The Fall of 19_

This is a chapter from my novel-in-progress, The Fall of 19-.  The novel tells
the story of a couple who both fall under the sexual sway of a handsome, cruel
and masterful man.  Both the husband, Jon, and the wife, Sara, are separately,
and secretly, seduced by this man, Alex.  The book follows the mutual descent of
the couple into the wonderful world of sexual slavery.


Chapter One: The Party


Jon's version:

One night in late September, when the summer's heat was starting to cool and
everyone was preparing themselves for the long dull winter to come, Sara and I
went to a party. At first it looked like the same old thing, the same old people
having the same old tired conversations.  I was yearning for some excitement and
thinking about how repetitive my life was getting. The seasons came and went but
I stayed the same through every death and rebirth and regeneration of the world
around me. There was a void in me, an emptiness aching to be filled.

I was in the middle of some weary group conversation where everybody was
criticizing the government or the wealthy or some other disadvantaged group when
in walked this couple.

All heads turned as if they felt the energy of this man and women in their jaded
nerves.  He was absolutely the most handsome man I'd ever seen- well over six
feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscular yet still lean.  I could tell all this
because, unlike the rest of us inconspicuous types who hid our bodies under
ballooning clothes, he was dressed in tight leather pants and a beautiful
form-fitting shirt.

His woman was almost as good-looking, tall and blond with a gorgeously sculpted
face and body.  She was awesomely beautiful.  Her face was a incredibly
feminine, with wonderful deep eyes, pronounced cheek bones and perfect lips. But
at the same time that very pretty woman's face was shaped by a strong jaw line
and a hardness of the features which revealed a trace of masculinity, complete
self-confidence and even hinted at a streak of cruelty.

She had a fantastic body: long and incredibly slim, yet curvaceous and
full-breasted. Encasing her wondrous figure was the tightest black dress I'd
ever seen and she strode into the room on three-inch heels that any other women
there would scoff at wearing, and scoff even more at someone else for wearing. 
Yet there was something about her, and him even more, which stopped my petty
thoughts dead in their tracks and stirred my base desires.

What really stood out about them though was not their obvious physical
endowments but rather something that came from within, the life that glowed from
them, a confidence and vitality that I'd thought were extinct.  They entered the
room with heads held high, watching instead of feeling watched, a fully erect
walk with just the right amount of swagger. Just the right amount if you're
fabulously good-looking, at least, and these two certainly were.

The hostess, Jane, whispered conspiratorially to our little group, "That's Alex
and Theresa.  They're some new friends of Peter's that he's completely enamoured
of but frankly I can't stand them.  They have to be the most conceited people
I've ever met".

While the other's nodded in silent approval of Jane's condemnation and even
added a few words of prejudged condemnation, I couldn't help but withhold my
opinion until further investigation, my eyes transfixed by the presence of these
two unusual people.  I noticed too that Sara was watching them intently and not
joining in the feeding-frenzy of the meek.

"You and he are in the same business, Jon", Jane said to me.  "He publishes The
Power Journal".  Everyone laughed at the name of the publication, for among we
left-leaners  that publication was a synonym for rampant capitalism, fascists,
the enemy.  I was an editor at the city's left-wing weekly, a humble little
thing that tried to hold up the crumbling ideals of socialism, the environment
and such.  I smiled weakly to the group as they stared at me, waiting for some
sort of reply, and said lamely, "Well, isn't that interesting".

The time passed by and I was getting inebriated along with everyone else.  I
hadn't spoken yet to either member of the couple; I was forgetting them and
lapsing into the party version of automatic pilot, laughing at the most banal
bon-mots, listening to old friends say the same old things, and saying the same
old things myself.  At one point I slipped into my mode of false arrogance and
was giving my well-rehearsed rant to a group of people about the lack of
government support for smaller publications like mine when I heard a voice shock
me out of my rote speech.

"Well maybe if you had enough readers for your little rag you wouldn't need any
help.  Why should the taxpayers pay you and your socialist friends to put out
something they don't read and probably wouldn't like if they did?"  I turned
around to see him standing there, staring down at me from a few feet away.  He
was so impressively commanding and I was so struck by his presence and his stare
that I couldn't think. I merely stared up into his dark eyes, my mouth open,
silenced by his powerful glare.

He launched into me again.  It was a brilliant rhetorical speech that came
straight out of the right wing, loaded with sarcasm and dubious logic, but so
strong was his delivery and his presence that I could only stammer vague
replies.  I wasn't used to being argued with in my circle of the converted, and
the usual pat answers were spinning around in my head irretrievably.  "Your
little weak rag has no force, no strength, it's an empty shell!", he hissed, the
words stinging me to my soul.  "You're lost in the misguided intentions of
social responsibility and fairness-to-everybody and now your whole absurd
philosophy is blowing up in your face.  People know now that they have to take
care of themselves, find their own power and sink or swim".  He was pointing at
me rudely and I blushed with embarrassment at my inadequacy in the face of his
own intimidating presence.  Just as I was beginning to falter into another
non-reply he looked into my face, as if it was all a joke to him, laughed and
smiled wickedly, "Don't worry, Jon, you've got a pretty face, you'll get by,
when all the other wimpy socialists are gone".  Then, incredibly, he lightly
slapped my ass and walked away.

I stood there, rooted in my spot by humiliation and shock. For a moment no one
said anything, my stupid little clique stunned and stupefied by what had
happened. Then someone whispered, "What an asshole!". I looked at Sara. She just
stared at me. I knew she had been let down by me, looking for her man to do
something manly, to fight. I knew she was thinking of how utterly defeated I had
been. The one word he said rang over and over in my ears "weak weak weak" and I
thought of how right the bastard was. Sara muttered "excuse me" and left the
group. Some idiotic geek said, "You showed him, Jon", but I just told him to
shut up and crawled off to the washroom in shame.

I stared at myself in the mirror and watched my spirit fall ever lower. I
thought of him, the kind of man that he was, the kind of man that I was. The
difference seemed like a huge chasm; one I knew I could never leap across.  In
fact Alex and I were more like opposites- he was power and I was weakness- and I
felt the attraction that opposites often feel for the other type. He was someone
I could never be no matter how much I willed it and, deep down where things like
this can't be admitted, even to oneself, I longed perhaps even more to be with
him than to be like him.

I was staring at myself in the mirror but I was still far from self-recognition. 
I told my reflected self that I had learned a lesson from Alex.  I told myself
that I should act more confidently and confidence would follow.  I was a fool.

I thought I'd learned from Alex to find my own power but what he really gave me
was a desire to feel his.  Suddenly my hatred for him waned, although the reason
why was lost to me as I tried to keep a grip on my waning self-esteem.   I put
my head back together, subsumed my humiliation with stupid appeasements about
lessons learned and headed back out to the party. 

The first thing I saw was Sara standing with Alex and his woman, Theresa,
laughing at whatever he was saying and looking intently into his eyes. I stood
there watching entranced, as my shame came flooding back. I could hardly believe
that she would do this. I thought of Sam and the damage that he had done to us,
or specifically, me. But this was beyond that. I had been ridiculed by this
bastard and here she was happily engaged in conversation with him, looking
enthralled by his charm.

I stalked off to the kitchen to grab a very strong drink. I thought about the
situation, but not very well. I decided not to show anyone any sense of shame. I
decided to carry on as if there was no problem with him. I would even compete
with her for his interest if that's what it took.

I walked straight over to the three of them and stood there rather stupidly,
full of plans and bereft of action, merely listening to Alex as he wove stories
that held the two women entranced. They didn't even acknowledge my arrival. Sara
stood there before him, drink in hand, staring up into his eyes. Soon others
arrived to listen to some particularly interesting tale of his adventures abroad
and I found myself being pushed further and further back until I was on the
periphery of the group. I went off in dejection to join my safe friends in the
corner.

As I tried to talk to them I kept my eyes on Alex's group and specifically Sara,
who spoke only to him and listened only to him, unable to take her eyes away
from his.

Eventually they all disbanded and I spent a little while trying to figure out
how to approach him. I felt a yearning for him that I mistook for a desire to be
respected or something equally foolish. I knew I couldn't take him on in an
argument again so I waited for an opportunity to get him alone, to say
something, anything that would earn his esteem. Soon, to my relief, Sara stopped
standing beside him and came over to me. As we stood together, uncomfortably,
our mutual silence spoke volumes. Soon enough she wandered off with some lame
excuse about needing another drink.

Some time later I noticed Alex in the hallway, a pretty girl having recently
left him to freshen their drinks. I excused myself hurriedly from my group and
went over to him before anyone else spotted the chance.

"Alex, I'd like to talk to you alone for a bit", I said, in as friendly yet
forceful a tone as I could muster in the face of his intimidating stare. "Yes I
thought you would", he replied curiously, "Why don't we step outside and get
some air?".

I grew excited inside at the thought of his suggestion. I smiled with the
realization that he found me interesting enough to want to have a very private
conversation with me. So, I thought to myself, he really does respect me, he
really does want to talk to me,  to find out more about me. My foolishness knew
no bounds.

We stepped out into the cool night air. He said he hoped I didn't take offense
at anything he said, that he loved a good argument. I wondered how he thought I
couldn't take offense at such offensiveness but I lied that I hadn't. He
chuckled at my words mysteriously.

He led me into the darkest part of the backyard, behind some bushes where only
the moonlight shone down and the noise of the party was a dim background.

He turned to me. I started to speak but as I looked up to his eyes I saw they
were glowing with a curious intensity that showed both menace and some kind of
want. He grabbed me about the waist and drew me to him, his face turned down to
me, and he pressed his lips against mine.

My heart pounded in shock that gave way surprisingly quickly to arousal. I knew
then that I had wanted this all night, all the more so since he humiliated me,
and more again when I saw him captivate my wife. I opened my panting mouth up to
accept his invading tongue. Our lips were pressed tightly together and our
tongues rolled over each other inside of my welcoming mouth. I reached around
and held on tightly to his broad strong back as our kissing became more
passionate, tongues swirling together between our melded lips.  Then brazenly I
let my hands fall, caressing his hard ass through the black leather and moaning
at the feel of it, so hard and round yet buttery-smooth in its leather encasing.
I cried out, somewhat high-pitched, womanly, as he held me tight, our passionate
wet-kisses taking me higher and higher.

Suddenly he dropped me to my knees, so quickly that I don't know how but I found
myself with panting lips pressed wetly against the big hard cock that stretched
the leather at the front of his torso. "What are you doing?" I cried out, my
words muffled by the front of his pants where he held me tight, one hand on the
back of my head, the other holding my shoulders down.

"Stop it", I cried though my cry was not so loud as to be heard by anyone else,
so ashamed I was, and keenly aware of it, by my position.

I couldn't move from under him though I struggled hard, my legs weak beneath me
and my hands pushing pathetically against his rock-hard thighs. He grabbed the
back of my hair and pulled me into his groin. The leather smell went deep into
my lungs. I was paralyzed by the pain of his hair-pulling and even though he
released me with his other hand I couldn't move and only knelt there, heart
pounding, as he pulled my head back just far enough that he could undo the
zipper on his pants.

"No!", I cried my voice a soft pathetic whimper as I realized with horror what
he was about to do. "Don't! No!", I half begged, half ordered him but he only
hissed, "Shut up!", as he fumbled in his pants for his dick. Suddenly there it
was, sprung out in the cold harsh glow of the moonlight, looming over my eyes.

It was the most magnificent cock I had ever seen, long, thick and beautifully
sculpted. He yanked my hair back and I cried out, louder this time, as the pain
and fear overwhelmed me. Yet again I held my voice in check. I wanted to alert
anyone less than he I'm sure. He made me look at his gorgeous tool as it pulsed
there before me, filling my wide-open eyes. He slid it across my panting lips
and smacked it lightly against my hot cheeks as he held me, my face turned up to
him, one hand deep in my long hair, yanking hard.

I felt the stirring inside and I knew that I wanted it though my cries and
struggling continued. He knew too, knew it all along, from the moment he saw the
look on my face of submissive fear when he first interrupted me back in the
house.

Sensing victory, he let my head fall until my mouth was even with his cock and,
to my deep shame, my lips parted wide for the thick head and he slid it through
them. I swooned at the feel of the huge cock filling up my mouth, the
hard-yet-soft skin of it stretching my wet lips wide as it entered and slid
along my tongue. At the end of each stroke I breathed in deeply the warm smell
of man and leather that wafted from his crotch.

My hands stopped pushing weakly against his thighs and slid around to the back
where his leather pants had slipped down and I lightly caressed the perfect
roundness of his ass. His cock slid in and out of my lips and I began to moan
softly, my girlish sounds muffled by the cock that stuffed my mouth. I felt my
wet lips suck hungrily on his shaft and my tongue swirl around it.  In my pants
I could feel my own cock, swollen and hard, and I was filled with humiliation
and desire.

Then he grabbed me by the hair again, his two hands on either side of my head,
and shoved his big cock all the way into my throat. I gagged as it pushed past
the back of my mouth but he only held me tight and withdrew to pounce in again
and again until my mouth adjusted and I breathed hard through my nose in panic
and arousal, the manly smell of his leather and cock sweat blew down into my
shame-wracked soul.

He raped my mouth. In and out he fucked me with his glorious cock. Pulling out
until the head stretched my lips wider still, only to plunge back in again, all
the way, until my lips and nose were pressed hard into the hair around the base
of his shaft, and his big head pulsed somewhere deep in my throat.

Then he came. With one final yank of my poor hair and thrust of his hard torso,
he pushed into me deeper than ever and I felt his cock bulge with the oncoming
sperm and then release, jerking in my throat and filling it with hot come. He
held me there for a moment and then pulled his cock back a bit and fucked my
mouth, salty-sweet sperm shooting inside me. I couldn't believe how much there
was. I had to drink it down to keep from gagging. Still coming, he pulled out of
my mouth and, holding my face still with his one hand wrapped in my hair, he
jerked his big cock with the other, shooting glob after glob of come into my
panting mouth, lips drooling come that was already inside, and splattering my
cheeks.

Finally it was all over. He shoved his still-hard cock back in to my mouth. I
swallowed and swallowed all the come that was inside me and sucked the rest off
his prick. I was delirious with arousal and shock as he wiped the come off my
cheeks with his fingers and then put them to my lips to be licked clean.

He released me and I fell to the ground in a daze. I looked up at him with teary
eyes. He only glared down at me with a malicious smile. To my increasing shock
and shame he put the bottom of his shoe to my crotch and pressed it against the
hard cock that bulged there, insatiated. "You bastard", I whispered at him
spiritlessly. "You little slut bitch", he said back to me from above,
half-hissing, half-laughing, as if I didn't warrant the respect of a serious
insult. Then he took the sole of his shoe and slid it across my cum-wet cheek,
in a mock caress, the roughness of the dirt and pebbles on it scraping me
painfully. Too weak to move I lay there as he did it again and again, whispering
sarcastically, "Poor confused baby". And then he was gone.

In a few minutes I regained enough of my senses to realize I had to get up and
get going, do something. I stood up, my legs barely holding me. I stumbled
toward the backdoor of the house, trying to fix myself. Inside I strode for the
washroom, head down, noticing too late as I rounded a corner that I was heading
straight for Alex and Sara, who were once again together, only this time they
were alone. "Honey what happened to your face?", Sara asked, more with dismay
than concern. "I slipped and fell on the walkway. I'm okay", I muttered as I
slipped past them. "You ought to watch how much you're drinking there, Jon", I
heard him say to my back and I winced inside, hurrying into the washroom where I
put my face under the tap and washed my mouth out as best as I could, although
the taste of his come seemed indelible, an ubiquitous reminder of my shame.

Once outside the bathroom I found Sara with our coats. "Come on", she said,
"It's time to get you home", the disdain dripped from her words and in my
mortified state I drank it down. I meekly went off to the car with her but
before we were out the front door I heard him call from the top of the stairs
"Goodnight. A pleasure meeting you and I hope we can do it again some time". The
words shook me to the marrow. Head down, I silently slipped out the door. I
found myself alone for a moment outside. Sara hadn't come out with me. I stood
there waiting until finally she emerged, calling goodnight, and we walked down
to the car.

"I can't believe you", she seethed, "First you can't talk to the guy, then you
hang around him. You get so drunk from the embarrassment of it that you fall
down on your face and then you rudely walk out the door when he's saying
goodnight. God I'm ashamed of you sometimes". The words cut like razors but I
was mute to reply. Nothing she had mentioned approached the real shame of it all
and I almost laughed sickly inside at the thought of what she would say if she'd
known a tenth of the truth of what had gone on in the dark of that night, in the
dark of my soul.

That night after Sara had fallen asleep I lay awake with an arousal that no
amount of condemnation or distraction could abate. I lay there and stroked
myself off to thoughts of him, my hand obeying a desire that my sternly
condemning conscious couldn't reach. I savoured the lingering taste of him in my
mouth and as I came I whispered his name: "Alex!".

Sara's version:

That night we went to a party. It was the same old crowd. Pretty boring. Jon and
I talked about it on the way over. We didn't really want to go but I guess
inertia prevailed.

Some time after we were there this couple came in. All heads turned as they
walked in to the room. The man, Alex, was gorgeous beyond description. I didn't
think that anyone could top Sam but this guy was it. He was very tall and his
body was perfection. I couldn't take my eyes off of him for the first several
minutes he was there. I felt like Jon was watching me watch him and I guess his
jealousy was the first thing that pissed me off about him that night. The
underlying bitterness of being stuck with such an unsexy guy came out when I
thought of how he even prevented me from checking somebody else out. What harm
was there in a little visual treat, even if I did imagine myself on my knees
sucking this beautiful man's cock?

Anyway, Alex was with this woman who was really stunning, beautiful buxom body
and full of curves. The really striking thing about the two of them though was
the way that they carried themselves with complete confidence. I found myself
wishing that Jon and I could have a little more of that even as our hostess was
telling us how arrogant they were. I couldn't care less. Maybe some people
deserve to be conceited, I thought.

As the evening grew on I stopped checking Alex out quite so much and at one
point I found myself in a little group as Jon was giving his usual spiel about
how mean the government was to his stupid ragazine. Alex stepped up to the group
and listened for a second and then he laid in on Jon.  He was such a commanding
presence and Jon, who wasn't used to arguing since he surrounded himself with
sycophants, was totally taken aback.  All he could do as Alex went on about
left-wing wimps was stutter and stammer.  It was humiliating for him and I felt
a little sympathy but the combination of the power and looks of this new man and
Jon's pathetic impotence left me feeling unsympathetic.  Alex said something in
the end about how Jon was "pretty" and then, to everyone's amazement, he even
patted Jon's ass.    It was really devastating and Alex simply walked away
having demolished my poor boy.

Since Jon was surrounded by his equally ineffectual friends who were offering
sympathy and lies I decided he didn't need my aid and I went off in search of
this amazing man.  Besides, at the moment, I was frankly ashamed of his weakness
and I just had to get away from him.

I grabbed a drink and caught up to Alex as he was chatting with his girlfriend,
whose name was Theresa.  She and I seemed to take an instant dislike to each
other but it didn't dissuade me from being with them.  If she doesn't like it, I
thought, then she can bloody well leave us alone, the sooner the better.  I
wanted to flirt with this man and nobody was going to stop me.

He charmed me instantly by telling me how beautiful I was, even asking Theresa
to agree, which she hesitantly did.  I was glad I had taken the time to fix
myself up that night and glad for the workouts and diet that I had recently been
doing.  I felt a glow that I hadn't felt since Sam.  I felt my own
attractiveness mirrored in the eyes of this gorgeous guy and I knew I looked
great that night, if a little conservative next to these two in their tight
outfits.  Alex wore black leather pants that night and I ached, as I stared into
his eyes and tried to listen to him, to get down on my knees in front of him and
lick his leathers from top to bottom.  I really didn't think anything would come
of it, he had a beautiful girlfriend after all, and I was trying, after the
fiasco of Sam, to focus on my relationship with Jon, however moribund it might
be.

Alex continued to flirt with me while Theresa grew colder. He didn't know that I
was the wife of the man he'd just humiliated and I didn't want to tell him so. 
I felt guilty about talking to him after what he'd done to Jon but I guess I was
feeling a little rebellious toward the matrimonial jail that night.  When Jon
walked by I avoided his stare but just knowing how he felt made me feel like
even more of a bad girl, and I liked the feeling.  If he didn't like it maybe he
should try to be a little more like this guy, I thought.  Even the slightest
resemblance would be welcome.  But no, even though he'd just been thoroughly
humiliated by Alex and then seen me talking and flirting with him, he could only
go off sulking to his friends.  And then when he did come by some time later he
didn't say anything, only stood by, still sulking I imagine, and listened to his
destroyer charm a whole crowd of people.  Finally, Jon went away again,
dog-faced, to rejoin his boring cronies.

As Alex became more popular, especially with the women of the party, I found
myself losing my status and I thought, what the fuck, as if he's going to be
interested in me anyway, so I went off to join the loser's club in the corner,
Jon and his friends, though by that time the chill between us was thick as ice
and I decided I didn't have the energy or inclination to warm it up.

But I noticed after a while that Jon was staring at Alex off and on through the
night.  It seemed like he was as fascinated by him as I was, perhaps because of
what he saw me feeling about him.  Anyway it looked as though Jon was trying to
think of a way to get him back, looking for the right time to make an attack. 
He hovered in Alex's vicinity a couple of times but, being Jon, he never found
that right time I guess, never summoned the guts to confront someone who was
quite clearly smarter, braver, sexier... well, the list in my mind went on and
on.

So the night got late and, as I saw Alex alone, I went up and talked to him.  He
seemed happy to see me.  He had found out that I was Jon's wife (he'd been
asking about me! I thought to myself) and hoped that I didn't mind if I'd hurt
Jon's feelings.  When I laughed and said no he developed a mysterious knowing
smile that made me shiver.  He produced a card and told me to give him a call at
work some day and that perhaps we could get together. I was taken aback.  I
wanted to say no but something in me was stronger and I pulled the proffered
card from his fingers with the best smile I could summon in my nervousness and
said, "Thanks. Maybe I will".

Just then Jon appeared with his usual bad timing.  His face was all scraped and
kind of wet.  He was trying to hurry past us but was unsteady on his feet.  He
had gotten himself completely drunk in the aftermath of his humiliation at the
tongue of Alex and his subsequent attempts to get up the nerve that wasn't in
him and he'd fallen down outside.  This was the last straw.  I muttered an
embarrassed goodnight to Alex as Jon locked himself in the washroom and I
grabbed our coats.

Hustling Jon out the door, I heard Alex bade us goodnight, but Jon only ducked
his head and scurried out the door.  I thought, he was not only a weakling but
rude as well.  I let the door close behind him and watched him stumble to the
car.  I walked up to where Alex stood, smiling knowingly in that way that he did
so well. "I have to apologize for him", I said, "I think he's a little
intimidated by you". "That's okay", Alex said, soothing and sexy, "He's had a
long night". I took a quick look around for the sign of nosy friends and then I
whispered, "I think I will call you".  He walked me down to the bottom off the
stairs and then he caressed my cheek, drawing his hand up around the back of my
head where he took my long blond hair lightly in his fist and drew my face
toward his and kissed me on the lips.  After a moment's shock I kissed him back,
the feeling of it overwhelming me. It had been so long since I felt sexual
arousal and now here was this fantastic man kissing me, even though his
girlfriend might have come around the corner and discovered us at any moment. 
But we were lost in the abandonment of the moment.  If Jon saw us and dumped me
on the spot I wouldn't have cared less.  All I wanted was this man.

Then we were heard voices and came apart.  I had to work hard to get my head
back into the real world.  I whispered," Goodnight", and went out the door.  In
my bitterness I harangued poor Jon, who seemed really drunk and depressed.  The
way he just took it made me do it all the more as he sat there in silence and I
drove home.

I lay awake for the longest time in bed, tossing and turning.  I didn't know
what to do.  I told myself that Jon was a really good guy and to just drop the
whole thing but I couldn't get Alex off my mind.  My thoughts grew inexorably to
fantasies of him and I drew my hand down to my pussy.  I was shocked at the
wetness that I felt there.  I imagined myself on a bed in Alex's mansion ( Jane
told me at the party of his big beautiful home) , decked out in the finest
lingerie that he had bought me, lying across his stomach, my face in his lap,
sucking his cock between sips of the finest cognac.  It was an absurd fantasy,
born of a sense of repression at the hands of our simple laid-back lives, a way
of living that, that night, seemed to be a vicious terror that was killing me.
But I didn't think about that.  What I thought about was his cock inside me on a
gigantic bed, perhaps even tying my wrists with a satin cord (oh I was feeling
bad ) and I came quickly, stifling the cries of ecstasy (Jon, too, was restless)
into the pillow whereupon I began to cry silent tears of shame.

The Fall of 19_: Chapter 2- The Morning After


Jon:  The next morning I awoke in a state of shame and anger. I couldn't believe
what had happened. I couldn't get out of my mind the horrible images of the
assault nor the verbal humiliation I suffered at Alex's hands. When Sara went
off to work I broke down and cried.

My mouth had been raped by that rich sadistic bastard!  The outrage grew in me
until I thought that I would burst from it.  He was everything that I despised
and, although I had fallen for some of his appeal, the fact remained that he had
forced me to perform oral sex on him, physically forced me to, rammed his cock
into me, used my mouth as simply a vessel for his pleasure, even, I thought with
tears streaming down my cheek, enjoyed the violence and degradation he inflicted
on me.

I downed a coffee and even smoked a few cigarettes.  I had to call him and tell
him what I thought of him.  No, I thought, I had to go and see him and tell him
to his face.  I thought of how I would fight him, beat him senseless and kick
him in the balls so that they would never work again, so he could never fuck
anyone else again, the monster!  Or at the very least how I would verbally shame
him as he did me the previous night. After an hour of stewing and hesitating, I
reached for the telephone, my fingers trembling, my heart pounding.

When his voice came on the line my strength waned.  Still I pressed on, full of
indignation.  "Alex? This is Jon".  "Oh yes", his voice came back to me, full of
cocky arrogance, "I knew I was going to hear from you again.  I just didn't
think it would be this soon".  "Well you guessed wrong", I blustered, not
realizing how stupid that sounded.  "I want to see you to talk to you about what
you did last night and I want to see you right now".  "You sound upset", he
cooed.  I couldn't believe his audacity. "You're fucking right I'm upset and
we're going to settle this this morning!"  My voice grew assured, steady, but he
was nonplussed.  "Well I wouldn't mind Jon", he said, as though nothing in the
world was wrong, "but I'm all tied up today".

"Look", I hissed, my voice full of menace, "You committed a very serious crime
last night against me and if you don't see me right now to set things straight
I'm going to the police!"  He laughed into the phone.  "I don't think it was so
bad. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too from what I could see, and feel,
when it was all over".  I sank with shame at the memory of it, the sole of his
shoe against my pitiful hard cock. The sick bastard only wanted me to feel it
all again. I tried to muster my strength.  "I demand to see you this morning!" I
repeated weakly.  The fucker merely replied with a bored tone, "Well I really
can't and frankly, Jon, your hostility isn't making me more inclined to see you
now or ever".

 I felt my position slipping.  He was playing it so cool.  Of course I was never
going to the police.  How could I think I could ever intimidate such a bastard? 
Panicking, feeling like I had to see him, I heard my voice sink into pathetic
submissiveness.  "Please", I heard myself say, the absurdity of the word hitting
home too late, a plaintiveness in my voice that ruined any pretence of
aggressiveness, "Please see me today.  I have to talk to you".  "Okay, settle
down, Jon. I'll see you at noon sharp in my office".  Then he hung up.

I sat there, shaking, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.  He was such
self-assured asshole!  But at least now I was going to get to see him and get my
revenge.  He thought he had me, thought he didn't have to see me, but my fake
plea softened him and he relented.  There would be no pleading done, except by
him, when I saw him at noon.

I spent the morning rehearsing my part.  I had to be rock steady, cool and
confident, merciless.  I would fight him if it came to that, but even if I lost
I would regain my dignity.

My sexual masochism wasn't going to be handed out to just anyone.  It was, after
all, just a game to play, a way to relieve the tension of always having to put
up a strong front. I was comfortable with my queer submissive side and I would
give myself over like that to men that I respected and who, when the fun was
over, respected me. I had my limits. With that in mind I dressed to go, slipping
on underneath my jeans my favourite pair of sexy black panties, as if to say, "I
don't deny this side of myself but he will never see it again".   I relished
telling him off, even beating him up and he never knowing that beneath my tough
exterior I was clad in silky panties. What satisfaction that would bring! I
finished dressing and out the door I went, heading for the subway, a man on a
mission.

He kept me waiting.  Noon turned into 12:30 and still his secretary said he was
too busy.  I wanted to burst through his door but the thought of there being
others there with him kept me back. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to
know anything.

Finally, at 12:45 his secretary said I could go in.  I knocked on his door and
entered without an invitation.  He was on the phone, joking and laughing with
somebody about what was obviously not business.  He gestured to me to sit down. 
His office was huge, the whole fascist business boy's playground.  Big desk,
leather chairs and couch, big windows with a big view and of course, the
stand-up bar. He was just a fatuous cliche, I told myself.

"I had this gorgeous woman the other night", I heard him laugh into the phone,
"The 'princess' wife of Stephen Gould.  You know him? Yeah.  Name's Lisa. I got
her at one of those cocktail parties at his office, he's a big advertiser with
us you know, and she was going on and on bragging about how successful he was
and how great their two teenage daughters were and how fabulously rich and happy
they were. So I thought I'd take her down.   I just started in with the b.s. and
before you knew it I had her in the janitor's room down the hall tied to the
overhead pipes". I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  There was literally no
end to his arrogance. "She was begging for me to fuck her.  Standing there in
her heels, panties and bra, Dior dress and pantyhose in a pile on the janitor's
floor and her wrists tied over her head begging for me.  What could I do?  I had
to leave her there.  Ha!  Yeah!  I went out the door, she pleading for me on the
one hand and threatening me on the other, left her in the dark, hanging there.

"So back at the party and old Stephen is wondering where his wife is.  Nobody
knows.  We left the room at different times so nobody thinks anything of me.  I
tell him that I think I saw her getting on the elevator but I'm not sure. So he
takes off, his composure lost for all to see and I have a drink and a chat with
his daughters who happened to be there and are left behind by daddy who's gone
to chase mommy down.  They're both gorgeous too, about 15 and 17.  They're very
interested in modern art so I make arrangements with them to come and see the
works in my office. I have a few Concettis, so they're coming this Thursday
after school, isn't that precious?

"Then I go off again, it's been about half an hour, to check on mommy, who's
still hanging in there.  When I come in the janitor's room she's just about out
of her mind, which is the way I like them.  She wants to kill me, a very good
sign, because after I calm her down she's hotter than before by about tenfold. 
I pull her panties down slowly and when I slide my fingers down the crack of her
ass toward her cunt I find she's sopping wet.  She's writhing there, begging for
it, but I know she'll come on the spot so I just brush against her clit a few
times, driving her crazy.  She's turning her bottom to me, trying to press it
against me as I'm standing there behind her.

"So I fingered her ass with her cunt juices, making it all nice and wet.  Her
moans are loud as hell, echoing around that little room.  So I spread her legs
apart and I fucked her ass while she stood there.  Then I spun her around and
shoved it into her cunt.  Just a few strokes because I felt her coming. Then I
spun her around again and did her ass again.  Over and over like this until I
couldn't take anymore. She of course had passed that point long before.  She was
hysterical, crying, screaming, begging to come.  So I shoved it into her pussy
and we came together right away, her legs wrapped around my back. She just hung
there from the pipes, bucking me.  She was drooling; she was so insane with it,
screaming over and over.  I don't know how nobody came in.  I was kind of hoping
to see Stephen come through the door, finding his wife at last. I just untied
her and walked out, left the building.  So the daughters are coming by in a few
days, no doubt with mommy's blessing.  What she told Stephen for an excuse I
don't know but it was sweet, the whole thing."

With that he told the person that he had to go and hung up.  I was in a daze. 
His story had so transfixed me with its eroticism and depravity that I had lost
my aggressive mood and he hung up so quickly afterwards that I just sat there
dazed on the plush leather couch staring at him as he rose from behind his desk.

"So, Jon, what can I do for you?" he asked, still playing the innocent, but with
such a sarcastic tone that the insult was obvious.  I stood up but was once
again struck by the physical presence of the man; he towered over me as we stood
facing each other.  He came close to me and I had to tilt my head up to look him
in the eyes.

"Look, I can see you're a busy man", I said with sarcastic bluster, but he only
smiled as if he was in on the joke, as if he didn't care, which he didn't.  "I
want to tell you a few things and then I want you to tell me something", I said
sternly.  "Go right ahead", he said, his voice calm, a little mocking in its
playful tone.  It was a chess game of will and emotion and I knew I was in the
hands of a master.  I had to concentrate on what I was saying and not think at
all about his subtle moves or I would be trapped with my own planned offensive,
my queen lost in his end, her attacks impotent and her death imminent.

He stayed right where he was, his large figure looming over me from a few feet
away.  I decided to hold my ground, thinking that to back up would give him a
sign of my weakness.  I'd made the first mistake of the game, already.

As I tried to speak, my voice became all the more unsteady and unsure.  There
was something in the way that he stared down at me, his face an ironic mask of
concern and sensitivity.  There was something devastating in that strategy of
sarcasm.  On the one hand I could feel some part of me believing him as he stood
there so erect and handsome in his posture of benign concern.  On the other hand
the sting of his mockery weakened me and I wavered under his gaze, my own face a
mask too, of nerve and strength and power that were not there.

He knew, as I did too, deep down in the dark side of my torn soul, that I was
not really there to fight.  So, in the end, my pose was more fraudulent than his
and he was just playing the game out to its inevitable end, toying with me.

I tried to tell him how much I hated him and his kind, my rehearsed speech
sounding all the more so for every rehearsal I'd done that morning.  I tried to
tell him I could go to the police.  I tried to tell him that I was a little
emotionally upset lately with the fate of the magazine and that led to my
vulnerable state of the night before.  I tried to tell him that I wasn't
interested in anything like that and especially not with him.  I tried to get
him to say that he'd done me wrong.

He just stood there and let me flounder in my pathetic strategy, my queen
disappearing deeper into his lair. Now it was the endgame.  The end of my life
as I'd known it up to then.

He smiled at me.  He reached out with one arm and rested it on my shoulder.
"Don't", I said, meekly, but I didn't push his hand away and he didn't remove
it. "Jon", he started, "You just don't know yourself.  You're so handsome, so
bright.  There's so much more life can offer you".  I squirmed inside, lost
under his spell.  I tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out.

"You're so beautiful.  I don't think I've ever seen a man with such exquisite
features. I wanted you from the first time I saw you last night."

"Don't", I stammered, looking away from his eyes, his hand caressing my shoulder
now, making me weak.  "Such bullshit", I stammered.  "No it isn't", he said
sternly.  "I only spoke to you that way last night because I wanted to light a
fire inside of you.  I wanted to see you burn a little.  I think I see in your
eyes how the ennui in your life is killing your spirit, a spirit that I see as a
magnificent and rare one indeed.  I see it now too.  You're very brave coming
here today. I want to get to know you.  I want us to help each other take
something out of life, something I think you really need.  An awakening to
experience."

His words were hitting home.  Each little bomb of loaded meaning exploding in my
soul. He took advantage of my obvious weakness and moved in for the kill. "My
god, you're so pretty!" he whispered, his voice low and seductive.   That word,
so hurtful the night before and now so arousing; yet both times it was used to
break me down and he used it now to toy with me, knowing the effect its
reverberations would have inside me, knowing it would both arouse and humiliate
me, and arouse me again even more because of the humiliation. I shook inside
from his mastery of my pathetic masochistic lusts.  His hand came off my
shoulder and caressed my cheek. I was passing into another realm, all my
intentions lost.  He seemed like a god to me then, all-knowing, all-seeing. 
When I bent my cheek to his caress he knew he had me.

He stepped into me.  His arms went around me and mine around him.  I bent my
weary but wanting face up to his and we kissed just as we had the night before
but this time there was passion in it.  I opened my lips up wide for him, his
stirring words in my heart, the compliments, the proffered hope, the power.  Our
tongues pressed together as his strong arms wrapped all the way around my slim
back.  We moaned together.  I was hard down below, aching for his sex. 
I wrapped my arms around his broad back and held him tightly as we kissed.  His
hungry lips pressed hard against me, pushing my head back, arching my back.  I
moaned.  I felt the stirrings of something that I recognized as love.  I
couldn't believe that it was turning out so beautifully.  I was blissfully
seduced in the arms of this masterful man.  I moaned deliriously with desire to
make love to him as a woman would, my asshole quivering with expectant want,
needing to feel him there, filling me up.

His hand went to my cock where it bulged at the front of my jeans.  I cried out
a sound of girlish desire.  He growled and licked my neck and ears, biting them
softly.  I was swooning in ecstasy, wanting him as I've never wanted anyone.  I
tossed my head back, pressed my crotch against his and cried out as our cocks
pressed together.  He turned me around.  His hands pulled my t-shirt off in a
quick swoop upwards and he played with my nipples.  I panted like a schoolgirl
slut and arched my back, pressing my ass against his hard torso.  When he pushed
back I thought I might come from the sheer mental arousal of it.  "Oh Alex," I
cried, "Oh yes!"  He pinched my nipples.  At first I thought it was the
beginning of the end of his pleasantness but when he followed that up with a
soothing caress I knew that things would be different this time, that he really
wanted me.  "Oh, baby," he cooed, "you've got such a pretty little ass!"  I
squirmed and panted from the words.  I wanted him so badly!

He pushed me from behind over to his big desk and bent me over it, face down. My
hot breath panted into the wood, making little clouds of fog in it.  He bent
over me, his cock pressing against my ass, and kissed the back of my neck and
the tops of my shoulders.  My hands were pressed flat against the sides of the
desk as he worked his sexy magic on me, my hard cock pulsing harder against the
top of the desk with every wondrous increment of pleasure.  When he pulled my
hands behind my back and clasped them together at the wrists I groaned, feeling
my nipples against the cool hard wood.

Suddenly things changed.  I felt cold metal around my wrists as he held them
pinned behind my back.  "Alex?" I said, plaintively. I tried to pull my wrists
apart but they were held in place. He had handcuffed me!

"Just be quiet, baby", he said, his voice laced with menace.  "What are you
doing to me?" I asked submissively, still turned on, panting.  Quickly, he
pulled off my shoes and socks. He reached under my stomach and undid my jeans. 
Suddenly I remembered: I was wearing panties!  I held my breath in expectation
as he grasped the sides of my undone pants and yanked them down.  He laughed
maliciously as he saw what he had uncovered.  "Ha!" he cried out.  "I knew it!
Such pretty panties too! Don't they look lovely on your sweet little ass!"  I
squirmed on top of the desk but he held me down with one hand pressed against
the small of my back.  "No!," I cried. With the other he pulled my jeans off of
my legs, leaving me naked but for the silky black panties that encased my
squirming bottom.  "Let me go!" I cried out, "I don't like this!"  But he only
hissed at me, "Shut up, bitch! You aren't going anywhere!" That word stung me to
my core. Then I knew that I had been had and that this sick bastard was going to
do me again in whatever manner he wished.  Still my cock was hard beneath me,
shaming me with the arousal I felt with each weak attempt to set myself free.

He leaned against my lower back, forcing me down on the desk.  I felt his hands
on my ankle.  I struggled to free it from his grasp but he was too strong.  I
felt a rope slide around my ankle. It was pulled tightly against the leg of the
desk and as he released me I felt it tied there, helplessly bound.  Now he was
free to casually move over to the other leg, swinging desperately to elude his
grasp, but he merely grabbed it in mid-air and pulled it down. Soon it too was
fastened tightly to the other desk leg.  He stepped back to admire his work. I
held my breath in fear and expectation.

"Don't you look sweet all tied up like that", he purred.  I could only whimper
as his words went straight to my arousal, pumping my engorged cock as it pulsed
in my panties pressed tight against the rigid wood.  "Please let me go!" I cried
in terror, struggling helplessly in my bonds, my back arching in feeble attempts
to raise myself off the desk, the cuffs hurting my wrists.  My ankles strained
against the bonds that held me there, spreading my legs wide.

I heard him fumbling in the drawer again. Then I felt his strong hands in my
long hair. He pulled my head back hard, lifting me off the desk until I was
standing straight up. Then I felt one hand go to my right nipple as he held my
neck back hard, his powerful fist in my hair, and in a flash I felt a searing
pain as he snapped a nipple clamp onto my tit. I cried out in agony. He reached
down and took the other clamp and snapped it onto the other nipple and then he
lowered me to the desk again, the pressure of my own chest making the clamps
pinch ever harder. I screamed out but he only hissed at me, 'Shut up, whore!",
and in my fear and agony, I did.

He caressed my trembling bottom through my silky panties.  "Such a pretty girl!
Is that what you want to hear, bitch?" he hissed and I whimpered, ashamed,
aroused and afraid.  He reached over and pulled the elastic off my pony tail and
spread my chestnut hair across my back. "You look just like the loveliest girl
now, faggot.  Your slender back and delicate hips.  Is that what you like, huh? 
Do you want to be treated like a slut bitch?  Do you want to be fucked like a
woman?"  His words cut like a knife, shaming me and arousing me at the same
time.  I could only cry helplessly, feebly, "P-please let me go. I won't tell
anyone. I just want to go. Please!"  He only laughed.

I heard, with my face pressed to the desk, him fumbling with something and then
a sliding sound.  I jerked my head this way and that but I couldn't see him. He
caressed my panties, whispering sadistically, "Now we're going to have some fun,
baby", and he pulled my panties up into the crack of my ass.

Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of a loud smack and I felt at the
same time something strike my ass and then a burning sensation on my bottom made
me cry out in agony.  He was whipping me with his belt!  "No!" I cried, "Don't!
You bastard! Stop!"  But again the belt came down slashing across my helpless
bum as it lay over the edge of the desk, panties pulled teasingly into the crack
of my squirming ass helplessly displayed to the cruel whims of this sadistic
man.  "Shut up, bitch or it's only going to get worse for you", he hissed and
again the belt came down.  Again I yelped from the pain, crying out in a
high-pitched squeal, "No! Please! No!"

"Shut up you faggot cunt!" he cursed and again the belt came down on my sore
bottom. But I couldn't help but cry out, just as he knew I couldn't, as the pain
raced through my entire body and shook my soul. Again and again I cried out in
agony as he whipped me, shrieks and yelps I was helpless to stifle, that emerged
raw from my throat. "I guess I'm gonna have to shut you up bitch!" he said
angrily. I felt his strong fist gathering my silky black panties, pulling them
tightly into my ass and then a sharp pain and tightness around my thighs as he
pulled hard. I heard them tear as he ripped them off me, first one leg and then
the other.

He came around to where I could see him.  He pulled out a wide roll of tape.  He
leaned toward me and grabbed my panting cheeks.  "Please Alex, don't!" I panted
pitifully but he shoved my torn panties into my shocked panting mouth and then
stuck a wide piece of tape across my wet lips.

I looked up at him from my gagged face with pleading eyes.  I tasted the
sweetness of my asshole and the saltiness of my sweat through the panties that
filled up my mouth.  "That's the last I have to hear from you, bitch!" he
hissed.

Again the whipping began. This time it was harder as his fury increased.  My red
hot ass burned with each stroke and before the pain of one stroke even reached a
crescendo there came another cruel whip of the belt.  I screamed uncontrollably
but my cries emerged as dim faraway sounds, quieter than the smack of the belt
against my abused bottom, through the panty-gag and the tape stretched tautly
across my lips.

"You come in here threatening me!  Wanting me to say I'm sorry!"  Each lash of
the belt came with the final syllable of his angry cries, punctuating his lines
with the crack of belt against ass and the muffled sound of my painful squeals.

"You little faggot bitch!  When this is what you want!  You want me to abuse
you!  Whip your queer ass! Fuck you!  Hurt you!  Do you understand me?"  The
vicious words and the cruel blows were in a match to see which could hurt me
more, each driving the other on in a frenzy in his mind and mine.  All the time
I writhed in my bonds I could feel my hard-on pulsing unabated against the desk. 
I was beyond mere shame.  The toxic concoction of humiliation and desire,
feeding on each other, was taken to new heights by this masterful man.

When at last the whipping ended I lay there on the desk, my scorching bottom raw
behind me.  I heard him taking off his clothes.  I panted, tears streaming down
my face, cock straining under me, as he strode into view, naked, his huge hard
cock standing straight out between his legs.  He smiled wickedly at me.  "I
thought you might want to see what you were about to get, baby.  You like?", and
he laughed.  I swooned in my bonds at the sight of his nakedness. His muscular
rock-hard body was a work of art and the cock that pulsed from his flat torso
was menacing in its smooth straight lines, brutal in its size.  I'd never seen
anything so wonderful in my life as the sight of this magnificent man. But I
writhed and shook in my bonds at the thought of taking that monstrous proud
prick in my hole.

With one last cruel chuckle he disappeared behind me. I lay there, chest heaving
beneath me and waited. Suddenly I felt him at my hole. His big lubed head was
pressing against me, spreading me wide.  I gasped. He was so big! I shook with
fear over having to take his monstrous cock inside my ass but I knew I was
helpless to stop him.

He pushed in and gave a little moan. I cried out as he entered me," Oh god!
No!", but my words were a muffled mess from inside my gagged mouth. I thought I
was being split open. But my little hole surrendered to his cock and he slipped
in with the next thrust.

He put his hands on my waist and began fucking me. Inside my gagged mouth my
panties were becoming soaked, the tape holding all my saliva inside as I panted
and moaned.  His big prick slid in and out of me. I could feel my hole loosening
up for him and my arousal grew. Inside my head I warmed to the thought of being
taken by this magnificent man. I listened to the sounds of my muffled moans
slowly change from frightened whimper to glorious arousal.

He started fucking me harder and harder. His strong hands gripped my hips as he
drove into me all the way and his moans grew louder too.  My legs shook with the
excitement. I felt my back arch, lifting my ass up to meet his thrusts. The pain
of the nipple clamps and my red-hot ass only served to drive me higher and my
cock swelled and pulsed beneath me as this cruel man took me there on his hard
oak desk, his big cock ravaging my hole.

Suddenly he pulled out. I felt a little whimper of frustration rise up from my
throat and I prayed he didn't hear it. "Don't worry, baby", he cooed, making my
heart sink, "You'll be getting more".

I felt his hands on my bound ankles, releasing me. I sank against the desk,
pinching the nipple clamps hard and making me cry out. Then he lifted me up
again by my hair. He stood me on my unsteady feet and pushed me over against the
wall. He pressed me up against it and I felt his hips press into mine. He kicked
my legs apart and once again I felt his cock at my hole. He slid into me. My
taped mouth was pressed flat against the wall as he fucked me. My back arched,
my ass curved out to meet his thrusts. As I did though, my chest became pressed
against the wall too and the pain of the clamps on my little nipples mixed with
the pleasure of the fucking my ass was getting, making me scream out through my
bound and gagged mouth.

Soon though he pulled out again and turned me around to face him. I looked up to
his mean smiling visage with what I knew was a loving look and it only seemed to
make his smirk all the more cruel.

He bent down and picked me up. His strong arms went around my ass and I
instinctively wrapped my legs around his taut hips, holding on to him tightly.
He pressed my back against the wall, my still hand-cuffed hands manacled behind
me. His cock was in the right place and he slid in easily. He shoved me against
the wall with his thrusts, his cock sinking all the way inside of me. In and out
he fucked me, over and over again until I thought I would pass out from the
pleasure of it.

I held my ankles tightly together behind his strong back, holding him with a
frenzied grip of desire. I could feel the short little ropes that had bound me,
still wrapped around my ankles, the ends dangling down his gorgeous ass as it
tensed and released, shoving his wondrous cock inside me.

I felt the feeling coming over me. With his strong hands gripping my little ass
and his big cock fulfilling my hole, I felt it. With every thrust it grew. With
my legs wrapped around him, holding on to him for dear life, it grew. With the
sense of his mastery over me, controlling me, hurting me, fucking me, knowing
what I'm thinking and what I want better than I did myself, it grew as hard as
my cock that pressed against his torso as he drew himself into me. It was beyond
desire.  It felt like love.

I wasn't aware of how ridiculous a feeling it was to have at that time and in
that situation. I was beyond shame and of course that was one of the things that
were driving it on. So I didn't feel like a shameless crazed slut as I moaned
softly and bent my mouth down and nuzzled his neck with my taped lips, giving
him mute kisses as he raped me against the wall, my wrists cuffed behind my
back, his cock fucking my ass with brutal hard thrusts.

That's when another feeling was stealing up on me. I felt a rising pleasure in
my cock as, with each thrust, his hard body pushed against it. As he fucked me
harder and harder I could sense my orgasm coming upon me.  I cried out in my
panty-gagged taped mouth, " I'm coming, oh god, I'm coming!", but it came out as
indistinguishable lusty cries. I didn't think he would mind, we were, after all,
fucking, both of us. There were two of us, after all, making love, or so I
thought that was what we were doing as the waves of pleasure shot through my
body and the feeling of his cock in my hole took a step up to blissfulness and I
cried out into the hollow of his neck and the orgasm shook me to my core and I
came, shooting come all over his torso and his cock as I did.

Before the waves of pleasure subsided he pulled out. That was the first inkling
I had that something was wrong. Then he dropped me to the ground. "You little
bitch!" he cried out, the rage in his voice shaking me out of the haze of desire
and lust I was feeling. "How dare you? How dare you come? And all over me!" It
was as if he couldn't believe it. I realized right away that what I had taken to
be loving lust as he fucked me against the wall was as far from right as it
could have been.

He bent down and smacked my face as hard as he could as I knelt there before
him, my hands still clamped behind me. Pain shot through my cheek and I went
spinning to the floor. He came at me, grabbing my hair up in a fist and lifting
me onto my knees again. His face was a mask of rage and suddenly I feared for my
life and realized the insanity of my foolish lusts. He held my head in place
with a fist knotted in my hair and drew the other hand back. I was helpless but
to watch as his bare hand came back towards me, slapping the other cheek even
harder than the first and again sending me reeling to the floor where I crashed
face first into the stinging carpet.

He picked me up and did it all over again three more times until he had spent
the worst of his rage. All the while he berated me with the foulest and meanest
verbal abuse. Then he yanked me to my knees again and pulled my hair to turn my
face up to his. "You have got a lot to learn, bitch. Training you is gonna be a
lot of fun." He tore the tape off my mouth then, painfully and I spat my soaked
panties out. I looked at him with tear-filled eyes, exhausted and racked with
pain, and I could hardly believe my own ears when I heard myself whisper, "I'm
sorry".  "That's something I guess", he said offhandedly, and then he hissed at
me, "Now lick it off". With that he pushed me face into his hard torso and
smeared it with my own come. "Lick it bitch!' he said, almost shouting," Lick
it!" I stuck my tongue out of my whimpering mouth and it sank into the gooey
mess. I drew it back into my mouth and swallowed. It was salty and sweet and as
it oozed down my throat I could feel my cock stirring again below. He held my
head in place as I dutifully licked and swallowed all of my come off of his hard
stomach, except for the sticky mess that he had initially smeared over my
burning cheeks.

Once I had finished to his liking he pulled my head back hard by my hair. He
lifted me up quickly to my feet and pushed me over to the couch. All semblance
of sensitivity was gone. Once at the couch he shoved me down violently onto it,
face first. I landed on the couch hard, my wrists still cuffed behind me, with a
terrified whimper.

He was on top of me in an instant. With his knees he spread my thighs apart.
Once again I could feel his hard prick against my asshole, still wet with
lubricant, and he forced his way in. I cried out from the shock of it all and
the beautiful feeling of having him inside of me after such intensity.

He pounded me mercilessly, just as I deserved, just as I desired. His big cock
tore at my hole, sliding in and out with ruthless precision. I moaned and cried,
the feelings overwhelming me. With my tits forced down upon the couch and this
fantastic man taking me at his fierce will, I was filled with the intoxicating
mix of arousal and shame.

He fucked my ass harder and harder, grunting over me with animalistic lust. I
started crying louder and more sexually, giving myself over to the passion of
the moment. The nipple clamps pinned underneath my helpless body seared my tits
with pain that only drove me higher and higher.

At last I could sense that his orgasm was upon him. He grunted louder and his
thrusts grew ever more hard and deep. Finally he gave out a loud primeval groan
and pushed himself deep into my horny hole. I could feel his cock pulse inside
me, so arousingly sensitive to the feeling of him in me as I was, and I moaned
deeper and louder than ever before as he began pumping me, filling me with his
hot come. His body shook on top of me, his cock still buried deep inside of me,
pulsating, as he pumped my ass full of his wondrous sperm. I shook beneath him
with disgrace and desire, and the satisfied, proud feeling of a woman full of
come.  He held himself there for several spurts, which I felt warm and full in
my bowels, and then he finished off with a few slow, deep thrusts, his cock
still pumping me, until finally he was spent of pleasure and come, and he pushed
off of me with one hard thrust to my back.

I lay there on my stomach, chest heaving under me, my own pants the only sound
audible in what was now a suddenly quiet and still office. The disturbing calm
only served to make me more aware, like a caged animal once its struggling has
stopped. I shook with the arousal of it all, the good and the bad, with the bad
quickly taking over. I felt flooded with shame as I never had before. My
pathetic front of bravery had proved to be an abject sham. My cock was still
stiff beneath me and I cursed it in my mind, unable to accept my submissive
desires still, and sensing, sickly, that the turmoil inside me only served to
turn me on all the more.

I couldn't look at him. I kept my shame-ridden face pressed into the couch, my
lips open, breathing hard into the material. I heard him then, at his desk,
heard him pull back the chair, sit down, and pick up the phone. The click of the
numbers being pressed down was the only sound in the room as I held my breath. I
heard him speak.

"Hi, it's Alex -----------. How are you today?  Really?  Because of meeting me?
Well, how interesting."

His voice sounded sexy, like the tone I had heard directed at me, before.  "I
didn't get a chance to tell you the other night how gorgeous you looked.  Don't
laugh!  You were fantastic!  I couldn't stop thinking about you.  Hey, I never
use lines. Life's too short for bullshit, don't you think? I only say what I
think and when I think something I usually say it. A lot of people can't handle
that kind of blunt honesty but I sense you're not one of them. I think you
believe in living life to the fullest and the chance you took kissing me told me
I'm right. Do you think I'm right?"

I couldn't believe how low this bastard could sink. How much he got off on
debasing people. I thought to myself, little does this stupid chick, if it was a
girl, realize that this guy is not only feeding her the biggest pile of bullshit
in the world, but he was only using her to abuse me, and, worst of all, he had
just laid those same lines on me. I felt like crying out laughing, " Don't
believe it, baby!", but I just lay there, with only the sick humour of it all
keeping me from bursting into tears.

"What are you wearing?" he asked her. "That sounds nice. But what kind of
underwear do you have on? Mmm, that sounds pretty sexy. I like black on a woman.
Are you wearing stockings? Only special occasions, huh? Well, that can be
arranged." He laughed.

I turned my face to look at him. My hatred of him was growing. When I saw his
face I realized he was looking at me already and as he snowed this poor foolish
woman he stared at me, blankly, like I wasn't there, like I was nothing, like I
was the emptiness I felt myself to be. Finally I could no longer hold his hard
gaze, and I turned my face away, flushed with shame.

Although he seemed to hardly know this woman, his language with her was more
gutturally sexual than I would use on Sara. I heard him say, in the now
painfully familiar deeply sexy tones he was so expert in, "I'd love to be
fucking you now. I'd love to lay you in my hot tub and make you all warm and
sexy-feeling, and then I'd carry you to my bed and lick your cunt and suck on
your clit until you came, oh, about ten times. And then I'd fuck you until you
came another ten.

"Well you're right; I'm not like anybody else. Like I said, I like to say what I
mean. And when I see someone I want I like to pursue her. And I want you.
Besides, I think you don't really mind a guy saying he finds you incredibly
desirable. Not in my case? That's a lovely thing to say. It's good to know I've
still got enough of something to interest someone as wonderful as you. So, can I
see you sometime soon? Saturday's perfect with me. How about I pick you up at
eight? Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  Yeah, I know. Well then why don't you meet
me at The Oyster Club on Bering Street and we'll have dinner there? Perfect. I
can't wait. Bye."

He came over to me. I turned my head toward him, full of hatred. I could see in
his face immediately that the phony facade of friendliness he just laid on that
dumb chick was gone and the sick sadist was back. "I'm going to make a couple of
business calls, he said, matter-of-factly, "so I want you gone." I looked at
him, incredulously. I lifted my shackled wrists off my back. "What about these?"
I said, summoning my best tone of disdain. "Who do think I am, fucking Houdini?"

"Very funny, bitch. I can see you haven't learned anything. Just get the fuck
out. There's the key," and he threw it on the carpet near the couch.  And with
that he turned away. I called to his back, "There's nothing to learn from you,
you bastard. And if I knew who that stupid chick was I'd set her straight about
what a pig you are. And maybe I'll just yell into the phone while you're talking
with your business fuckers that you're a queer."

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around with the sickest of smiles on
his wickedly handsome face. "First of all, I think you know better than to do
something stupid like disturb my business fuckers with remarks that could get
you very hurt. Second," and his voice took on an extra quality of menace, "what
I'm going to do with that bitch has got nothing to do with you, slut, it's way
beyond you."  Something about what he said and the way he said it shut me up,
and I felt a sick chill, naked and bound there on the couch, soaking in his
vague threats like a sponge, a vacuum of fear.  When I regained my composure, he
was at his desk.

I lay there for a moment. Then I thought it was perhaps best to get away from
this bastard as soon as possible. I rolled off the couch and struggled to pick
up the key with my hands cuffed behind me. I heard him talking on the phone, his
voice business-like. I fidgeted with the key, getting frustrated,  trying to get
it in the lock which always seemed just out of my limited reach. I couldn't see
what I was doing and I began to feel upset, urgent, sweaty. I started to get a
little panicky and I realized with a sudden sick shock that he was doing this to
get yet another sick kick from my humiliation, watching his victim struggle to
free himself from his bonds. I looked over at him and there he was, staring back
at me with that same blank look as before. Down below I felt something rise
along with the anger that boiled inside my head. I moaned with self-disgust and
renewed my struggle with even more ineffectual clumsiness, dropping the keys and
toppling over in my efforts, knowing all the while that it was all making things
worse, getting me nowhere and only serving to turn him on all the more, and me
too.

Suddenly he was off the phone and over to me. He snatched the keys out of my
hand and pushed me roughly into the carpet, face down. "Stupid bitch," he
hissed, unsnapping my wrists. "Now get the fuck out."

I should have just done what he said but I couldn't and he knew it. That's why
he goaded me. He knew I wasn't finished with my wilful self-destruction.

With my wrists freed I wheeled around suddenly, full of rage and ready to fight.
Naked there beneath him, rising to my feet, I took a weak swing at his face,
missing by a foot. He grabbed my wrist as it swung lamely by him and before I
knew it he had knocked me down on my back. He dropped to his knees, landing hard
on my torso as he fell straddling my naked chest, taking my air out of me. He
pinned my arms to my sides with his strong legs as I gasped, my open mouth
inches from his groin. He looked down at me with a look that spoke more of pity
for my foolishness than of the rage that he was about to take out on me.

The next few minutes were a blur of flashing hands and pain as he slapped me
across the cheeks countless times, until I was lost in a wilderness of
whimpering agony and shame, just barely aware of the come that was leaking out
of my ass and the ridiculousness of the fact that the man whose come it was was
now beating me mercilessly. Then he turned me over and spanked my already sore
ass over and over. The tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain and the shame.
I was beyond sexual arousal. It was pure pain, a tortuous assault. I felt
nothing but the pain and then finally even it was gone and I was in a kind of
dreamworld of surrender, of overwhelming weakness and loss of power.

At length the hurting ended and, in a final insult, he scooped the come that had
oozed from my asshole, his come, and smeared it all over my ass cheeks like a
soothing balm.  I was lost in a haze of extreme humiliation, hoping against hope
that it was all a dream, just like it felt, unreal, surreal. He turned me over.
I looked up through bleary, tear-filled eyes to see his hard cock looming over
my face, one strong hand wrapped around it, stroking. He was sitting on my chest
again, pinning my arms over my head with his strong thighs.  I was no longer
shocked at the absurdity of the sadism, I felt like I was in the centre of it
all, that it just was the way it was and that this man, who had just raped me,
had just beaten me, was now masturbating over my anguished face, like it was
perfectly normal, like it simply had to be, like fate.

His strokes grew harder and harder and as I watched, my eyes cleared and I
became transfixed by the image of it, his hand big and, close to my eyes, his
cock even bigger in his fist, pulsating over me as if it was on a big movie
screen and I felt the same sense of detachment as one does at the movies, so
that when my cock grew hard as a rock behind him, I seemed to feel only a
vicarious thrill. I found myself wondering who was this queer, how could he
possibly be turned on so much by his own humiliation. Alex's long strokes turned
to slow motion and I became more and more hypnotized by the sight of it. When he
came I could see every millisecond of his gushing, his sperm slowly appearing
out of the hole on his big throbbing head and then seeming to gather speed and
strength as it grew to a little glob on the end of his cock and then took off
like a rocket, arcing over my neck and then coming down to my face, filling my
transfixed vision until it dropped below my sight and I felt it splatter on my
tongue, which had somehow become fully outstretched. I heard the slutty queer
moan gratefully and then tasted the warm, gooey come as it made its way somehow
to the back of my throat and then was swallowed slowly. And as the first big
glob was making its way through my mouth I gazed up to see another one form and
then take flight from the head of his big prick, the strong hand still gliding
up and down the hard, thick shaft. Over and over for what seemed like a heavenly
eternity I watched gob after gob of come soar out over me and land here and
there on my panting face, some again in my mouth, some splashing on my cheeks,
some landing on my lips, which pursed impatiently, as I swallowed the one before
it, and I licked my sticky lips clean as I watched the fireworks of come
continue on the big screen before me until finally it was all over and I passed
from my state of semi-dream to complete unconsciousness and when I awoke, only
moments later, I was dropped instantly back into the world of shame.

I wept, rolled over to hide my pathetic hard-on, and wiped his come off my face
onto the carpet. I got up, quickly, choking on the shameful taste of him that
filled up my mouth and the heaving of my chest as I felt a sense of overwhelming
panic and despair. I pulled the nipple clamps off my chest with two quick yanks,
not realizing that they were numb from having the circulation cut off. I moaned
a weak cry of pain as my nipples felt like they were on fire. I simply didn't
have the energy to cry out as much as the pain warranted.

I stumbled about the room, grabbing my jeans and shirt, noticing in my sobs the
torn soaken panties and tape on the floor, killing me further with its telling
proof of my humiliation. I dressed quickly but as I did I felt like I had to say
something, anything. I was beyond fear.

"You bastard. You're sick. I hope you rot in hell. I'm not going there with you.
I'm just going to forget this ever happened. I'll never give you another
thought."

But again he couldn't just leave my insolence alone. He laughed and hissed,
"You've only just begun, baby. Let me tell you something. I'm all you're going
to be able to think about. You won't have a thought of anything but me. I've
seen a lot of slut bitches, bitch, but I've never seen anything quite like you.
You've got a lot to learn and you've still got to be broken, but make no
mistake, you will be. I'm looking forward to it. Just see if you can think about
anything else, bitch ", he called as I went out the door, "you'll be begging me!
And baby, you better beg good, because you've got a lot of making up to do for
this little display today." "You sick bastard", I said with disdain as I went
out the door, sure of my newfound freedom from this perversion.

But he was, of course, more correct in his knowledge of me than I was or even
he, in his outrageous arrogance, knew.  For I was no sooner past the curious
gaze of his beautiful secretary and others milling about than I found myself
with an arousal that was beyond any willpower I could summon. It drew me into
the bathroom by the elevators, still sobbing. It pulled me into a toilet stall,
still cursing him with a burning rage. I lowered my pants and finally silenced,
with incredible ease, those weak thoughts of fake control, and as I stroked my
throbbing cock, trembling, I heard myself moan his name: "Alex, Alex, Alex",
over and over, and in my mind I was on my knees before him, taking his
magnificent cock between my grateful lips and sucking on him until he came in my
mouth and filled me with that hot outpouring I could still taste so deeply. When
I came I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming as the orgasm shook me to my
soul. I watched, trembling, as my sperm fell into the toilet and around the rim,
fell with my tears, as my soul ebbed away.

For the next three days I couldn't work or do a thing. My every thought was
consumed with images of him. Sara thankfully avoided me so I was at least spared
her usual prying into my life. When I tried to think about something else I
found it would last but an instant and into my head would flow as naturally as
water images of him, his body, his cock. Scenes would play in my head of Alex
abusing me, using my body in all manner of depraved ways.

In those three days I came 27 times. I counted them as a way of trying to think
of something else. It wasn't a very good strategy, for the outrageous number of
times I did it only made the image of him as a dominating god become cast in
stone in my mind.

I was ready to take the next step. I was ready to offer my spirit up to him so
that he could break it. I was ready to have him remake me as his complete queer
slave, perfect in my sexual submissiveness, grateful for every abuse, constantly
craving his cock.

At twelve noon exactly three days after I had gone to see him, I called him,
begging.

The Fall of 19_: Chapter 3- Sara Stumbles


Sara: Alex called me at work the very next day.  He was immediately sexual, so
self-assured, so generous in his compliments, that I was wet from the beginning
of the conversation to the end.

I didn't even realize it but I spent most of the call with my fingers up my
skirt, lightly playing with my clit through my panties. I hung up after making a
date with him for that Saturday night and I started to calm down. That's when l
I noticed my hand down there between my parted thighs and suddenly I could
almost feel my juice flowing out of me. I realized, with what had been for me a
too-infrequent burst of feminine pride, that I had caught the interest of a
magically potent man. I brought my legs up and slipped my fingers down into my
panties and pinched my soaking clit, making it hurt just a little; surprising
myself for doing it because I had no idea why I did and why it felt so good. I
did it again and again and came very quickly, thinking of him on top of me, my
legs wrapped tightly around his hard torso as he fucked me into heaven.

I couldn't believe how he was talking to me over the phone.  Saying he wanted to
lick my cunt!  I laughed when I thought about what I would do if Jon ever said
that to me.  First I'd slap his face, then I'd berate him for about an hour and
then I wouldn't give him any sex for about two months until he was begging
forgiveness.  Then, maybe, just maybe, and with full irony intended, I'd let him
lick me off.  But with Alex it was so completely different.  I felt like I
should be doing the begging, felt, in fact, like I wanted to. When he said he
wanted to fuck me until I came ten times it was all I could do to keep from
pleading for him to come and do me right there in my office.

I came twice more, unable to keep my hand out of my panties, my greedy little
bud throbbing for more, and then sat there in my chair and licked my juices off
my fingers, thoughts of Saturday night dancing in my head.

I told Jon that I would be spending Saturday night with my sister and some of
her friends at a bar in the east end.  I already had it figured that some time
that evening I would call him and tell him that I was going to stay over at the
home of one of the girls and that I didn't know the number, if he was annoying
enough to ask.  I told my sister of my plan.  She was more than willing to help;
she never liked Jon very much anyway and when I described Alex to her she became
almost as excited as me.  "Oh god, you're so lucky, " she gushed, " he sounds
amazing!".  The stage was set.

Jon was his usual nosy and suspicious self on Saturday as I prepared for my big
night.  I guess he knew me well enough that he could tell when I was putting a
major effort into my appearance.   It only pissed me off (I couldn't believe my
own cruelty toward him) as he half-jokingly asked if I was planning to get
picked up that night.  Little do you know, you bastard, I thought, that your
enemy, your worst nightmare, has already picked me up. I felt like a supreme
bitch-slut, and what was worse, I liked the feeling.

I didn't care if he saw that I was putting on my sexiest little black dress.  I
sloughed off his concern by telling him that it was a Saturday night and we were
going out and everyone else would be looking good and I was too.  My angry tone
shut him up, as I knew it would.  What I had to do surreptitiously, however, was
put on my sexiest underwear without his finding out.  All powdered in the
bathroom I slipped into my sexiest black panties (or rather my second sexiest as
my favourites had mysteriously disappeared) and my most flattering lacy bra.  I
had to be particularly careful that my stockings went undiscovered by my prying
husband so I slipped my dress on quickly after hooking them to my black garter
belt.  I topped them off with little black boots that would not fully arouse the
suspicion of my husband but would hopefully completely arouse my lover.  I gave
Jon a little quick kiss that made my stomach quiver. I saw a look of desire in
his eyes at seeing me looking so hot so I hurried out the door before he could
get any silly notions in his head and discover the cheating slut that lay
beneath his wife's appearance. There couldn't be any explaining away the "fuck
me" underclothes I was wearing.

I hit the street with my heart pounding and hailed a cab to the restaurant.  My
body tingled all over, with trepidation for the glorious sin about to be
committed.  I thought about how the evening would go all the way over; how he
would look, how I looked.  I was as taut as a drum and couldn't wait to get a
drink inside me.

My heart melted when I entered the place and saw him waiting for me at the bar. 
He looked even better than I recalled in my weeklong fantasy.  He wore a very
hip jacket and pants; classy but cool, and when I kissed him hello I could feel
the jealous eyes of all the women there upon me.  Yeah, he looked that good.
Six-four, broad-shouldered, every inch a man. I was intoxicated with being
beside him.

Dinner was wonderful.  Alex was the prince of charm: attentive, a great
listener, flattering.  He seemed to find everything I said to be the most
interesting thing he'd ever heard.  And how I talked!  I caught myself several
times and giggled embarrassingly to him that I must be the biggest bore he'd
ever met but of course he just kept complimenting me and saying what a great
conversationalist I was.  I swooned under his charms and the sensuous elixir of
drink and fabulous food.  I could have stayed there forever, despite my lust for
this man, which was growing ever stronger.

Soon dinner was over however and once again my heart began to pound as he
suggested going for a few more drinks in a bar down the street.

It was a hip, upscale place, dark, with soothing jazz playing in the background. 
Alex seemed to know all the people who worked there and again I felt proud to be
on his arm.  We settled into a dark booth in the corner and ordered drinks.

His warmth was such a pleasant surprise.  I was prepared for an arrogant
over-proud man- in fact that's what I thought I was getting and would have been
quite satisfied too- but instead he was so warm and sincere that I was
overwhelmed.

We talked for hours.  He told me about his struggle to succeed, his humble
beginnings, setbacks, rip-offs and, finally, success.  I realized the shitty rap
that Jon and his friends had laid on Alex, and people like him, was really
unfair.  There was something in the very honest and real tale of desire and
overcoming that Alex wove for me that drew me to him in more than just the
physical sense, although that aspect of it only grew with his every word.  His
hand gestures, the strict and sober features of his face as he spoke of his
valiant effort to fulfil his dreams, moved me in ways I hadn't anticipated when
I first met him.  Clearly the strength that made him such a presence was not
just a front. 

It took a long while for a child of cynicism such as me to overcome my disbelief
in such a show of honest passion.  I realized that Alex, despite, or because of,
his raw power, was really like a naive child in this perverted world of fakery
and distrust. People like Jon and his friends, so full of irony, were really
displaying an acceptance of their impotence in dealing with the world. Their
attitude was a giving-up on life while here was a man who was willing to be a
man in the old-fashioned sense, to grab life by the horns and fight it, to wrest
every bit of living he could from an increasingly absurd world.  I was
enthralled.

He had his arm draped across the back of the booth behind me. I lay my head back
on it and smiled up at him. "What are you thinking", he asked me, his voice warm
and sexy.  "I'm thinking about how happy I am to be here with you. This has been
a magical night".  He bent his head down towards me.  "And it's only just
begun".  He brought his lips to mine and we kissed; a kiss instantly deep and
passionate. I let out a soft moan. Our tongues met, swirling together as my
thoughts swirled with delirious joy.

He put his free hand on my thigh and my whole body quivered. My mouth parted a
little more to receive him as my legs instinctively uncrossed.  He slowly pulled
my skirt up as we necked there in the isolation of our darkened booth.  He
caressed my stockinged legs and then his hand went ever higher, to the stocking
tops and the bare thighs beyond them.  He smiled with approval as he realized I
had worn stockings and soon enough he was taking advantage of the accessibility.

I had one hand around his big strong back while the other stroked the muscular
arm that was inching ever higher on my legs, to my increased arousal.  When he
touched my pantied crotch I let out a squeal of delight and moaned, driving my
tongue deep into his mouth.

He pulled his lips away from mine and kissed my cheek wetly and kissed further
down to my neck, all the while stroking my cunt through my silky black panties. 
I drew my head back in ecstasy, opening my neck up for his wet caresses. He took
the arm behind me and wrapped it around my head with a powerful grip, pulling my
neck into his mouth where he bit my skin, making me cry out in a mix of pain and
pleasure.

He pulled my panties aside deftly and his fingers touched my wet pussy for the
first time.  When he grazed my clit I almost leapt off the seat.  I turned my
lips toward his and pressed them hard against his mouth so that my cries of
ecstasy were muffled. His fingers moved expertly in my cunt.  I had never been
wetter and the whole area was lubricated with my juices.  He brought his hand
away from my pleasure centre and put them to my lips.  I moaned as I licked my
own cunt juices off of his fingers.  He bent down and licked them with me, our
tongues together, roaming over the sweet, wet fingers, until my juice was all
gone and again we kissed and again he resumed the delirious, deft manipulation
of my sex.

I reached for his cock where it lay still under wraps.  As my hand fell on it I
gasped.  Even from the outside of his pants I could tell it was wonderfully big.
I stroked him through the material, difficult though it was with his hand moving
so expertly in my pussy. I marvelled at the size of it, deliberately delaying
the unveiling that I desired more and more.  We continued to kiss; our lips
pressed tightly together, our tongues wrapping themselves together.

At last I couldn't wait any more.  I pulled my mouth away from his and brought
my two hands together at his crotch, fumbling- but with the intense
concentration of a snake charmer- for his zipper and the prize that awaited me
within.

I undid his pants and opened them up wide.  I reached into the convenient hole
in his boxers and pulled.  And pulled.  I couldn't believe my eyes when his
incredible prick was finally all out.  I gazed with wonder and amazement.  I
didn't know anyone could have a cock so long and thick and gorgeous!  I could
feel my own breath panting with desire and even trepidation at the impressive
cock before me.  I finally had to concede that Freud just might have had
something when he talked about the primeval want, longing and fear that a cock
can inspire in a woman.  If any cock could, this would be it.

I put both hands around the shaft and was amazed to find that there was room for
more.  I stroked him with both hands and turned my dazed face up to his.  He
looked down on me with the confident eyes of a masterful man who knew completely
what greatness was and that he had it.  My entire body was alive with desire for
him, bursting with want.  Without giving it a second thought I slid off the
booth's seat and sank to the floor on my knees and engulfed Alex's huge cock in
my mouth like a whore.

I knelt there between his parted thighs, stockinged knees on the floor, hidden
by the table and its cloth, and sucked him off.  I had to spread my lips wide
but to my glorious pleasure I managed to fit him in.  I moved my mouth up and
down the shaft, licking it, moaning.  My hands caressed his hard thighs while
his held my head tightly as I bobbed up and down in his lap.  I pulled my lips
off and wet-kissed his wonderful cock all over, moaning with bliss as I did and
wallowing in the sheer honour of sucking such a magnificent cock.

I licked the shaft thickly, lubricating it all over, and then I began to suck
him more vigorously, my own saliva trickling past my stretched lips and onto my
flushed cheeks.  Suddenly I heard a voice and Alex pulled the tablecloth over
his cock and my head, and slumped a little, so that my head and his cock went
under the table.  I was stunned at first and just stopped where I was, his cock
half-buried in my mouth, and listened.  Alex was of course non-plussed and when
I heard him talking so nonchalantly to the waitress I simply went back to my
work, sliding my lips up and down on his fantastic cock and too lost in my lust,
like the slut that I was, to care anymore.  I wanted this man and I was
determined to have him.  I didn't care who saw me act like a shameless bitch for
him. 

I couldn't help but notice too, as I silently sucked Alex's cock under the table
that the waitress was coming on to him.  I listened, realizing that she had
waited until she thought I had gone to the washroom to come over and make her
move.  The understanding of just how attractive a man I was with and that it was
me who had him, if only for the evening, drove my lust ever higher and I sucked
with fervent lust.

The bitch, I was soon to hear, was more brazen than she seemed initially.  This
same woman who had earlier smiled at me so warmly I now overheard from my place
between Alex's legs say, "I don't know what you're plans are for the rest of the
evening but if you're not doing anything I get off at two".  To my shock and
shame, and with burning ears, I heard Alex say with a sly tone, "Well I don't
know.  I think my date might mind... but you could ask her yourself" and with
that he pulled up the tablecloth and revealed me, cock in mouth, to the slutty
bitch.

I fell to the floor beside him.  I could hear the waitress, as shocked as I,
mutter apologies and depart rapidly.  I lay on the floor thinking about what
everyone had said about him being a bastard and realized that even I, who was so
proud of myself for being a bastard-spotter, had fallen for it. I was stunned.

The next moment, however, I had regained my strength and in a few seconds I
crawled out from under the table and, without so much as a glance his way, I
strode, with complete indignation, out the door.  I heard Alex call out behind
me with a mocking tone, "Does this mean I'm free for the evening?  Call me!"

I held myself together as I hurried, mortified, past the patrons and employees,
including the propositioning waitress. Only when I was near the door did I
remember to pull my dress down over my wet panties and exposed stockings.  Once
outside I found I had been holding my breath and I gasped for air to feed my
panicking heart. I hailed a cab and wept all the way to my sister's place.  She
wasn't home so I was free to collapse on her spare bed and cry myself to sleep,
my dreams a wicked concoction of sex and shame. 

Review This Story || Email Author: Lindsay Zara

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