despite her best efforts not to, and her pupils dilated as beautiful, wonderful, horrible, sucking electricity raced through her G-spot.  Kate’s mind was suddenly cleared of any stupor from the drugs she been given.  She just couldn’t control herself and almost immediately her hips were quickly jerking into the dildo in short, quick, almost spasmodic motions.  Within minutes of initially being given the current, her knees were literally shaking and the muscles on the insides of her thighs trembled with both fatigue and a pent up, galvanically-driven desire that could not be fought and which could not be denied.

She relaxed into the warmth that filled her body and the sensations between her legs soon became an extension of her bones and muscles.  She gave herself over and fully extended into them, and as she felt a rush of emotion, Kate totally embraced the magical the tool inside her body.  She flowed with the fire in her hips, felt the old memories, the odd sensations racing back into her.  God, this was right.  This was who she was.  Yes, yes, yes.  The glow continued to spread from her central body through her nerves and into her muscles.  God, it was so good, it felt so right.

Kate closed her eyes and she knew her head was whipping back and forth, then in circles, trying to control or at least hold in everything the electricity forced into the open; every stray thought, every desire, every memory, every need, each unique sensation fighting against the other, each desperately trying to gain ultimate control of her body as the continually unwanted, yet driving and terribly seductive electric sensations surged through her pelvis and belly and groin.  But fighting was hopeless and within seconds, Kate was experiencing multiple, small fire-cracker-like orgasms.  These continued to pop, each cumulatively building in a multitude of complex, interweaving sensations until Kate suddenly snapped her head back, closed her eyes and literally gave an animal howl of satisfaction. 

Sweat was pouring off of her now and her skin prickled and itched.  God!  It was so hot, it was hard to breathe, and she was sweating like a stuck pig.  It was so hard to keep track of what was going on, and Kate found herself repeatedly hunching her hips in an embarrassingly solitary and helplessly uncontrolled fucking motion, without even knowing how she had got there.  Kate was so caught up in her first massive orgasm that she never felt one of the black girls slide the greased dildo up her rectum.  She'd been allowing Jimmy to drill her out pretty regularly there and despite her iron-hard, clenched buttocks, the wedge-shaped, well-lubricated piece of hard rubber slid slowly and smoothly into her body until her sphincter snapped shut around the shallow groove that had been left at the end.  Kate was so caught up in her electrically induced emotional roller-coaster that the first she consciously realized a dildo had been inserted was when she realized that she could feel her rectum rhythmically clenching and releasing in time with her vagina.  The dildo was not exceptionally large or uncomfortable, and Kate howled in pleasure again with this realization. 

But the room was killing her.  The room felt so hot now, she could barely breathe. 

After letting Kate calm down for a minute, the Dominatrix stood in front of her and said, "Naughty girls need to be punished.  Even when you pretend to be nice, even when you pretend to be the perfect person to those around you, girls like you are always naughty in some way.  We both know this is true."  With this, Elvira ordered the voltage on both pieces turned down far enough that Kate now felt only a maddening, uncontrollable itch that couldn't be scratched, rather than the previous mind-controlling tsunami of pleasure. 

The woman in black continued in a satisfied tone, "And we don't want any more orgasms, do we?   Control them, control yourself; keep them bottled up and save them for when you really want them." 

Kate ignored her for despite being drugged, she had already been desperately attempting to control her reactions to the electrical current that still ran through her groin, not necessarily because of the threat of the Dominatrix, but rather due to simple pride and sheer bullheadedness at being so blatantly manipulated. 

The heat in the room and the frantic sexually violent activity, it all had left Kate feeling limp and wasted.  But still, it was not unpleasant at all and she was grateful for it in some barely conscious, perverse sort of way.  Still, she was shocked at what she'd just done in front of these people and desperately wanted to refuse these maniacs any additional performances.  Despite what she’d been put through in the last year, Kate refused to act like something that stank of the gutter, like some cheap, one-trick pony whore. 

But even as she marshaled her determination to deny them any additional victory and despite her best efforts to prevent it, Kate was forced to close her eyes as another small orgasm worked its way out of her vagina and shot tingling pulses from the core of her belly to the tips of her fingers and toes.  She stood bound, alone in front of all the spectators; helpless, straddle legged, hips and belly rhythmically hunching, thigh muscles quivering with barely controlled, pent up desire and all she could do was make a noise that sounded like, "Oomph MmmmMMM, Ooomph MmmmMMM!!" 

Suddenly, an acid-like pain burned her left buttock, at the same time a "Shwa--thwack" sounded from behind her.  Kate screamed at the top of her lungs from both pain and shock; looking over her shoulder a second later, she could see the Dominatrix slowly wagging an index finger, "No more little sneaky ones either, my dear.  Just like the big ones, they're off-limits."

The tickling itch continued to grow and grow inside.  Kate had pulled her knees as close together as she could in an attempt to control the sensations; she concentrated, prayed, tried to bite the inside of her lip, anything to stave off the next big one.  But it kept building and building and there was nothing Kate could do to stop it.  One of the black girls now pulled the electrical pieces from Kate's body and that helped.  But she also continued manipulating Kate’s clit, touching her softly, persistently, exactly where it felt so damnably good.  Soon, despite Kate’s efforts to fight them, she had once more reached the crest and stood helplessly, physical body bound and immobile, emotionally teetering on the edge of erotic oblivion.  She was split, torn; her mind kept trying desperately to pull her back to safety, her body wanting nothing more than to throw itself into a dark universe of unending, wanton sex.

Taking Two Men In A Blizzard Of Love or To Them She Was Nothing But A Farewell Ride

Suddenly, a massive black man wearing nothing but black leather chaps and a black leather hood that tightly covered the top of his head and the upper part of his face stepped in front of Kate.  It was Booker; of this she had no doubt.

But how could it be Booker, her mind screamed.  He shouldn't be here, he couldn't be here.  Had he been following her?  Following them both?  Nothing made sense to her now.  Could he know Jimmy?  But how could Jimmy know of Booker?   Unbidden, terrible, thoughts ran through her mind in shrieking, howling torrents.  But within seconds, the dire situation had again reasserted its control and all rational thought fled. 

Kate suddenly realized with absolute horror that she really wanted his cock, she HAD to have the relief his huge piece of black meat could bring.  But her mind screamed NO! at the implications of being fucked by him again, of fucking him in public, of having anyone see her being fucked by him, by one of his kind. 

It was so unfair.  She'd have done him in private without hesitation.  The way she felt right now, she'd do a donkey in private if that were the only way to satisfy her terrible, overwhelming need.  But her two tormentors wouldn't stop, wouldn't leave her alone, wouldn't give her even a moment to regain control.  The black girls always touched her in the most intimate places as they continuing their sexually coercive assault on her bound body.  Kate's knees were shaking harder and harder now as she fought off the overpowering urge to relax and enjoy the next orgasm. 

Booker stopped in front of Kate without touching her.  One of the two girls disappeared for a second and then returned with an inexpensive bottle of champagne.  She knelt before Booker and with a practiced hand, she freed his manhood to leave it swinging idly.  The girl reached behind her for the champagne bottle.  "No secrets between friends," she stage-whispered to her breathless audience. 

With a few practiced strokes of her hand she brought Booker to a bursting state of readiness, then blew on the darkly glistening flesh.  From the bottle, she poured a sudden, careless stream of champagne which deluged his cock and puddled on the floor below.  Booker's indrawn breath was the only loud noise in the sudden silence, and when the girl took his entire erection in her mouth he closed his eyes to savor the sensations.  The girl shook her head like a terrier with a rat, then withdrew to contemplate her handiwork through half-closed eyes. 

There was something curiously old and young about the whore's face as her lip curled in concentration, or when she lifted her eyes to smile at the now huge black man that stood in front of her.  Finished, she rose lithely to her feet and grasped his sack, fondling him gently.  The other girl, not to be outdone, caught Booker's nipple deliberately between the nails of her thumb and forefinger, held him there until he made a little sound, then she offered her finger to be kissed.

Booker had a huge erection now and Kate stood motionless in front of him, helpless, wanting to cry, as he slowly moved closer and closer.  She felt so frustrated!  Frustration at her helplessness, frustration at having trusted Jimmy enough to have been put in this situation, frustration at being frustrated by this hateful woman, frustration at not having her sexual needs satisfied, frustration at not being able to stop what she knew would come next. 

Booker slowly walked around her, stalking her like a great African cat.  He now stood in front of her, so close that she could smell the musk from his sweaty body.  He slowly lowered himself just enough to put the tip of his straining cock between her legs.  Kate was shaking her head no, no, no, but he never hesitated.  She hunched her hips to avoid what came next and tried to hang as low as she could from the ropes that kept her upright.  But nothing worked.  They both knew that nothing was going to save her from being forced to satisfy his needs this night.  Like a cat with a mouse, he played with her, touching her with his iron hard rod, slowly dragging it over Kate's burning and inflamed labia, parting her lips there, then pulling back, then touching her with it again.  The sexual torture lasted an eternity, going on for at least two or three minutes. 

When he was finally ready, when Booker knew she was finally ready, when he knew she would never be able to help herself, he stood up in one slow, smooth motion and easily buried his cock to the hilt in Kate's wet, gaping, aching pussy.  Filled with his massive bulk, Kate was immediately wracked by orgasm after orgasm without Booker making another move.  It was patently obvious to anyone watching that this woman was in the throes of ecstasy, busy taking a quick, yet solitary journey to her own personal heaven. 

But no one could keep up the pace that Kate did as she thrashed in an erotic mania and finally the frenetic heaving of her body began to slow, and then eventually stopped as she satisfied herself on him for just the first time.  Desperately panting for air, belly pressed tightly against slick belly, Kate hung motionless on Booker's flesh, nothing more than a marionette made of weak, female flesh now fully impaled upon a giant piece of iron-hard masculine meat.  A marionette with every string cut. 

It was then that Booker began moving his hips and grinding his belly against hers.  Kate's body responded again, eagerly, even hungrily to his every move.  She was too far gone, there was no way she could not respond.  Defenses quickly overwhelmed, the bound woman shuddered again and again as she was wracked by her next massive orgasm before finally hanging motionless by her wrists once more.  His hands slowly slid down the back of her thighs and rubbed the top welt of her stocking before going back up to her buttocks.  Just as his hands began to go back up her body, she felt the dildo in her rear-end slowly removed. 

The release felt good, but left her feeling empty too.  Far too empty!  The man behind moved silently, but suddenly Kate knew he was there.  He had an animal smell.  The strong smell of a male animal, one which, even when he had not taken her, had still kept her in readiness at all times. 

It was Jimmy was behind her! 

Booker grabbed great handfuls of her firm, sweaty ass, then pulled her cheeks apart to bare her anus.  Suddenly, Kate felt hands grasp her breasts from behind and Jimmy, wearing the same kind of hood as Booker, stepped in close and slowly slid his huge, greasy cock into Kate's rectum, filling her completely in one smooth, wonderful move.  He was far larger than the dildo and she had not been dilated properly.  But for this one night, for this one wonderful moment, she did not care what pain he might give her there.  The pain felt good.  She wanted the pain, she wanted to be hurt……Kate knew she deserved whatever they wanted to do to her.

She felt her body convulse with uncontrollable anticipation.  Kate knew she wasn’t thinking well right now, but the thought of what must come next unaccountably thrilled her; she hadn't felt this way since....since, when?  The ecstasy rising in her now was explosive, as it had been only a few minutes ago.

Even so, the thought of being taken without her permission and in front of others by the two men still festered in the tiny part of the rational mind that remained to Kate.  And as good as it might feel, at the most profoundly rational level, a plane which admittedly wasn't functioning too well right now, she recognized an anger at Jimmy, that he had set her up for this, that the two men somehow knew each other, had obviously reached an agreement and were willing to share her. 

Kate hadn’t seen Booker in many weeks.  But this made it appear that she was publicly involved with him, even if obviously against her will.  She had a reputation to uphold.  But the truth was, and it was hard to admit even to herself, in only a short time Booker had gone from being a frightening nightmare to, God help her, an.....acquired taste.....an indulgence she once would never have allowed herself in public. 

Now, Jimmy had brought Booker's and her...relationship.....into the open and she both dully resented him and hated the permanent damage she feared Jimmy had done to her reputation even as she reveled in the momentary pleasures the two gave her.  Kate knew deep in her heart that these conflicting emotions would have to be resolved, but she would deal with all of that later; right now she couldn’t think about it, it was impossible to think about anything right now. 

Conflicting and ambivalent thoughts rushed through her mind, whirlwind quick and just as solid.  Feelings of violation and having been soiled, anger at being tricked and used as a human receptacle, fear at being physically bound in a way that kept her helpless; these emotions were all mixed with desperate sexual need and the desire for it all to continue to its natural conclusion. 

Suddenly and without further warning, she felt a fragile emotional barrier giving way…..and this made her afraid.  Kate knew a brief, frightening sensation of unbearable speed as all desire and need and anger fled from conscious control, spun off as though she were on a spinning carnival ride that increased the G-forces until it felt as if everything were being peeled away.  Kate's senses quickened again and suddenly she was back in her body as she found herself embarrassingly screaming her pleasure to the sound-proofed walls and ceiling time after time. 

Unable to either assist or stop them, Kate hung from her rope bonds between the two men as they took everything from her.  They left nothing unexplored.  And when both men had finished with her for the moment, leaving both her pussy and rectum filled with their seed, they stepped back, satisfied for the moment.  Head hanging from a neck too weak to hold it upright, her now motionless body still hung from the ropes attached to the ceiling.  Kate's nylon covered legs quivered occasionally with her attempts to move, to stand, but she had no strength left and finally gave up to hang by her wrists for a little longer.

They All Agreed Kate Needed To Learn To Beg A Little Better or The Mistress Beat Her Like A Black-Eyed Dog

The two black girls appeared again and first untied her ankles, then her wrists.  They lowered Kate gently to the floor and stepped back.  The woman in black watched Kate for a second, then said, "Leave your mouthpiece in.  Get up on your hands and knees."  Kate refused to move for a minute, then tried to comply, but was too weak to move.

Kate was finished, done.  She’d felt herself pouring out of her body in a wild, incredible rush of release that was so far beyond pleasure that it was near the intensity of pain.  And after the first few moments of incredible pleasure, she felt torpor and lassitude and weakness, as if she were consumed by a raging fever.  She’d felt her energy and her vitality and her aliveness drain away as she was overcome by a great weariness. 

“Only a little more.”  It almost seemed as if the voice in her ear was that of her lover and not the stranger, but the woman quickly leaned over and slapped Kate's ass with her crop, thwa---shwack!  Kate screamed into her gag and tried to scramble to her feet, but the black girls kept knocking her down.  Now Kate tried to remove the gag, fumbling with the straps at the back of her neck, but again, the two girls stopped her as she was whipped by Elvira again.  The whip came down once more after that, even harder. 

Kate finally looked up at the woman with unshed tears in her eyes.  Even though she shook her head no, Kate's body language made it clear to everyone that the drugged, exhausted woman had finally submitted, both emotionally and physically, to whatever might be demanded of her next.  She tried not to cry, but a few tears came anyway.  The Dominatrix repeated herself, "Leave the gag in your mouth.  Get on your hands and knees.  The longer you refuse me, the more pleasure I get.....please continue to fight.  Please."

Reluctantly, filled with resignation and sobbing with frustration, Kate finally rolled onto her hands and knees.  The strong woman smiled and said, "Good girl.  Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"  She nodded to the two girls that stood waiting and they leapt to work.  One immediately fastened a dog collar around Kate's neck, then attached a leash to the collar.  The second girl went to the other end and slid a large, well lubricated butt plug inside Kate. 

Even though Kate could tell from the feel that this particular anal piece was the biggest one that had ever been put inside her, it didn’t seem to be worth worrying about.  She giggled to herself; it had to be to big fill the hole that had been drilled by Jimmy.  Kate gave a long, sonorous groan as the black girl finally finished, then quietly waited for what came next, only her breasts swinging with movement as she sucked air through her nostrils. 

Unknown to Kate at the time, the girl had next inserted a large curved peacock feather into a hole in the plug that filled her rectum.  On her hands and knees, with a dog collar around her neck, Kate now had the equivalent of a beautiful, multi-colored dog tail waving gaily in the air.  A dog's tale that curved beautifully out of her ass, then arched up and over her back until it threatened to touch the back of her head. 

Horrified in a dazed sort of way, Kate's face burned with embarrassment as she heard the woman in black announce as if to an audience, "I understand that you've already been partially trained by your black man here.   He says you like being submissive."

Kate tried to concentrate on what the woman said as she knelt on hands and knees in front of her mistress, her long hair covering most of her face, blinking her eyes to hold back hot tears of humiliation.  But the tall woman ignored her discomfort and quietly ordered Kate to fling her hair onto her back; acknowledging the woman's superiority without thought, Kate complied with one quick snap of her head.  Her hair was now layered on her sweaty back in wild disarray, baring her face for everyone in the world, and on the internet, to see.  The woman in black now began Kate's training, using the leash to lead her around the room in multiple training circuits before she felt the drugged mother of a twenty year-old boy was finally broken and fully ready for what came next. 

Enthralled, I watched Kate perform for Elvira.  It was a wondrous sight, seeing the gorgeous woman I so despised being sexually humiliated in public, even prancing on hands and knees at one point as her mistress made her perform different tricks for the small audience.  Her luxuriously long black hair laying on her back below her feathered tail, her beautiful mouth filled by a gag, the black cinch emphasizing her tiny waist and womanly curves, her stocking clad legs and the high-heels still on her feet, her perfect breasts hanging unconfined towards the floor and swinging freely with her every move; everything was wonderful for those of us that watched this woman so intently as she was forced to seek the ecstasy of total submission. 

It was only at the end when her mistress demanded that she arch her back and belly towards the floor, throw her hair back one more time and then waggle her butt for the audience that the drugged and dazed woman even learned of the humiliating addition to her costume.  But by this time, her beautiful ass was covered with a thin veneer of light red stripes, none of which were heavy or deep, but all had been just enough to ensure her good behavior.  The woman had just given Kate the last in a series of commands, "Heel!"  Quickly followed by "Freeze!"  Kate froze in place, clearly exhausted. 

But now trained to obey not only men but women too.

Regardless of how she wished she could have fought them, Kate knew she had performed perfectly for the audience.  She felt dazed, despondent and depressed, used, covered with thick veneer of resignation.  But she seethed too somewhere deep inside with deep anger and frustration at being treated this way by a crazy woman, at having been publicly offered to the two men, at their sexual acceptance despite her helpless refusal, at having every freedom she took for granted taken away so easily. 

Further embarrassment had been piled upon her initial humiliation when she finally realized what was sticking out of her rear end; that was what had caused the laughter and applause.  Great pride led to great falls; despite having been taught this her whole adult life, a small part of Kate still seethed at the way the others had been mocking her, laughing at her predicament from the very beginning; she had never been one to easily accept derision from others.  But regardless of her emotions, at that moment, Kate was also careful to not give the Dominatrix any reasons for additional whipping. 

She felt deep shame too at how little it had taken them, at how easy it had been to make her perform for an audience when for the first time she had fucked a black man in public, especially in a place like this, in a setting like this.  Worst of all, there had been a perverse feeling of.....almost daring, of living life on the edge and of absolutely pushing the boundaries of all accepted behavior, a feeling of having been involved in something that while demeaning, had also been far too exciting exactly because of its forbidden nature. 

What had just happened had been shocking in the totality of its pure carnality and even as some of the details faded in a drug haze, she had hated what had been done to her…..at least Kate told herself she did.  Yet it been larger than her too, something that now left her actually slumberous in the wake of such a pivotal, purely sexual experience. 

She didn't know whether to hug Jimmy or to shoot him......maybe both?  All she knew was that she was physically exhausted, sexually satiated and she was finding it so hard to think logically about anything.  She just wanted to sleep for three or four days…..and then maybe shoot the men that had so used and humiliated her.

These two and Kate's new mistress had disappeared, but the two girls remained.  They removed her leash, feathered tail and butt plug, but left in the gag.  Weak and dazed, unresisting, all sexual tension gone and any remaining lust gratified, she was led to a series of cushions on the floor.  There, the two began to touch her and wash her between her legs using a barely damp cloth that had been scented with expensive oils. 

Soon, Kate's lethargy was replaced by a renewed sense of interest in her surroundings.  She still ached between her legs; her rectum throbbed, and her clit and labia felt full, as if they had swollen to twice their normal size and had been this way for days.  She felt gorged in a way, like she had been drinking thick, rich crème.  The feelings the girls brought quickly went from soothing to too intense, and Kate begged the girls to stop, but the mandatory gag did not allow communication....or perhaps they were being obstinate on purpose?  Their soft touches and manipulations went on for another couple of minutes and Kate was becoming more and more frustrated. 

It Was The Final Act Of The Final Act or There’s Some Real Hard Times Cumming Her Way

Finally, the girls helped Kate to her feet, then led her on shaky legs towards a nearby hammock that hung from the ceiling; she backed into it and gratefully sat down to take the weight off her legs.  Suddenly, as if on an unspoken command, each woman grabbed one of Kate's ankles and spread her legs wide before hooking the heels of her pumps high in the mesh on either side of the hammock.  Off-balance, Kate grabbed handfuls of hammock on each as she tried to maintain her balance and pull her feet down and together.  She even tried to pull out of her pumps.  But the ankle straps ensured they weren't coming off her feet until she removed them herself.  Kate quickly grabbed higher on the sides of the hammock and struggled weakly against the two whores, but by now they had each grabbed a wrist and quickly bound her wrists to her widespread feet with quick-snap links, wrist cuff to ankle cuff. 

A well-oiled team, the girls now went back to her ankles again, unhooked her high-heels and spreading her legs even further apart before finally binding her ankles to the mesh in a way that ensured she would stay in that position until released by another person.  Kate was helplessly exposed again, and her legs were stretched so far apart that her hips and lower back were in pain.  She was a remarkably flexible woman for her age because of the stretching exercises that she did for running, but she still did not bend as easily she once had nor as far as these two apparently wanted her to. 

Even so, the two girls now had her stretched out, her shaved sex openly, wantonly displayed like the lowly offering on some shelf of vegetables in a grocery store.  The girls disappeared into the shadows, leaving a horrified Kate bound on the hammock, hanging helplessly, alone with her thoughts. 

The hammock came up to the middle of her back and gave her a little a support there.  Thankfully, the material stretched slightly and she was able to pull her feet a little closer together, allowing her to bend her knees slightly and reduce the incredible pressure on her lower back.  But that was it.  Kate struggled weakly for another second and was finally able to slide her hands up her nylon slick ankles and grab her high-heels; pulling on her heels allowed Kate to give herself a little extra support, taking a little additional pressure off her lower back and hips. 

God, she'd cooperated with every tawdry act they demanded tonight, why were they doing this to her too?  She finally gave up all reasoning as any remaining strength seemed to flee her body.  They had won; the anger, the humiliation, every other emotion had fled except the desire to have it all end without this last torture.

Just as she felt nothing could get worse, Booker slowly walked out of the shadows, his need again immediately obvious.  The girl that had been sucking on him, getting him hard again followed him closely as she wiped her lips of excess moisture.  The two and a half inch thick head of his erection gleamed purple-black in the soft light, glistening with lubricant as he moved towards her.  Kate struggled once more briefly, then stopped, resigned to whatever might happen.  She wanted to beg him, to scream in her frustration; she was too sore, she ached too much, she'd taken too much already tonight, the position hurt her hips and back too much, but all Kate could do was shake her head no, no, no and mumble an incoherent request pleading that he not do this to her. 

But strong hands grabbed Kate's hips from behind and lifted her body slowly towards Booker's groin.  And when they let go, as her body settled into the hammock again, she felt herself sliding down his massive cock, everything ending with her being fully impaled by him once more.  He just touched the back of her thighs where her nylons ended, pushing her softly away from his groin and then let go.  As Kate swayed away on the hammock, she felt herself gently emptied of his manhood, then as it swung forward again towards him, she was forced to ride him to completion as his massive presence filled her to the brim once more. 

Back and forth in the hammock she was gently, yet helplessly rocked, emptied and filled, emptied and filled without ever being able to move in response.  She was sore, but perversely, because of her soreness, it also felt wonderful, incredibly, exquisitely, erotically, terribly wonderful.  Compounding her frustration, there was nothing for her to push against and that inability tormented her immensely.  If she could only move against him, control her moves against him, she would be able to satisfy herself without depending upon him, cum exactly when she most needed to.  But tied the way she was, she was totally at his mercy.  She tried to move on her own time and again, but it was no use...her body was his to control.  And the massive black man showed no mercy.  He was driving her crazy on purpose.

Soon, very soon, another hand came from around her back and cupped her breast while the other encircled her waist.  The rocking motion was stopped and without any other warning, Kate was suddenly sandwiched between the two men again for the second time tonight.  She felt Jimmy aim his rock hard, lubricated member into her, then shove violently.  Kate couldn't help herself; she tensed and released a lung-full of air in a gasping wheeze through her nose.  He stopped just for a moment but kept her impaled as she panted and heaved with each of his moves, her face tightly pressed against Booker's chest.  Jimmy pulled almost all the way out and waited for a second, then reentered Kate with unnecessarily brutal force.

It hurt even more when Jimmy filled her rectum this second time, but even that pain too seemed sweet, almost welcome and certainly well worth exploring.  His hand now went from her waist and descended to her crotch, where he manipulated her clit as she was fucked by both men.  Both of Booker's hands were running up and down the insides of Kate's thighs, soaking in the slipperiness of her nylon-clad legs, pushing her thighs ever further apart to accept even more steaming meat front and back. 

Suddenly, both men pulled out until only the tips of the cocks filled their respective orifices in Kate's body.  Kate couldn't help herself as she made small humping moves with her hips on the two men, the tiny efforts being the only independent movement she could make as she hung bound in the hammock.  Then Booker took great handholds of her breasts and pushed the hammock away; Kate gently swayed onto Jimmy's groin as he filled her ass to the brim.  Then the black man pulled on her breasts.  As the hammock swung away from Jimmy and he emptied her colon, she glided back into Booker's groin and onto his cock, and he filled every conceivable space in her pussy.  She couldn't help or hinder, assist or fight what they did to her. 

They were like two warriors cooperating over a helpless female captive; they were like two cavemen sharing for a single moment a member of the same tribe; they were modern men taking everything they wanted from a liberated woman they both were determined to destroy. 

The bound Kate was pussy and ass fucked in silence for several long minutes without being able to move or say a word, the only sounds being the grunts of effort from the two men or their groans of pleasure.  But her body was undergoing an internal symphony of sensations and feelings, everything kept tightly inside by the gag, kept inside like the lid on a pot that boiled on the stove.

The strain of her awkward position, her attempts to rub against first one then the other of the two men to satisfy her raging needs, even the need to breathe, each and every effort combined to make the sweat pour off her magnificent body.  Kate convulsed as her slick chest heaved almost greasily against Booker's hairless one, her hard, rubbery nipples poking his skin as sharp as knives as she dragged air in through her nostrils. 

The sweat that covered both the insides of her thighs above the stocking welts and her now puffy labia mixed with that from Booker's groin, reducing to nothing the friction between their bodies.  At the same time, sweat flowed down her back and mixed with that of Jimmy's chest as he continued to drill her ass.  Her firm, muscular buttocks gleamed as if with dew as they simultaneously worked to guide and accept Jimmy's long, thick offering into her now well-used brown honey-hole as well as clenching and releasing him over and over again in unconscious rhythm to Booker's domination of her pussy.

Kate quivered on the end of my cock as I grabbed a handful of long hair and pulled her head back with it.  "You're my woman.  You belong to us tonight.  You know you do.  Admit it, tell me how much you've loved being fucked tonight."

With surprising determination and amazing control, Kate shook her head no.

Booker laughed softly and I smiled.  I gave a quick, short thrust into her ass, then pulled almost all the way out again.  "Come on baby, tell me how much you loved being fucked tonight by two men at the same time.  How much you like having a black cock fill your pussy and a white one fill your ass at the same time." 

Kate shook her head furiously again and oomppfh-mumbled into her gag. 

Both Booker and I gave her a couple more short hip thrusts, then stopped as I said, "We're not going to stop until you tell me exactly how much you love being juiced by both of us.  Are you ready for me to take the gag off?"

As drugged as she was, Kate still showed remarkable control.  Her shocked eyes looked at me then narrowed as she nodded her head yes, but I wasn't that stupid.  Booker and I fucked her for another couple of minutes, and soon, Kate was screaming her pleasure.  It was clear she didn't want to cooperate, didn't want to give us control of her femininity, but she was on the verge of not being able to stop herself.  Just as she started to crest again, we both pulled almost all the way out one last time.  Kate was literally crying in sexual frustration at this point. 

"Come on, baby.  Talk to daddy.  Tell me how much you want it.  How much you want us to fuck you.  Do you want to tell me now?"  Kate closed her eyes and after a second, nodded her head wearily.  I looked at her and somehow instinctively knew she was finally ready.  Booker's hands continued to unconsciously stroke the insides of Kate's widespread thighs, right at the top of her stockings. 

I undid the strap at the back of her neck and slowly removed her gag. 

Her pink tongue poked through as she licked her dry lips, then she opened and closed her mouth for a second.  She was breathing through her mouth for the first time tonight and she deeply filled her lungs with each breath.  Her magnificent chest above the top of the waist cinch that was now soaked with her sweat and which heaved enticingly with every breath she took.  Finally Booker reached up and flicked a rubbery hard nipple before beginning to play with her breasts. 

The old hint of barely hidden pride that had always leaked through before was gone now as she pleaded, "Please don't.  I hurt there.  My breasts really hurt."

He didn't stop though and with a hint of her old arrogance, she said more harshly, "I said, don't DO that." 

In an act of total ownership, Booker responded by grabbing both firm, pear-shaped globes and twisting hard enough to really hurt her.  Kate gasped as she inhaled and then for once showed a little wisdom as she accepted his domination, keeping her mouth shut as she bowed her face into his chest.  She accepted his mastery for as long as it pleased him, then his hands went back between her legs and he began stroking the insides of her firm, nylon adorned thighs again.

Finally, she raised her head again and for the first time in my life I truly heard Kate beg as she said in a pleading tone, "Please let me go.  PLEASE, either fuck me or untie me.  Finish me.  Please, you two.  Do whatever you want, but just finish.  This really hurts.  Please!"

I said, "Come on, momma.  You don't get down until we've gone all the way.  Do you want it , baby?  Do you want your men to fuck you right now?" 

She threw her hair back with a quick move of her head and rested the back of her head on my shoulder.  She faced the ceiling, her eyes closed as she pleaded, "You're going to do whatever you want to me.  Just get it over and let me down.  Please!"

I nodded at Booker and his hands moved up from her thighs to the top of her vagina.  He pushed his thumbs shallowly inside Kate at the upper point of her pussy just below her clit, separated her labia, then slowly drew the tips of his thumbs up towards her clit as he kept her lips separated.  Then he rubbed and stretched her clit over and over with the tips of his thumbs, before he started the whole procedure again.  Within thirty seconds, her lips had pulled back in to a snarl of frustration and Kate was desperately humping him with her hips as best she could.

"Come on, honey," I crooned into her ear as I stroked her hair.  "You were right about one thing.  We're not going to stop until you tell us what we want to hear.  Do you want it, baby?  Do you want to be fucked senseless by us......right now?" 

Kate hesitated, then in a gesture of total defeat, gave a small nod of her head yes.  She knew now it wouldn't stop until we had what we wanted. 

I followed up my opening quickly, "Say it, baby.  Come on, baby, say it out loud.  Do you want to be fucked in the ass right now?  I want to hear you say it."

Kate hesitated at the open crudity, but finally replied in a soft voice, "Yes.  I want it now."  Then, after a moment's silence, she continued with considerably more heat, "Both of you are bastards.  Either do it or let me go.  Fuck me in the ass right now, you bastard.  Do it.  NOW!"

I asked softly, "Do you want to feel a black man's cock fill your pussy too?  Do you want to feel a black man cum inside you and have his semen fill you up inside?  Come on baby, it's just the three of us; it's  just between us now; you can tell us the dirty truth."

Kate realized she'd already gone too far, too many times to stop now.  She'd miscalculated the balance between desire and taboo in her life once too often and was now on the verge of becoming the tragic heroine of her own romantic script.  After a moment of further hesitation, she finally threw all caution to the winds.  "Yes," her beautiful blue eyes flashed as she looked at Booker, "I want the black bastard to fuck me until I can't walk straight.  I want both of you to fuck me at the same time until I'm crippled.  Booker, you black son of a bitch, fuck me.  Give it to me, NOW!" 

Booker snorted at the mention of his name, but remained motionless except for one quick dip of his hip that wetted another inch of his cock with pussy juice before he pulled back again.  Kate groaned in short-lived ecstasy.  His hands were back stroking the insides of her thighs again before they slid up to the inside of her widely spread nylon-slick knees; after a moment's hesitation, he pushed her even further apart there.  Kate groaned again softly as her hip joints made tiny cracking sounds; helpless to stop him, she silently but reluctantly accepted his right to do this to her.  She laid her head back on my chest again and closed her eyes.

Booker and I looked at each other now; we both were we almost there.  A tiny smile of victory quirked his lips and I knew it matched mine.  He'd started this for purely mercenary reasons; the chance to fuck some new pussy and make money while doing it.  The fact that it involved degrading a stuck up white bitch had just added icing on the cake to him.  But now it had turned personal.  He was just as motivated as I to take this slut and trip her into the nearest gutter, to turn her into a rag that was worth nothing more than using to wipe off any disgusting thing that might be stuck on either of our cocks. 

We were almost done.  I reached around her chest and rubbed her nipples in a circular motion as I said softly into her ear, "We're your men, baby.  You know we are.  And you're our woman.  You belong to us from now on.  No more fighting, no more pouting until you get your way; you belong to us, you do what we say, when we say it, from now on.  Say it.  Say IT!  That you belong to us!"

Kate hesitated with her eyes closed, then took a deep breath as she raised her head off my shoulder and looked directly in Booker's eyes.  "I belong to you now.  You're right, I fucking belong to both of you now.  Is that enough?  Is that what you wanted to hear?  If it is, then take me now for God's sake.  Finish me off.  Both of you.  Take me.  Finish me.  Do whatever you want, but make me cum.  Cum inside me, then let me cum, please, make me cum now.  Do anything you want to me, anything at all, but just finish me.  Please finish with me, then get me down from here, it really hurts."

Booker gave a soft laugh of victory.  "That's it, bitch.  You just needed a little push to get your head where you needed to be.  Now that you're there, we're gonna take you on a roller coaster now....give you the ride of a life time."

Kate flinched at first when I filled her that last time, then she jiggled her bound body in pure pleasure; I know I hurt her as I finished her off, but she appeared to enjoy every inch at the same time too.  Booker and I kept her sandwiched mercilessly as we took her mind and body in separate directions, along routes she had never known existed.  And Kate explored these sensations with us for another fifteen minutes.

It Was A Bad, Bad Friday Night or Feeling Broken and Ugly, She Just Didn’t Want To Play House Anymore

Kate groaned again, but only in her mind this time.  Most layers of civilization had been stripped away by the drugs and the two men now, and she was nearly at the level of a soulless animal, reacting almost totally by instinct.  Even as her body continued to respond again and again to the two men, disconnected thoughts flashed through her mind like the strobes of laser-light in a darkened room.  They were both too big....her hips were killing her.....she hated them both.....this was crazy.......God, she wanted to cum so bad.....it was insane........why didn't these men she'd thought she knew so well just want to touch her.....that was a quick one but it felt so good.....why wouldn't they stop......she loved how it felt......her stockings hadn't laddered and must have been spun from strands of soft steel.....his cock felt like velvet covered iron that had small razors glued to it.....please, please, pretty please let her cum.....her hands had lost all strength and were slipping from her heels....oh God, that was another good one, a big one.....why were her breasts the only thing these two men pulled on.....her sweaty hands were slipping from her nylon-covered ankles now....her breasts were so sore.....her vagina ached......another good one......no woman could survive this, she would die tonight......how embarrassing to have her body found on this thing........Jimmy was being too rough, he was really hurting her....but she loved it too....she felt like she was glass and had cracked in a million pieces....she was filled with need to the point of exploding......

Her breasts ached terribly now.  They'd pulled on her breasts all night, first one then the other, using them as handles and knobs to move her body in whatever direction pleased them at the moment.  But all thoughts of her throbbing chest disappeared as she came just then, a huge orgasm that shook her for almost a minute, but the two men never stopped.  Now she just hung in the hammock, forced to accept, wanting to accept, willingly, almost gratefully accepting whatever they did to her now.

Kate had been pinned open like a flower for their pleasure, left open in a way that allowed massively deeper penetrations than any normal woman would customarily experience or willingly accept.  But at this point, the mature widow took it all without complaint.  Her bound body swung back and forth with each masculine hammer blow to her sex, as one would thrust in just as the other pulled out, forcing her hammock-ensnared sex from one man's belly and groin and into the other,

At other times, Kate was forced to give voice to her pleasure when, pinned like a butterfly in a shadow box, her two lovers achieved an accidental symmetry of motion and each thrust into her at the same moment.  Those brief moments filled her to overflowing for what seemed an eternity and she howled her animal pleasure before one pulled out only to thrust into her again.  

Finally, one after the other, first front then back, Kate felt the sizzle of lava hot seed being deeply injected into her body.  The spent men slowly pulled away then one at a time and she was finally left alone, hanging precariously in the hammock, hands and legs that no longer worked tied apart in a grotesquely wanton position, head hanging down on her chest and eyes closed, panting for breath.  Hands still desperately grabbing her nylon-slick ankles, Kate silently waited for whatever was to come next, but praying to her God that it was over. 

Any pride she'd ever had was long gone after tonight.  All anger was gone now too, burned through to leave behind a dreamy, yet strangely clean core of understanding that had been stripped of all subterfuge and emotions and feelings.  She had to be honest.  Her anger had been at being taken advantage of, at being taken for granted, at them doing this to her without her permission, rather than at the acts themselves.  And this embarrassed her terribly.  It was her pride that had been injured most severely, and if she had reacted at first as she had been inclined, it would have been her pride that would have doomed her only real chance at financial salvation.  Pride and money.  Despite what these men had done to her, the anger was only due to pride and money, not at having been so despoiled by them. 

But if this was what they wanted, it would cost them for tonight something had snapped.  What had been done could not be undone.  What she'd seen and felt could not be un-experienced.  She would never be the same.  She hated Jimmy for that, even as she recognized that she still, somehow, horribly, loved him too. 

Her mind was relatively calm in an odd, survivor sort of way even if a little shocky, but her body, oh her body. 

It was at this point that Kate’s body truly lost connection with her consciousness.  She still buzzed and tingled everywhere.  But now she floated alone in a vacuum of the senses, simultaneously feeling everything and nothing.  Her hips and vagina and knees and rectum and back each ached and throbbed with every beat of her heart; dull pains, throbbing pains, shooting pains.  She could still feel the stinging, smarting pains as her sphincter spasmed in its attempts to close after being drilled open for so long and so hard by big Jimmy.  And the walls of her vagina throbbed and her labia gaped wide after such heavy and grueling use by the massive black man.  But she would remember little of it in the morning. 

There was a modern part of Kate hated what they'd done to her and would never consciously, or unconsciously, forgive them for it.  But as much as she hurt from having been forced to accept their wanton sex in this place, as crazy as it sounded, it had also been somehow, a perversely......good feeling too.  It had been gratifying in a.....primitive....cave woman......brutal sort of way; of having been forced to undergo some kind of terrible, yet wonderful induction, after which she belonged to their tribe; there was a feeling of having been fulfilled as a primordial female and initiated by some ancient and unknown feminine rite of the mind into becoming a possession of the two men, of having been manipulated in a way that she had never even imagined could happen, let alone dare experience. 

Most modern women would say they hated the idea of what she had just endured.  But deep down inside, many of these same women, if as honest with themselves as Kate had finally been forced to be, each would also have probably admitted too how incredibly erotic and potentially satisfying being a true sex object for at least one time in their life might be.  And in those complex moments of extreme honesty, each would have wondered just how she would have reacted when facing what Kate just had just endured.

The two black girls now re-appeared again and after releasing her wrists from her ankles, they unhooked her heels from the hammock netting.  The pain in her hips was excruciating, and the drugged, semi-coherent Kate cried out as for the first time in what seemed hours, she was able to bring her legs together again.  The girls helped her off the hammock and she slid to the floor, collapsing in surrender to enormous fatigue.  She was unable to stand on her own.  Her legs felt like rubber, like something that should be used in a massive slingshot, not the things upon which a woman could stand.

Something else happened after this, but Kate didn't know what it was.  Her brain went south, her body failed her, her legs remained paralyzed.  She lay on the floor with her eyes shut; fighting an overwhelming urge to fall asleep right there.  But she couldn't, she knew she needed to waken in a safe spot, in a time before she had been lured here by the two men, a time before Booker had begun making her the center of his twisted attentions, before Jimmy had come into her life.  She was truly exhausted now and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Booker and I stood out of sight in the shadows as Kate lay on the floor, trying to gather enough strength to move when her mistress for the evening stalked by her motionless body prior to departing.  The tall woman stopped and stared down at Kate's slightly spread legs for a moment, then slowly put her right foot between Kate's knees and pushed them a little further apart.  A semi-conscious Kate whimpered but did nothing else.  The woman stood on widely spread high-heeled boots and continued to stare until the supine woman felt so uncomfortable that she felt it necessary to close her legs just a little.  Elvira stopped even that tiny movement with her foot, then stepped forward and inserted the pointed toe of her boot into Kate's well-worn vagina as far as she could. 

The tall woman in black pursed her lips and shook her head sadly.  "Despite your age, you are," she said, "just as good looking as the men promised.  Too bad you're into men like that.  If you ever want something different, let me know.  There are places here you might learn to enjoy."  With that, the woman removed her foot and departed, muttering softly to herself about a woman like Kate being wasted on idiot males.  I knew Kate heard nothing for she had curled into a tight, unconscious fetal ball around her misery. 

After a moment, I helped Kate slowly to her feet and handed her a new blouse to put over the tight body corset she still wore.  She could barely walk and all she wanted to do was sleep.  The drugs had made her like a walking zombie now, and I had to fight to not wrinkle my nose in disgust at her smell.  Every time she moved, the heady stink of her sweat mixed with tonight's sex wafted from between her thighs and permeated the air around us.

The drugged woman just whispered that she wanted to go home; nothing mattered more to her at that moment.  Her long legs, the beautiful long muscular legs that were so used to hours of extended running now trembled with fatigue as she slowly wrapped the leather skirt around her waist, then accepted over her shoulders the long cloak she had checked at the door. 

In a dull, unthinking monotone, she told me to leave the torn panties and blouse behind for whichever perverts liked that sort of thing.  Then, despite eye makeup that had run from her tears, she tried to hold her head high as she slowly, hesitantly walked out of the "club" to the amused smiles from the few patrons that were still present.  At that point, it must have seemed to her that everyone had been in on the evening's activities from the beginning, that even as she had walked in a lifetime ago, everyone had already been aware of her impending humiliation. 

She never said another word as I led her to the car, only groaning once as she sat down.  Kate was quiet that night, semi-conscious and more subdued than I had ever seen before, taking short naps and then jerking awake.  The only thing she’d said was a quiet demand to be taken home immediately after we picked up her clothing at the hotel, a demand made in such a dead tone that I knew it was non-negotiable.  I tried to say something but it didn't matter, she was either unconscious or wasn't listening to or buying into anything I said.  She leaned her head against the seat's headrest with her eyes closed the whole time. 

We parked in front of the hotel and I helped her to the elevator and to her room.  We quickly packed her things and departed.  Kate had been well and truly fucked at the club tonight; she was sore everywhere and it showed in her gait.  She still could barely walk on her car, but now refused to let me help her.  The trip home was long and quiet and uneventful.

The doorman kept an impassive face as he watched the ex-model come back late in the evening.  He'd noticed the long-haired beauty come in earlier and had admired her then.  But she was different now and he was shocked at the change in only a few hours; the woman could barely walk.  Her face looked drawn and her makeup was a mess.  Instead of the sexy heel to toe glide that made her so noticeable, the still beautiful woman now walked as if she had either a massive tampon made out of corn cobs stuck in her pussy, or she'd just had some kind of anal surgery. 

He could just envisage some grim-faced disapproving doctor, removing venereal warts with a dull spoon from what he would assume was a fallen lady.  The mental picture tickled his fancy as she drew near, walking with high-heeled feet at least shoulder width apart and knees consistently separated by about two feet of free air.  Her knees were so far apart she looked like a bow-legged organ grinder's monkey.

They left half an hour later.  She'd cleaned up a little and the doorman couldn't see her face because she still wore dark glasses even though it was night, and her hair was loose, covering much of her face.  But he could tell.  She may have still looked like a million dollars in her expensive coat and heels, but now she walked like an old Russian peasant plow woman.  Her escort had to hold her arm as she walked.  The expensive bitch looked dazed, like a woman that'd had her brains fucked out tonight.  She was obviously a stuck up bitch, but it was clear that somebody had put it to her tonight alright.  But damn, she was still real good looking too.  He just hoped someday he'd be able to hook up with a woman that looked as good as this one and do to her what some guy had obviously just done to this one.

The old woman I’d been fucking somehow aroused her drugged ass as I parked in her garage.  I tried to help her in, but she jerked away from me weakly, clearly hating me touching her.  Her muscles had tightened up by now, and it was clear that her joints ached and she found it difficult to walk.  But her willpower surprised me as she walked alone, slowly and stiffly into her home. 

Kate entered the garage door into her home and tried to slam it in my face, but I stopped it with a strategically placed foot.  Leaving the door, Kate walked slowly over to the nearest wall, leaned against it, and as slid to the floor as her legs collapsed.  She faced away from me in stubborn silence and after a moment I left.

I felt no guilt.  Okay, having a major boy's night out at her expense had been, perhaps, a little cruel.  But she was an adult, and all three of us knew exactly why she stayed in the relationship.  She could have had me for real, and we could have had everything together, but she blew it.  She fucking blew it big time.  And because I had learned of her betrayal early enough in our relationship to avoid letting her hurt me, it was Kate instead of me that would spend the rest of her life crying herself to sleep each night.

The Memories Were Meant To Destroy Her or Her Life Now Was Pretty Much Desolate As An Arctic Waste

Kate finally knew that she’d been drugged because of the way her mind kept coming and going.  Each time after coming back from what she’d begun to call the no-zone, whenever she tried to focus, it seemed like she was coming back with fewer and fewer memories of the evening.  The scenes were already significantly less detailed in her mind, but the overwhelming sense of freshly experienced horror was still there, as strong as ever.  On the one hand, she was afraid that soon she’d forget entirely what had been done to her this night.  On the other hand, she desperately wished to forget the horror, everything she’d been forced to experience.  Everything! 

Kate vaguely remembered that she'd made him stop at the hotel, but the drive home itself was a Kaleidoscope of blurred images with no associated memory.  She sort of remembered grabbing her purse, sliding out of the car and moving towards her home, the only place in which she still felt remotely safe.  But it had been so hard to walk and it hurt so much with each step.  Jimmy started to come in and she’d tried to stop him. 

Even while only half-conscious, familiar air still embraced her the moment she slipped inside the tiny utility room with the stacked washer and dryer just off the back entrance, and she’d shut the door behind her.  Kate stood with her back pressed against the cool metal door, her mind coughing up one decaying image after another of what they'd done to her this night.  She slid down the length of the door, the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes.

Just before the drugs in her blood pushed her into a final oblivion for the night, Kate pressed her fists into her eyes and struggled to catch her breath, to contain her humiliation and outrage.  Her hands pressed against her thighs, fingers tightening against the obscenely tiny leather skirt she still wore.  Cries, shrieks and wails clawed weakly at her throat.  But nothing came out of her mouth.  She needed to function somehow, to stand, make calls, pack a bag and run from them, anything.  But she couldn't seem to move.  It was as if the force of gravity held her against the door, legs pulled up against her chest.  She pressed her forehead against her knees. 

The last thing that Kate remembered was those first terrible moments after Booker had materialized tonight, and she'd been held there, frozen in time and space like a figure in a faded photo.  A noise had escaped her at that moment and she had wanted to slap her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and panicked.  But of course she couldn't because she'd been bound. 

She finally forced herself to think.  Should she call the police?  Should she call a lawyer?  Should she pack a bag and flee?  But why should she flee?  She hadn't done anything wrong.  All she'd wanted from Jimmy was a relationship that mattered.  Instead, here she was, torn up on the inside both emotionally and physically, panicked, cornered......ruined.

She toppled forward onto the floor; her mouth opened, but no sound came out.  Then her eyes closed and her lips curled and stretched back as she were in physical agony.  Kate gave in to her pain and at first choked back sobs, then finally released all of it and wept for what she had lost, didn't understand, didn't even know she'd lost.  Her mind now empty, she cried bitterly for several minutes.  Her sobs were long and heartbreaking, like those of a small, distressed child.  The cries of pain slowed, and then slowed again. 

The drugged and raped woman had passed out on the floor of her utility room. 

She opened her eyes, but all she could see was the linoleum on the floor of the tiny room.  An hour had passed and Kate remembered nothing of last night, but still felt filled with a general sense of horror and of extreme loss.  For some reason she felt like grieving, but she felt empty too.  After a few moments, she raised her head and looked around.  Then she looked at her body, Kate started with horror as she suddenly realized how awful she looked.  Eventually there was nothing left inside over which to delay and she knew she had to move her sweat soaked, stained body. 

Kate slowly removed her heels, and then cried out in pain as she rolled to her knees and finally pulled herself to her feet using the washer and dryer.  On her way through the kitchen, Kate tore off the cloak and dropped it over a chair, then hurried into the bathroom.  Faucet on.  Pipes clattering.  She thrust her hands under the rushing stream of cold water and splashed it repeatedly against her face.  She finally turned off the faucet and groped blindly for a towel, then pressed it to her swollen aching face. 

The fresh clean scent helped calm her a little, the smell of open meadows, summer, earth, simple pleasures.  When she finally let the towel drop from her face, she didn't recognize the woman who looked back at her.  Gone was any resemblance of her startling beauty.  Instead, she saw the hardened bitterness and terror that had claimed her mother so many years before.  Kate's eyes seemed washed out now, afflicted with some kind of soul fatigue or sickness.  Her hair normally neatly pulled back from her face, this morning it dropped over her shoulders in a tangled mess.  She looked like one of the homeless women she often saw and so despised for their weakness, the panhandlers with knotted hair, desperate faces, broken lives. 

She had no memories of last night.  What had she done last night?  What had she DONE?

Her clothes felt soiled.  She stripped off the tiny costume she was wearing, left everything on the floor and made a beeline for the bathroom off of her bedroom where she stood in the shower for over half an hour.  She knew afterwards she should eat, but had absolutely no appetite for any kind of food or drink.  Still, she returned to the kitchen, forced herself to sit down at the table, to collect herself.  She realized she needed to sit for a minute, think things through, breathe a little. 

There were vague memories, barely half-remembered scenes of utmost wantonness and vulgarity, sadistic display and torture, wild and kinky sex.  Kate collected her thoughts so that she could think clearly, rationally, and wouldn't sound like a nut case.  But her thoughts scattered like startled birds, for the events of the night with Jimmy and DaShawn were all mixed up in her head, the past cracking into the present, one wave after another.  Kate finally crashed for good at four in the morning.  She barely made it into bed before passing out for over six hours.  

Morning sunlight burst through the bedroom window, the curtains fluttering on a soft breeze.  Kate bolted upright, her heart thumping.  Her head ached and every time she moved quickly, shooting pains knifed from her temples to her sinuses.  She felt confused and took a few seconds to look around.  Her mind felt blank and her eyes matched the emptiness Kate felt inside.  Suddenly, a few memories of last night began to return.  It had to be a nightmare, it couldn't be true, Jimmy wouldn't have done that to her.  But it was and he had.

More and more memories began to flood in, and while most of the night was still a blur, there were certain events she could almost see in IMAX fucking vibrancy on the inside of her head.  The more she thought about it, the more everything came back.  And the more that came back, the more the pieces fit together.  She should have known they were in this together, sharing her, sharing thoughts and plans about what each would do to her.  She flushed with shame at what she'd allowed them to do.  Their private men's group, their good ole' boy club, was apparently privy to all sorts of information that she didn't have.  Kate felt like she'd been living under a rock for the last year, only being brought out to be shared between the two bastards. 

She shot to her feet and grimaced with pain from the muscles of her legs and hips as the stiff muscles demanded attention once more.  She paced, rehearsing what she would say if she called the police, trying to get it exactly straight, telling them everything even as she hid so much of what she herself had been so complicit in.  She felt like a criminal, a vengeful criminal trying to hammer out an alibi that would stand up under scrutiny.  It was too much, too soon.  Aching as if from the flu, Kate took another quick shower and then gingerly crawled back under the covers, trying not to think about anything at all. 

Kate lay in bed that day, afraid to move because it hurt so much.  There was a large, brittle empty spot inside and she had no real way to think about it or cope with the gaping hollowness she had never before felt.  She hoped it had been a dream, but was sure it was not.  And as the day wore on, it all became more and more bleak.

She had been amused with Jimmy's antics months ago, amused with the serious, beautiful, embarrassed young man she had known for almost twenty years.  But he had played her like a master conniving bastard, making every move that needed to be made.  He’d appealed to her loneliness and need for financial security; he'd flattered her ego with his compliments about her looks and personality and intelligence.

She had so desperately wanted to believe that he was just a nice guy who had made some bad choices about their relationship, but rage swept through her with shocking swiftness.  He was not a nice guy.  He was an opportunist and a sadistic, perverted bastard.  The fact that she had stayed with him for several months was a damning indictment of her own flaws.  She grabbed the photo off her bureau that had been taken of them at the performance in Boston last month and hurled it across the room.  It crashed into the wall, the glass shattering.

"You bastard," she sobbed.  Aside from his sexual indiscretions, he had done things to her and kept secrets that left her compromised with her neighbors, her son, her deceased husband’s family.  Now there was a real possibility that she might have to leave her home, this beautiful neighborhood....and she hated that thought.  But incredibly, somehow, stupidly, Kate knew still loved him.

He had both dangled a stick, making her examine how she felt as a woman alone and what she faced without his money, and then had offered her the carrot.  And just as the rulebook dictated, the latter had been designed to reach the reluctant party's greatest vulnerability.  It pained her now that it was all so obvious.  It must have been so easy, find the woman, make her wallow in her loneliness and scare her, then show her apparent kindness and empathy.  And all he’d asked in return was her soul. 

She had no pride left now.  It was a meaningless concept to her now.  She had given everything to him, but he wanted so much more.  And when he was finished taking, all she had left to offer at the end was the remnants of her pride, her cooperation, her sex being given to other men.  She had become nothing but a receptacle for his plans.  Kate flushed as she realized that he had even convinced her that the only good sex was an orgasm at the point of unconsciousness.  And she had laid there like an idiot with a death wish, letting him put his hands around her neck, cutting of her air until she was seeing spots and then tried to fight back. 

So be it, she thought to herself.  I'll give them what they want.  I just hope they think the deal was worth it a year from now when I get rid of them forever.

It Was The Look Of Madness That Lay Within or She Was Truly A Prisoner Of Her Own Device

Kate wouldn't accept phone calls from me for over two days, but I finally forced my way in on the third afternoon and made her talk.  I was taken aback.  Kate looked like hell; the first time that to me she actually looked her age.  Her demeanor had changed too.  Gone was the beautiful, young at heart, vibrant woman: hers’ now was a face consumed with defeat; the veneer of sophistication had been softened all over and much of it peeled away.  She wasn’t a take charge leader of anything anymore, rather, she was just a woman now – a woman in pain.  Even so, when she spoke, she was quiet, reserved, calm.  Far too calm.  We were sitting at her kitchen table and all she asked was, "Why?"

Finally, I said, "You'll hate me, but I've wanted to do that to you for a long time.  You were gorgeous that night."

She pushed her chair away from the table and me.  "You are a bastard.  A fucking slimy, two-timing bastard.  And I'm NOT that kind of woman.  At least I wasn't until you finished with me that night in the club.  I can't trust you anymore.  I'll never trust you again."

"Kate," I replied, "trust is a two-way street."  She still had no idea that I knew of her dalliance with the clerk at the store, and my remark drew a blank look.  She didn't know that although I began this to hurt and use her, I had instead begun to fall in love with her.  But ever since that day, the day I learned from her own lips how treacherous a slut she really was, I had been leading her down this path with Booker's help, making her do ever more demeaning things as we weaned her from what even her own common sense kept trying to tell her.  But her desire for my money was far too strong. 

"But if it upset you that much, then we won't do that again until you're more ready.  Or I can just leave and never come back.  But you know what that means too, don't you?"

She looked into my eyes and sniffed as she searched my face, then said, "I know you, I finally know your type.  You'll keep on doing anything and everything you can to me.  Anything to make you feel better, stronger, more of a man.  Anything to demean me, to make me smaller in your eyes.  Well, fuck you!  If you want to keep this going, then it'll cost you.  I was a fool before, but now I know what I'm worth to you and what my freedom from you is worth.  You ever want to touch me again, you'll be paying me enough so that I can tell you to get fucked whenever I want."

I know now that she had been thinking in those two days about she and myself, about her and Booker, about what we had been doing together and about what we had just done to her only a few days ago in Boston.  It was obvious that she really had reached a firm decision over those two days, for if a prostitute is defined as a person that sells sex for money, then with the benefit of hindsight, I realized that this is where she changed from a sexual dilettante to committed whore. 

Kate the full-time whore had been delivered full-born.

What had been pretty much implicit in our relationship now became explicit as she continued.  "Let's be honest at least with each other at least once in our lives.  Okay?  For some reason, I'm the woman of your dreams."  She ended that comment with a small, unpleasant smile on her face.

"But the age difference between us is huge."  As she picked up the vinyl nun's costume that lay in front of her, she continued.  "I'm know I'm not bad looking right now, but I've only got a few more years of these kind of looks left."  She dropped the outfit on her table again.

"And you like to dress me up so you can fuck me and have a good time cumming all over me.  What?"  She looked at me with a perfectly plucked, arched eyebrow.  "You two had me tortured, then gang fucked the hell out of me and you don't want me to be too crude for you?"

"You bastard!  You've been fucking me for months, and then you go and invite Booker to have me, even when you know how I feel about....negroes?  You gave me to him, then sat back and watched, laughing yourself sick as he raped me, fucked me silly?  You bastard.  You unmitigated fucking BASTARD!"

"Well, no more!  You want to fuck me?  Fine!  You want me to dress up for you before you fuck me?  I'll do that too." 

She lifted the vinyl nun costume, then dropped it back on the table once more.  "But no more dress-up," she said, "unless I get paid what I'm worth.  You want me to act like a whore when you're fucking me, then you'll by God pay me better for it."  Her blue eyes were flashing.

"I'll never put myself in situation again where I become financially or emotionally dependent upon a prick like you.  I'll never be dependent on a man again.  But to get there, I'll let you put your sorry dick in me as much as you want.  I'll even fuck that disgusting cave man Booker if you want me too.  But it'll cost you."

She exhaled and then continued, “What I’m telling you, what I’m showing you with this, is that I don’t care about you anymore, that I don’t need you anymore.  And that anything that happens from this point on is only for my benefit, not yours!” 

The kitchen table seemed the perfect place for our business discussion.  We hammered out what and how she would be paid, both of us negotiating for what we wanted.  How often we could come over, what days she got off, the few things that she would absolutely refuse to do (the list was shockingly small and she hadn't included animals), what times she could count on being able to be alone when she needed to run, the committee meetings that she wanted to begin attending again without being interrupting, and of course, going back to church on Sunday morning.  She reminded me in her negotiations of a granite-hard, insistent prostitute.  In the end, truth be known, I would have paid Kate a lot more money for the continued privilege of fucking her for just a few more days. 

She was changed, hardened.  She had become a slave to deep anxieties and unpredictable moods.  Regardless of whether still a member of some church, she was not only a true whore now, but she was a cheap one too. 

But she was still angry; and as far as Kate was concerned, even if she was only going to be fucking one of them now, they were both still perverts and psychopaths.  From this night on though, if the perv wanted something from her, he was going to have to pay.  It was the job of the pervert to shoot great balls of money her way as well as his wad, and if Jimmy didn’t happen to see things her way, then she had no compunction now about dumping him for good.  After all, she had finally awakened to how life really worked.  With her looks and figure, at least for now, all she had to do was crook a finger and men would come running.  There was no way she had to put up anymore with the sort of things he’d done to her in the past, not unless she absolutely wanted to.

But the worst part was….somehow, incredibly, she still loved Jimmy despite what he’d done to her. 

She’d fought the urge at first to succumb to his needy blandishments as best she could, but had lost in the end, lost big time.  And by losing, she’d been turned into a 'thing' by them rather than allowed to remain a woman.  The funny part though was that in some ways that was okay with her, for just this moment, in only this place, just between the two of them.  But he would still pay; they both would pay somehow for her losses too.  Her loss of self-esteem.  And that loss, that trade-off she had made in her mind, now preyed on her when she let it. 

Even now, thoughts of that night made her blush, fidget with embarrassment.  Once she had recovered her senses, she was ashamed at how easily she had accepted the role of love-sick teenager willing to accept any abuse in order to keep a worthless boyfriend happy; at how the two had, with her willing assistance, turned her into something to be used.

But one thing she had often questioned now was crystal clear; she finally understood something that had always baffled her before.  How could the spouses of abusive mates keep going back to the same person time after time.  You got used to the violence, the relationship that fed certain dark, terrible needs within you…..you were afraid of the world outside your relationship….there were a million different reasons not to change relationships.  All of them poor rationalizations for the truth. 

But Kate perfectly understood this phenomenon now. 

And there were times she still wanted him back!!!

For different reasons, we both tried for two days, but it was over.  Too much had changed between us, it just wasn’t going to work.  I arrived at her home one last time, determined to end it.  I showed up early and she met me wearing only a robe she held closed in front of her chest.  Despite the fact that I had not given her any money upon my arrival nor had she asked for any, we still went up to her bedroom and she slipped it off of her shoulders without a word then paused, waiting for my reaction. 

I stood back from her and said, "Kate, you need to sit down.  I want to talk to you.  We've got some things that need to be said."

She looked at me skeptically, but still sat down carefully.  She winced once, still quite sore from our earlier brutality, but I didn't care.  I forced all emotions below the surface and looked at her coldly. 

"We're done.  I'm done," I said, "with supporting you.  I've just met a girl my own age that I think I could love."  Kate’s face remained motionless, minus any expression as her skin turned first gray and then white as the blood drained away.

"We both knew it would come to this.  You're incapable of love.  And I'm incapable of loving you.  We.....enjoyed each other.  Took what the other offered.  I admit I maybe….even…. took more than was offered.  In any case, it's the sort of thing that's nice while it lasts, but it never lasts.  Not for long enough."

There was a look of outraged disbelief on her face.  "You bastard!  You think that you’ll be leaving me now, after all you’ve done to me?”

"You’ve been paid money, a lot of money.  I think we've about covered everything."

"We need to talk about this….."

"I told you, this whole thing's a dead issue."

She swayed away from me, as if she needed more distance to see the whole picture.  "No!  I know what you felt for me; I know what you needed from me."

"I'm sorry," I said coolly.  "I may have misled you.  There's...."

"Uh-uh.  You...."

"......absolutely no chance of a deeper relationship between you and me.  And I don’t think you even really want one now either." 

"You can't deny that you owe me….."  Her voice rose in volume.

"That's exactly what I intend to do….deny you any power over me through guilt or some kind of incestuous attraction.  If you think I'm going to let your emotions control my life, then you don't know me."

"But you took my life.  You ruined everything, I...."

I waited for a second, then continued.  "No more.  Do you understand?  No more!"

Kate was still a lovely woman, regardless of what we had done to her.  Her beautiful face glowed with intensity and the need to know that she still had some control over the situation.  She said in an angry voice that was only slightly tinged with panic.  "If you think for even a minute that I’m going to go back to living without money, without you paying me what you owe me…."

I snorted, "No more money, but you'll survive.  Women like you always do."

Anger immediately flared on her face, and she spluttered, "What do you mean?  What did you mean by that?"

For the first time in quite a while, I felt real anger towards her.  I stood there, looking at her, feeling my feet seem to attach to the floor as my face hardened, and I welcomed the cold rush of it.  She stood there, glaring at me (I had not even noticed her standing up) and that just fed into it.  There was a ringing in my ears, and it came to me as if from a distance, that I was losing control.

I took a step towards her, and her eyes grew wide and she backed up half a step.  I don't know what would have happened if she had not, but that was sufficient to give me back control.  "Okay, I tried to do it the easy way, but you won't listen.  So here it is, you stupid woman.  Here's the reality of our relationship.  I'm tired of supporting your saggy ass.  You are nothing but meat to me now." 

I shook my head, "You're used to being around men again.  You like having a man around.  You like being fucked.  In fact, you like your sex regular and hot as hell.  You're great at fucking a man, great at fucking groups of men.  You need money.  Men like to fuck women and pay good money to fuck women that look as good you do.  Are you too dense to put two and two together?"

I started walking, keeping as tight a control on myself as I could, which wasn't very much.  I stopped for a second.  "Anyway, think about it.  You have needs.  You finally have something you're good at.  And that gift is something that men will pay a lot for.  At least for another couple years.  Talk to Booker if you need any more help putting two and two together.  Good luck."

The anger that had filled her face suddenly seemed gone now.  The icy hardness that she’d tried to hide her hurt behind was gone now, and the woman that hated the fact that she still cared was that all remained behind now.  Kate looked at me with tears in her beautiful blue eyes and she spoke with bafflement in her voice.  "Why'd you have to come back, Jimmy?  Why now?  If you'd only waited another few years, I'd have been too old for you and you wouldn't have been interested me; you wouldn't have been able to do this to me then; wouldn’t have wanted to do this to me.  Why didn't you wait five years, Jimmy?  Just five years....."

As I walked out, I heard her yell, "Jimmy, please.  You don't mean this.  Jimmy, stop.  Wait.  Please.  Jimmy....JIMMY!"

I should have been filled with icy delight at what I had just done----I’d destroyed her a second time.  But I was not.  I was not filled with anything except emptiness, a feeling of hopeless futility at my life.  Still, I never looked back at Kate as I left her forever.

She’d Been A Major Ride In The Devil’s Playground or Until Recently She’d Been Nothing More Than A Work In Progress

His language had been arch and melodramatic, as if he had chosen the words specifically to amp up the drama in minimal time.  He’d described the events between them with the feel of a straight-to-video movie: sounding angry, but with the anger riding the top of voice when his words should have hummed with rage if that was how he truly felt.  His voice should have had broadcast anger and hate the way a power line sings from the energy burning through it.  Just as she’d tried to make hers’ sound.  But instead, he seemed to be saying the words without truly feeling them, as if they were part of a script.  That quality in his tone, or what was missing, convinced Kate that he was faking. 

How could he have left her?  How could he have done this to her a second time?  What had she done wrong?  What was so wrong with her that she deserved this all over again?  How could she have set herself up to being put down by him a second time like this?  How could she make it up to him?  Was there anything she could make up to him?  Did she hate him or did she still feel some love him? 

Already the tentacles of an approaching migraine were reaching out.  Kate shut her mouth and tried to will away the creeping pain.  The house seemed to contract around her as it emptied of Jimmy’s once reassuring presence.  God!  She would miss his touch.  Jimmy had taken great pride in his hands and loved caressing her.  Often instead of kissing her goodnight or goodbye, he would run his hands over her face, her cheeks, her lips………

She felt a hot wash of blood flood her face again.  Rage filled her.  Suddenly, she felt guilty like a child that had been caught in some terrible lie.  There were no tears, at least not yet...she tried to refuse to allow herself that useless luxury.  Kate stood at the bookcase where she could see the only photo she'd kept of Jimmy and her together.  Her ears rang; she felt as if she were perched on top of the world's highest diving board, and if she stepped off the pool below wouldn't be deep enough to keep her from hitting bottom. 

She felt utterly paralyzed by his hideous transformation from protective lover to totally evil devil.  Because she'd given him her trust, his evil, so abruptly revealed at the end, seemed almost unreal to her.  She could not get her mind around the rupture of the reality that he had so artfully designed and then presented to her.  Her fingers reached out, entities independent of her, of her body, and closed around the picture frame.  She smashed it into a thousand small pieces, then pulled the picture out to look at it one last time.

She still wanted to believe that he was a nice guy who had made some bad choices, but a final, icy rage based upon her new reality swept through her with shocking swiftness.  He was not a nice guy.  He was a bastard, an evil bastard.  A conniving bastard and an opportunist.  Yes, everything he'd said about her was true in a way, but he was still a manipulating bastard.  She had totally misjudged him, and what he had done to her over the last months made her feel cheap and wicked and bad; a soiled and willing party to something both unclean and degrading beyond her understanding.

Suddenly, all Kate knew was that she had to get out, she had to escape him.

She packed one bag in less than five minutes with no planning involved, just taking whatever she could get her hands on in the shortest period of time.  Her cash pitifully low, Kate knew she'd have to stop and get more, as much as she could.  The ATM was her next stop.  She'd get what she could, then spend only cash so that she couldn't be traced.  Jimmy had means and could hire someone to track her down. 

Kate half stumbled, half ran into her garage.  She threw open the car door, threw the bag in back and scrambled inside, jammed the key into the ignition.  Her hands shook, the strap of her purse slipped off her shoulder, her body headed into meltdown.

Inside the car, Kate sat where Jimmy often sat; she flexed her fingers against the cold, hard steering wheel, fighting back her rising panic.  She breathed in the remaining new car scent of the seats, the dashboard.  And behind these smells were those of the crackers in the glove compartment, of Jimmy's aftershave. 

She felt like yesterday’s fast-food wrappers: cold, soiled and greasy, nothing but discarded waste.  A low sigh hissed between her teeth.  It started deep inside her and made a noise like a whistle, but the pressure that drove it didn’t lessen.  Instead, it seemed to build – like she had swallowed the air hose at a gas station and she was being filled with cold gas.  Her eyes filled and her chin quivered, and finally she bawled, sobbing until she hiccupped.  She felt so alone and frightened, and despite what he’d done to her, she still wanted Jimmy here right now so badly that her stomach clenched. 

Kate forced herself to think of Jimmy in this car, fiddling as he always did with the radio buttons, changing from one station to another, a habit that drove her nuts when she was in the car with him.  Or how he switched from one CD to another, always searching for the perfect music to fit his mood.  Or the way he chattered on his cell.

Always preparing to destroy her life.......

Focus, Kate hissed at herself.   Her anger at the stupidity of falling for a younger man suddenly overwhelmed her, and she struggled to pull slowly out of her garage, but her head roared and shrieked.  She looked frantically around for an entrance to the highway, spotted it, then floored the accelerator and the expensive car took off, tires screaming against the pavement. 

Personal cars are invisible to civilians in America as long as you don’t buy gas with credit cards or get a traffic ticket.  And if you drive off the main interstate highways, down into the mid-sized and smaller towns when you’re looking for a hotel, you can find one where all the transactions are done in cash.  People here don’t want to see a Visa or MasterCard, they don’t check your license plate to see if you wrote down the right number.  Hand over fifty or sixty dollars in advance, and they’re satisfied. 

It Was A Long Way Home From Here or Baby Don’t Tolerate Her New Life Well

Kate drove for five hours without stopping.  She turned her head towards the passing landscape, trying to force her whirling mind into a blank, receptive state that might yield either peace or some bit of information or impressions, some damn thing that made sense or would allow her to understand what had just happened.  She came up pitifully short in the insight department and a thick, heavy fatigue crept over her on cat’s feet. 

She mindlessly filled her gas tank and got on the highway again.  Her mind raced at first, then settled into an uneasy highway trance of white line hypnosis.  Four hours later she pulled into another gas station, parked near the rest rooms and rested her head against the seat.  Minutes passed.  Eyes shut, she struggled through what had happened to her beautiful, well-ordered life.  She realized that since the beginning, so much had smacked of manipulation, design, of elaborate puppetry.  She now understood how intricate, how complex those manipulations had been, but regardless of what he’d said to her, she still wasn't sure of Jimmy's motives.  Finally, sickened to her stomach, she’d filled the tank up and pulled out again.

The rich, endlessly smooth pavement soothed her a little.  It was night and luckily there were no cops.  She drove too fast, but the speed made her mind vanish, leaving her with snatches of half-remembered songs, some old, some new.  The words blended into a strange poetry she would never remember when the drive was done. 

The longer she drove, the louder her body complained.  Kate desperately needed to sleep, her bladder ached, her stomach kept cramping with hunger.  She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast at seven yesterday morning.  But the desire to leave everything behind kept her going, up and down rural back roads, winding in and out of woods that might have well have been the forest primeval.  She drove for hours, but had no idea where she was. 

She only once stopped when it wasn't for gas; it was instead a sudden panic attack.  She was driving down a deserted southern country road and it felt suddenly like a pillow had been shoved against her face, she couldn't breathe even though she was gasping for air.  Kate kept telling herself to calm down, that the feeling would pass.  But she couldn't stand it, couldn't breathe; it felt like she was dying.  She braked to a panic stop, threw open the door and scrambled out, desperate to move, to feel the fresh air against her skin, to know that she wasn't dying.  She stumbled, fell to her knees, and air abruptly rushed back into her lungs.  Kate remained on the ground, hands pressed to her thighs, until she could breathe normally again. 

The compass in her car said she'd been heading south and west, and that was good enough for her.  She was pretty sure she'd never see Jimmy or Booker again, yet felt that if she stopped, one of them would somehow catch up to her, find her, use her once more. 

She drove aimlessly for another twenty hours, then, exhausted, she was hit by the sudden realization; maybe she had gone far enough.  Kate stopped at the next town and found she was in Arkansas.  For the first time since he'd left her, Kate got a motel room for the night.  She felt awful and looked worse.  The clerk looked at her oddly, but finally accepted her money and gave her a tiny room.  After a shower, she sat on the edge of the bed and her mind once more began going over Jimmy and Booker, and what they'd done to her.  As everything fell more and more into place, she fell into an ever deeper depression.  Kate actually felt her life change before her eyes as she went into a typical depressive spiral. 

It was a fairly reasonable time in the early evening.  Not knowing what else to do, but feeling the crushing need to talk to someone, to somehow explain her crazed behavior, she finally, reluctantly, called Gina. 

Before Kate said five words, the tears had finally come and through huge gulps for air, she managed to tell Gina part of what had happened.  Her friend immediately begged her to come back to Massachusetts, but that option for Kate was out.  Finally, Gina made Kate give her the location of the motel and she promised to fly down first thing tomorrow morning.  They talked another fifteen minutes, then Gina had to get off the phone to begin making preparations for her upcoming trip to Little Rock, Arkansas.

Kate felt better at the thought of being with Gina.  As Kate turned the lights off and slid under the rough cotton sheet, she just knew that things would be better with Gina here.  Gina had a warm, sharing personality, a stable, loving marriage and was the mother of a son she just adored.  Her friend also was one of the smartest, kindest, most thoughtful people she knew. 

Kate managed to get out of bed the next morning in time to pick Gina up, but the unrelenting depression made it difficult, a chore barely managed.  Gina departed the plane as fresh as when she'd gotten on, one of those people that just seem to be able to travel without showing any wear or fatigue.  Gina was a senior lawyer in a medium-sized firm that handled maritime matters.  With the firm located just outside the Boston, Gina already knew she'd never make partner because she had a great family life, and both her husband and child came before her work.  But that was alright with her too, for she enjoyed her job and was respected both for her intelligence and what she did.....she really was good lawyer. 

Kate wouldn't talk until they were back at her motel room.  When Gina heard the details, at first she wanted to have them arrested, take both men to court for serial rape and kidnapping, sexual abuse and torture.  Taking Jimmy's money and Booker's freedom for the next ten years seemed like a good trade.  But Kate wouldn't hear of it, for she knew that a trial would quickly become the public circus of the decade.  All her shameful behavior and the awful things the two men had done to her, the awful things she’d allowed them to do her, it all would become public knowledge; people would laugh at her stupidity and paint her as an aging gold-digger that deserved exactly what she had received.....and God forbid, maybe they were right. 

Filled with anger at what had been done to her friend, Gina then rashly offered to hire a hit man to break some elbows and knees, to leave the two men castrated; anything to cause them pain.  She had plenty of contacts on the docks and waterfront, and it really would have been relatively easy for her to come up with a name or two.  But this idea too Kate denied.  She just wanted to get away from the two men, from the scene of her multiple humiliations, to leave everything behind. 

Finally, Gina just held Kate as she cried.  She choked back sobs at first, then finally released it all and wept for everything good and permanent in her life that she'd now been forced to give up because of one man’s apparent need for revenge.  All she’d ever wanted was stability and now her life was filled with so much uncertainty. 

Ever the best friend, Gina agreed to stay with Kate until she felt better, then called her husband to give him her new schedule.  Gina also agreed to not talk about the recent horrors in Kate's, so she just gave her loving husband a general statement about how "her friend needed her and she would be back soon."

Gina had taken a week's vacation from her law firm so the two women were both free to travel.  After checking out, they hopped into Kate's new car and just drove.  Kate stopped and used cash to purchase a few new clothes, mainly blue jeans, blouses and sneakers.  All the while they talked about everything but what had happened, studiously ignoring the 800 pound monster that still hovered in the car all around them.  They took back roads and small state highways, stopping whenever the moment seemed to fit.  This freedom continued for several more days, and although they aimlessly drove at least four hours a day, they never left Arkansas.

At first, all she could see was his face.  With nowhere to retreat but within her own mind, Kate kept coming back to him.  It finally became easier to avoid his face with the flurry of one-step-at-a-time activity that Gina brought; picking places to stay, changing clothes, figuring out how she was going to use the bathroom….all in the presence of other people.  Other men.  That was probably the worst part, at least at first.  The lack of privacy at the most intimate, personal level.  That was what he’d had in mind all along.  Even before he’d driven her off.  Before everything else. 

Some days it seemed Kate was moving through a vacuum, an airless gray created by her lack of purpose, and other days it seemed she wasn't moving at all.  That life was flowing past beneath a projection of rock upon which she herself had been stranded.  She felt deflated.  Not merely empty but finished somehow, as if whatever she had come into the world to do was now done, and a only hollow shell had been left behind to live on the memories.

She had nothing to do; nowhere in particular to go.  She had come to the end of her purpose, and though the pain and frustration caused by Jimmy's rejection had eased a little, she had no energy left remaining to solve the problems of and in her life.  She imagined herself following him wherever he went, saving his life, and receiving infinite gratification.  Then she thought he might still be near her home up north, that he was having trouble putting her behind him.  But she knew it was all in her imagination.

Gina was pretty sure that Kate had post-traumatic stress disorder, at least as bad as any combat soldier she’d ever heard about.  Kate never slept anymore.  In fact, sometimes she wasn’t there at all.  She would wake up and Kate would be gone, taking a walk at night or playing solitaire on Gina’s laptop, like she’d been playing all night long.  Nothing Gina did seemed to help at first, so she took another week of vacation.

Finally they wound up in a beautiful, small rural village on the border with Texas.  The time with Gina and her ability to nurture without prying, it all was a tonic to Kate's mental health.  Both women finally found themselves ready to stop their aimlessness and begin to put Kate's life back together.  Kate was doing much better both mentally and spiritually, and was looking forward to the small festival the town held this time every year.  Gina wasn't quite looking forward to it as much as was Kate, but whatever her friend needed, that was what she would do.

Gina had worked hard on healing Kate’s mind over the last couple of days and this town was where she would finish just the first stages.  “You’re a grown women, but you’ve also kept yourself too protected; you’ve been out of the game too long.  Take your time.  You don’t have to learn to trust men again yet; that’ll take time.  You don’t even need to be around them.” 

Gina continued, “But in the meantime, I need to teach you two of the most important lessons of your life.  I’m a lawyer and it’s taken me years to learn what I’m going to teach you in a single day.  The first is this; you will see people, men and women at their creative, industrious worst.  Real bitches and bastards.  And while you may not believe it now, a lot of the time the women are as bad or worse than the men.  You need to learn how to tell when they’re lying to you, how to tell a lie from the truth even when everyone of the bastards is lying, and you need to know how to figure out who is right and honest even when everyone seems a liar.  Is that clear?”

Kate nodded.

“Do you have any questions?”

Kate asked, “The first lesson is how to read men, how to read people.  What’s the other lesson?”

Gina’s eyebrows arched as if she was about to dispense the wisdom of the ages.  “You will learn how to not hate them.  You’ll meet some sorry men and women, but most aren’t so bad.  You need to learn how not to lose sight of that, because if you do, you’ll end up hating them.  And that’s the first step towards hating yourself.  You and I, we’re sisters, more than sisters……we can’t have that, can we?” 

It’d Been A Long, Savage, Perfect Deception or Only Sisterhood Could Fill The Pivotal Need Kate Felt Now

With the receipt of this nugget, Kate finally began to recover from the despair that so sickened her soul.  Even then, it only began when she finally began to understand…and believe….that you couldn’t pick your fate.  Life was serious, not a subway ride that was predictable and something upon which one could count.  You could get a bullet train rush of speed and an amusement park picture with your hair on end, or you could get a rickety wooden roller coaster that crumbled, spilling you into the river far below.  There was no way you knew what you’d get when you bought the ticket.  For all but the very few, it was the luck of the draw.  And it had been her bad luck to pick an absolute asshole to take the ride with.  For like most power-hungry assholes, he liked to mess with people’s minds, because to someone like him, to something like him, the power and the fear that it brought was as tasty a meal as anything he’d ever had.  But even if he was full of shit, as long as Gina was there to help, she’d be fine eventually. 

It was only with this final realization that Kate began to heal.  She awoke the following morning bathed in almost radiant happiness.  The recent events that had so threatened to destroy her mind, the bondage and sadomasochism, the rapes and beatings and the manipulations, having been nothing but a thing being shared between two or more men, while all of this was cut into her memory like diamond on glass, somehow Kate knew she was going to be okay.

The two men had stolen her body and had tried to steal her mind too.  Jimmy and his terrible black destroyer had possessed her and gobbled up her soul.  Only temporarily, thanks to her strong mind and some help from Gina, but it wasn’t an experience you soon forgot.  Or got over, not completely. 

Rot in hell, you bastards. 

She knew that while her consciousness remained contaminated with the still toxic images and feelings she may never be able to rid herself of, her life was not nearly as bad as before.  She had nearly been devoured by these visions, by images both vivid and smeared, by the dreams which continued and were still at times fiercely clear.  But overall, she felt a glassy clarity now about her life now, about the way she saw herself.  And thankfully, it brought with it a sense of freedom, of having risen from a swamp that had threatened to swallow her.  She understood what really mattered now, and it was time to move forward. 

She was healing and Kate and Gina spent the day immersing themselves in wonder at the strength of the human spirit. 

The little town's spring festival began this morning.  Kate had let herself go over the last ten days…frankly, she looked like hell.  Gina knew Kate needed to learn to value herself again.  Gina had two days ago used her skills as a layer to harangue day long appointments for both of them at an expensive, rather exclusive beauty studio and they had yesterday driven over thirty miles in order enjoy themselves.  The day-long regime of beauty massage and aroma therapy, facial and manicure and pedicure, a wonderful light lunch, everything worked to lift her spirits and make Kate feel better.  Just as pleasing, being of the same height, same color hair and similar bone structure, with Gina having lost weight and Kate now on the mend, the two women now looked enough like sisters to elicit amused comments from everyone they saw. 

And to finish it off, in an effort to fit in with what they both saw as a slower, simpler southern life style in which a surprising number of woman still dressed up before going out, both she and Gina had purchased new sun dresses and everything to go with them. 

The day that greatly changes a life, or ends a life, rarely comes with a warning.  There are no signs in the sky, no dark ravens on a post, no sound-track in a minor key.  The following morning dawned bright, clear, and as far as Kate was concerned, much more promising than any in the last six months.  The sense of peace that she experienced was entirely new to her and very welcome.  She had butterflies about what tomorrow might bring, but overall she felt more excited than afraid. 

The day had begun with both women taking long, luxurious early morning baths and soaking in water drenched with bath oil.  Afterwards, they applied liberal amounts of lotion to further soften and condition their skin and then took extraordinary care with their makeup before finally dressing for a late breakfast.  Gina was excited because this was the first time in almost two and a half weeks that Kate had shown any interest in her life by acknowledging her appearance, and it was a good sign that she was finally on the road to recovery. 

It was almost noon and the weather was beautiful.  Kate and Gina had both ordered iced teas at an outside table in front of a wonderful, small cafe they had found.  But Gina was, at the moment, back at the antique shop they had just visited, looking one last time at a couple of tacky knick-knacks she had rather fancied taking back home for a laugh.  Kate sipped the last of her peach tea and waited calmly for her friend to return.  For the first time in a long time, life seemed almost worth living again.  Finally she saw Gina come out of the front of the shop and turn towards her.  She waved and stood up, then walked to meet her half way. 

Life Can Be A Real Beatdown Bitch or Even Discounting The Boyfriend, There’s Still One Hell Of A Lot Of Evil In The World

Gina was a good lawyer, trained to notice tiny details.  But in the relatively heavy holiday traffic of the small town, she didn’t notice the dusty pickup truck that slowly passed by; the pickup with the dirty windows and unreadable license plates.  The over-weight occupant discretely slowed down as he idly noticed the very attractive dark haired woman that passed him on the sidewalk.  This was the kind of grownup woman he personally preferred, not the skinny Gen X'ers that made up his normal prey. 

She walked down the sidewalk ahead of him on his left and he could not help but look at her.  Her cotton dress was different somehow from those worn by the other women.  It flowed with her long confident strides, as if she made her own breeze.  Her hair was dark and it looked very clean.  She reminded him of a woman from the movies as she strolled along, trailing the beauty of another world behind her. 

He sped up and passed the woman again, then slowed down to let her pass by one last time before he left for the next hunting ground.  She looked great in his side view mirror as she passed him again; a beautiful face, but one that also showed humor and intelligence and character.  She had a good or even great figure and long, quite beautiful legs.  A white and yellow sun dress emphasized a narrow waist and ended an inch above her shapely knees; she wore fashionably matching light yellow ankle strap high-heeled spring sandals.  Even though big sunglasses covered her eyes, her beauty shone through with an attractive smile as she walked with a relaxed and sexy, yet somehow determined stride.

He'd come out of south Texas as part of a four-person Midnight team that worked for an “institute” that went through a lot of females.  He’d never met the man that ran the organization; a security effort specifically devised to keep the hunter/reaper acquisition teams separate from the end-users.  But rumors were that it was a European immigrant and that he owned several large pieces of property.  This guy supposedly had a finger in everything illegal taking place in south-central Texas, including extortion and smuggling.  Apparently, one of his more lucrative sidelines was young women; those he didn't use in his high class brothel, he sold for profit.  Supposedly, he had even put together several other teams just to hunt down even more young, unsuspecting women just to keep his beds filled. 

While the boss rarely took specialty or "boutique" requests, the team had just been given an order for two “athletic” women that must closely resemble each other.  The man in the pickup suspected the request had originated with an older woman called "Missy".  Although he’d been unaware of her reputation for cruelty at the time, he’d inadvertently met the woman one time when a delivery rendezvous had become screwed up. 

The man in the pickup shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Missy.  If ever there was a woman less likely to be named Missy, it was her.  Of indeterminate age, her cigarette damaged voice and glittering dark eyes let everyone know that here was a woman who had been around, who knew exactly what she wanted and was willing to spare nothing to obtain it.  It was rumored that Missy was quite wealthy and ran an extremely large ranch somewhere in the Hill Country west of San Antonio; a dude ranch that as a sideline offered access to human “ponies” to the right clients if they passed a strict security check.  If she’d been aware of what little he knew about her, if even half of what was whispered was true, she’d have just made him disappear.  In any case, this was a woman that went through a lot of females, for whatever reasons she might have. 

The heavy man was idly admiring Gina, the sexy sway of her hips under the light sundress and the way her heels made a rhythmic click-clacking noise as she walked in front of him.  He suddenly sat up straight and took notice when the first woman was met by a second that could have been her sister, almost a twin in appearance.  Both women were dramatically beautiful in a dark, full-lipped sort of way.  Their faces were the same shape, both had high cheek bones and long dark hair that fell loose over their shoulders to the middle of their back, both wore fashionable sundresses and both had long, good looking legs.  Both had high, firm looking breasts and tiny waists.  Best of all they were together.  If the rest of the team agreed that these two made the cut, their job would be that much easier when they picked up both similar-looking women at the same time. 

Gina was filled with happiness as she hugged her friend on the sidewalk before they began walking towards the edge of the village to visit the last few remaining specialty shops.  For the sake of her friend’s sanity, she had been forced to become a real bitch and she had hated every minute of it.  Two and a half weeks ago, she had been forced to make Kate listen when she detailed her friend’s obsessively destructive behavior.  Gina had showed Katie how she had allowed that bastard Jimmy to become her emotional, psychological and financial anchor in life, how she had allowed him to destroy any positive image she’d ever had of herself.  Then Gina had detailed how she’d allowed that black bastard to continually assault her, to repeatedly abuse her because it somehow reinforced her lousy self-image…..because, for some dark, unknown reasons deep inside her subconscious, it was what Kate thought she had deserved.  Even if only subconsciously, Kate had seemed to think that if either of them were correct, then both were.  And if her boyfriend was right about her lack of value, then she deserved to be treated the way he treated her and she shouldn’t rock the boat. 

But Kate was a fighter and had been doing so much better in only the last few days.  It was a testament to her mental toughness...she'd be okay with just a little more time and perhaps a little counseling.  But that was in the near future.  For now, they had decided it was best not to go back to Boston; Gina would help Kate sell her home while Kate would stay here in the south and get away from the two bastards that had tried to ruin her life; she'd get a job and try to begin her life over again. 

Gina had planned on leaving her friend for home and family yesterday, but Kate had pleaded with her to stay two more days, and she had reluctantly agreed.  But Gina was happy too, thinking with pleasure how good it would to be home very soon.  Home to her husband and the son she loved so much. 

The rest of the recruiting team arrived and all agreed the two women seemed to fill the requirements of the order placed with their employer.  The driver of the pickup now sat on the lowered tailgate as the two unsuspecting women passed by on the sidewalk.  Both looked like they were in their early to mid-thirties; a little older than their normal prey, both women were still incredibly sexy.  He looked up at the clear sky, it was a beautiful day and he truly hoped they were enjoying the last walk they would ever make in freedom.  They were too old to be play ponies if in fact it was Missy that wanted them.  But if the rumors were true regarding her ranch, once taken, the two women would soon probably be nothing more than breeder mares, kept perpetually pregnant and trained as a matched pair pulling sulkies and larger carts on a south-central Texas horse and "pony" farm for the pleasure of Missy and the crowd she ran with.

The man smiled in the warm sun.  He’d never thought about the morality of what he did.  Free now, soon both women would be as caged as lions in a zoo.  He knew that very few people could truly handle freedom.  These women would be healthier and more productive when under the control of others.  Besides, his team had taken so many young females for his employer over the last couple of years that the thought of two more didn't faze him in the least.  His only thoughts were of how to get at the two without giving them a chance to make a fuss.  It was time to start scouting. 

Due to almost yearly flooding, the dozen buildings that comprised the Old Fennimore Mill were raised up on ten foot concrete pilings that were at least two feet in diameter.  The vast space beneath the buildings lacked good lighting and served as parking areas for cars, boats, trailers and RV's.  But it also made for good hunting for the two men that lurked there just before midnight. 

Upstairs, a tired Kate and Gina finished unwinding the day as they chatted in a small wine lounge with their new acquaintance Lisa.  Lisa was an attractive thirty-ish single woman who had been continually bothered at the bar by drunks and the married men more than just a little willing to consider adultery.  She had finally fled to their table and asked to sit with them, just for a little relief from the unending line of men waiting to ask her to dance.  Kate had quickly invited her to sit, but Gina found herself rather more quiet than normal.  It was a little uncomfortable at first, but the three women finally began to get along rather well after another half hour and additional wine; time then passed quickly. 

It was the end of the evening, rather late and both Kate and Gina knew they’d overdone the alcohol.  Kate yawned and said she had to go to the powder room one last time; Gina smiled apologetically at their new friend as she offered to accompany Kate.  For her part, Lisa offered to buy a final round while the two were gone. 

The two women demurred as they left, and Lisa instead purchased cappuccinos.  Fresh coffee was waiting for the two women when they returned, but within fifteen minutes both women realized that suddenly queasy stomachs and the beginning of sudden headaches told them they had far overdone the evening.  Kate and Gina had eaten at a small local restaurant that evening, and in retrospect, that had turned out to have been a mistake.

Lisa said, “You two really do look tired.”

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Gina replied.  She smiled again and Kate was amazed at Gina’s sudden show of warmth and friendliness.  “Does it show?”

“I’m afraid it does, Gina.  And what about you Kate?  Are you feeling tired?”

For some reason, a flare of anxiety flashed through her.  For some reason, Kate wanted to tell Lisa to mind her own business, but that urge gave way to another feeling.  Perhaps it was the warmth of the room or the restorative power of hot coffee or just the sight of Gina so relaxed.  Whatever the source, now did not seem like the moment to disagree.  Lisa was just being friendly and mellow.  Kate felt she should be friendly and mellow too. 

“You know what?  I really am tired.”  And she gave a smile that turned into a small chuckle.

“Do you want some fresh air perhaps?  Would you like some fresh air, Gina?”

“Yes, I would,” Gina replied agreeably.

“And you Kate?  How about you?  Would you like some fresh air too?”

“Yes, I would too.”  It was so easy to agree when someone else made the suggestions. 

“Okay.  Why don’t you drink up and we’ll take a walk.”

Both Kate and Gina did as they were told, taking a sip, then keeping the cups close to their lips to down some more.  They did that more or less in silence, until nothing but dregs was left. 

Lisa paid the bill and as the three got to their feet, Kate gave Gina a quizzical look that was nonetheless pleasant; this was odd, wasn’t it?  Gina gave a semi-shrug back that said, let’s just go with the flow.

“Pick up your handbags, ladies.”  It was Lisa; her wording…was….direct, as if she were giving them orders….surprising Kate.  But Gina apparently didn’t object to being bossed around by this strange woman, this ‘Lisa’ they barely knew.  Kate wanted to criticize or complain or at least make a sarcastic remark, but she didn’t have the energy for even that small act of defiance. 

They were outside now, stepping into a very thin stream of fast-moving pedestrians.  A few were carrying umbrellas, which meant it must have rained, at least a little.  Kate felt her head spin. 

Realizing their discomfort, Lisa offered to drive the women to their motel room and the two tired Bostonians quickly agreed.  Neither felt like walking; both just wanted to get back to their rooms and get cleaned up, then into bed as quickly as possible.  The two befuddled friends followed Lisa down into the parking structure beneath.  The area was gloomy and neither woman would ever have entered the dark structure if they had not been more than a little drunk.  They also had no idea that Lisa's drug in their cappuccinos had also made them more than a little susceptible to her suggestions. 

Lisa's Suburban was backed into an end space near the corner that faced the river.  She led Kate and Gina off the concrete and out onto dew-wet grass to get around to the back of her vehicle.  Both women had problems with their heels sinking in to the wet ground as they waited patiently, without speaking.  But Lisa finally had both doors opened wide and turned to them with a smile as she waved at the flat bed that had been exposed in the big SUV.  In their befuddled state, they didn't notice that the interior lights had been rigged to stay off when the back cargo doors were opened.  The two friends looked at each other and laughed hilariously at Lisa's joke of no seats upon which they could sit and then leaned in for a closer inspection. 

Kate was still peering inside and could see nothing when she heard Lisa say, “Gina, would you give me your arm, please.” 

Kate turned and watched Lisa as though she were looking through gauze.  Was it especially dark down here?  She made an uncoordinated attempt at rubbing her eyes.  It made no difference.  Her vision still seemed soft, as if someone had rubbed Vaseline on the lens. 

“There we go,” Lisa said, as Gina obliged and offered her the flat surface on the underside of her right elbow.  Kate’s friend didn’t even flinch when Lisa produced a syringe, pushing a small squirt of fluid from the needle point as a test.  “You’ll feel a small jab and that will be it.”

Kate watched all this as if it were being played back to her on videotape.  She tried to tell herself that it was happening right now, that it was strange and probably not a good idea, but somehow she just couldn’t get the words out.  It wasn’t just speaking that was the problem.  Her thoughts seemed to have slowed down, as if they had to travel through a thick, viscous medium of lethargy.  No matter what she saw happen in front of her, Kate just couldn’t rouse herself to feel that strongly about it.  She had a vague sense that she should, but mainly she just wanted to relax. 

She heard a distant voice saying, “I’m just going with the flow.”

“It’s really good that you’re going with the flow, Kate.”  Lisa said.  “Really good.”  She produced another syringe and nodded in the direction of Kate’s elbow.  Automatically, Kate offered her vein to the woman she had met perhaps two hours ago.

“By the way, Kate.  I’m sorry that I had to drug your coffee.”

Kate felt the tiniest prick and watched the needle tucked under her skin, the vein now protruding. 

“Not nice to have tainted two perfectly good cappuccinos like that.”

Lisa’s voice was getting more remote, as if she were speaking on a cell phone and had just gone into a tunnel.  As a matter of fact, that was literally how Kate felt.  She watched as Gina was lowered face first to the bed of the SUV, then felt herself lowered next.  Kate felt like she were on a first-class train, stretching her legs forward and pushing her seat back, ready for a really good sleep.  And all around, the dim light was falling away, replaced by darkness.  A tunnel of darkness, enveloping her, covering her.  What harm would it do to surrender and allow herself some rest?  She was going to tell Lisa that she was going to sleep now.  If only she could find the energy to open her eyes, then she would tell her.  She would tell her…….

Kate's hands were cuffed behind her back, her head pulled up by her long hair and a truly professional gag worked roughly, yet deeply into her mouth and the strap fastened at the back of her neck.  The final thought that flittered through her mind like a rare butterfly escaping into the darkness was that Lisa would have been quite surprised if she’d only known how many times Kate had already worn a gag just like this one.  Working as a smoothly oiled team, the now befuddled Kate was rendered helpless and silent in less than twenty seconds by the two men that had appeared out of the darkness.  Gina quickly followed suit.  Breathing only a little faster than normal, both men now relaxed as they leaned against the rear bumper next to the two women whose motionless legs and high-heel clad feet still partially protruded from the back of the open SUV. 

Two Innocent Women Taken Body And Soul or Turned Out, They Were Nothing But Merchandize

The team had been together for over three years now, and in that time had picked up many, many females for the old mobster it was whispered ran the organization.  Mostly younger women.  Women much younger than these two.  Incautious college students on beaches during spring break.  Coeds doing enough goal-oriented drinking to free themselves from all responsibility and provide an excuse for engaging in behavior they ordinarily would not.  Inexperienced, yet arrogant sixteen and seventeen year old high school students who thought they owned the world, but didn't know enough yet to be wary of it too.  Seventeen or eighteen year old waitresses and clerks that only wanted to be left alone, but who had developed a pattern of behavior that could be exploited.  The spoiled daughters of wealthy families on vacation and the penniless young wives desperately in love with their new husbands.  All of these had passed through the team's hands; far too many women to remember in any detail. 

Enough that young flesh no longer interested them.  Oh, it had been fun at first, but it was just a job now.  Besides, if the female was going to working for this crew, as they liked to say, she'd better be delivered fresh in the flesh, not used and bruised. 

Lisa stepped back to give them room.  Standing next to his black partner, the heavy Pickup Truck Man thought back to their last catch; despite her truly unique beauty, that's how she’d been delivered…fresh and unused.  A foreign student attending the University of Georgia as a junior, the team had become interested after seeing a short article about her in the local newspaper.  With black eyes and long, thick black hair, the loose fitting, conservative clothing the twenty-year old Egyptian woman wore had not been able to disguise her exotic allure.  Being outside the acquisition parameters had not mattered in her case, for being from a part of the world that had conquered many peoples and been conquered by many in turn, her genetic mix had resulted in a six-foot tall, lushly curved, dusky-skinned, full-lipped and darkly beautiful woman; a young woman with the kind of looks that can only improve with age. 

Think a twenty-year old Gina Torres on steroids…... 

The semester had just begun when she moved into a house near campus with two other coeds.  He’d watched them move into the house on Monday, and four days later, by garbage day, they already had their cartons outside flattened and stacked for pickup.  He admired their fastidiousness and resolve to get settled; appreciating far more than they could realize how much a neatly arranged home suited his purposes.  For a haphazard arrangement allowed too many things to be pried loose in violent protest. 

At the time of acquisition, she was in the house by herself; her two housemates would not be back for hours.  His team was parked across the street; a van like theirs rarely raised curiosity in a college neighborhood like hers.  He’d made a special point of cleaning up, shaving his stubble, getting his hair cut and wearing nice clothes. 

He walked with his newest friend, a dog they’d just picked up at the pound for this purpose.  He stopped just before the girl’s yard and gave the mutt a biscuit, a blessing of sorts to the dog’s good nature.  They had strolled up to the front door and he’d rang the doorbell.  The door swung open, and it was her.  She was untrusting and that was a little surprising, given all the new neighbors that had stopped in to meet the new girls.  He introduced himself as Harry Butler.  Harry was such an unassuming name, untainted by suggestion.  Tell them Ted, and an American might think Bundy; try John, and they might think Gacy.  But Harry?  If they were young, they thought Potter.  And if they were old, they thought Truman.  That’s if they thought of anyone at all. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I used to live here as a child, and I wondered—I know this is unusual---but I wondered if I could just come in and have a quick look around and see my old room.  You see, I’ve just come from my mother’s funeral, and I’ve got her things out there,” and here he offered a feint to the van, “and before leaving town, I wondered if I could see my old house.  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, and I’ve got a lot of good memories.”

This was always the key point in the transaction; by implication, he praised her taste, and showed that they both shared a fondness for the old house.  She was extremely attractive, wearing a dress of all things.  You don’t realize how few young women wear dresses at home anymore until you started doing this.  He had been wildly stimulated, but forced himself to choke down his desire in order to continue talking. 

Some women have an especially sharp sense of survival, and a few had sent him on his way at this point.  He knew that if she said No, I don’t think so, he’d have to thank her for her time, turn around and leave.  The team could never force the issue while he was outside the front door, and he had reminded himself of this as her eyes clouded and her lips clamped tightly shut.  But suddenly, a stray thought crossed her mind, for something had changed and she became more amiable, more open to helping him. 

It’s generally not difficult to subdue a young woman.  This one had been a fighter, but it almost seemed as if by growing up in a culture that had originated harems and the kinds of tales found in the frankly sexual "Thousand and One Arabian Nights", she had in the end somehow been able to accept her fate much more quickly than many of her western counterparts. 

It didn't matter what she had wanted though, for he was sure that she was like all the others now, grunting and groaning and sweating beneath a series of temporary lovers in one of the beds of the old man she now called her Master.  That one had had the kind of looks that made him want to go back and rent her for a night himself.  He shook himself at the memory of her exquisite beauty. 

But these two new pieces of meat weren't for the old man; they were for that weird, scary old bitch that sometimes came around.  These two were older, had experienced more of life's ups and downs, and both were still sexy as shit.  Too old to be sex toys, these two would be used for something else when delivered to their final owner.  Also, they'd be cleaned up by the staff when delivered to the old man’s holding pens before being passed on to their new owner.  All of these factors made these two women seem more available and infinitely more desirable than some callow, inexperienced, panicky teenager.  And as the two men looked down on their subdued quarry, the best part was, they both certainly were available.

The bound women still lay on their stomachs.  Lazily, the driver of the pickup, the man that had first seen Gina, leaned over and pushed her knees apart and reached up under her pretty new sun dress.  The only way he could differentiate between the two in the dark was that he was sure that the woman he'd first seen was still wearing her yellow high-heeled sandals, while the other one was wearing red.  He found a thong beneath the dress of the one he liked and it was easy enough to push it out of the way so that he could finger-fuck her dry cunt before he played with her clit for a second. 

The woman had a tight pussy, a real tight pussy and he liked that...he hoped to be showing her just how much he liked it in just a little while.  The woman never moved as she was first exposed, then fondled.  The second man just watched as the pheromones of Gina's exposed sex soon filled the air around them. 

There was a sudden soft sound outside the vehicle and both men quickly stood upright as Lisa and a thin young man appeared around the back of the Suburban and confronted the two men.  The big man looked at Lisa without saying a word.  Her official code name within the team was Adriel; but she was Lisa for tonight…and Lisa was exactly what the others were tonight…a predator.  She was good, real good.  He'd been working with her for a couple of years now, but he still hadn't figured her out.  Regardless, she was a good-looking piece of ass, and someday he hoped to be able to do to her what he planned on doing to the woman that lay stretched out before him in the SUV. 

50 Pounds Of Bone Wrapped In 300 Pounds Of Ham or They Were Two Good Woman Treated Like Dogs

Adriel had seen what the Pickup Truck Man had been doing to one of their catches; her pretty eyes glittered in the darkness but her face was blanked of emotion as she looked down at the woman she had earlier befriended, the woman whose dress was now pushed up around the small of her back to expose two firm, rounded buttocks.  The men ignored her look and waited indifferently for their next instructions, for Adriel had been the team leader from the beginning.

Her team had been on the road for over three weeks this time.  When a team went out, it was on its own and only checked in when it was ready to make a delivery.  It had been an extremely successful tour, for they had already made three deliveries.  Her team should have been stood down and allowed at least a couple of weeks rest to recuperate from operating in such a stressful environment.  But then this last order had come through and they'd been sent back on the road. 

She looked down at the two women with whom she had spent the last four hours as all three had laughed at the ridiculous male fools that had surrounded them.  She had truly enjoyed spending a few hours with women her own age; attractive, intelligent, educated women who had experienced life in all its permutations, women that knew what life was all about, women that could still find the humor in a daily life that allowed you to shake your head at the absurdities that not only abounded, but which still continued. 

The one called Kate had obviously just gone through some kind of serious life-trauma and her best friend Gina was there to help her through the rough spots.  They were good friends, best friends helping one another when it was necessary.  She'd looked upon what they had with envy, for she had never been lucky in female friendships that way.

Getting to meet the two had not been too hard.  She’d been more worried about the lawyer Gina than she had been Kate.  But neither of them had noticed the spray of GBL – gamma-butyrolactone -- the industrial solvent that was the team’s current date rape-like drug of choice.  The drug she had administered to them before they’d barely said a word to each other.  It had not been difficult; one quick spray around the rim of each wine glass and the job was done. 

Junior, the youngest member of the team, would not be a problem.  As for the two older men, in her experience, while just a little sleazy…no, make that a lot sleazy, her two team mates had also always been professional in their conduct with The Albanian's newly-taken women.  But even so, a good leader knew when to throw her team a bone every now and then. 

Adriel sighed.  She'd been truly impressed with how Kate had pulled herself together from the emotional devastation some asshole had inflicted on her only a couple of weeks ago.  She had felt empathy for them both, and that made it tough, a real tough decision.  Because even though she sort of liked these two, Lisa had decided to give them to her two teammates for a few hours. 

It was going to happen and she couldn’t afford to get philosophical about it.  She was one of only two women at her level in a company of men.  Worse, she was in a command position.  Ninety percent of the men that knew her thought she’d somehow fucked her way into the job, the remaining ten percent thought she was a dyke.  Who’d fucked her way into the job.  She couldn’t let her guard down for a minute.  And because she could not afford to have any of these men see her as a target, she had to remain totally untouchable.  Or she was a victim waiting to happen. 

She sighed to herself again; she could wait a little while longer before calling in another successful pick up.  After all, twenty-four hours of fun and relaxation went a long way towards keeping her teammates in peak mental shape.

Her team generally never stayed in one place together at night, generally coming together only at the conclusion of a successful hunt.  But this was a small town and the two older male members of the team had taken the two connected end units at a small motel a mile east of town, while Adriel had taken a room on the other side of town.  As usual, Junior was off by himself only God knew where.  But now it was time to depart with the two abductees.  Once she’d made her decision known, Adriel couldn't take it back.  She looked down again one more time, then turned away and never looked at the two women again.  Adriel gave a quick nod of her head towards the Suburban and said, "They're yours for one day.  We leave here at 6 AM day after tomorrow.  Keep your cells handy if I need to reach you."

The black man with the Pickup Truck guy was informally called "Mutt."  Mutt now used a stun gun on the two women to ensure total silence and maximum "cooperation" before driving the Suburban the short distance to their motel rooms.  After backing it in at a slight angle to better obscure the view of their rooms, they unscrewed the lights in front of their rooms to make it even darker. The parking lot was empty, there was no on around at this time of night and there were no security cameras; the unconscious women were wrapped in bed comforters and carried inside one at a time; and the world knew nothing.  Shades were checked one last time, then dim lights lit in each room and the connecting door opened. 

Time for the fun to begin.

Adriel took the keys from the two women's small purses and drove to their rooms in the pickup truck while the guys took the two women to their motel rooms.  She wore rubber gloves as she went through the captive's motel rooms, going through their suitcases, looking for personal details.  Unless she had missed something, Gina had packed about as one might expect, but Kate traveled light, far too light.  In any case, both rooms were paid up through tomorrow. 

After wiping the room clean of their fingerprints, she loaded their luggage into the pickup and departed, leaving behind almost no evidence of Kate or Gina having ever existed.  Tomorrow, she would go back and get Kate’s car.  Adriel had contacts that would take the car with no questions asked, and disappear it.  Their room would be cleaned numerous times by the motel maids before anyone even realized the two women were missing.  And with their luggage gone as if they had checked out on their own, it would seem that the two had just continued on their road trip.  Adriel drove the pickup to her own motel, covered the two women's baggage with a canvas tarpaulin, then went to her room, brushed her teeth, cleaned her face and went to bed.  She slept almost ten hours without waking or dreaming. 

She never dreamed.

The big man looked at the woman lying on the bed.  Her feet were small, their shapeliness clear with the yellow strappy sandals she wore.  He moved around so that he could get to the top of her dress and then he easily undid the first button.  He noted the flatness of her stomach as he undid the next and the next, fighting the arousal she stirred in him.  Even unconscious like this and lying inert on the bed, she was an extremely attractive woman. 

With the buttons in front undone, he slid the dress off her shoulders, then down around her hips, where he began to tug it down around her ankles.  It required some strength and at one point, he had to slide his hand under her bottom, to give himself the elevation necessary for the dress to slide down around her legs.  But eventually it was off. 

Now she lay before him, naked except for a pair of white thongs and a tiny, sheer white bra.  He tried to keep his eye from the small triangle of material that covered her most private parts, but it was a losing battle.  He could see the intimate contours through the material and he found himself breathing heavily.  He looked up and could see her breathing slowly, chest rising and falling.  Her breasts were full and firm, even in this position. 

The Pickup Truck Man hesitated, then he finished.

Kate came suddenly awake, but lay quietly on the bed with her eyes still closed.  She had no memory of what had happened over the last six or seven hours. 

Nothing. 

Nada. 

Zip.

She lay on her back, but couldn't move her hands and her feet wouldn't respond to her instructions to move, no matter how hard she tried.  Her hips ached and cool air flowed over the insides of her spread thighs.  What a weird dream she was experiencing.  She strained to close her legs again, then stopped when it seemed like everything flashed behind her closed eyelids and the top of her head threatened to explode.  Kate tried to lick her dry lips, but couldn't.  She tried to mumble to herself about how screwed up her dream was, but couldn't do that either.  She lay with her eyes closed for another fifteen or twenty seconds, then suddenly realized that something was wrong, terribly wrong. 

Her eyes flashed open and she stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.  After gathering her strength, Kate raised her head and looked about blearily, but her eyes refused to focus.  Feeling no sense of urgency and deciding she'd explored enough for the moment, she lay her head back down and closed her eyes again.  A strange motel room.  A very cheap one too.  Video cameras.  Two of them.  One at the foot of the bed and another off to the side.  She also had one hell of a headache.  This was turning out to be just one in a string of grotesque dreams, given her experiences over the last few months.

When she opened her eyes again a minute later, he was standing next to her, looking down and snapping photos from a small digital camera.  A skinny black man, his skin was such a deep shade that it was almost purple, much darker than his rusty hair twined in thin cornrows.  His lips were dry brown except where his tongue licked them.  He was all sinew and ropey muscle, and he had a raised pink scar on his thigh.  Comforted in the knowledge that this was still part of some weird, alcohol-induced dream, she lay her head back down and closed her eyes for what she promised herself would only be a few seconds.  After a moment, an annoying sound finally cut through the cotton that seemed to surround her brain and Kate raised her head to locate the source. 

Straight ahead of her, a connecting door had been left open into a second motel room, and in this room a woman lay on the bed facing her, spread-eagled on her back and nude too except for the expensive yellow high-heeled sandals on her feet.  The sounds of this woman's struggles to free herself were what had so annoyed Kate.  Dumbfounded, she looked first into the dark thatch that lay between the woman's widely spread shapely legs, then glanced up into the bound woman's eyes....the brown eyes she suddenly recognized as Gina's; the wide, fearful eyes that lay above her gagged mouth and below her wrists which had been handcuffed to the bed above her head. 

With a horribly mounting feeling of fear and sudden sickness, Kate suddenly realized it was like looking in a mirror...she also somehow knew without even looking that she was bound in an identical manner.  Horrified, she glanced down and saw that she too was spread-eagled and naked except for her red high-heeled sandals.  Steel police handcuffs rattled as she desperately struggled to free her hands.  Thin nylon rope had been tied around her left ankle, drawn tightly under the bed frame, then up again and tied to her right ankle.  It was a queen-sized bed and her feet were pulled far apart and pinned tightly to either edge; this was why her hips ached so much.  She would never be able to free or move her legs or feet until she'd been released.  Like Gina, she was totally helpless. 

And then it began for both of them. 

More Black Love Sauce For A Hard-Used Kate or Tight Gina Gets Some Massive Bone AND A Nice Love Injection

Kate ignored the small, black skinny man slowly undressing next to her as she watched the man that stood beside Gina.  He looked about fifty years old and was overweight with a heavy belly and jowls.  He faced away from her friend, a position which gave Kate a perfect silhouette of his frame.  He had a high forehead and his face looked unshaven and sweaty, while his medium-length brown hair stood up in uncombed tangles above a thick neck and bulky shoulders.  His cold, dark eyes seemed to smolder under a hooded brow that hung like a cliff over his face.

He wore dirty-looking work clothes that had sweat-darkened armpits and back.  She could hear his knees cracking even in the other room as he performed an agonizingly slow striptease to keep his surprise from the woman that lay bound on the bed beside him. 

Suddenly, Kate understood his game, for as he finished removing his underwear, he uncovered a massive tool of masculine destruction.  He was monstrous and even as a chill of fear ran through her blood, Kate's heart broke for as soon as Gina saw his member, she shook her head wildly in a "no" motion.  Her long dark hair flew in all directions and she started screaming into her gag and struggling desperately against the rope and steel bonds that kept her opened on the bed for his pleasure.  But Kate could have told her to save her strength; she would never be able to free herself without assistance.

The black man stood in the doorway between the rooms and snapped photo after photo of Gina’s horror.  As the big man turned and slowly advanced on her best friend, Kate heard him say, "Okay, baby.  You got a new daddy to satisfy tonight.  My friend and I need to relax a little; all we need is twenty-four hours of fun and games with you and your friend.  Then everything's fine and you two are on your way."

The arrogance of the fat man cut through both women like a knife, just like he had planned.  He wasn’t on a date with the bitch in his room, this was pure, unadulterated dominance by rape; a trait he had mastered long ago.  When he had the opportunity, he broke the new bitches down into the gutter from the very first moment.  He taped everything he did to them……everything.  He understood that once his cock had tunneled its long hard thickness into their tight and yielding womanhood, there would be no illusion of romance tonight or any other night in their lives from now on.  But their video’d degradation would always be available. 

By this time, the black man standing next to Kate had stripped off his clothes too and lay down between her spread legs and onto her belly.  The nightmare that had begun with Booker's rapes was starting all over again here!!  She was dry at first and this one was no more a gentle man than had been the last two rapists that had tried to destroy her.  Kate stared at the ceiling, her eyes tearless, forcing herself to remain motionless while under him, the only acknowledgment of his existence an occasional grimace of pain as he forced her labia and vagina apart with the thick, blunt head of his banana-shaped erection.  But natural vaginal lubrication eventually flowed and it soon became less painful even as it remained a horrible invasion of her body and her rights.  Not a particularly large man, he was still large enough to ensure that Kate knew he had entered her body without either love or permission. 

With his feet braced at the foot of the bed and hers widely spread and anchored to the bed frame, each thrust of his hips deeply buried his manhood inside her flat belly and tautly stretched the nylon cord around her ankles as he drove her helpless body up the mattress a short distance.  As long as he kept his legs straightened and knees locked, her body easily accepted the maximum penetration and remained pinned beneath his.  But as soon as he bent his knees, drawing in for a new stroke, the natural tension of the tautly stretched rope tied around her ankles pulled Kate back down towards the foot of the bed just in time to meet his next upcoming thrust. 

Kate forgot about Gina as she concentrated on ignoring the man on top of her.  In her mind she waded on the shores of a cool mountain lake.  A thick, dense wall of pines rose around her and the man now inside her couldn't see Kate as she hid in the water.  But Kate's internal reverie was eventually interrupted by sounds from the other room, sounds made from the very beginning of this nightmare, sounds she had done her best to ignore.  Knowing they came from her best friend, Kate had chosen, perhaps selfishly, to try to ignore what was being done to her.  Finally, she couldn't help herself; she glanced over the shoulder of the man now frantically fucking her and saw that the large, overweight man lay between Gina's thighs, his cellulite ridden buttocks clenching and rising with each profound stroke into her friend. 

With her mouth blocked by the gag, Kate found it difficult to breathe with the smaller man laying his full weight on her chest.  She had no idea how her friend could breathe at all with the weight of the much heavier man now upon her.  She heard the heavy man complaining loudly about what "...a tight fit the bitch was," but he kept on working between her legs, pushing his massive, rigid pole into the struggling, screaming woman pinned beneath him. 

If what she had told Kate previously was the truth, Gina had only been with two men in her life, an early boyfriend and then her husband.  And even though she loved her husband desperately, she was still able to laugh about her luck in picking two relatively small men to bed. 

Apparently not any more.

But Gina still fought her fate, giving out sharp, yet completely muffled screams of rage and agony with each of the big man's hip thrusts, fighting his every move, struggling against the man's invasion of her body.  But while Kate's body was being jerked back and forth by the man that maniacally pumped between her thighs and she grimaced again from a quick pain that shot up her body from between her legs, she never took her eyes off Gina, and finally saw with relief that her friend was now looking directly at her. 

Kate tried to send her a mental message that everything would be alright....but she knew she lied.  Of all the things that had happened to her and of all the things she knew they both would be undergoing, Gina's coming emotional and spiritual agony most made her want to cry.  But she couldn't let herself cry yet, too much had happened to her; the tears would not yet come for either her or Gina.  But still she watched and prayed for Gina. 

The oversized man had finally fully penetrated Gina's tight vagina.  Gina's eyelids fluttered in agonized pain, then her eyes bulged in horrified shock before they shuddered shut as she shrieked into her gag with both anguish and the pain borne of a thousand helpless women that had been put in this same position because of him.  Her screams now were different from those of just a moment before, for the rage had gone and she was suddenly in real pain.  He then grabbed Gina by her hair and pulled her head up…apparently there were cameras in her room too. 

At the same moment the monster that had mounted her friend finally realized his success; Kate watched the soles of Gina's high heels almost disappear as her feet flexed and pointed towards the foot of the bed in response to the pain accompanying his massive penetration; her painted toe nails could easily be seen below the ankle straps of the yellow sandals.  The muscles of Gina's calves tensed and bulged, keeping her feet tautly arched as if in some macabre dance that required her toes be pointed directly towards Kate.  She watched in helpless horror as the man's massive cock completely disappeared into her friend's hugely distended vagina and his wrinkled nutsack bulkily draped over her flesh to totally cover the crack of her ass.

The man on Kate fucked like a mechanical rabbit and just kept going without tiring.  There was little sound now from the other room except for the occasional grunts of effort from the big man.  He was assured total victory now, for the tough muscles that had futilely guarded Gina's vagina had at first been massively stretched in order to accept the bulbous head; these same muscles now had now begun to tear at the end just to accommodate the thick circumference of his meat.  The woman being raped in the other room now lay like Kate, powerless, accepting in relative silence everything being done to her. 

The big man fucked Gina mercilessly for ten minutes before he began making quicker and quicker hip thrusts into the thirty-five year old mother who lay helplessly bound beneath him.  Finally, before Kate's horrified eyes, he gave out a long, sonorous groan of pleasure and his buttocks raised, then clenched as he hunched forward into her with his first jetted delivery of semen. 

As soon his scalding hot jizm rocketed off the top of her cervix, Gina cried out and unthinkingly attempted to raise her feet off the mattress to bring her legs together one last time in her fight against this horrific invasion, giving one last pathetic, unconscious effort to avoid the awful injection of fluid that his body had planned for hers. 

But her muffled protests and pathetic attempts to block his success were as useless in stopping him as her yellow high-heeled sandals had been in impressing him.  The dance of life having gone on between the two seemingly forever, a muffled cry of total loss was torn from Gina's throat as she felt his lava hot jet penetrate deeply again and again as it drenched the insides of her pussy. 

From the next room, Kate watched as the initial ejaculation into her best friend seemed to take forever before she saw his buttocks finally unclench at the end of that first delivery.  It seemed they almost deflated before everything seemed to go into rewind as she watched his hips go up and his buttocks bulge and clench again as he prepared for a second quick hunching delivery into Gina's vagina....just like that, and then a third. 

Every load of semen that surged through his massive meat tube to be delivered rocket-style into the opening of her cervix drew out another muffled death scream from the woman beneath him.  A scream of despair for hope and goodness and for life itself.  At the end, when he had finally finished and his body lay bonelessly relaxed upon hers, Gina was crying in total defeat, sobbing softly into her gag. 

Finished now, totally satisfied with his life and what he had accomplished, the heavy man rested upon the bound body of Kate's best friend for a couple of minutes to catch his breath, then slowly, heavily, rolled off.  By this time, Kate's lover too had finally cum.  Kate ignored the burning, silky feeling of his semen inside her pussy and now that she was motionless, she could more easily watch over Gina without her own body being helplessly jerked up and down, left and right.  She wanted to turn her face away from the camera but couldn’t force herself to do so. 

The big man finally stood upright and she was shocked all over again at his size.  Christ Almighty, no wonder Gina had been screaming.  He truly was a monster, easily matching and exceeding either Booker or Jimmy.  His massive cock was slowly deflating even as she watched; his most pressing "need" already having been drained into Gina's belly.  But even so, it still looked like a very large baseball bat swung between his legs.  He snapped a few pictures of Gina, her ravished, stretched vagina, her breasts, her spread legs and the final one, a photo of Gina’s ravaged, tear-streaked face. 

The big man looked down on the still sobbing woman, then ponderously sat on the edge of the bed and began to stroke her hair like she was his pet, even if a slightly used and soiled pet.  Eventually, as Kate knew was inevitable from her own experience, his hands drifted from Gina's hair to her breasts, and finally from there to between her legs.  There was not much fight left in her friend at this moment, and all Gina could do was shake her head no, no, no, as tears continued to run down her cheeks.  But nothing stopped him from exploring her body again. 

Nothing......nothing, except the fact that there was another woman waiting for him in the next room, another woman whose body remained yet to be conquered by his ravaging cock. 

After fixating on Kate even as he continued feeling Gina up, he finally walked through the door and into her room.  His deflated penis swung from side to side with each step; even without an erection he was still incredibly large.  Worst of all, his cock had an inch-wide ring of moist red around the base; with shock, Kate realized it was red with the blood from Gina's ripped vaginal entrance and then mixed with her pussy juices.  But Kate wasn't afraid of him; after what Jimmy and Booker had done to her, she would never be afraid of any man again in that way. 

Even after having been raped by the black man, she still glared at him with the righteous anger of someone who had been terribly wronged and now faced her assailant; an assailant who had even more wronged her best friend.  A strange look rippled over his face for a second and then he laughed. 

He was laughing at her! 

She struggled as he sat now on the edge of her bed and began stroking her body.  There was no doubt in anyone's mind who her next lover would be.  He stared into her eyes with an unnerving intensity, and she refused to give in to him, to be the first to look away.  But after a long moment of stroking her breasts and nipples, then running his hand between her thighs, he stopped.

It Was The Second Time Around For Both Ladies or Being Shared Without Permission Can Be Rather Frustrating At Times

The drapes in the motel room were tightly shut against the early morning sun and the two women's skin seemed almost aglow in the soft light.  The big man looked at Kate speculatively, savoring the ivory white skin that had yet to feel the first blush of a summer's tan, the blue veins that pulsed just below the fair skin of her breasts, the soft, yet firm skin of her thighs and belly.  Her long, gorgeous legs that had been so lovingly oiled luminously reflected the soft lighting with a lustrous, gleaming look that led one's eyes directly up her luscious thighs to her shaved pussy.  He lightly ran his hands from the insides of her knees up over her naked pudenda and then a smile of impending pleasure lit his face.

"Your friend," he said, "is a great piece of ass.  Especially since I just bored her pussy out real good.  Like they say at McDonald's, she's been upsized.  Or is it, she went large?"  He laughed uproariously at his own sick humor.  To him, the two women were almost twins, but one’s pussy was shaved while the other flaunted her coarse and wildly curling pubic glory.  They may have had similar looks, but one had a lot more experience with life than the other.  Of this he was sure.

"But you, baby.  You don't have a scrap of hair below your eyebrows, and that is sexy as hell."  As he spoke, he manipulated Kate's labia, separating them, enjoying their rubbery softness with his fingertips, slipping them through his open fingers in a lascivious and obvious display of ownership.

Kate shuddered with revulsion at his touch, desperately regretting the time she'd spent yesterday morning getting ready for the afternoon and evening; shaving her legs and armpits, and after long consideration, she had even once again shaved her pussy too, continuing for some unknown reason that only God could explain the "tradition" that Booker had demanded.  Then the long, sensual bath and the body lotion all over, and the time spent on her makeup yesterday afternoon.  Everything had turned out wrong, and she knew it was all her fault.  Somehow, it had to be her fault.  She was poison and destroyed everything she touched. 

Kate hated herself at that moment. 

It was early morning now, and both men were hungry and tired after their successful night-time hunt, then getting their nuts off in the two bound women.  They dressed and left for a quick meal.  But before they did, the men told their new "girlfriends" to hang around, assuring them they would be back soon. 

Both Kate and Gina lay on the bed covers as semen drained from their vaginas, a significantly larger quantity from Gina than from Kate.  Gina closed her eyes now and made the maximum small rocking motion that her bonds allowed.  Finally, the two women stared at each other in fear and misery, for both knew their captors would be back soon.

The men were back within an hour.  Each woman was offered a drink of water, but only Kate accepted even though she had to go to the bathroom.  The big man put a straw into a large Styrofoam cup of icy water, and after sticking the straw into a small hole in the gag, her told her to "suck."  She did and quickly felt the wonder of cold water on her parched tissues.  Tired after the evening's successes, the men each stripped, then lay down without showering next to a woman to take a quick nap, the big man next to Kate and Mutt next to Gina.  In great physical discomfort now, neither woman slept.  The Pickup Truck Man slept for about ninety minutes before waking, and in that time, he seemed to have recharged his sexual batteries. 

Already scared and in pain, the whole situation seemed surreal to Kate, for even as he softly snored next to her, she could almost hear the blood rushing into his mammoth....thing.  His penis seemed to have come alive before her panic-stricken eyes as it changed from a long, flaccid meat tube into a huge weapon of feminine terror.  Kate knew she was better prepared to accept his assault than had been Gina, but even so, she also knew what was coming next would hurt her almost as much as it had her best friend. 

Helpless to leave or even move, all Kate could do was watch as he awoke with a raging erection. 

Without a word of comfort or any attempt to prepare her body for the coming outrage, he rolled onto her.  The air rushed out of her lungs as his incredible weight settled onto her chest and stomach.  She wanted to fight him, but she couldn't get enough air.  He lay upon her for a second, then grabbed two handfuls of hair and forced her look at him as he began pushing his tool inside her! 

She had been raped so many times by so many men in the last year that it didn’t seem that earth-shaking at the moment.  All she wanted to do was breathe and that was impossible for as long as took her like this.  As with Gina, Kate's body at first refused to accept his offering.  But soon her vagina relented and the big man easily entered her.  However, unlike Gina, his tool caused the vastly more experienced Kate little or no damage.  He grunted in satisfaction and began giving her pussy long, deep strokes in earnest.  Regardless of how much quicker or easier it had been for him to conquer Kate, he still filled her to overflowing, distending her tissues beyond belief. 

She had initially cried out at the shock of his assault, but he never stopped.  And now she didn't have the air in her lungs to make any more noise.  She just helplessly lay under him with her widely spread legs allowing him total sexual access her body, as she took every incredible inch he had to give.  It seemed to take forever, but in reality he didn't fuck Kate for much more than ten minutes before blowing his wad in her juicy pussy. 

After the heavy man finished cumming, he settled in and made himself comfortable as he caught his breath.  Kate thought she might suffocate before he finally got off of her.  But instead of moving, he grabbed Kate's chin and forced her to look him in the eyes again.  Then he said in his gravelly voice, "It doesn't matter how good you look baby, or what you wear to hide it.  I can see it in your eyes.  They're what give you away."

Midnight Cums At The Love Oasis or Time to Prep These Cunts For The Real Show

He nodded his head in understanding.  "You two may dress alike in nice clothes, just two Yankee bitches trying to fit into southern high-society.  But you aren't like the women down here no matter what clothes you wear or what you do....for that matter, you two aren't even like each other at all.  That woman over there may look like you, but she hasn't lived like you.  You've ridden the big rail before; I can see it in your eyes.  And I'll bet when I flip you over, I'll see you've been taking it there too."

He looked at her in speculative silence for another minute and then nodded his understanding.  "Your looks are deceiving, woman.  You dress and act like class, but it's clear from the way you took my cock that you've partied like a whore too.  You're going to be an interesting ride."

"Mutt," he called out as he rolled off Kate's chest.  "Time to do a 180; time to flip these bitches front to back and top to bottom."  Pickup Truck Man slipped on a pair of obscenely small briefs while Mutt put on a pair of boxer shorts.  Then they started with Gina. 

Wearing only underwear, the men first moved all of the cameras out of the way and then stood on either side of Gina, first untying her ankles, then freeing her still manacled wrists from the head of the bed.  Kate was glad to see her friend hadn't given up completely, for she struggled weakly against the two.  But she was no match for their strength and quickly found herself flipped from back to front and head to foot, now lying on her stomach with a pillow stuffed under her hips.  Her handcuffed wrists were bound to the foot of the bed near the floor and her feet then spread apart again as her ankles were bound to the end posts of the headboard.  This time her legs were spread so far apart that her feet draped off either side of the mattress.  Gina had raised her chin in one last act of defiance when thrown back on the mattress, but now looked imploringly at Kate, who still lay spread-eagled in front of her but still on her back. 

Kate was next and she quickly found herself in a similar position to Gina, her buttocks also boosted into the air by a pillow under her hips.  The two women looked directly at each other again, but now from the ends of the beds closest to each other.  The cameras were moved back into position, with both focusing on their asses, but from different angles.  Although suffering a little from shock, the two friends still tried to will each other strength through the intensity of their gaze.  But no matter how much each tried to hide it from the other, fear ran deep over both faces. 

The big man now walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a small travel bag.  He stood with his back to Kate and worked on something for about a minute, then called Mutt over.  Kate couldn't see him very well, but it looked like he handed the smaller man something that was fiery red in color.  The man carried it back into his room where he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Gina.  He leaned over her ass without a word and after separating her cheeks, he began forcing a narrow diameter butt plug into her rectum.  An ass-virgin in mind and body, Gina bucked her hips in panic and screamed her outrage into the gag, but these things did no good for very quickly the blunt head of the lubricated rubber cylinder had pried open the tough muscles of her anal sphincter.  Four inches of flexible rubber had disappeared before her muscles were allowed to lock onto the groove at the top of the anal dildo.  Humiliated and in pain, Gina buried her burning face into the bed cover and refused to look at Kate. 

As soon as Kate had seen what was being done to Gina, she turned in fear and desperation to look at the big man.  He looked at her without emotion as he held something in his hand made out of heavy dark brown latex and which looked like nothing more than a large banana skin from which the fruit inside had been removed. 

The Pickup Truck Man was pretty sure he’d learn to love this tool; he certainly appreciated its ease of insertion into a woman while in the deflated mode.  It was sold as a great tool for gradual anal dilation, but once inside the bitch’s body, it could be inflated to however big he needed….and with his size, every one of the whore’s he ass-fucked needed a lot of dilation. 

This was by far the largest dildo he’d ever used on a woman, and he’d been turned on to it by one of the old European's men.  They apparently used it a lot.  Some women couldn’t physically handle it, the size ripped them up too much.  It hurt the rest like a mother-fucker; the meat crew laughingly called it the Mother of all Mother-Fuckers. 

The final inflation size was always left as a punishment for the most uncooperative of the kidnapped women.  The way his friend had explained it, every time the size of the fucking thing was increased past a certain point, the women’s live were actually in danger, for when fully inflated it was approximately fourteen inches long and well over two inches in diameter at the base. 

Unhurriedly, he looked at her with obvious anticipation.  "I always carry something like this with me.  Fucked a woman in the ass once without stretching her out first; ruined our date…well, actually, it ruined her for life.  Learned to be a lot more careful when ass-fucking the ladies after that."  He advanced upon Kate and laid the wrinkled looking thing on the bedside table as he sat next to her. 

He leaned over and spread her ass cheeks in a detached manner.  After an almost clinical inspection, he announced with satisfaction, "Yup.  You've been one partying bitch.  No doubt about that.  Kind of red looking, a little raw.  Looks like you've been taking it in the ass for a while now, momma.  You may be used to giving the chocolate ride, but I still gotta stretch you out for the main event with me." 

He gently moved his hand down her back in a soft, caressing motion and then between her legs to probe her vagina.  Kate felt him begin fumbling at her rear end for a second, then her firm butt cheeks were pushed roughly apart and she bit down hard on the gag in humiliation.  She gargled in incoherent pain as the big, smiling man slowly, carefully began inserting the greased and deflated, although still large dildo into her rectum. 

"Ehhh Gaw, ne uh 'ont 'ut 'at uh, ugggg uh, arggGGG!!"

Pop!  With the continuous pressure that the Pickup Truck Man exerted, the tough, gristly muscles that protected her rectal canal struggled for only a few seconds and then parted in total surrender as her body finally accepted, then soon encased the invader.  Kate howled helplessly as the greased, two-inch diameter tube continued to fill her anus and push deeper into her rectum, but soon it was in all the way.  Her anal sphincter finally clamped down around the mercifully narrow base of the uninflated anal dildo once the considerable body was finally inside, allowing her a moment’s relief.  Although she was experienced at anal sex, Kate could feel her body keep trying to push it out, but her anus refused to part enough to free it.

”Uhh 'ease, eh 'oo uh 'uch," she incoherently pleaded as her body arched in discomfort, bouncing up and down on the cheap motel bed.

“It ain’t nothing yet, honey, we haven’t even really started.  See what this feels like.”  He connected the airline and hand pump to the inflatable dildo and began to pump.  Within seconds, Kate’s eyes were bulging with both horror and terror.  She was screaming into her gag for relief and her body flopping on the bed like a fresh fish landed in the bottom of a boat.  He smirked and tossed the hand pump onto the bed. 

Each man now lay down next to one of the women, Pickup Truck Man next to Kate and his assistant Mutt next to Gina.  Wearing only their underwear, each man covered one of the women's smooth, outstretched legs with pillows, then used them for back rests as they watched TV and occasionally conversed through the open door for the next four hours.  Mutt forgot about Gina during that time, but Pickup Truck Man upsized Kate's anal dildo twice, once about every ninety minutes.  At nine that night, Kate had endured over an hour of a monster that was almost ten inches long and over two and a half inches in diameter at its thickest part.  Even the base was two inches thick.  Humiliated and frightened from the beginning, even the experienced Kate had screamed for over fifteen minutes at the last dilation. 

Every now and then, Pickup Truck Man was given access for a few hours to one of the women he had kidnapped.  As big as he was, he always tried to finish them off with a nice ass-fucking, both because he enjoyed hurting them as well as because it so completely sexually humiliated the women whose lives he had already effectively destroyed.  The college and high school girls he had previously taken had always been naive in this way and were psychologically crushed by this last debasement. 

The woman Kate however, was a new one on him.  A looker who had ridden some serious ass-pole.  Well, she was just about dilated to the right size and he would soon see if he could make her howl like the teenaged sluts he’d previously ridden to Nirvana. 

An Hour Of Post-Midnight Hot Sex or Their Voices Made Silent, Their Ears Made Deaf

It was almost one in the morning and a nice night to be out.  The Pickup Truck Man stepped outside his motel room wearing only his jeans and was soon met there by Mutt.  Both men sipped coffee they’d made in the room and Mutt smoked a quick cigarette in the darkness; they glanced only occasionally at the door to the end room that had been left slightly open.  The cameras had been put away; they had already checked out and planned on departing early in the morning.  There was no one around, no one even near them in the motel parking lot.  But if there had been and if that person had been given a glimpse through the door that was slightly ajar, they would have seen the unmoving body of a quite shapely woman with long dark hair lying on her stomach on the bed. 

Her head could have been seen hanging off the foot of the bed, much of her long hair hanging down to the floor and covering her face, some of it plastered to her sweaty forehead, the rest to her sweaty back.  The mouth of the woman on that bed had been filled with a professional gag and could barely be heard as she sobbed softly, the sounds of her pain and shame barely heard by the two men that stood now just outside the door.  The soft lighting in the room would have also emphasized the glistening smears that seemed centered around the crack of her buttocks. 

The smears that represented both the lubrication on the big man's cock as well as his semen. 

Kate had been destroyed by the Pickup Truck Man, truly destroyed.  He had been big, bigger than any man she had taken like that before.  He had braced his feet on the head board and over an extended thirty-five minute stretch had driven her bound body at least a foot toward the bottom of the bed with each soul-destroying thrust.  She knew she would never be the same after he had finished with her.  Poor Gina in the next room; she too was finally silent now after the black bastard called Mutt had taken his backdoor pleasure from her too. 

Four AM.  Adriel and Junior had arrived with the Suburban; the unresisting women had each been given an injection that kept them unconscious for an hour while they were prepared for transport.  Kate and Gina had been blindfolded, their long hair tied into ponytails and secured with rubber bands, allowing it to cascade onto the floor like a horse's mane.  Thick, crude leather belts were strapped around each narrow waist and leather bands around the wrists were tightly locked to the belt.  Leather ankle cuffs allowed ankles to be strapped together; then knees were strapped together, trapping any remaining cum inside their bodies. 

The team had done this so many times that there was no need to talk, nor need for light.  The only sounds were the grunts of effort as the two women were carried into the box-like affair exposed in the bed of the big SUV, then lifted and turned and settled into their temporary prison.  Even though they were a special order and would not be joining the other women they had taken, the team followed protocol nonetheless.  Each lax, semen-heavy body was rolled onto its stomach and an air gun used to inject an RFID chip deep in the upper left quadrant of the left buttock.  Both women had just been tagged with the latest in Radio Frequency Identification chips, small wafers enclosed in a glass bead the size of a very small spot of water.  Bandages were then placed over each injection site and adult diapers added. 

The two unconscious friends were then stacked on their backs head to foot in the shallow, air-conditioned sound-proofed box that had been built into the bed of big utility vehicle, the same coffin-like box that had so amused them only a few drunken hours before.  Separate Velcro straps were run over each female's neck, chest, hips, knees and ankles, then attached to the floor of the box before being painfully tightened. 

Conductive jelly was rubbed onto skin to prevent burns, then thin electrical leads were plugged into DC outlets built into the sides of the box-like prison and alligator clips on the end of the wires clipped to toes and nipples, Achilles tendons and labia. 

This arrangement allowed varying amounts of electrical current to be run through the females at unexpected moments.  Relatively high voltage at extremely low amperage ensured each shock was painful, but not dangerous or disfiguring. 

Valuable chattel now, the two women were to be retained by the old man until he passed their ownership on to their new master.  The idea was to keep them awake and thinking about their predicament, to neither hurt them seriously nor allow them the mercy of sleep or unconsciousness.  As a final touch, high-quality stereo headphones were placed over each woman's ears and loud music played, blanking any meager remaining sounds from the outside world.  Exhausted women were much easier to break than were the well-rested. 

Middle seats were lifted back into place and rear seats once more re-installed; the Suburban had re-assumed a profile that allowed it to fit back into the world of the mundanes in which it so successfully hid.  The two friend’s cell phones were turned off, batteries and SIM cards removed and the pieces bagged.  After wiping everything clean of prints, the two phones were later put back together and duct taped to hidden places under semi-trucks, one heading for Montana and the other to Chicago.  The unremarkable Suburban then headed on a roundabout route to south-central Texas. 

The teams always used rural state roads and never exceeded the speed limit or drew attention to themselves.  The more state lines they crossed when returning from one of their recruiting trips, the more confusing it was to the different local and state authorities.  The women's clothes, purses, shoes were bagged and eventually discarded at various fast food and convenience store dumpsters along the way.

Mutt followed the Suburban in his van, Junior in his beaten up 1969 Mustang.  In his dirty vehicle, the big Pickup Truck Man followed several miles behind Mutt and the team leader as he rubbed tiny scraps of satin and silk between his fingers and sniffed them all the way to Texas.  When he wasn’t driving, over and over again he went through the photos and videos he’d taken of the two women he’d raped and sodomized.  He routinely kept photos and pieces of lingerie or clothing from every woman he’d ever taken this way.  Kate and Gina were only the latest in a long line of “volunteered” lovers. 

Kate’d Long Been His Passion or The Passion That Had Provoked Him To Do Bad Things To Her Was Gone Now

I was bored.  I had retrieved the cameras the day after Kate’s disappearance, cleaned out the areas and patched any damage I had caused to her home.  Four days after I left Kate, I too left Massachusetts, taking a job in California as acting CEO of a small start-up.  I worked my ass off for six months; I didn't need the money, but I truly needed to get away for a while.  I stayed away from the internet and women the whole time I was in San Francisco, avoided going out in the evenings and on weekends, and generally played the innocent.  I acted the complete hermit and it seemed to work, for people soon stopped asking me if I wanted a night out. 

I left the website up and running, turning it into a self-service porn superstore.  But before anonymously posting any video, I always made sure that Booker and I could not be identified in any way.  Almost four weeks after I arrived in Los Angeles, I was contacted by local deputies on behalf of the Boston police.  The main interviewer was one of the oddest policemen I had ever seen, at least in the flesh.  He was short for an alpha-male, 5’ 9” at most.  His silver-grey hair was cut close and his eyes were chilly.  Disheveled, reeking of both booze and cigarettes, he was like some sort of crime novel character from the 1950's.  Thin almost to the point of emaciation, he shifted constantly in his seat as if desperately trying to find a position that suited him.

Kate and one of her friends had disappeared, but her car was eventually found in someplace down in bum-fuck Arkansas.  Several hotels confirmed that both women had been there for almost a week; the Massachusetts police wondered if I knew anything about it.  I truly had no knowledge of her disappearance and my sincerity must have convinced my questioners, for I never heard another word from them.  I did however admit to our brief affair which explained my fingerprints all over her house.  But I painted it as a harmless fling; the desperate 'older' woman making one last attempt to attract a wealthy young lover. 

I was asked if I had been aware of her still active porno website but professed shocked ignorance at that too.  The cop gave an unprofessional smirk at the end and I knew he'd enjoyed watching a dressed up or naked Kate being banged a million different ways by the unidentifiable Booker and I.

But now the contract had finished and I was back in Boston visiting my mother again.  We'd talked on the telephone every two weeks or so, but never really had much to say to each other.  I was sitting across from her again and she looked different; older, more sad.  We were talking about generalities and I was only half listening when she mentioned Mrs. McCullough.  I snapped to attention then and asked her to repeat what she'd just said.

"I said, Kate McCullough has been gone for months now and her place is up for sale."

Acting puzzled, I asked, "What do you mean, for sale?  She loved that place.  She loves living here."

"That's what we all thought too.  But she changed at the end.  Changed a lot before you went to California.  Strange men started coming over during the day and at night too.  And when the neighbors started complaining, it stopped.  Then just after you left, it came out that she was working for what was rumored to be a black pimp.  And she was running a pornographic web site to make money."

Mom shook her head at the shocking memory, then took another sip of coffee before she continued.  "Once it got out, I mean about her carrying-on’s, of course, why, I’m sure she felt she just had to leave.  It all had to be so humiliating.  I'm embarrassed for her even thinking about it.  But she just up and left, disappeared, and now the tax people want to sell it."

Mom tsk'd tsk'd.  "It was such a shock to all of us, but especially to me.  She was my best friend!  And I never suspected anything."

I pondered these revelations in silence and then asked, "Well, you know what they say: the first thing you should know about people is that you don't know the first thing about them.  Did she ever say anything?  I mean, about why she did it?"

"No."  Mom replied.  "But there was the oddest thing just before she left.  Did she ever say anything to you?  I mean, did you and she ever get in a fight or anything?"

"No, mom," I replied truthfully.  "I haven't heard from Mrs. McCullough or seen her or even thought about her for months and months.  Why?"

"Well, she said the oddest thing just before she left the last time.  She came over and said she wished that she had never met you or seen you again.  She said she hated you.  Now isn't that strange?"

I smiled into my coffee cup.  "Well, she always was an odd one, wasn't she?"

After a long silence in which mom nodded her agreement, I continued so softly that only I could hear.  "You can never figure out what a person is like until you really get to know them.  Know them deep inside.  Real deep inside.  Almost intimately, you might say."

EPILOGUE

The tragedy of all of this is that it happened to her and it shouldn't have happened.  It ruined her life.  That's the tragedy of this.

-With apologies to Rafael Palmeiro

This Was A Truly Broke-Down Woman or She Wasn’t Even Good Breeding Stock Anymore

She answered only to the name Diamond now.  A name that had been drilled into her mind year after year; it was the only name to which she automatically responded now.  Answering to any other name had only gotten her punished and both she and Ruby had quickly learned to avoid that. 

It was summer again, but it had been more than fifteen years since Diamond had last been here.  She was fifty-three now….or was it fifty-five?  She didn’t know for sure anymore because where she’d been, keeping close track of time was not something of which the mistress had approved.  All she knew for sure was that regardless of how many of her birthdays had passed, she looked at least seventy years-old.

She’d been dropped off in front of her home by her ride.  He was the last in a chain of men with whom she'd been forced hitch rides.  Since she had lost her voice, she’d learned to get by with lipspeaking and writing short notes.  She couldn’t talk, didn't have money for gas, so had to earn her passage the old fashioned way, leaning over the driver's lap in the front seat of his vehicle, sucking hard and swallowing his gravy.  But she was used to that now and it hadn't bothered her in the least.  In fact, given her current looks, she was thankful any man had picked her up or accepted what little she had to offer.  She had long ago given up being concerned about her decaying looks.  Her only goal for the last couple of years had been to keep alive Ruby’s will-to-survive.

Diamond looked at the front door of the colonial house she had once owned and saw it was a different color now.  Of course, everything was different now.  But that didn't matter, for it hadn't been her fault that she'd been away for so long.  The thought of her home, her own place, along with making sure that Ruby was okay, those two things were all that had kept her alive over the decade and a half that she'd been disappeared. 

When the door wouldn't open to her first polite knock, a quick rage overcame her.  She’d freaked for a moment, but as usual, the anger quickly passed and she tried to communicate rationally through the front door again with the current occupants.  She needed to reassure them, to somehow explain to them that they were living in her home.  But it didn't matter to them, it seemed they just wanted the hissing, crazy acting, weird looking creature that stood outside their door to go away.  But she would not.

The police finally arrived and at first tried to reason with her.  But that finally became too much hassle and they arrested the mute, skinny, hard-looking old woman on the assumption that she was a retired hooker high on drugs.  Given what they saw upon arrival, their assumptions were reasonable. 

Diamond was dressed in the only things she had been given when she'd been released from the ranch; a cheap white blouse and what looked like child-sized bib overalls.  All of which had been accessorized with cheap plastic sandals.  The face of the tiny, wizened old woman was scary to most that saw her that day; big glasses that magnified her eyes, a scarf over silver hair cropped close to the skull, a beak of a nose, thinning, almost non-existent eyebrows and lips that had been pierced multiple times but which now contained empty scars from poorly healed holes.  Her face was heavily made up with cheap makeup and it was all topped off with irrational eyes and a crazed demeanor.

A small crowd quickly gathered to watch.  All Diamond wanted was see her home one more time, but no one would listen.  The police struggled to get her handcuffed and into the cruiser, but no one cared or offered to help.  No one even considered it after what they had seen. 

Few that remembered her lived in the area now.  But no one that had once known her could ever possibly believe that the tiny, troll-like tramp mutely arguing and fighting with the police was the beautiful, imperious Kate McCullough.  There literally was no resemblance between the two.  Kate had gorgeous, long dark hair; what little hair this woman had was a close-cropped grey stubble for she had obviously shaved her head only a few weeks ago.  Mrs. McCullough had been a classy, religious woman with a regal bearing.  This wizened, scarecrow was an obvious prostitute, silently hissing foul words in an ugly tempered display of anger. 

Kate was a normal-sized woman with a beautiful body, a runner with the determination and discipline to keep herself in shape.  This.....thing was much smaller and much, much older; this was a skinny, hunchbacked, cord-muscled, leather skinned female with scars, tribal tattoos, piercings and oddly deformed toes. 

Kate had moved lithely, like a panther.  This woman had a weird walk, lifting her feet far too high with each step as if always walking over unseen obstacles.  More than one man remembered that the highly desirable Kate did not have a large bust.  This old whore had at least 36or 38DD’s hanging low under the cheap blouse. 

Mrs. McCullough had a beautiful smile that would light up her face; this old crone never smiled.  But when she exhaled curses in the oddly voiceless way she had, it was clear that only her front teeth remained and while they looked like they were in good health, the gums where her molars should have been were oddly worn. 

The people watching, those that had also known Kate McCullough, tried hard to imagine this woman with long hair, but with her little-old face and her eyes magnified by her glasses, all they could see was E. T. after the kids had put a wig on him.

Downtown, she was booked for disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and in touch of spite on the booking sergeant’s part, one count of prostitution.  She had no identification and out of habit she first wrote her name as Diamond; then in a dazed and rambling manner, she silently insisted that she was actually Mrs. Kate McCullough.  The booking officer had developed an odd sense of humor over time while interacting with mental defectives like this and put her name down as Diamond Doe.  She was fingerprinted, but nothing would come of that for Kate McCullough had never been printed in her previous life.

Escorted to a large holding cell, the hard women with whom she now shared a cell immediately recognized weakness.  Ignoring the almost psychotic anger as well as the rambling pleas, the old woman was soon reduced once more to the servility that had been her lot for so long.  Thus, within fifteen minutes, Diamond had unobtrusively dropped to her hands and knees as she crawled from female to female in the soft, constricted darkness of the holding tank.

In a rare moment of rationality, she asked herself, why not?  She had nothing left and nothing to lose.  Her son was gone to her, for she did not want him to see what she’d become; everyone else she'd ever known was gone now or refused to believe she was who she said she was.  There was no one local that she could call from jail, she had no money to make bail and she had been charged with multiple misdemeanors.  And so she spent the first night in jail, and the next after that.

But rather than eventually being released, because of her obviously deteriorated mental condition, she was held for further evaluation.  The old woman guessed she understood.  After all, even she wouldn't believe she was Kate McCullough if she hadn't known what she'd gone through.  She and Ruby......no, she hissed to herself, her friend's real name was Gina.....she and Gina had experienced life at its worst.  It was no wonder they wouldn't believe her; no one who hadn't experienced it themselves ever could.

She'd been thirty-eight…or had she just turned thirty-nine….when she’d been kidnapped and Ruby’d been thirty-five.  It had been especially hard on Ruby at first because she’d been forced to leave a family behind.  After a quick stop at some kind of a Middle Eastern-like fortress, they had been taken to the "ranch". 

The spirit of both women had been completely broken there within a couple days; even as they assumed the role of “breeders”, they were then also trained over a matter of weeks and months to either pull sulkies by themselves as “singles”, or a larger cart as part of a "matched" team of racing ponies.  They’d been good enough before her looks had fled that they’d even competed in several ponygirl racing competitions. 

Eventually, they’d been replaced by younger, better looking teams of racing ponies, and then they’d been kept around solely to act as breeding mares.  In this role, they’d often been physically or psychologically abused by clients of their owner "Missy".  She remembered how much she had hated men at the moment she’d been taken; thankfully there hadn't been a lot of forced sex once they’d been impregnated the first time, for that was left to the younger females that were kidnapped and specifically trained as play-ponies.  But there was apparently some kind of underground market for human breast milk, for both she and Ruby, along with many other mares and ponies on the ranch had been kept impregnated by studs brought in on a regular basis just to keep their breast milk flowing. 

Morning and night, each mare had been milked by machine twice a day for up to two years, before her milk dried up and she needed to be re-impregnated.  Diamond had foaled four times before the onset of menopause; at forty-nine, Gina had already foaled five times since being taken and might be able to give the owners one more infant before her womb gave out.  The babies were then all sold on the black market along with the mare's milk. 

Wearing the leather pony harness she'd become so familiar with, stepping up to the milking stanchion and thrusting her perpetually swollen, leaking teats through the metal bars into the waiting hands of a ranch worker as he applied the suction cups of the pneumatic milker, the rhythmic sucking pull of the milking machine, the freeing feeling of milk being pulled through her nipples as the sacks that her breasts had become were emptied, the feel of the bit between her gums where her molars used to be, the special boots she'd become so used to wearing, the ones that always kept her pointed on her toes, the synchronized steps and walks and trots that she and Ruby had been taught and had practiced thousands of times, the daily effort of pulling a cart with Ruby whether for show, training, or rental…..

………it all wore a mare down. 

Once a mare could not provide what was required on the ranch, rather than being “put out to pasture” and kept around, depending upon how they’d taken to being ponygirls, quite a few were sold to Caribbean slavers.  A few others just put down and buried on the ranch while a small few of the more trusted mares were eventually released.  Diamond had been released because Ruby’s continued captivity ensured her good behavior. 

Freedom, something of which they had all dreamed, never turned out to be quite what those finally released had expected.  None of the released mares ever went home, not one; none of them really had a home left anymore.  Besides, they all were ashamed of how they looked and of what they had become.  All of them were just tired; the anger and need for vengeance had all been burned to cinders in their years of service to the ranch.

And just like all the others, Diamond was very, very tired now. 

Nothing Was Left Inside But A Husk or She Wore The Eyes Of A Simple, Simple Child

Released from jail three months later, Diamond went before the same judge wearing only a prisoner's yellow and blue jumpsuit.  She had undergone a battery of psychological tests; the psychiatrists and psychologists concluding that while legally "sane" and not an obvious danger to herself or others, she was a paranoid schizophrenic and prone to long bouts of rambling exaggeration about her past.  She needed to be institutionalized in order to treat her paranoia about a place she called The Ranch, but there were no spare beds and so spent her days in the county jail until her time was up. 

She was well behaved in jail and despite her muteness, the tiny, tired old woman was an apparent favorite of the other female prisoners.

Finally, the day of Diamond’s release arrived and she was led to her freedom wearing a cheap pair of loose, “size-zero” petite jeans, a thin cotton T-shirt and poorly fitting running shoes that had been made in China.  Led to the Freedom Gate, she was unceremoniously shoved outside and left alone.  Squinting in the strong sunlight, the mentally unstable woman now old far beyond her years looked around uncertainly as the gate squealed shut behind her on unoiled rollers.  There was nothing for her here; there was nothing for her anywhere.  A single tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that she had hit bottom, she was ready to finally end it all.  She was done. 

Just then a vehicle pulled into the lot; a horn honked once.  A tired Diamond that had been officially overwhelmed by life glanced over briefly and was surprised to see a familiar face in the big SUV; a face she had not seen since her release from the ranch.  A face she’d first seen at her initial degradation and ponygirl training in Texas. 

She'd resented this woman once long ago, when she’d first been turned into a breeder pony and then a mare.  This woman was the one that had come to watch and even supervise when she and Ruby had been so quickly broken by the bondage and the torture and the gang rapes; this woman had even been present the first time they’d been given to the dogs and the mules.  But the anger and rage that Diamond had felt then was long gone now and it was difficult to even remember any of the details.  What was important though was that hers was a familiar face; Diamond was thrilled with an unaccountable happiness that someone had actually come for her. 

Without a word being spoken to her, the tired old woman willingly got in the car with Missy and just sat there in silence, head back against the neck rest and eyes closed as plastic restraints were placed around her wrists and tightened.  Still nothing had been said, but she knew somehow that she would soon be back with Ruby again, and she could take care of her friend once more.  What else was there for someone like her?  What else could she do now? 

All she had ever wanted was a little security in her life. 

And now she had it.