Geraldine and the two lessons "Hello," I said, walking up to a cute girl, in the subway on a sweltering night in New York City, after a movie with a friend. She was my height and had shoulder-length blonde hair. She was wearing a soft top and no bra. Her cushiony tits were filling the shirt, begging to be caressed, and her knee-length skirt revealed sleek tan curvaceous legs. She smiled and lowered her eyes. "Where are you going?" "Home." "Sleep at my place." She eyed me for a second. I tried my hardest to remain completely serious. No nervous laughter. No smiles. "Where's that?" "Next stop. Get off." She got off. Three-minute walk to my apartment from there. I walked very fast. She struggled to keep up. "I'm David." "Geraldine," she panted. "Hello. What do you do?" "I'm a journalist," she said nervously. "Nice. Who do you work for?" "Daily News." "You write copy or you do research?" "Uh, I work in the mailroom." "Ha!" I chortled. Her attempt to impress me was pathetic. "What about you? You work on Wall Street or something?" "What makes you say that?" "Wear a tie, live in a Manhattan high-rise." "I'm not done asking about you. When I am, I may tell you something about myself." She stopped walking. "Now hold on, if you think I'm going up to your place without knowing anything." I was twenty feet from her when I paused, turned around, held my hand out to the side like I was waiting for a dog, and said, "Come on." She caught up. I resumed my pace. "Lived here long?" "Four months." "You want to be a journalist?" "Yes." "Think you will be?" "Maybe. I'm not so good at it." "Then why are you trying to be one?" "I don't know." That was just as well. She was in front of my building. I pushed her past me into the revolving door and through the lobby to the elevator. She got in the elevator. "Press 37," I told her as I followed. We walked in. "Play the piano?" "Yes." She walked around. A few dishes were on the counter. She passed them with a little sigh and went to the bathroom. I checked my messages and e-mail. No e-mail. She walked into the bedroom before I was done and shouted from there, "Just move here?" "No, why?" "All your furniture is badly organized and you have boxes clumped up all over." I walked into the bedroom. "My air conditioner leaked, making the floor tiles swell and buckle. They replaced them all last week. I haven't had time to rearrange." I suddenly grabbed her and slammed her against the wall face first, taking care not to bang her head. "Now stop talking." I reached under her skirt and flatly pressed my hand into her cunt through her panties. They were damp. "Why are you here?" I asked. "I don't know," she panted. I roughly grabbed one of her tits with my other hand. The first hand started to move. "No idea?" "For sex?" she said, breathlessly, but ditzily. "You're here to get fucked." She squirmed and moaned a little. She nodded vigorously. "Say it." "Here. to. have. sex," she barely managed to get out. I grabbed her hair and pulled it so hard that she squealed. A gush of liquid flooded her panties. "SAY IT," I commanded. "I'm here . to get fuck.ed," she gasped. I pulled away from her but I kept her head pressed to the wall. "Geraldine, I'm going to fuck you. Things will get rough. If you want to stop right now you tell me so and we'll stop. If you want to stop later you say `juice' or, if your throat is stuffed full of my cock, you slap me anywhere three times. Do you understand and consent?" "Yes, sir," she said, "and I don't want to stop." "Good. Slide your panties all the way down to the floor and don't let go of your ankles." She smoothly bent over and slid her panties off as I dropped my pants to the ground. I had an erection bigger, I'm sure, than any she'd ever seen. She looked back nervously to catch a glimpse. But as she did, I slammed into her, her shoulders hit the wall and in two seconds, she was coming. I pulled her hair again, fucked her for twenty minutes until her knees started to buckle. She had been coming nonstop. I let her knees slide to the floor, but I held her hair tightly so she had to kneel upright. Her eyes were closed and she seemed ready to pass out. I slapped her lightly and turned her around by her hair to face me.. "Wha.?" she said dazedly. "Do you notice something out of place? Open your eyes." She opened her eyes slowly to see my erection right before them. "You have a huge cock," she whispered. "What I have, cunt, is an unsatisfied cock." She nodded, parted her lips and gently cradled the tip of my penis between them. She caressed it limply but enticingly for a minute or so, and then she started to move a couple of inches back and forth over her tongue, between her lips. She wasn't bad. I held off. She took me out of her mouth for a second, starting doing that porn-star licking thing and held me at the base of my penis. I grabbed her hair and forced her to look up at me. "None of this porn-star shit. Put me back in your mouth." She immediately did and I let go of her hair. She moved down to about three inches and was starting to blow me very nicely. Before long, my blood started to boil. And so I stopped holding off. I grabbed her head with one hand and pushed my cock. I felt her gullet slip around me, heard her gag, felt her throat contract and then keep me in, while I was trying to pull out. She gagged repeatedly. I had six of my eight inches past her slack lips. OK depth, bad suction. That, I needed to correct. I pulled her head back and spoke gently. "Keep your lips and tongue sucking. You're sucking my cock. I'm fucking your throat but you're still sucking. Understand?" She nodded. I resumed fucking her throat. Much better. I started going faster and deeper. She put her hand on my thigh to try to control my movements. I took a deep breath, a big swing and whacked her forearm away. She yelped around my cock just as I grabbed her head and held it pressed to my pubic hair for ten seconds. Tears started running down her face as she gagged again and again. "Do not put your hand there. Hum if you understand." She hummed. I let go and started fucking again. Her nose was hitting me on every stroke. Her lips were stretched around the base of my cock and slid tightly up to the head, only to be rammed back down until she was tasting hair. She reached up and gently stroked my balls. The come rose. With both hands, I shoved her down to the hilt and held her there. She protested verbally and thrashed. I came in her throat. She swallowed around me, gagged, swallowed again, gushed some out through her nose. I felt the come shooting through me, releasing, I felt her throat squeeze me and milk me, I felt her lips and tongue moving like madness. I held her tight and kept on coming. I felt every shot stream out of me. I shivered and my orgasm subsided. I let go. She coughed and kept my dick in her mouth as it softened. She looked up at me with wide eyes, seeking approval. "You may stop now. You did good," I smiled. "Thank you, sir," she said, and smiled. I opened up the blanket. "Go lie down." She got up and crawled into bed. It was warm in there, I knew. As she was getting in I petted her cunt with my hand. She shivered and sighed. And then she was under the covers. I went to the kitchen and brought her a glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies. She was barely awake, so I dunked the cookies in milk for her and then fed them to her. I petted her hair and kissed her forehead. She smiled happily and closed her eyes. She had a bruise on her arm the next day where I had whacked it away. I woke up to the sight of it. Draped over my chest, her arm was beautiful. She was dead asleep. It was Saturday morning. I slid out my shoulder out from under her head, wrapped her warmly in the blanket and made breakfast for myself. She wouldn't wake up for another three hours. When she did wake up, I fixed her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she sat naked on the stool, eating it, her cunt pressing into the wood. She smiled her thanks weakly. "You were a good sub last night, Geraldine. I enjoyed you." "Thank you, sir," she gasped between huge bites of PBJ. "You're very hungry aren't you?" "Yes, sir," she eeked out shamefully. "How about some more breakfast, then?" "All right." "All right?" "Oops. I meant, all right, sir," she grinned sheepishly. I stared at her for a second. Then I spoke in a low, quiet voice. "Finish your sandwich and then bend over the counter." "Yes, sir," she said, looking down. Her grin was gone. I started to make an omelet with ham, onion and bell peppers. She was eating more slowly, but she was soon done with her sandwich, about halfway through the omelet's cooking. She dutifully got up and bent over the table. Her beautiful naked ass was trembling. I finished cooking the omelet. It smelled delicious. I slipped it onto a cool plate, grabbed a full glass of juice, and looked at her. "Slut." "Yes, sir?" "Take your hands off the counter. Put them at your sides." She complied. I dropped the omelet roughly on the counter, two inches in front of her nose. "That smells good, doesn't it slut?" "Yes, sir. Very good." "You're very hungry, aren't you?" "Yes, sir." "That entire omelet is for you, do you know that?" "No, sir. I thought you would eat half." "Nope, it's all yours." I thought about commanding her not to eat the omelet. But I figured it would be a good test. "Wait here." I slipped into my bedroom and picked up a soft bathrobe and a pillow. And I came back and stood behind her. She hadn't touched the omelet. Of course. She was a good sub. "I am about to give you a slapping. But you will learn something from this slapping." "Yes." I slapped her ass with a very light, warning stroke. She flinched. "During the slapping, you will not speak unless I specifically tell you to or ask you a direct question. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir." I slapped her again. "That was for what you did wrong. Slut, do you know what you did wrong?" "No, sir." Crack! "Nobody expects you to be a mind-reader, slut. But you should have some idea. Any idea?" "Perhaps I was not appreciative enough of your offer to make breakfast, sir." "Not bad. You see, you could have avoided a lash just by speaking up." "You're ri." Crack! "Know what you did wrong that time?" "Yes, sir. I spoke, but you hadn't asked me a question." "Excellent." I paused. "You didn't get it completely right, before. Appreciativeness isn't the entire problem. You said `all right' as though you were doing me a favor by letting me make this omelet. Do you agree? Don't lie to me and tell me you do if you don't." "I do agree, sir. I'm sorry for presuming." "What should you have said?" " `Yes, thank you' ? Um uh. `sir'?" "That would be very nice, if it didn't sound like I was a waiter. Try again, make it just a little different." " `Sir, I would love more breakfast. Thank you." "Excellent. I'm pleased. That's all. You may stand up now, and you may speak as before. Oh, and of course, you may eat your omelet." "Thank you, sir. And thank you for disciplining me." She stood up. I kissed her lightly on the lips, then wrapped her in the bathrobe. I welcomed her into my arms and she sniffled and stayed for a minute. I put the pillow on the stool and she sat back down. As she ate her omelet, I rubbed her back. And then, she looked at me happily and said: "Thank you, sir, for making me this wonderful omelet all for me." "You're welcome. You're not under the whip anymore, Geraldine. Tell me how you feel. Drop the sir for the moment." "I feel cared for. I feel paid attention to." "What's your understanding of why you were presumptuous earlier?" "I wanted power over you." "Why?" "Because having power makes me feel safe and feeds my ego." "And submitting?" "Makes me feel happy to please, and cared for." "What about equality?" "No, sir. I much prefer submitting. I don't want the responsibility of loving. Only pleasing." "What a beautiful and precise statement. What about being on top?" "I feel insecure and boring. I hate having to control everything. That is too much responsibility too. I feel safe, but I can't do it with care, only detachment and vindictiveness. A good sub deserves love." "Do you believe I love you, Geraldine?" "No, sir. But I believe you care for me and would not hurt me." "Do you believe you deserve love?" "No, sir." "Can you think of any reason why someone would love you?" "Because I please him." "You pleased me, and you feel I don't love you." "I haven't pleased you for long enough yet." "Do you want love?" "No. I want to please, and I want to be paid attention to, and that is all." I chuckled. "Denial." She broke a smile. I looked at her robe. It had opened. Her cunt was spread a little bit. I got up and turned the stool to face me better. I moved my face close to hers. "Do you want to fuck me, sir?" she asked. I put her hand on my shorts. She felt my penis growing through them. She hardened it with her delicate fingertips. "Get in bed." She jumped into the bed on her back with her legs spread. She got fucked and well.
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