BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part I

I knocked on the apartment door. There was a slight pause, and then it swung open a few inches. I saw Julie's face, encircled in a blonde bob, appear in the crack; as soon as she recognized me, her expression drooped.

"It's me," I said, in an phony singsong voice, "time for a quickie. I have to be somewhere."

There was a short delay, then the door slowly opened. I stepped inside, pushed the door shut behind me, and immediately began unbuttoning my belt. "Hurry up, bitch, I'm already late. Right here is fine. I don't have time to come in."

Reluctantly, Julie immediately began removing her clothes. First she unzipped her fly and pulled off her jeans. She then removed her shirt, bra, panties and socks, doing her best to appear casual about it. I watched as her petite, slender body appeared, and enjoyed the sight of her small, pointed breasts bouncing slightly as she undressed. The expression on her face was one of pure annoyance. "I have plans, too," she said, "I'm going to--"

"I don't give a shit!" I said loudly. "You know the routine. I decide when, where, how, and why. You suck. Right?"

"Right." she sighed, and then lowered herself to her knees, now completely naked. Remaining fully clothed, I pulled my penis through my lowered fly, put my hands behind my head, and leaned back against the door. In a few moments her warm, wet mouth was wrapped around the head of my cock. The practiced circling of her tongue brought it to life, and soon she was sucking it with smooth, quick thrusts, exactly as I'd taught her. Still, I couldn't resist offering a bit of encouragement: "Hurry the fuck up, cocksucker, I told you I'm busy!"

There was a muffled apology from Julie, her mouth filled with my cock. The sucking continued, and I relaxed, enjoying the sensations. After several minutes I place my hand on the back of her head and pulled her face toward me. She stopped sucking, aware of what was coming, and waited. I grunted loudly and began to cum into her mouth. I thrust my cock in and out of the wet hole a few times, and groaned with pleasure as I filled her mouth with semen. I felt her swallowing, breathing hard through her nose. When I was done, she carefully licked the tip and shaft of my cock clean, as I'd taught her, and then leaned back on her heels. "Open," I commanded, and she obeyed. I quickly inspected her mouth and confirmed it was empty.

I tucked my shrinking cock back into my pants, zipped up my fly and left, allowing the door to click shut behind me as I walked down the hall towards the elevator.

I'd be back again. And again. And she knew it.

***

It had been just over a year since I dated Julie. The relationship only lasted a few weeks -- she had a nice body, but a boring personality. Then one night, after a few too many drinks, she confessed something to me. I'll admit that the confession shocked me: not only had she murdered someone, but she had done so in a very callous fashion, and for a very pathetic reason. Most importantly of all, she'd gotten away with it. The guilt, however, had been eating her up ever since, and I suppose that's why she confessed to me.

I knew that I had enough specific details about the crime to easily lead to her conviction. A few days after her confession, I carefully typed up a detailed summary of what she'd told me, and handed it to her. As she read it, she began to cry, realizing that even if she denied her story, the details in the paper would be enough prove her guilty.

Just in case she felt like repeating her crime, I immediately informed her that I had stored duplicates of the same document in a safety deposit box at my bank, with instructions in my will to distribute them to various legal authorities upon my death. Essentially, I told her, if anything happened to me, she'd go to jail. Of course she could turn me in for blackmail -- indeed, that's also a crime -- but I pointed out that I'd probably spend a few months in minimum security jail, while she'd likely end up with a death sentence.

I left her to consider her position for a few days before I began to lay out my terms. It was blackmail, in its purest form, and I told her so. We could avoid I entire mess of prison and death sentences -- but, in exchange, she would have to serve me. At any time, any day, she would need to be at my beck and call.

Since we lived in the same apartment building, a routine soon developed: at least once, often twice per day, I would arrive unannounced at her door. Sometimes, if I was out, I would call ahead. Other times I'd stop by early in the morning before work, or stagger home drunk from the bar in the middle of the night and stop by her apartment on the way home for a quick cocksuck before bed. I didn't give a shit if she was sleeping, or sick, or busy -- when I knocked her door, she had best be there, alone, and ready to please me.

***

I started out with a few simple rules. Since I knew, from our brief dating experience, that she hated giving oral sex, I made that the focus of our visits. From my first blackmail visit forward, he name was no longer Julie: to me, it was "cocksucker". "Hey, cocksucker," I'd call out when I arrived, " do you have anything to drink?" She soon learned what I liked -- whiskey -- and always had a bottle around so she could offer me a drink. My first few visits were spent simply teaching her to suck cock, properly, the way I wanted.

At first, she had a perpetual problem with her teeth -- her mouth was small, and would tire quickly, so after about five minutes of sucking her teeth would begin to drag against my penis. This was unacceptable, of course, so I began bringing along a large ring-gag on my visits. I would begin the session by having her suck me without the gag. Then, at the first contact of teeth to my cock, I would insert the ring gag. At first it was difficult, but she soon learned to accommodate it. At 1.75 inches, the ring was just big enough for me to slide my cock through.

To bring the point of my lesson home, I was none too gentle about taking full advantage of her gaping mouth. I would punish her mercilessly: lay her on her back, straddle her face, and fuck her mouth hard and deep, gripping her hair to hold her face in position. She would gag, choke, even vomit occasionally, but this did not deter me from teaching my simple lesson: learn to suck properly, or have your mouth fucked like a cunt. It took only a handful of lessons before her sucking skills improved dramatically. Still, I always kept the ring gag a close at hand in case it was needed to punish her for another transgression.

Another rule I instigated soon after our meetings began was that of enforced nudity. If it was a surprise visit, she was to strip naked as soon as I entered. If I called ahead, she was to be naked when I arrived. There would be no exceptions, and she would not be permitted to wear clothing in my presence.

Sometimes, of course, I'd have fun with this rule -- in one of my early visits, in January, I arrived wearing a heavy jacket, and immediately walked across her apartment and slid open her balcony door. Cold air poured in, and she shivered in her nakedness. I zipped up my jacket.

"Cold, huh? How about a few jumping jacks to stay warm, cocksucker?"

I sat back on her couch, still in my warm jacket, sipped the whiskey she'd poured for me, and put my feet up on her coffee table. She stood in front of the open door, with frigid air blowing on her back, and began the exercises as I watched. While she jumped up and down, splaying her arms and legs, I commented and taunted her on her form. "Let's see those little bitty tits bounce a bit more," I called out, and she'd comply. "You're getting a bit fat in the thighs there, cocksucker... another 100!"

After a while I ordered her to turn around and face away from me, so I could watch her ass while she exercised. The sheer surge of power made me laugh out loud. "Why don't you beg me for permission to suck my cock while you exercise?" I suggested, and she soon began to comply.

"Please, sir, may I please suck your cock," she began, in a quivering, quiet voice.

"Louder! Like a true cocksucker!"

"Please!" she cried out, slightly louder, "I want to suck your cock!" The pleading continued, as did the exercises. I sipped my drink and let some time pass, slowly.

Finally, when the combination of her naked exercises and pathetic pleading had made my cock hard, I gave in. "All right, cocksucker, you can have your treat," I said, "get over here and do your thing." A few seconds later she was kneeling with her face in my lap. For the next half hour, I casually flipped through the channels on her TV set while she nursed my cock and I stroked her hair.

***

Once, I dropped by her apartment several times in one weekend to find her gone. Apparently, she'd been "out of town" for a few days, and not only did she fail to ask my permission, but she'd failed to even tell me.

She only made that mistake once. I arrived at her door unannounced late Sunday night, and sure enough, she was finally home. When it became clear that I was angry, the apologies began immediately, even as she was quickly stripping out of her clothing in the doorway. I didn't even let her finish. As she bent forward to pull off her pants, I grabbed her from behind and began shoving her down the hallway towards her bedroom. She stumbled and staggered, pants around her ankles, while I steered her along, one hand holding her wrists together behind her back and the other gripping a fistful of her hair.

Once in the bedroom I shoved her facedown onto the bed, and proceeded you yank off her pants and panties. She had already removed her top and bra in the doorway, so now she lay naked on the bed, whimpering, covering her face with her hands.

I stepped back from my bed and began unbuttoning my belt. It was a thick, black leather belt I'd had for years, but rarely worn. Today, however, if wasn't so much a fashion statement as a useful tool.

"Turn over, bitch." I commanded. When she hesitated I grabbed her by the ankles and twisted, flipping her over onto her back. She cried out, and her legs splayed open as she tried to gain her balance. "See? Like that. Fucking bitch. Now grab your ankles and pull your legs open." I ordered.

After a few moments of confusion she obeyed. I adjusted her position slightly until she was laying on her back on the edge of the bed, with her hands holding her ankles up beside her head. Her pussy and asshole were thrust out in front of me, hanging over the edge of the mattress, ready for my ministrations. The look on Julie's face was one of sheer terror – I'd slapped her around before, and fucked her roughly, but never before had I done anything like this.

"You're going to learn that your life is not your own, cocksucker," I explained calmly, as I slowly wrapped one end of the belt around my palm. "If you want to go away, you beg me for permission. If you want a boyfriend, you beg me for permission. Your first thought, always and forever, must be my wishes. What am I supposed to do if I want a quick cocksuck and you're not around, huh?"

She whimpered.

"Answer my question." I said calmly.

"Uh… I don't—don't," she sputtered, annoyingly avoiding the question.

The end of the belt sailed through the air and impacted loudly against the inside of her left thigh. She cried out in shock, and I'll admit, the noise it made was more impressive than I expected. "I'm going to beat your pussy now, cocksucker, and it's going to help you learn your lesson. Because it has become obvious that when I explain rules to you in simple language, you're still too stupid to understand them. Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes," she whimpered.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, hold those legs open nice and wide so I can get a good shot at your cunt. And after every hit, cocksucker, I want you to thank me and ask me for another. Do you understand that simple command?"

"Yes, sir."

The belt flew through the air again, and this time I hit her square between the legs, right between the lips of her neatly trimmed pussy. She cried out again, but managed to obey my instructions. "Th-th-thank you, sir, please hit me again…"

I continued beating her with the belt, slowly and rhythmically. I varied the strokes – some I aimed at her inner thighs, some at her flat stomach, but mostly I aimed at her cunt. From her reactions I soon learned what hurt the most, so I focused on those targets. After about ten minutes and a few dozen strokes, the entire area of her genitals and thighs were turning a noticeable red. The belt wasn't really causing damage – I hated the idea of scars or markings on my property – but there was no doubt that the pain was steadily increasing.

Soon, Julie's face was streaked with tears, and her "thank-you" speeches were becoming more unintelligible and were interspersed with begging. "P-p-please stop, oh God, that hurts," she would blubber, and I'd laugh, making sure to hit that exact spot again. Eventually, when she couldn't take it anymore, she let go of her ankles and tried to turn away from me. Big mistake.

I dug into a bag of goodies I'd brought with me, and retrieved a brand new roll of duct tape. With little effort, I soon had her wrists firmly taped to her ankles, and another generous helping of tape covering her mouth. It was a crude gag, to be sure, but it would keep the volume of her cries down to a level that would allow me to still enjoy them, without unnecessarily alarming the neighbours.

Once she was securely fastened back into her exposed position, I took some time to explore her body. She shook and whimpered as I slowly ran my hands over her thighs, up between her legs, and then began fiddling with her pussy. It was a very nice one, with pronounced lips and a medium-sized clit that just poked out from between them. I fingered her clit for a few moments, gently at first, and then more roughly. She shivered and her eyes grew wide, as she realized the complete control I now had over her body.

After a few moments of fingering, I suddenly gripped her clit tightly between my thumb and forefinger and gave it a hard twist. She howled into her tape gag, and I laughed before stepped away from her and heading into the kitchen. I rummaged through her cupboards and drawers until I'd amassed a handful of interesting toys, and return to the bedroom to continue my experiments. Not surprisingly, Julie remained right where I'd left her, and I stood in the doorway and took in the scene for a moment: her naked body on the bed, the blankets in disarray. Gagged mouth and wide, watery eyes following my every step. Splayed thighs. And, best of all, her bare red cunt aimed into the air, patiently awaiting my attention.

I decided I was going to take my sweet time.

I spent the next two hours slowly torturing Julie's pussy and asshole. I retrieved a desk chair from the corner of her room and rolled it over beside the bed, so I could sit comfortably as I worked, leaning forward. On the bed beside her bound thighs, I spread out my toys. All of them were everyday objects I'd found laying about her apartment, in the kitchen, the bathroom, and in her desk. But the way I used them was anything but ordinary.

I started simply – the point of a ballpoint pen inserted into her anus. From her reaction, I gathered that she'd never had anything in there before. I slowly worked the pen in deeper, wiggled it around, jabbed it against the opening. When I was bored of that game, I left the pen protruding from her asshole and moved on to another toy.

Next up was the small bottle of extra hot sauce I'd found in the kitchen. I unscrewed the top, flipped the bottle over, and carefully let a few drops fall directly onto her clit. The response was immediate and extreme – Julie squealed, a long, piercing squeal that was barely concealed by the gag. She began thrashing violently against her tape bonds. I leaned back in my hair, watching and smiling. When the effect began to fade, I gently tapped her clit with the tip of my finger a few times, and this seemed to revive the agony, and she went into another round of squeals and convulsions. I put the hot sauce bottle aside, but I knew I had found another very good instrument of control.

After that, the evening was a blur of experiments. I slowly and repeatedly poked her clit and asshole with toothpicks, until she was screaming out with each jab. I roughly scrubbed her entire pussy and asshole with her own toothbrush, and informed her that it would be going back into the holder after I was done and had best not be replaced until I gave her permission to do so. I tied a piece of dental floss, after many failed attempts, in a small knot around her clit and then pulled and tugged in every possible direction to see which made her squeal the loudest. I clipped rows of small paper clips along her pussy lips, strung them together with dental floss, then yanked them all away in one sharp motion. I fucked her hard with the neck of an empty beer bottle, then slid ice cubes in and out of both holes until there was nothing but water.

On and on it went. Some of the experiments got only a little reaction, while others, such as the hot sauce, were limitlessly entertaining. With every experiment I learned something, and stored away the knowledge for future reference.

The evening ended with me kneeling beside Julie's face on the bed, peeling off her duct tape gag, and informing her that once she made me cum I would untie her and leave. By that time she was too exhausted to resist, so I pulled her head to the side and inserted my cock between her lips. Her feeble attempts at sucking were unsatisfactory, so I ended up simply masturbating against her tongue, stroking the shaft of my cock for a while before eventually jerking off her into her mouth. At my urgings, she swallowed most of my cum; the rest I smeared across her face before using her hair to wipe my cock clean.

I snipped apart the duct tape bounds holding her ankles and wrists, and she rolled on to her side, groaning with relief at being freed from the awkward position. As she turned, I noticed a screwdriver still protruding from her asshole, and I laughed. "I'll be back tomorrow, cocksucker, and let's hope you learned a few things tonight." I swept my hand across the bed and knocked some of the various toys I had laying there onto the floor, where they landed with a clatter. "Oh, and clean this place up. It's a fucking mess."

BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part II

After the punishments of that Sunday night, I noticed a change in Julie. From that point on she was more fearful, and more obedient. It may have been my imagination, but after that day it seemed as if her mouth was always open a little wider, her tongue was always flickering a little faster, and her use of the word "sir" was always a little more heartfelt.

When I arrived for my visit the following day I had Julie spread for me again, so I could inspect the results of my handiwork the night before. While her pussy was obviously still quite tender, and in general still reddish in colour, there was no permanent damage done. Still, I decided to take it easy on her: after all, I didn't want my cocksucking machine to have a breakdown and end up out of commission. After letting her beg me for forgiveness one last time, I spent the evening relaxing on her couch while she gave my cock a long, gentle tongue bath, followed by a slow blowjob. After I'd filled her mouth with cum, I made her hold it there and apologize to me another ten times before I finally let her swallow it.

***

Later that week, home on my own, I noticed that my apartment was filthy. It had been a while since I'd given it a good cleaning, but after a long day at work, I just didn't have the energy for chores. I picked up my phone.

"Hello, cocksucker," I said, and listened to Julie's respectful greeting. "I have some chores that need doing. Get down to my apartment, now."

I hung up without waiting for a response. During the five-minute interval it took for her to arrive, I dug out some cleaning supplies from the cupboard – a bucket, a sponge, some soaps, a mop, a broom, old rags.

Then I heard a timid knock on my door. I purposely waited for a few minutes, imagining Julie standing outside my door in the hallway, nervous, wondering what was going to happen. I'd never brought her by my place since the blackmailing began, and being here was probably not something she'd enjoy. After a few more timid knocks over the next few minutes, I pulled the door open. Julie entered, and I closed it behind her.

She stood nervously inside the doorway. I looked at her. "Well?" I said, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Strip, bitch."

Julie performed her usual obedient striptease for me, taking off every item of clothing and piling it on the floor beside her shoes. I stood to the side with my arms crossed, and watched her strip. When she was done she stood awkwardly in her nakedness, arms dangling at her sides, fighting the urge to cover her private parts. "Put your hands on your head and open your mouth," I said, and left her there.

I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee. I took my time, and about five minutes later I returned to the entrance area and found Julie as I'd left here: naked, standing erect with her hands on her head and her mouth gaping open. I took a sip of my coffee and looked at her. "Oh," I said with mock surprise, "you're still here."

"Yes, sir." she said.

"I'm not in the mood to use your holes right now, but you might as well make yourself useful. There's some cleaning stuff in the other room. Get in there and get to work. You can start by scrubbing the floors, in every room, with the sponge in the bucket. I want you to scrub 'em on your hands and knees. Make every square-inch spotless. Do you understand me, cocksucker?"

"Yes, sir." Julie said, still standing with her hands on her head. I took another sip of coffee.

"Well, then what the FUCK are you waiting for? Jesus. Make yourself useful, bitch. Try to convince me there's more to you than three holes and a pair of titties."

Julie scrambled past me into the other room, and I heard the clanking and sloshing of the cleaning equipment. When I sauntered into the living room a few minutes later, Julie was already hard at work. I was greeted by the sight of her ass, pointing into the air, as she scrubbed the floor on all fours facing away from me. From across the room, the shape of her ass was perfect. It had that "apple-round" look you read about in books. Her small, smooth slit protruded from between her cheeks; above the slit, her anus stood out clearly, like a bulls eye on a dartboard, slightly darker than the rest of her pale skin.

I sipped my coffee yet again and continued to watch. Julie was working quickly, obviously out of fear. She would dip the sponge into the soapy bucket, wring it out, then scrub the floor vigorously in all directions. Once done, she'd slide the bucket over a few feet, and then repeat the process. All her activities gave me fantastic views of her naked body, as she was constantly stretching, twisting, bending, spreading her cheeks, and jiggling her breasts… it was a pornographers dream. As a bonus, my floor was getting cleaned, too.

I walked past Julie without saying a word, popped a DVD in the player, and settled in on the couch. For the next hour or so I enjoyed my movie, feet up on the coffee table, while Julie worked. I made my best effort to ignore her, though of course when she was facing away from me I stole a few glances at her bare ass. My goal was to reinforce to Julie what she was to me: not a mistreated girlfriend, not a lover, not even a sex object, but merely an object. I wanted her to realize that she was a tool: something that was only valuable to me until she had finished whatever task I requested, whether that task was a blowjob, an asslicking, or a floor scrubbing. Once a task was complete, she would be put away and ignored until needed again.

Throughout the hour, focused on my movie, I vaguely noticed that Julie was moving around different areas and rooms of the apartment, scrubbing as I instructed. Eventually, I heard the scrubbing stop, and a padding of bare feet on the still-damp floors. There was a pause, and then I heard a little voice.

"S-s-sir. I'm done, sir." she said, standing a few feet to the left of where I was sitting. I pretended I hadn't noticed or heard her, and continued to watch my movie. She repeated herself, louder.

I jerked around to face her. "What the fuck are you doing here, bothering me?" I thundered, "you stupid fucking cunt. I told you I'm not interested in your holes today. Damn it, can't you go one day without sucking on my cock, you horny little slut?"

"I'm sorry!" she whimpered, "I-I—what should I do now then, sir?"

I stared at her, cowering naked, and noticed that her knees were red from kneeling on the hard floor, and soapy water had left scummy gray streaks down her arms onto her chest and stomach. I sighed. "I suppose I can't expect a dumb cocksucker like you to think for yourself, even a little bit, can I?" I paused.

"No, sir." Julie responded, when she realized I was waiting.

"Right. I want you to clean anything that needs it. Start with the bathroom. Scrub everything, the tub, the toilet. Then take my dirty laundry from the basket by the bed into the laundry room and do that. After that, clean all the dishes in the sink and scrub down the kitchen. That should be sufficient for today. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I'll be here, watching TV, and I do not want to be bothered again. When you are done, just stand over in that corner," I said, pointing to a corner of the living room, "with your hands on your head and your mouth open. When I have time to deal with you, I'll deal with you."

"Yes, sir." she said, and began to leave.

"Oh, and cocksucker?" I said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Be warned that I will be inspecting your work later. All of it. And if anything is not spotless, you WILL be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not convinced you do. Get that big blue book off the shelf. That one, there," I said, pointing. "Yes, that one. Look up the word 'spotless' and read the definition to me, cocksucker."

Julie obeyed. I watch as she stretched her short, bare body up on to her toes in order to reach the top shelf. She pulled down the heavy book, and flipped through it frantically. When she reached the correct page, Julie glanced at me to make sure I was listening, and then began to read:

"Spotless. Immaculate. Absolutely neat, clean and pure."

"Very good, cocksucker. You may put the book back on the shelf. Keep that definition in mind while you clean."

"Yes, sir."

"Now get to work, cocksucker."

I spent the next hour watching the exciting conclusion to my movie, an experience which was marred only slightly by the sounds of cleaning and scrubbing in the background. I heard the washing machine start, then water running in the kitchen sink, followed some time later by silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julie standing in the corner as I'd instructed. I switched DVDs and watched about half an hour worth of extra features. They were kind of boring, but I liked the idea of leaving Julie standing, waiting, and thinking about what I might do to her if her definition of "immaculate" did not equal mine.

Once I was completely done with the movie, I ignored her and I walked past her into the kitchen. Everything was nice and clean, with the floor shining, the sink glistening, and all the dishes put away. I put my empty coffee cup into the sink. Then I went into the bathroom, where everything was similarly shiny, took a piss, brushed my teeth, and then visited the bedroom to get ready for bed, noticing piles of clean, neatly folded laundry on the dresser. Since there were no obvious flaws with Julie's cleaning, and I was tired, I decided to end the evening. The fear of punishment would be enough for her, this time.

I walked back out into the living room, glanced over at Julie in her naked-hands-on-head-gaping-mouth position, and pretended again to be surprised. "What are you still doing here, cocksucker? Get lost."

I turned out the lights and headed into the bedroom, leaving Julie to try to dress herself in the dark. I heard the apartment door click as she carefully closed it behind her.

***

I dropped by the next day for a couple quick cocksucks, including my first visit that was so early in the morning Julie had barely woken. Her hair was mussed, and her eyes squinty as she pulled off her pajamas in her doorway, knelt, and sucked. As her lips slid up and down my cock, images of her scrubbing my floors naked flashed through my brain. I thought about the humiliation and degradation she must feel at being so coarsely used, abused, and objectified, with absolutely no recourse of action. Any revenge she tried to extract on me would come back to haunt her tenfold, whether it was at my own hand or at the hands of the court system.

I glanced down at her, with her messy blonde hair, cute slightly upturned nose, spattering of freckles, and small mouth stretched around my cock. Below her hair, I could just see the curve of her back and two round circles of her ass. Most of all, however, I enjoyed the utter attention and seriousness with which she undertook her task, and the way every movement of her lips and tongue carefully emulated the lessons I had taught her over the previous months. When my cock finally exploded into her waiting mouth, I wondered how many times she would brush her teeth before she went to work, how long it would take for the taste of my cum to fade, and how many times during the day she would speculate about what would await her when she returned home.

***

Sometimes, I would purposely leave her be for a few days. As tempting as it was to visit every day, morning and night (now that she was trained, her blowjobs were unequaled) I knew that it would be better in the long run to let her keep some semblance of her normal life. I enjoyed the idea of her going to work, to dinner, out with friends, perhaps even dating, all the while wondering when there would be a knock at the door and she would once again face my hard cock bobbing in her face, my insults, my degrading tasks, or the sting of my belt. I also didn't want her to get an inflated sense of her importance to me. After all, I had a life, too. I dated other women, went to the movies, worked, partied, and drank. Julie was just a backup, something to use when it was convenient for me. Julie was like that favourite old porn mag you pulled out from under the mattress when you got home from a date that didn't work out – with her mouth in place of a wad of tissues, of course.

No, Julie could be used for far more than an occasional fuck and suck. She was mine to punish, and I knew of more ways to use and abuse her than she could ever have dreamed.

***

"Faster!" I called out, and sat back, watching Julie crawl. It was the following weekend, and Julie and I were playing a game of fetch. Together, we had visited the neighbourhood pet store, when Julie had purchased some things at my request. She was now the proud owner of a dog collar, a long leather leash, and some plastic dog bowls. To these toys, I had added an old rubber dildo I'd found in my apartment, left there by some long-forgotten ex girlfriend.

Now I was sitting on a kitchen chair, tossing the dildo across Julie's apartment. She was scrambling on all fours, naked, collar around her neck, leash streaming behind her, to repeatedly fetch the dildo and carry it back to me in her mouth. The dildo was realistically shaped and coloured like an oversized cock, complete with veins. I instructed her to carry it with the head in her mouth, "the way you're used to, cocksocker," I'd laughed.

Every time she'd returned the dildo to me, I had her drop it at my feet, then sit back on a squatting position, hook her arms up in front of her like a dog, open her mouth, and stick out her tongue. Earlier, I'd pulled her hair up into two buns on top of her head, and tied them in place with some thin red gift ribbon. The effect was surprisingly dog-like, and I took great pains to point this out to her.

"Good bitch. Here you go, fetch your bone again." I tossed the dildo yet again, extra far this time, and it landed partially behind the couch. I watched from the other room as she desperately tried to dig it out with her face, knowing that I was watching and that using her hands for any task was forbidden during this game. Eventually she succeeded, crawled back cross the room with the rubber cock hanging out of her mouth, dropped it, and assumed her squat position.

"Well, cocksucker, your bowls are done," I said. In between tosses, I'd been carefully painting Julie's name on the side of each of the dog bowls. The word "JULIE" was now neatly emblazoned in white block letters across each. I'd contemplated using her nickname, cocksucker, but thought that it would be more humiliating to see her real name on there. "Cocksucker" could apply to anyone in that context; "Julie" was specific to one person, and every time she saw those bowls I wanted her to remember who they were for.

I filled one bowl half full of water, then set it down on the floor. "Drink up, doggy." She obediently crawled over, and put her face tentatively into the bowl and tapped the water surface with her tongue. "Faster! I know you're thirsty, bitch." I stood over her, grabbed her leash, and pulled it taught so there was just enough pressure on her throat to remind her I was there. When her drinking was still too tentative, I put one foot on the back of her head and pressed her face down into the bowl. She thrashed, and water sloshed over the side of the bowl and onto the floor.

"Now you've made a mess," I observed. "Drink everything in the bowl, then lick up the slop on the floor. Now." Finally, she listened, and began to drink the water more effectively. As a reward, I took my foot off the back of her head, but I still stood over her and kept the leash tight in my hand. After much slopping and slurping, the level of the water in the bowl dropped and was finally licked clean. At my encouragement, she did the same to the floor around the bowl, and carefully licked up all the obvious spatters. When done, she sat back, assumed her dog position, and stuck out her tongue.

"Good girl!" I stuck the rubber dildo into her mouth. "This should keep your mouth happy," I said, and headed into the kitchen with the other bowl. I opened the fridge and contemplated my options. I decided to start with a generous squirt of ketchup into the bottom of the bowl. To that, I added a few scoops of yogurt, and a handful of leftover rice from a Tupperware container. From the cupboard, I seasoned the meal with a generous squirt of vinegar, a hefty shaking of salt and pepper, and five or six drops of hot sauce. I topped the bowl off with a handful of crumbled crackers. I used a spoon to mix it all into one glob, and once the crackers began to grow soggy, I decided that the feast was ready. I headed back to the living room.

Julie was still squatting naked, with her hands hooked in front of her and the dildo dangling from her open mouth. Her ribboned "dog ears" were slightly askew, and her knees were glowing red again from all the crawling. The leash ran down from her neck, between her breasts, and dangled between her thighs onto the floor.

"Dinner is served, doggy! Thank your master."

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice muffled by the dildo.

"What's that? I can't understand you, cocksucker."

"Thank you, sir!" she repeated, louder, with more enunciation around the rubber cock. I yanked it out of her mouth, grabbed the end of the leash, and pointed to the bowl.

"Dig in."

When Julie saw what was in the bowl, she pulled back instinctively. "What – what is – I can't –" she stuttered, and tears began to well in her eyes.

"Why, you ungrateful bitch!" I said, and pulled the collar tight, choking her. "You eat my ass, you swallow my cum, but you won't eat perfectly good food from your own kitchen? Food that I myself took the time to prepare?"

"I-I'm sorry," she sputtered.

"You better be. I could be home, relaxing, but instead I'm here preparing food for you, you pathetic little cunt. I could just fuck your mouth, fuck your ass, and then leave. But instead I'm paying you attention. I'm taking the time to train you. I'm taking care of you. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

"Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Thank you for what?"

"Thank you for the food, sir."

"Good girl." I relaxed my grip on the leash. "Now eat. It's nothing that will harm you. I wouldn't want to poison my little cocksucker. After all, who would suck my dick then, hmm?"

And so Julie began to eat, slowly, breathing audibly through her nose in a vain attempt to avoid the taste. Once again, I assisted her by shoving her face down into the mush with my foot. The chewing and swallowing noises were loud, and it seemed to take forever, but eventually Julie finished. When the bowl was licked clean she sat back on her haunches again, assumed the dog squat, and opened her mouth.

I couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Her entire face was smeared with traces of the food. It was on her chin, on her cheeks, on her forehead, and there were even chunks in her hair. I scooped some of it onto my hand and held it in front of her face. "You missed some of your delicious meal, bitch." She obediently licked and sucked my fingers clean.

I glanced at my watch and realized it was getting late. "Well, well, I have to be heading home soon, cocksucker. But since I'm in such a nice mood today, I'll give you some dessert first."

I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and fed my semi-erect cock into her open mouth. She began to suck, with her usual skilled and efficient technique, while I gripped her leash tightly in my hand to ensure her face stayed securely in my crotch. Soon I was ready to cum, but I resisted, and instead pushed her mouth away from my cock.

"Pick up the bowl."

Julie hesitated. I repeated the command, and she quickly picked up the bowl, kneeling in front of me, and looked up with puzzlement.

"Suck me again. Keep sucking until I tell you, and then hold the bowl up under my cock and milk my cum into the bowl. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Julie did as she was told, putting my cock back in her mouth and sucking until I gave the signal. Then she held the bowl under my cock with her left hand, and used the right to jerk me off into the bowl, as I grunted in pleasure. When all my cum was spent, I told her to put the bowl back on the floor. As she was doing so, I wiped my cock off on her ribboned hair.

I looked down at her, and saw her kneeling and eying the bowl with repulsion. "There you go, doggy!" I laughed, zipping up my fly, "dessert is served!" I glanced down at the splatters of runny semen in the bowl, looked back and her, and said, "Eat up!"

Reluctantly, Julie leaned forward and began to lick. I stood back and watched the scene: the slender, naked girl, collared and leashed on all fours, ass in the hair, with her face buried in a dog bowl with her name printed on the side of it. Licking up cum. My cum.

This was true justice, I thought.

When she was done, Julie resumed her squatting position and looked up at me. "Well?" I said, "Aren't you going to thank me and tell me how yummy it was?"

"Thank you, sir. It was very yummy."

"What was?"

"Your cum sir. Thank you for letting me eat your cum for dessert." Her face quivered.

"You are welcome, Julie," I said, and saw the surprise in her eyes when I called her by her real name. "I'm taking a piss and then heading home. Clean this place up, and I will see you again soon, doggy."

I headed into her bathroom, leaving her in the kitchen, naked save for the dog collar, washing out the dog bowls. I took a piss, flushed, and then washed my hands. As I was leaving I noticed her toothbrush standing in its holder. For fun, I pulled it out and tossed it into the toilet. It floated in gentle circles in the clear water. I headed home, chuckling to myself, leaving the surprise for Julie to discover later. After all, why should the fun stop just because I've left?

BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part III

"I can't do this anymore."

I'd picked up the phone and found Julie on the other end. Her tone of voice and lack of respectful language alarmed me. I had made it clear that she was to never initiate contact with me, but rather wait until I wanted to use her.

At the same time, I can't say I was entirely shocked. Truthfully, I had been surprised at how easily she'd given in and accepted my abuses over the previous months. She'd seemed completely resigned to her fate almost from day one, and I'd been gradually pushing her further and further to see where her limit was. Maybe I'd finally found it.

"Let's talk," I said, "the coffee shop across the street. Say, 15 minutes?"

There was a pause. Julie had probably expected me to spew a stream of violent obscenities at her for having the nerve to call me at home, and speak to me in a disrespectful manner. But I liked to keep her guessing.

"Okay."

The tirade and punishments could come later, I thought. Right now, I needed to play my cards more carefully, to use this opportunity to solidify our "relationship" rather than let it implode. What I needed to do was remind her of what she had at stake, and to convince her that I would indeed turn her in to the authorities if she stopped cooperating with me. Most of all, I needed her to realize that although her current situation was unpleasant, it was still preferable to the alternatives.

I threw Julie for another loop when I offered to pay for her coffee, brought it to her, and sat down across from her. I asked her if she was all right.

"I'm… not really. I can't do this anymore."

"Why?"

"It's too much. You're taking this too far. I've tried and tried to cooperate but you just push me and push me and…" she said, and her eyes began to brim with tears.

I glanced around the coffee shop to make sure nobody was sitting within hearing range. "Julie," I said in a low voice, "you killed somebody. And you got away with it. You should be sitting in prison right now, or waiting a death sentence, or on the front page of a newspaper getting grilled in a courtroom. But you're not. You're here, sitting in a coffee shop. You have your job, your friends, your freedom. Right?"

"I guess so."

"All that you need to do, in exchange for that freedom, is to spend a few hours with me each week. Indulge my fantasies. You know me. I'm not a stranger. I've never hurt you permanently, or scarred you, or burned you, or done you permanent damage. It could be a lot worse, you know. Is it really so terrible?"

"But the things you do to me – the way you use me. You treat me like – like – garbage. Like a piece of meat."

"I think," I said, sipping my coffee, "that maybe your real fear is that you deserve it. You know you deserve it, Julie. You can't get away with something so horrible without receiving any punishment in return. The guilt would eat you up. Wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," she said, and stared into her untouched coffee.

"Or, maybe it's even more than that," I said, "I think that sometimes you like it, Julie. You like it, don't you?"

"What? No…"

"You like it when I shove my cock in your mouth and make you choke. You like it when I make you strip and dance for me, make you show me your holes, make you crawl like a dog, make you scrub my floors naked. I play with your pussy all the time, Julie, and I know when it's wet. You can't hide it from me."

"No!" she sputtered, loudly, then looked around to see if anyone else in the shop had noticed. An old man in the far corner was fully absorbed in his newspaper. The staff behind the counter was running water and chatting. Nobody was privy to our conversation.

"That was a pretty strong reaction, Julie. I think it upsets you to hear me say it because you know it's true."

"I—no--but why, why do you have to be so mean?" Her eyes watered again.

"Because I enjoy it." I paused. "This is an agreement, Julie. A mutually beneficial agreement. What do you get? You get to stay out of prison, and you get punished for your crime. Which you know, deep down, you deserve. And what do I get? I get your mouth, your asshole, and your pussy. But I also get to live out all the fantasies I've ever had. And I have a lot of fantasies. Overall, I think it's a pretty fair deal. Don't you?"

Julie sat silently. She swirled her coffee cup around in small circles, and some sloshed onto the table.

"Now, if you like, we can end this. But it's only going to end one way, Julie. With a phone call. A phone call from me, to the police. And by this time next week I'll be reading about you on the front of the newspaper. Does that sound like fun?"

"No."

"And trust me, Julie, prison will be less fun than this. Do you think there will be any sympathy for you in prison, after everyone finds out what you've done? Do you think you won't be sucking the guard's cocks, getting stripped naked and having your cunt and asshole inspected every day, showering and peeing in front of an audience? Huh? A lot goes on in prison that we don't hear about, you know. Because nobody has any sympathy for prisoners, especially murderers like you."

Julie sniffled, and wiped a tear from her cheek. Then she stared back at the table.

"Look at me, bitch. Would you rather be sucking one cock – my cock – or a dozen stranger's cocks? Would you rather be abused 24 hours a day for the rest of your life, or just a few hours each week?"

"I—I dunno."

"I'm going home now Julie, and I'm going to let you rest for a few days. Go out with your friends. Watch some TV. Do whatever you need to do. If you decide you want to end this, call me, and I'll end it. Otherwise, I'll be dropping by to continue our visits in a few days – let's say, Saturday. Does Saturday work for you?"

"Yes," she said, realizing that the question only had one answer.

"If you're not there when I come by Saturday, then I'll assume the deal is off, and I'll make the appropriate phone call. Is all this clear to you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what, Julie?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I know you can be smart when you have to be. This is one of those times."

"Yes, sir."

I left Julie slouched at the table, staring into her coffee. I tried my best not to smile to myself as I crossed the street and headed home. I knew I'd convinced her. After all, there wasn't really any decision for her to make at all.

***

Sure enough, when I called Saturday afternoon, Julie picked up the phone promptly. When I arrived at her apartment ten minutes later, the door was unlocked, so I stepped inside. Julie was already standing inside the door, stark naked, hands on her head, with her mouth gaping wide. She said nothing.

"Well," I laughed, "looks like you've made a decision." I stepped up to her and ran my hand slowly down her neck and across her left nipple. It was hard, so I gave it a little twist and watched it spring back to position.

My hand then slid slowly down to her crotch, and I slipped a finger between her pussy lips. There wasn't really much moisture, but I played it up anyway. "So I see you missed my cock, hmm Julie?" I whispered into her ear, "and decided you couldn't live without our little meetings?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"I have some fun planned for today, cocksucker. I brought a movie for us to watch together. And I washed myself all good and clean before I left home, so you're going to be spending a lot of time with your face between my cheeks this afternoon. Is your tongue in the mood for some asslicking today, cocksucker?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I thought after the trauma of our conversation the other day you deserved a tasty little treat."

"Yes, sir, thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome." I grabbed Julie's left nipple hard between my thumb and forefinger, and began walking toward the living room, pulling her along by her tit as she stumbled to keep up. We stopped in front of the couch. "Squat on the floor, bitch, and face the TV. That's it, thighs nice and wide, and put your hands on your head. Mouth open wide for your master. Good girl."

I shoved the rubber dildo into her mouth. "Something to practice on," I laughed. Then I held up the DVD I'd brought and showed it to Julie. "It's called 'Prison Bitches IV' and it's all about what will happen to you if you decide to forget about our little conversation the other day. Doesn't it look exciting?"

"Yeth, thur," she slurred around the dildo in her mouth. I popped the DVD in the player, sat back on the couch behind her, and soon the two of us were enjoying some quality pornography. The flick was a hardcore film centered around a supposed women's prison in South America. The prisoners were all brunettes, with large breasts and round asses, and the guards were all stubby, cigar-smoking types with grotesque fat bellies that stretched the buttons on their ill-fitting khaki police uniforms.

The festivities started off with a batch of buxom prisoners being unloaded from the back of a van, paraded into the prison compound, and ordered to strip. There were the usual long, luxurious camera shots that panned across the long row of naked girls. First it was their breasts, then their faces, then their hips and shorn cunts. Soon they were being forced to assume various positions, including my favourite scene: a row of half-a-dozen bent-over asses, cunts just visible between their cheeks, being poked and prodded with the officer's fingers and nightsticks while their holes were "inspected for contraband".

I regularly glanced over at Julie to make sure she was watching. And she sure was, with wide eyes. While she must have known that the film was fiction, my intention was to fill her mind with the possibilities. The worst case scenarios would make an impact on her, no doubt.

As the film progressed, all sorts of unspeakable horrors befell the prisoners. There were plenty of long forced sex scenes, with naked girls double-penetrated and forced to suck multiple cocks at one time. Later, one lucky girl was held down and fucked in every hole while her fellow prisoners were forced to watch through the bars, cowering in their cells.

"Look like fun, cocksucker?" I said to Julie. "Boy, you could really live up to your nickname in prison, couldn't you? Ha!" Julie mumbled in agreement around the dildo.

Then there were the fantastic latrine scenes, where the girls were marched a few at a time into a dank, concrete room and forced to squat and pee into a hole in the ground while the guards stood around and mocked and slapped them. This was followed shortly by the shower scenes, where a dozen naked girls were herded into one room, all with their hands cuffed behind their backs, before a guard unleashed a powerful hose on them. The scene was long and gratuitous, filled with the begging and screaming of the girls as they tried to escape the stream of water, bumping into each other, slipping, squirming, and struggling on the concrete floor in a mass of wet nakedness. Through it all, the guard grinned, cigar dangling from his lips, as he mercilessly blasted away at the girl's most sensitive parts.

"I'll bet that water is freezing cold, huh cocksucker," I said, and reached down to pat Julie on the head. She said nothing, her eyes transfixed on the screen.

After many more scenes of abuse, the movie ended shortly after some of the prisoners tried to escape. They were, of course, caught in short order, and immediately punished in the prison torture chamber. Julie whimpered out loud at one particular scene, where a prisoner was strapped to a table, legs spread wide, with a tangle of colourful wires clipped to various parts of her vagina and anus. The guards then grinned with glee as they repeatedly toyed with the buttons and dials on a needlessly over-complicated control panel. With each button press, the poor victim thrust against her bonds and screamed as electricity purportedly seared through her genitals.

"Maybe she's just a great actress," I said to Julie, "but that looks really realistic, doesn't it? Look at how she lifts her cunt up into the air and convulses every time the electricity hits."

As if to bring my point home, the girl screamed one last time, and urine spattered from between her legs, ran across the torture table, and dripped onto the floor below. "Oh, look, she's in so much pain she lost control. Pretty intense, huh?"

Julie said nothing. The film ended shortly thereafter, and I took out the DVD and put it away. "Wow, that made me really hard. Did it turn you on too, cocksucker?"

Julie said nothing. I knelt in front of her, took hold of the end of the dildo in her mouth, and pushed it in and out a little bit. "Mmmmm," I mocked, "watching all those poor girls get tortured in prison probably makes you jealous. I bet you wish you had a nice cock to fuck your mouth like this, don't you?" I pumped it and out a little further, and a little faster, until I felt her reflexively gag. I took the dildo out of her mouth and set it on the coffee table.

"But," I said, "you can suck later. Right now I think it's time for me to give you that treat I mentioned earlier. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, knowing what was coming.

"Great! I've got some ass for you to eat."

I unzipped my pants, pulled them off along with my boxers, and sat on the couch. I put a few cushions behind my back, sat down, and slid forward until my ass was right at the edge of the couch. Then I spread my legs wide and rested my ankles on the coffee table a few feet away.

"Get in here, now, don't be shy," I said, and pointed to the space between my legs, "nuzzle right up in there, cocksucker." Julie stepped over my splayed legs and knelt between them. I pulled my cock and scrotum out of the way, so they were laying on my belly, and then gestured to the area below. "This is all yours," I said, "Everywhere under my balls, between my cheeks, and the back of my thighs. I want all that licked clean. Then I'll let you start on my asshole."

She began licking. I flipped the TV back on with the remote control, and started watching an episode of Wheel of Fortune. "Ha!" I laughed, "this is where Jenning's won his first hundred grand. This is old."

Julie's tongue slowly and smoothly slid up and down between my asscheeks, as she worked her face around the area. It all felt fantastic: the licking on the underside of my balls, my cheeks, the insides of my thighs. Best of all, though, was when her wet tongue flickered across my asshole. The feeling of pleasure and relaxation was great – but different from a blowjob. Less intense. That's what I enjoyed about a good asslicking: it was something I could enjoy for hours. A blowjob, even a slow one, would usually be over in 10 or 15 minutes. Asslicking, though, it just felt better and better as time went on.

After a while, my ass was slick with her saliva. I put my hand on the back of her head to pull her face tighter into my crack. Then I slid my ass slowly up and down, grinding it into her face. "Get your face right in there, bitch. That's it," I groaned with pleasure, "use your nose too, bitch… yeah… put your nose right in my asshole." I ground against her face some more, giving her a fully immersive asslicking experience.

Bored of that, I instructed to just focus on my asshole. "Lick it, suck it, rim it, poke it, just keep your damn tongue on my hole until I say otherwise," I instructed, and Julie complied.

Half an hour later, the Wheel of Fortune episode ended, and nothing else seemed to be on. I muted the TV, reached in to my shirt pocket, and pulled out my cell phone. I clicked some buttons, and in few moments my date for later that evening was on the other end.

"Hi honey, it's me. How are you doing?" I said into the phone. I felt Julie stiffen and hesitate, then quickly resume licking. I pushed my ass against her tongue a bit harder.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine. Bored as hell. No, I'm not doing anything. You know those lazy Saturdays. Just some boring chores and bad TV."

Julie licked.

I listened to my date speak a bit more. "Uh huh. Uh huh. Well, I was thinking I would take you out to that restaurant I mentioned. Yes, the really expensive one. Well, this is our third date and I wanted to do something special. Great! I'll pick you up at 7, then. Love you, too."

I turned off my phone. Julie kept licking.

"That's my date for tonight. A beautiful girl, very sophisticated. I'm hoping maybe I'll finally get her in the sack tonight. She's not one of those slutty girls who does it on the first date like you, you know. Say, how's that asshole tasting, cocksucker?"

"Mmmmmm," Julie mumbled between my cheeks, still licking. The vibrations of her lips felt nice. "You know, I'll bet she's never licked an ass. I couldn't picture her doing it. I would never ask her to. It's such as disgusting thing, if you think about it… so degrading, licking someone else's anus. Isn't it?"

"Mmmmph," came the response.

"But," I said, philosophically, "everyone has their special skills. The things they're good at. Some people are good at math, some at art, and others, well, they suck cocks and lick asses really well. Don't you agree?"

"Mmm," said Julie. The licking continued unabated.

"Everyone has their place in this world. And it looks like fate has found your place between my legs!" I laughed, then grunted. "Fuck, that feels good, bitch." I leaned back and closed my eyes, enjoying the slow circling of Julie's wet tongue around my asshole for a while longer.

My cock was stiff. I decided I wanted to have it sucked off.

"All right, cocksucker. That's enough asslicking for you today. Are you satisfied now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes sir, what?" I asked, impatiently.

"Yes sir, thank you for letting me lick your asshole sir, it was very tasty sir."

"That's a good girl. You're learning, slowly. Now why don't you put that face hole to good use and make me cum, cocksucker?"

"Yes, sir."

Five minutes later Julie was licking my cum off her lips, and I was wiping my cock on her hair, as per usual. Her face was red and slimy from her own saliva, smeared against it by my ass during the previous hour and a half of licking.

"I have a hot date tonight. Do you?"

"No, sir."

"Aw, such a shame. Well, would you like to keep the movie, then? Maybe you can watch it again on your own and pretend it's you sucking all those cocks and peeing for the guards and getting tortured. Would you like that?"

"No thank you, sir."

I laughed, and took the movie with me. "Have a fabulous weekend, Julie."

BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part IV

"That's it, push all that junk out of the way," I said, "clear out the area. We want a nice blank canvas for the backdrop, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," said Julie, as she struggled to slide a heavy dresser across the floor. As she laboured, I positioned my digital camera into place on top of the tripod I had rented. We were setting up everything in her bedroom, and I was having her clear out the area in front of one blank wall so we could use it as a backdrop. Behind me, I had already setup some extra standing lamps Julie had dragged in from the living room. With those lights, and the existing ceiling lamp, I knew there would be more than enough light to enable me to take nice, bright photos.

I finished setting up the camera, and leaned against the wall to watch Julie as she worked, naked, lugging a pile of heavy boxes out of the way. "Hurry the fuck up," I called out, "we have a busy schedule today."

Finally, everything was cleared. I looked through the viewfinder and confirmed that all I could see a small portion of the floor, and the plain white wall behind it. I didn't want the photos cluttered up with unnecessary furniture and junk in the background.

"Ok, cocksucker," I said, pointing, "stand right there." Julie stood where I indicated, and I confirmed that the spot was centred on the camera.

"Good, good. Now, do you know why we're here?"

"Um… to take naked pictures of me?" she said, sighing.

"You're a piece of meat, Julie. A piece of fuckmeat. Three holes and a pair of tits. Do you understand that?"

There was a pause. "Yes, sir."

"Sometimes I think you don't understand. These photos are going to show you. I want you to see yourself, on paper, for what you really are. A thing. An object. A cunt. A mouth. An asshole. A pathetic, stupid cocksucker. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have about 250 shots on this memory card, and we're going to make every single one count. Let's start with some simple full body shots. Stand up straight, face the camera. Arms at your side. Eyes open wide, look at me..."

I snapped the first shot. Later, it would be one of my favourites for its simplicity. The shot consisted of just Julie standing, fully exposed in all her nakedness, with the plain white wall behind her. There was not one single shadow in the photo to obscure the detail. Her shoulder length blonde hair was slightly stringy, and hung limply around her face, which was expressionless as she tried to mask her nervousness. Her eyes stared straight back at the camera, and were not yet brimming with tears as they would be in the later photos. Her normally rounded shoulders were pulled back, and her small, pointed breasts hung slightly outward, partially erect in the cool air, with the little bumps and dots on her pinkish nipples clearly visible.

In the photo, Julie's stomach was smooth and taught, the pale surface broken only by the small indent of her navel. Farther down, her otherwise slender girlish body abruptly widened, and her bony hips stuck out like those of a girl somewhat young than her age of 22, as if she'd not yet filled out completely. Her cunt was bare, and still slightly red from having been freshly shaven the night before as per my telephone instructions. Her thighs were straight and thin, and even with her ankles pressed together there was an inverted triangle of open space between her thighs, topped by the two small puffs of her pussy lips. Her knees were knobby, and her bare feet looked tiny on the cold wooden floor.

I found the resulting photo erotic in its clinical starkness. There would be no Playboy airbrushing or Photoshop tinkering to hide Julie's imperfections. There would be nothing to shield Julie from the harsh judgment of the leering viewer. The end result was one of a cute, if somewhat plain girl, utterly exposed, and completely miserable. Perfect.

"Now turn to the left. More… more… stop! Same position."

I snapped another shot, a profile of the right side of her body. That view revealed how thin she really was, with the only the points of her jutting breasts breaking up the straight line formed by her dangling skinny arms and slender legs.

Next I had her turn to the right, to photograph her left side. Then I took a photo of her from the back, facing the wall, still with her arms at her sides. Julie's ass was probably her best feature: small, round, and high, with a deep cleft that widened near the bottom to reveal a glimpse of her pussy. Her asshole, however, remained neatly hidden between the flesh of her cheeks, and only became visible when she bent forward slightly.

"Excellent. Why don't we make this a little more fun, though. From now on, every time you hear the shutter click, I want you to say 'I am a piece of meat.' Nice and loud and clear. Every time. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try it now. Practice it. Nice and loud."

"I am a piece of meat," said Julie, very loudly, with a slight shake in her voice.

"Again."

"I am a piece of meat."

"Okay, we're going to do a series of front-facing shots. Stand upright again. Face me. Same as before, but this time open your mouth wide."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat," she said, though the words were slightly muffled as she tried to speak without closing her mouth.

"Now same thing, but put your hands on your head."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

I zoomed in on her face, mouth gaping open, and took a close-up shot."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

I made sure to take many shots of her standing with her hands on her head and her mouth open. After all, this was her usual "waiting" position, and she was very familiar with it. I often forced Julie to spend long minutes, even hours, standing obediently in that pose as I went about my business. I wanted her to see photos of what she really looked like all those times she stood waiting to be used.

The session continued. For a long while there was nothing but the sound of the shutter clicking, and Julie reciting her line. Over and over, but no matter how many times she said it, her voice always cracked near the end.

"I am a piece of meat."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

Click.

Rather than become boring, surprisingly, the never-ending repetition seemed to make the phrase more intense, to give Julie more time to think about what she was saying, what it implied, and, I suspect, gave her time to wonder how true the statement really was.

Once I had photographed every inch of Julie's naked body, from close up and far away, in dozens of degrading positions that ranged from standing upright, to bending over, to squatting, to lying on her back, to pulling her thighs open, to crawling, I decided to bring out some props.

My first prop was a pad of thick cardboard sheets and a black marker. On the top page I wrote the word "SLUT" in large, black, block letters. Then I tore it from the pad, handed it to Julie, and ordered her to hold it with both hands in front of her.

The camera clicked again and again as we ran through a series of photos with her in various positions holding the sign. And, over and over, the phrase "I am a piece of meat" rang out through the room, in Julie's small shaky voice.

On the next piece of cardboard I wrote "BLOWJOBS 25 CENTS". I had Julie squat with her mouth open and prop up the cardboard up in front of her on the floor, like an advertisement. After a few shots, I placed a clear glass jar of pennies and nickels beside the sign, then took a few more shots. "See how much business you've gotten, cocksucker?"

The I retrieved the sign, crossed out the "25 cents" and wrote "10 cents" below it in slightly smaller letters. "Business wasn't very good, cocksucker! We had to lower the price!" I laughed out loud, propped up the sign again, and resumed photographing. After a few shots, I inserted the usual rubber cock dildo into Julie's mouth and took some more of her pretending to suck it off. Now Julie's voice was beginning to crack more noticeably as she repeated her mantra, and I thought I detected a subtle sniffle.

When I finally removed the dildo from her mouth, she said "What are you going to do with these photos, sir?"

"I told you. I'm going to show them to you. I want you to see yourself in all your glory. Of course, if you don't obey me in the future, I suppose I always have the option of showing them to others."

"Who?" she asked, alarmed.

"Oh, I dunno. I've heard of this new thing called the Internet. Have you heard of it, Julie?"

"Yes, sir." she said, quietly. I took another photo. "I am a piece of meat," she intoned, automatically, though the volume in her voice was beginning to falter.

I glanced at my camera. I was nearing 200 photos, and there was not a lot of power left on the battery. I retrieved another one of my props, a plain paper bag, and wrote something on it. Without letting Julie see what it was, I slide the bag over her head, ordered her to assume some positions, and snapped some more photos. She was so well trained by this point that even under the bag, when she heard the shutter snap, she repeated her favourite phrase.

Written on the front of the bag was one word: "UGLY". I never let Julie see that, though, until I revealed the final photos to her later. I wanted to keep some things a surprise, after all.

I left her squatting with the bag on her head, and headed into the kitchen. There I retrieved a large two litre bottle of mineral water I'd noticed earlier, along with a mop bucket I found in Julie's cleaning closet. I carried the two items back to the bedroom, and couldn't resist snickering when I saw Julie again, with the "ugly bag" on her head. I pulled it off, folded it up, and put it away, making a mental note to use it again in the future.

I kicked the empty mop bucket in her direction. "Take this bucket," I instructed, "put it in the middle there, and squat over it."

Julie obeyed. The bucket was rather high, so at first she rested her thighs on the edges of it. "I said squat over it, bitch, not sit on it. What do you think this is? A fucking rest break? Would you like a coffee and a donut to go with the bucket?"

"Sorry, sir."

She lifted her thighs off the surface of the bucket, and her legs shook slightly as she maintained the awkward elevated squat. I looked through the viewfinder on my camera and made a few adjustments so that Julie's entire face and body was visible, as well as her cunt, poised over the bucket.

"Now pee."

Julie jerked her head up and looked at me, surprised, and opened her mouth to protest.

"No… I…"

I laughed. It had been months and I'd never asked Julie to do anything like this. I didn't really enjoy so-called "water sports" – I find the associated nastiness and smells tend to take any fun out of the idea – but I also knew that Julie would be utterly humiliated to be forced to relieve herself in front of an audience, especially when that audience was filming the event for posterity.

"I told you to pee. Do it."

"But I don't have to go…"

I had been prepared for that excuse. I walked over to her with the water bottle in hand, and unscrewed the lid. I pressed the bottle to her lips and tipped it up. Water poured onto her mouth and face. I grabbed her hair with my left hand to hold her head still, and commanded her to drink. "That's it, swallow it down, you thirsty bitch."

After a few messy moments, we achieved a rhythm. I poured some water into her mouth, waited as she swallowed, then poured some more. We repeated this about a dozen times before she began to choke a bit. I stepped back, and capped the bottle.

"Ready to pee now, bitch?"

"No…" she whimpered. "I can't sir. I can't. Anything else.. anything…"

I laughed. "Anything? That's a brave offer to make to me, isn't it Julie."

She didn't respond, probably realizing that was true.

"Make a suggestion. An offer. Name an alternate activity."

"I-I'll suck your cock, sir."

"Really. You do that for me every day. Come one, surely you can do better than that."

"I—I can lick your ass again, sir."

"That is a good idea. After you pee for me, maybe I'll let you lick it again. And suck my cock too, why not? The whole shebang. But right now you are going to pee, because that's what I told you to do."

Julie still refused. I grabbed her hair, and slapped her hard across the face twice. Then I tipped the bottle back up and resumed pouring the water into her mouth. "This is not a fucking democracy, bitch. I tell you what to do, and you do it. Haven't you learned that yet?"

When she began choking again, I waited a few moments, then resumed pouring water into her mouth. When she began trying to push the bottle away with her hands, I stopped briefly to duct tape her wrists together behind her back. As we struggled, I became rougher, yanked her head around by her hair, slapped her face, and shoved the bottle into her mouth as I poured. She gagged, choked, and spit, and her face, breasts, and the floor in front of her were wet with splashed water. But, overall, most of the water ended up in her mouth, where it would eventually find its way into her bladder.

Once the bottle was empty, I left the room. I decided that a bit of time would do the trick, so I made myself a cup of coffee, took a brief thumb through Julie's newspaper, and lingered about a bit before returning to the bedroom. Julie was still squatting over the bucket, arms bound behind her, eyes glaring.

"Feeling a bit more cooperative now, bitch?" I asked calmly, sipping my coffee from the doorway. I took her silence as a yes, so I put my cup down and approached her. I reached under her arms and gently pressed on her belly. Julie whimpered. She'd swallowed most of a two litre bottle, and about twenty minutes had passed. She was a small girl, so I knew the urge to pee must be building.

"I have all day, Julie. I don't know about you, but I think that looks like a pretty uncomfortable position. The sooner you pee for me, the sooner you can rest."

"Yes, sir."

"You just tell me when you're ready to put on your little show for me, and I'll take the pictures." I sat on the edge of her bed and relaxed, staring at the naked, squatting girl from the side. She said nothing.

"You know, maybe I should rig up some sort of camera system in your bathroom, Julie," I mused. "A little security camera up on the ceiling. Hook it into the light switch, so whenever you used the toilet you are filmed. Everything."

Julie said nothing and looked at the floor. I waited, to let the words sink in, while I enjoyed a sip of coffee. Then I continued. "Everything could go onto tape. Or maybe onto your computer. Actually, maybe I could use a web cam. And then I could set it up so I could check in on you from my computer at home. Anytime I wanted to, I could log on and watch you. Watch you pee, watch you wipe, watch you shower. Would you like that, Julie?"

"No, sir."

"Then maybe I could set up some rules. Maybe tell you the number of times a day you could use the bathroom. If you used it more, I'd punish you. The proof would all be on the video, of course…"

"Please, sir…" she said, and her voice trailed off with hopelessness.

I laughed. "Nah! I'm not going to do any of that. Think of how much work it would be for me. This is just a demonstration, Julie. I'm giving you instructions, and you are going to obey them, no matter how much you hate it. Are you ready to pee now, cocksucker?"

"I—I think so, sir."

"Good girl." I stood up, walked over to the camera, and double-checked the view. "Okay, get to it. Hurry the fuck up."

There was s short pause. Julie concentrated, looking at the floor. "Look at the fucking camera, bitch. And smile. Big smile!"

Julie forced a phony smile on to her face and focused on the camera. After a few more moments, pee began to rattle loudly in the bottom of the empty bucket. The camera shutter snapped repeatedly, and I took about a dozen photos as she peed, including some of her entire predicament, others of her face, and some close ups of her crotch area. I had to remind her to keep smiling several times, but otherwise she was cooperative.

"That's it, bitch. Just like a dog. You pee when your owner tells you to, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

As she finished, I stood beside her and patted her on the head, mockingly. "Good girl," I said, "good bitch. Now take this bucket into the bathroom, and empty it out into the toilet. Clean it out. This is disgusting."

"But, sir… my hands are tied…" she began.

"Then carry the bucket in your fucking mouth, bitch. Get going!" I commanded.

Julie stood, awkwardly, her legs stiff from squatting, and her arms bound tightly behind her. After a few tries she managed to bend over, grip the bucket handle in her teeth, and lift it. She then walked, bent over, taking short steps as she headed toward the bathroom. The bucket swung on its handle, and the rim repeatedly struck her in the breasts as she walked. Of course, her face was positioned directly over the sloshing urine in the bottom bucket.

When I headed into the bathroom a few moments later with scissors in my hand, intending to cut her arms free, I found Julie kneeling beside the toilet, desperately trying to lift the lid with her mouth.

I laughed loudly. "You stupid bitch! I just told you to bring the bucket in here with your mouth. I'm going to free your hands for the rest. But if you want to lick your own toilet seat, feel free, it's not my business."

Julie sat back, embarrassed, and I continued to laugh as I snipped the tape away from her wrists. "Now get this bucket cleaned up, wash it out, get everything put away. Oh, and wipe off your cunt, it's all drippy," I instructed, and then returned to the bedroom to put away my camera equipment. I left the furniture where it was, for Julie to put away later. Her décor problems weren't mine.

We spent the rest of the evening at her computer, with me sitting in the chair working to download and print the photos from my camera, while she knelt under her own desk and slowly sucked on my cock. Occasionally I would hold a freshly-printed photograph down where she could see it. "Look at this one!" I'd exclaim, and Julie would visibly shudder, my cock still in her mouth, as she saw for the first time what she really looked like from my point of view.

A piece of meat, indeed.