Eve St. Albert

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 39, Back to THAT bar

A NIGHT OUT WITH THE GIRLS, PART TWO OF FIVE

KAYLEY POV

We stood in the cruddy back parking lot behind the bar, and watched Rahul the cab driver, pull out and away. He had my panties. He also had an insanely huge fare on my credit card. You'd think doing a live sex show in the back of the cab would have gotten me a discount.

Leroy wrapped an arm around me, and kissed me on the cheek.

“Come on,” he said cheerfully, “you have to admit, this was a lot more exciting than just hanging with the girls.”

“I guess,” I admitted, with a little hint of a smile. There was an infectious bad boy quality to him. A friendly, happy mischief. It was hard to get mad at him, or stay mad, or to be as mad as you should be.

“When was the last time you did live sex shows in the back of a moving cab. Or came so hard?”

“You’re just evil,” I said, lightly, remembering the excitement. Leroy was like a roller coaster, you never quite knew what was around the corner, but it was always a scream.

“I think we’ve got a little exhibitionist in there.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Oh god damn it, he was so fucking charming in his sleazy way. It was hard to hold onto resentment.

“Don’t tell me you’re not planning to do it again sometime with Sam,” he said. “Now that I’ve opened you up to it.”

And he was damn near psychic!

“All right,” I said. “Look, let’s just have our drink.”

The angora clung to the shape of my breasts like a fuzzy second skin, with my nipples poking all the way out to Cleveland. That and a short skirt meant I was probably going to attract attention when we walked in.

I hoped. I supposed if we were walking into a strip club filled with pneumatic breasts and lingerie, I wouldn’t get a second look, which would suck.

“You know,” I said as Leroy walked me in through the back entrance to the bar, “I think you’re right, I might be a little bit of an exhibitionist.”

“That’s my girl!” He patted my rump.

As we walked in near the pool tables, players paused in their game. I couldn’t help smirking a little. Leroy nodded here and there, in a familiar way, guiding me towards the tables. Definitely, it was mostly men, and definitely I was getting attention. But my smirk was fading. Coming in through the back entrance had thrown me, but this place...

“Fuck!” I stopped short. “This is the bar.”

The bar where I’d fucked Leroy and Derek, and then Leroy and Sam. Fuck.

“Surprised?” he asked.

He pushed me a little and I started moving again. He used an arm around my waist to guide me to an empty table. I was blushing. The fact that men were looking at me was taking on a whole new connotation. What the fuck? Was this a game? Was he fucking with me?

“You had so much fun here, I figured you’d enjoy coming here,” he told me. “Good times.”

Was he serious? Maybe he was. What the fuck was going on? I found I was unstrung, I wasn’t sure what to think, or how to think. Was this innocent? No, not at all, not with our history here! But, there were degrees of innocence. Did he actually mean well - Kayley had fun, let’s bring her here? Or was he counting on Men’s room action? Or was there more? What the fuck?

“Are you okay?” he asked me, sitting down, looking concerned. “I thought you’d get a kick out of this place. It’s your playground.”

Was he serious? I searched his face, and his expression seemed honest. He really thought I’d enjoy being brought back here, because...playground? Wow, misfire. But, if it was an honest error, it was hard to be upset with him. If it was honest. He didn’t seem his usual sleazy self.

“Uhm, yeah,” I said, looking around. I got the feeling that attention was being paid to me, but in a sort of casual way now. Not being too overt about looking at me. My treasonous nipples became even harder, my angora sweater looked like I was wearing dixie ups on my breasts.

“I just didn’t expect...I’m a bit surprised.”

“I did give the cab driver the address right in front of you,” he said. He still looked innocent and concerned.

Oh right, he did. But, it had been a street address only, it had come and gone. Then again, he hadn’t said the name of the place.

“We haven’t been out a lot together,” he said, “Something I’d like to change. I wasn’t sure where to bring you. I didn’t want a strip club, or something too noisy...I thought about karaoke...Do you like karaoke? Anyway, this just seemed like the obvious choice.”

“Yeah,” I said, “Okay.”

Fuck though, he was always throwing me for a loop, it felt like I could never predict his next move. Probably why he was so good at getting my panties off. It was exciting, disturbing, frustrating, but sexy.

Was I going to end up in the men’s room with him again? My pulse started to speed up.

Did I want to? My mouth was dry.

A thought flitted through my mind that made me squeeze my thighs together, feeling the sudden wetness between my legs. Did it really matter what I wanted? He’d just make me want whatever he did. The thought that it didn’t was exciting and scary.

“You know,” he said, smiling. “You’re kind of famous around here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he drawled. “This is not a big bar, it’s kind of a hole in the wall, relatively. You’re fucking smoking hot. If all you did was walk in, order a drink, and walk out, you’d have rated attention. You walked into the men’s room four times with two different men. That gets serious attention.”

“Yeah...,” I said, starting to blush. “I see that now.”

Something occurred to me.

“Did you…Was there...Talk?”

“Oh fuck yes!” Leroy said. “Everyone wanted to hear. If we didn’t talk, they would have made up stories anyway. Some people did. Derek and I aren’t the only ones to brag about tapping you.”

“But it was just...”

“Just two. The rest were bullshit,” he said. “Yeah. Of course. And I stopped talking when it got serious, after the second time. But fuck, the hot redhead who appears out of nowhere and drags some lucky bastard into the men’s room...you’re the stuff of legend. It’s not surprising that a few people made up their own stories. Everyone likes to brag.”

I was blushing deeply now. Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have ever come here again. Hell, I shouldn’t have come here after the first time. The whole point was anonymity, and now it was coming clear to me that I’d had a fucking audience each time after that. They hadn’t been in the men’s room with me, but they’d watched me come in, watched me pick up and then...”

“Fuck!” I said. I didn’t know how to feel. Definitely embarrassed, and a little shocked. A little angry that Leroy had blabbed. But, also a little hot. “Holy fuck!”

“Hey,” Leroy said. “Hey, there. Come here.”

He reached over, pulling me from my chair towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“Come here,” he repeated, “Come on and sit with me. Come up on my lap.”

“Are you crazy?” I demanded. “What are you doing? I’m not going to sit on your lap. I’m not five.”

But he was dragging me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m not giving you a lap dance,” I swore.

“Not asking. What’s wrong, Princess? Talk to me,” he stroked my hair.

“Cut it out,” I snapped.

“Come on,” he said, “It’s okay. What’s bugging you?”

“You mean,” I snapped, “Apart from ambushing me when I’m with my friends, dragging me off, making me do a sex show for a fucking cab driver.”

“You seemed pretty into it all when it was happening,” he said.

“Well, maybe I’m not okay with it now. And then taking me to a bar where everyone thinks...no... everyone knows I’m a total whore.”

“Wait,” he said. “That’s what’s bugging you?”

“Well... yeah!”

His hand crept down to my skirt.

“Don’t do that,” I warned him.

“I thought you’d get off on it,” he said.

If I’d been home, safe and sound, and far away, it would have been hot to think about. Being a sex goddess, whore of Babylon, ultra-slut, one of those urban legends of playboy fantasy. But, actually being here? It was...All over the place.

“Well...” I said. “I don’t.”

“But you had fun right?” he asked. “Before. You must have realized, the first time walking in here, everyone was checking you out, even before you did anything. Every time you walked in, you were smoking hot. You didn’t think anyone was checking you out? You didn’t like being checked out?”

“Well yeah,” I said. “But that’s different.”

“And when you were flirting with me and Derek...fun?”

“Well yeah.”

“Going into the men’s room each time...I know you enjoyed that.”

I didn’t bother to reply, on the grounds it would sound slutty.

“Why wouldn’t you think men would have noticed you taking guys in the back to fuck?” he asked. “And why would you even care? I’d have thought it would be hot for you.”

“You’re using logic on me, and I don’t like it,” I said. I folded my arms over my sweater. This just made my breasts push up above my folded arms, and made my nipples dramatically more prominent, like I was showing off. Probably shouldn’t have done that. I refolded my arms in front of my nipples. “This is about feelings.”

“Kayley,” he said patiently. “This is a hole in the wall bar in the middle of nowhere, a million miles from any connection to the rest of your life. You got fucked here because you knew it would never come back to your actual life. Am I wrong?”

Oh fuck, I thought. I wished he would just shut up.

“No,” I admitted in a quiet voice. “That’s kind of it. I guess. Maybe, sort of.”

“So what do you care?” he asked. “Hell, it should be a turn on, just knowing that when you walk through the door, every cock pops up. Every man here is praying that they’ll be the next stranger you pick. Really, that’s got to be a thrill.”

I smiled a little, despite myself.

He pointed.

“Look at those guys at the pool table,” he said. I glanced over that way. A group of young men in jeans and flannels. “They’ve been sneaking peeks at your sweater since you got here.”

“I bet if you went over and talked to them,” he said, “Half of them would come in their pants.”

He mimed the sounds of young men’s orgasms, “Uh Uh Huh Uh Huh Huh…Thanks Ma’am.”

I laughed a little, and squeezed it back down.

“I hate you,” I told him. “I hate that you made me laugh. And also that you’ve made me feel not so weird. And that I’m sitting on your knees like I’m five and you’re Santa Claus. And that you keep trying to put your hand up my skirt and feel my pussy.” I slapped his hand lightly, and it withdrew to just above my knee. “Stop that. I’m not in the mood!”

“Are you sure you’re not in the mood?” he said. “You were running pretty hot in the cab.”

His hand slipped under my skirt again. I slapped it. And maybe undermined that by parting my legs wider, just to sit more easily on his lap.

“That was then,” I said. “I’m completely not in the mood.”

His hand crept up my thigh.

“Even with all those horny guys watching to see what we do next?”

I blushed, and shifted position, which opened my thighs a little more.

“Especially!”

“Hey Leroy,” someone said, “Mind if I join you guys?”

I turned to look, and looked up, and then looked up some more, and then looked way up. He was huge, like six foot four or five, not exactly fat, but with that kind of portly, going to seed, look that some middle aged men have. You can see the bone structure, and the muscle, but you can also see the muscle going a little soft, and fat developing.

“Hey Jake,” Leroy said. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Yeah,” he replied. “We keep missing each other.”

“Well, my man,” he said. “Pull up a chair.”

The big man sat down with us. He had light brown hair and watery pale eyes, bluish but not a full blue. He didn’t just sit in the chair. He occupied it, like he was invading a small foreign country. Even sitting down, he loomed.

And geez, there I was, sitting on Leroy’s lap. I got off and took the chair on the other side of Leroy.

“Kayley,” Leroy said, “This is a friend of mine: Jacob. Call him Jake.”

Jake looked me up and down, not in an ‘I want to fuck you sort of way,’ but in a patient measuring way, a very neutral vibe for checking me out. I had the weirdest sense of deja vu.

“I’ve seen her around the bar,” he said. “Four or five times. She always dresses nice. Likes to flirt.”

I blushed deeply. My mind was racing. I’d been here exactly four times, each time disappearing into the men’s room to get fucked by a stranger and leaving afterwards. If he’d noticed me in the bar, then he probably had a good idea what I’d done there. Hell, Leroy had probably filled him in on the details. I had always just assumed I was pretty anonymous here. But apparently, everyone recognized me as the big ‘Men’s Room Slut.’

I found myself flushing hot in my clothes, and not in a good way. Glancing around casually, I checked just in case we were being watched. Not that I could see. But, that didn’t make it better. I could feel eyes boring in the back of my neck. It was distracting.

“Isn’t that right, Kayley,” Leroy asked.

What? “Oh, uh sure.” I wasn’t clear on what they’d been talking about. Some inconsequential stupid male thing, politics or sports, something competitive. Whatever. I hadn’t heard my name come up, or anything that might perk me up, so I didn’t figure I needed to pay too much attention.

“So anyway,” Leroy asked Jake. “I haven’t been around much. Anything happening?”

“Not much,” Jake said. “Not much excitement.”

“It’s funny,” Leroy said. “This is Kayley’s favourite bar. She was saying she can’t get enough of this place. Insisted on coming. She says she likes the...excitement.”

He put his hand on my knee. Jake’s gaze followed the motion, it traveled from my knee, up my skirt, finally to my breasts and didn’t go further. Casually, he looked back at Leroy.

What the fuck? I smiled and nodded. But... I was embarrassed.

“I suppose...” I said. “I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite bar. But it’s nice.”

Jake turned his pale watery eyes on me.

“What do you like about it?”

“Uhm...” I wasn’t sure what to say. “The ambiance. The people. Just the feel of it...”

“The Men’s Room,” Leroy laughed.

Oh my god, I could have died on the spot. I could have just expired and sunk right through the floor. Jake merely nodded and glanced at me. Leroy caught my expression, and patted my knee, his hand moving up my thigh. My legs snapped shut.

“Oh come on, Kayley,” he said. “It’s just a joke. Relax. We’re all friends here. Right?”

He smiled at me, all friendly and guileless.

“Relax,” he said. “No one here knows you from anywhere else. That’s why you came here. It’s like that saying - What happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas. Nothing that happens here touches anything else in your life.”

“I suppose,” he was right. I still was a little thrown that he was saying it in front of Jake.

“No judgment here. A lot of guys watched you go into the men’s room. The only thing they thought was, they wished they were the lucky bastards.”

Oh geez. I couldn’t stop blushing. I mean, I supposed it was all true. But, I felt really put on the spot with Jake here.

“You too,” I asked Jake.

He nodded.

“You were easy on the eyes,” he said. “If you want to have a little fun, that’s your business. No one was judging.”

Did they talk about me? Did Leroy tell them what happened? Did Derek? Or did they just speculate? What did they say? How much did they know? These questions were burning inside, eating me up. I wanted to interrogate Jake, not entirely trusting Leroy. But I was too embarrassed to ask.

And to add to my discomfort, Leroy had managed to ease my thighs apart and had his hand all the way up to my skirt, something I noticed when Jake glanced down. At least he hadn’t gotten under it. Trying to be casual, I lifted Leroy’s hand from inside my thigh, put my knees together and straightened my skirt.

“Jake’s an admirer,” Leroy told me. “He’s a big fan. He’s admired you from afar. We’ve discussed you.”

“Yeah,” Jake said truculently. He seemed a little embarrassed himself.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s nice.”

Ease the fuck up, Leroy, I thought.

“I actually promised I’d introduce you, the next time you came by. Being a big fan and all, he really wanted to meet you, but he’s a little shy.”

He actually reached over and grabbed Jake’s hand, placing it on my other thigh, just above the knee and below the skirt. I stiffened and Jake swiftly withdrew his hand.

Jesus Fuck! What was wrong with him?

“Sorry,” Jake said.

I was blushing four kinds of hot.

“It’s okay,” I told him. I hissed at Leroy. “Cut it out. Just cut it the fuck out.”

Leroy held up his hands.

“It’s okay, relax. I’ll go get us drinks, okay? You two get to know each other.”

He went up to the bar. Jesus. It was like he was intent on derailing my whole night. I could understand him wanting to drag me off somewhere and fuck me. I was kind of into that. Or maybe just bar hopping and hanging out. But, what the fuck was he doing having us sit with Gigantor? What the fuck was that about?

Yeah, I knew. I was supposed to fuck Jake, I supposed. It was pretty fucking obvious what Leroy was doing.

Well, screw that.

“I’m sorry,” I told Jake, “Leroy’s being a jerk. I’m sorry you got dragged in.”

“It’s okay,” Jake said. “I know how he is.”

That made me feel a little better.

“Are you guys friends?”

He shrugged.

“He’s right about one thing though,” he said, “I am shy...”

He paused.

“And I did want to meet you. I did say so, and he promised to introduce us.”

Technically, that was two things. But his admission of shyness disarmed me a little, it made him seem more harmless, more approachable. I sort of smiled.

“Why?” I asked. “There’s nothing special about me.”

Apart from the fact that he’d watched me come in looking like a slut and drag a couple of different men into the bathroom to fuck. Yeah, buster, just say any of that the wrong way and I was so out of here.

He shrugged.

“You seemed like such a free spirit,” he said. “Just doing what you want. Everyone is so inhibited, we’re all tied down in life. Obligations. Consequences. It’s nice to just see someone who flies free.”

That surprised me a little, and being unexpected, I warmed to him.

“I don’t know if I’m a free spirit,” I said. “I’ve got the same ties everyone else has. A job, family and bills. I think I’d like to be. I try. But it’s hard to be bold.”

“Yeah,” he said, “It is. I suppose. But, when I’d see you in the bar, you always seemed fearless.”

I laughed.

“Foolish, maybe,” I said. “Maybe you’re mistaking bad judgment for flying free?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think you should regret anything. Being able to do it, fly free, that’s got to be amazing.”

“You know,” I said, “It’s been driving me crazy. Have we met before? You give me this really weird feeling of deja vu, like I’m certain I know you from somewhere, but I can’t remember.”

“Back again,” Leroy announced, sitting down. He passed me a glass of red. One thing about this place, they only had the one red wine, but it was actually a pretty decent cabernet. I picked up the glass.

“Hey,” I said to Leroy, “You didn’t roofie this, did you?”

He held up his hands.

“Since when have I ever had to roofie you?”

I laughed involuntarily. What a dick thing to say! He was practically calling me a slut that’s addicted to his cock, with very poor powers of resistance. It was a jerk thing, but also kind of a funny jerk thing.

“If he had,” Jake said. “I’d have slapped the shit out of him. There are some things you don’t do.”

I took a deep swallow. Fuck it tasted good. No aftertaste of weird chemical adulterations. I supposed I’d know if I woke up the next morning on a pool table or park bench with a river of semen running out of me. Which might be a hot little fantasy when I’m alone in the dark with a vibrator, but even the hint of real life is totally squick.

“And points awarded to Jake,” I announced, “For being a gentleman. No points to Leroy.”

I took Jake’s hand and placed it on my bare thigh, where Leroy had put it. He just let it lie there. I smirked at Leroy. How do you like it?

“I dunno,” I told Leroy. “Keep it up, you might not be getting any tonight.”

I smiled at Jake. “After all, I have an admirer.”

Leroy shrugged, and drank his beer.

“I guess I better be good then,” he said. “Or extra bad.”

I smirked.

“Oh shit,” Leroy said. “Jake, I’m sorry, I forgot to get yours.”

“No problem,” Jake replied. His hand came off my knee. “I’ll just go up.”

The big man lifted up with the ponderous weight of an aircraft carrier making a turn.

“Come back soon,” I said smiling.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

“I couldn’t stay away from you.”

I touched the hand just before it slid off my shoulder. Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Leroy and said, “What the fuck?”

“I thought you’d be up for a little fun,” he smiled. “After all, this is the bar where you like to have fun. Think of it as another adventure. This isn’t anything you haven’t already done and enjoyed.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

I was stuck for a second. Because I chose? I’d just gone with guys that hit on me. Because he was choosing? Sam had basically been about giving me permission, he wasn’t pushing me to do it, and he wasn’t choosing the men, or making the final decision.

“Sam’s not here,” I said. I already knew his response.

“But I am,” he grinned. “You trust me don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You can open your phone for me,” he said, “Like with Sam. I could listen, just to keep you safe. I promise not to get off on it, I’m not a cuck.”

“No thanks,” I said. And stop acting like a jerk, I mentally ordered.

“We can phone up Sam,” he said. “He can listen in. Will that make it hot for you?”

“No!!!” Jesus Christ, No! I thought. Leroy chuckled, enjoying himself. What an ass.

“I bet Sam would love it,” he sniggered. “What do you think? Would it make him hard? Think of it as a warm up for the next session.”

“Leave Sam out of it!” I snapped.

He shrugged.

“Anyway, you owe me,” he said.

For not throwing my bra out the window, I was supposed to repay him by fucking a stranger? What the living fuck, dude?

“Come on,” he said, “Stop being a bitch. When we were on our way here, you knew you were going to get fucked. You were up for it. You let me take your panties, you showed your pussy to the driver. You’re fucking wet right now. The only thing that’s different is who...”

I squirmed in my seat. The fucker was right. I was horny.

“Don’t worry,” he promised. “I’ll take care of that pussy after.”

Oh, you evil fucker, I thought to myself. You bastard. You sneak. You wretched excuse for a human being.

“Promise?” I asked.

Jake was on his way back with his beer.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He should swear on his dick. He had no heart, and I’d kill him.

“Okay,” I said, feeling my pussy clench and a smooth wet rush between my legs as I surrendered. My stomach was completely full of butterflies, and I could feel myself blushing.

Fuck, I thought, I’m such a slut. How do I get myself into these things?

Jake sat down casually, putting his beer on the table. His hand reached over, possessively wrapping around the inside of my thigh. It gave me shivers.

This was sort of a variation of the things I’d done with Sam backing me up, I thought. It’s just musical chairs. Leroy’s doing Sam’s role. And we’ve got a new candidate. Was it really that different? And if it wasn’t that different, then did that mean it wasn’t so bad?

Doable?

Jesus, Kayley! Get a grip. This is not the same thing. You are not going to let Leroy pimp you out for an adventure. What the fuck was I thinking?

But, before I went all the way, we’d flirt just a little more. I was flirting now with Jake, partially to annoy Leroy. Flirting was safe. And Jake seemed nice, he had that big lumbering quality that just screamed safe and harmless. I mean, there were guys here I wouldn’t flirt with, even with a can of bear spray at the ready. But Jake?

What the hell. Where are the boundaries here?

“Hey there,” he said. “Did I miss anything?”

“We were just talking about you,” Leroy said.

“Good I hope,” Jake said.

“All good,” I offered.

“You and Kayley have a lot in common,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Kayley likes her men hung,” he said.

Oh fuck, I found myself blushing, could this get any worse? That was way over the line.

“And you like girls who don’t wear panties,” Leroy continued.

Yes, it had gotten worse.

“You guys!” I said. “You’re being gross! Cut it out!”

Leroy slid his hand along my other thigh, slipping to the inner thigh and pulling gently. I wanted to slap him. But my pussy was wet, I was jangly, and yeah, at some point we were going to fuck. So, it was sort of okay he was publicly staking his claim. Kind of hot.

“Oh don’t worry, Kayley,” he said. “We’re just having a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “I know what your idea of fun is. Torturing me!”

I looked down, I had two hands on my inner thighs just below my skirt, gently prying my legs apart. I looked down pointedly.

“So, is one of you going to make a wish?” I asked.

“I know what I’m wishing for,” Jake said, pulling my thigh wider. My skirt rode up.

“Guys!” I whined, squirming. Jake’s hand moved up my thigh. So did Leroy’s.

“Guys!!!” I whined, sort of both excited and flustered.

Jake touched my pussy, I could feel the back of his hand brushing up against my lips.

“Enough!” I pushed it away. I reached down and pushed both their hands off of me, then clamped my knees together. “We’re in a public place! Geez!”

“You’re right,” Jake said to Leroy. “No panties.”

“Guys!” I warned.

“I bet she was pretty wet too,” Leroy said.

“Guys!” I meant it. “Can you at least whisper?”

“Oh yeah,” he said.

“Guys!” That was it. I gave up and folded my arms.

“Nipples are just poking through her sweater,” Leroy said.

“I noticed.”

“How old is she?”

“I’m twenty-four,” I snapped. “Also, I’m in the room.”

“Is she clean?” Jake asked.

I had this overpowering sense of deja vu, for a moment, I felt distracted.

“I’m sitting right here,” I said, a little offended.

“Oh yeah,” Leroy said. “Just tested, absolutely clean. You can wear a condom, or not, up to you.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

I looked up at the ceiling.

“Yep,” I said loudly, staring upwards. “Just me. Sitting riiiigghhhttt here. Minding my own business. I suppose if someone was curious about me, they could ask me the questions.”

I glanced at Jake.

“Are you absolutely sure we’ve never met? I really feel like I know you. Or I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“Kayley,” Leroy whispered, his hand sliding up my thigh. I tried not to moan as my legs parted involuntarily. Goddamn that man. “I think you should take care of Jake.”

I looked over at Jake. There was that sense of deja vu again, like I’d heard those exact words, had been here before.

“Why don’t you take him to the men’s room and help him out. He needs some relief.”

Leroy hadn’t touched my pussy, but I was wet and tingly. I felt like things were out of control, not in a bad way, but in a kind of drifting rudderless way, like I was caught up in a current. Ever since the moment that Leroy had pulled my hair back and tongued me in front of my startled friends, it had felt like events had slipped beyond my grasp. I was caught up in a sensual current of building eroticism, of intensifying sexuality. And my efforts at control kept being futile.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Leroy asked. Underneath his casual smile, his eyes were glittering and humourless. He patted my leg, and somehow, it wasn’t just a pat. He took my arm, and when he did, he squeezed just a little, but there was steel in it.

There was something more. Under Leroy’s genial playful exterior, there was something else, something chilling.

“I told Jake all about you,” he said, with a smile that wasn’t a smile. “Are you going to embarrass me?”

“Sorry,” I said aimlessly. “Well, uhm, it’s not about embarrassment. It’s just this is kind of fast. Like a surprise and stuff.”

He leaned over to whisper in my ear.

“Kayley,” he said, “You’ve fucked strangers in this bar. You’re horny as fuck, everyone can see your nipples. Jake’s a nice guy. Just do it. Do it for me, because I’m asking. If you don’t like it, I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

I would have let Leroy take me there in a heartbeat, he’d proven over and over again his ability to unstring me. I was willing to be fucked in the bathroom. I've done it how many times already? Jake didn't turn me on, but I was already turned on, already wet, already simmering in a stew of my own arousal. So, if Leroy wanted me to fuck Jake, why not?

Why not fuck Jake in the bathroom? Suddenly, I couldn’t find a good reason to say no. And there was this deja vu, almost like I’d already done it. Almost like I was caught up in a current and had to go all the way, see it through.

“Okay,” I whispered, surrendering.

“Good girl,” Leroy told me, clearly pleased. I felt oddly happy with the compliment, like a dog patted on the head.

It occurred to me that if I walked down that bar with Jake, walked down that short hallway to the Men’s Room, every pair of male eyes might be watching me, would know exactly what I was doing and where I was going, and what would be happening there.

They’d know I was going to get fucked. And when I came out, they’d know I’d been fucked, that I’d willingly spread my legs and been used, again. That a complete stranger had just shoved his cock up inside me and blown his load, again.

The thought made my heart race. I could feel my insides twist, almost like my womb was pulling up inside me, as my pussy clenched, and suddenly, I was really really wet.

What was it that turned me on? The humiliation? The idea that every man here knew I was a slut. That literally any of them could have had me, with a little luck or timing?

I was very close to a public commodity.

I picked up my phone quickly. “Gotta send a text,” I mumbled, and then dropped it in my purse. Who was I going to text? I didn’t know what to do. Stalling for time. Why not get it over with?

Jake reached into his pocket.

“Hey,” he said to Leroy, “I just remembered, I owed you for that ,,, thing.”

He pulled out his wallet and fished out a series of bills, tens and twenties, which he passed to Leroy.

“Don’t worry,” Leroy said, counting and shoving into his pocket. “I would have reminded you.”

“We square?”

“Yeah,” Leroy turned to smirk directly at me. “All paid up.”

What was that? It couldn’t be. I decided to ignore it and just barrel through. Taking Jake’s huge hand in mine, I smiled at him because he struck me as a genuinely nice guy, bland but nice, and whispered, “Let’s go.”

As he stood up, I got my first glimpse of the shape pressing against his loose fitting pants. My eyes widened slightly. I blushed and looked away.

Leroy had said he was hung.

“I just want you to know,” I told Jake, “I’m not some slut that does it with everyone. I only did it here with two guys, Leroy mostly and one other.”

“Three,” Leroy corrected.

What?

“No two,” I insisted. Then I remembered Sam. But Sam was different. But yeah, technically, he’d done me in the bathroom. “Okay, no. Three.”

“Four now,” Leroy smirked.

Fuck, I can’t even keep score. This is just getting worse and worse. Way to go, Kayley.

We walked quietly to the washrooms. I tried to get him into the Women’s Washroom, which was cleaner at least. He balked.

“It’s women only,” he said.

I rolled my eyes.

“So? We’re not supposed to be doing what we’re going to do, either. It’s cleaner in there.”

“I’m not going in there,” he insisted.

Like what, he’d get cooties? Fucking men, geez.

We walked into the Men’s room. There was a guy at the urinal. We waited. He turned around, looking over his shoulder, and saw me.

“Hey Kayley,” he said casually. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

I had no idea who he was. Very slowly, I blushed from the top of my hair all the way down to my toes.

“Okay,” I said.

“We’ll wait,” Jake said.

This was so awkward. I cast my eyes around, finding it hard to look at him. Picking out details of the Men’s Room I’d overlooked, or perhaps blotted out of my mind, on previous visits. Apparently, the word hygiene meant something completely different to men. Good to know.

He kept peeing as I waited for the ground to swallow me up from embarrassment. It didn’t. He kept peeing. And peeing.

It wasn’t so bad, I told myself. Twenty minutes with a flamethrower would spruce things right up.

Then he stopped, fixed what appeared to be the most complicated pants in the world, given the time he took. Then he washed his hands. Then he dried them.

“See you, Jake,” he said. “See you, Kayley. Have fun.” And walked past us.

“I have no idea who that was,” I told Jake.

“Neil.”

That didn’t make me feel less embarrassed.

But, now that Neil was gone, it was a little easier. It was true what Leroy had said. I was a slut legend around here. Or a sex goddess, depending on how you looked at it. There was a wanton power in that, which was kind of exciting.

I kind of hung there, mixed feelings of embarrassment and...excitement.

I wished Sam was here, listening on an open line. With Sam, I could be confident, I could be a goddess, knowing that he supported me, admired, backed me every step of the way. Hell, even having Leroy on an open line would be something.

But it was just me.

I turned to Jake, and said the first thing popped into my head.

“Do you come here often?”

And wanted to die. Oh my god.

Jake chuckled, as if I’d said something hip and clever and ironic. Yeah, okay, let’s go with that.

What do you say in these situations? With Derek and Leroy, we’d practically been in heat going in. There’d been no waiting, and no idiot at the urinal forcing us to wait. I cast about desperately. I spied a wedding ring. Oh shit. I was going to fuck a married man. This was horrible, I needed to start checking first. Maybe he was widowed, or divorced.

“You’re married?” I asked.

“Yeah, twenty years. Still going strong.”

“Cool.” Here’s me: The worst person in the world! Should I mention I was married too. No, awkward if he started asking questions.

“Kids?”

“Four.”

“Nice.”

Family man. Was I doing something wrong? Making him break his vows? Was this a special thing, just for me? Or did he do stuff like this regularly? Did I want to know? Probably not.

“You have nice breasts,” he said. “Nice nipples.”

“Thanks.”

“Are your breasts real?”

I wasn’t sure if that was rude. I decided not to be offended.

“They’re real,” I said. Something more was needed. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, please.”

I lifted my top exposing them. Then just took it off completely. While he was looking at them, I looked around for someplace not horrible to put it, then hung it off the stall door.

“Can I touch them?” he asked.

His hands reached for my breasts, as I backed against the toilet stall door, leaning against it. He was playing with the nipples, as I looked down on them, watching his huge hands. Seriously, his hand could cover my entire breast.

He lifted my skirt, exposing my pussy.

"Are you shaved?" He asked.

"Yes," I said. "Do you want to touch it?"

I unzipped the skirt and slid it down, not quite allowing it to touch the floor. I turned and draped it over the stall door. I was amazed at how casual I was. How long ago had been the first time with Leroy? I’d been so nervous, almost frantic. Derek had been a ridiculously awkward hasty venture. Sam was right, we’d changed so much.

I turned back and guided his hand between my legs.

“Gently,” I warned him. “Light touch, very gentle, very light.”

I felt like he was going to go there anyway, but at least this way, I had some control, rather than him just pawing me. Would he feel the slickness between my lips and be repulsed by the thought of touching it. Would he even know what it was?

"You're really wet," he whispered, as I guided his hand up and down gently over my pussy. Okay, he couldn’t tell the difference. His free hand fondled my breasts.

I reached for his pants, stroking his erection through his trousers. Fuck, he was big. Not stupid big. But big. Well endowed.

“I had some fun earlier,” I said, “I got really worked up.”

Throw him a bone, I thought.

I didn’t want him to feel bad.

“But, what you’re doing right now, is working me up too.”

“With Leroy?” He asked.

“Sort of.”

"You're gorgeous," he told me. "Your body is amazing."

Again, I had this crazy sense of deja vu, that I’d stood in this exact spot, with this exact man, and he’d said these words before. This had all happened before. Except it hadn’t, obviously.

“You’re big,” I replied. And then I snorted, trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You’re so tall! How tall are you? Six Four?”

“Six five,” he replied, “And a half, but taller in shoes.”

“Wow,” I said sincerely, “And hung,” as an afterthought.

As I said: He was big, but not stupid big. Not ridiculously big. Just Porn Star big. Bigger than anyone I’d ever been with, or seen in the Booths. Impressive, but not terrifyingly traumatic.

But really, what got me was how gloriously much of him there was. He was so tall, and he kind of spread out in all directions. His hands were these big paddles with fingers, his arms were almost as long as my legs. I could probably put both feet in one of his shoes. If I put my arms round him, they wouldn’t go all the way. There was something arresting and amazing about his sheer physical presence. It wasn’t even particularly sexual, not excessively, it was just... fascinating.

He wasn’t some ripped bodybuilder. He was kind of awkward, a bit padded, but that added to his humanity, it made him more fascinating, more real. His body, as broad and tall and massive, wasn't some idealized form. He was just a man. He was beautiful.

I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to get this man naked, I’d take it, just so I could explore every inch of him, fully appreciating the sheer human massiveness of his body.

Wait, he’s married. Oh fuck, well scratch that. This would be one and done.

“Can I unbutton your shirt a little,” I said, giving in to temptation. “I just want to touch you.”

He looked puzzled, like he couldn’t imagine why. And for just a second, I felt this moment of empathy, like it had been so long since anyone looked at him or touched him as a sensual being, he couldn’t even imagine anyone seeing him that way. I gave him my kindest smile, and worked my way down three or four buttons.

He was wearing an undershirt.

Damn it! What a giant fucking rip off!

I unbuttoned it the rest of the way, just so I wouldn’t look stupid. But, I was really disappointed. I reached down and unzipped him. His cock fell out.

It was the biggest cock I’d ever seen in person. Not stupid crazy big. But, big enough. Porn star size, a thick tube of uncircumcised flesh in my hands. I should have figured, the rest of him was kind of huge in all directions. He was so tall and his cock was so big it was practically tapping my breastbone, it was mind blowing how physically overwhelming he was.

He was hard, mostly, he was rigid, or the core was rigid, but the outer part, like maybe half an inch, was spongy. The skin felt a little loose. I’d come across cocks like this in the booths, just not so big.

I smiled at it, I couldn’t help it. Men are beautiful.

“Can you suck it,” he said, “To start me off.”

Somehow I wasn't surprised. He was so tall and it was so long he was practically there. If he was a few inches taller, I could blow him standing up. Well, not really, but seriously, his size distorted everything.

"All right," I said. "So, blow job. Come on in."

I opened the toilet stall door, and backed in, sitting on the toilet. He followed me in. I reached for his cock.

"Not like that," he said, pulling away.

"What?" I was honestly puzzled.

"Not sitting on the toilet," he said. "That's a gross way to give a blow job. It's not hygienic."

"Oh."

"You should be on your knees. When women suck cocks, they should always be kneeling."

Who the fuck made up that rule? What the hell? I looked down.

“The floor is really gross.”

“Still. That’s the proper way. You can wash your knees,” he said.

Was he for real?

“And those hard tiles are going to mess with my knees,” I complained. “I don’t want to kneel on them. They’ll hurt.”

That got him.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Good point. You should have something to pad it.”

Like what? I thought. I didn’t see newspapers or foam rubber pads or anything. Was there a cupboard?

Jake handed me my sweater and skirt. He expected me to kneel on my expensive angora sweater? At this point, I realized I was a small petite naked girl who had already agreed to sex, and he was a six foot five inch behemoth. I mean sure, he was harmless. I felt safe with him. But when a giant hands you your sweater to kneel on... you kneel on it.

“Thanks,” I said, bundling it and getting down on my knees.

Jake reached for my head, placing one hand on the back, and then moving it to the side as he placed his second hand. The grip wasn't tight though, and he didn't thrust into my mouth. He let me open wide and take it in, as he guided my head back and forth.

It was so big there wasn’t really anything to do with it. There was no teasing, no exotic tricks with my tongue. He just put his cock in my mouth, and I did my best to suck it, bobbing my head back and forth, squeezing it between my lips, and trying to slurp it with my tongue.

After a minute, he took his hands off and grabbed the tops of the stall walls, almost suspending himself. I kept bobbing, one hand gripping the base of his shaft, the other playing with his balls.

"That's really good," he whispered. "You're a really good cock sucker, I can tell. Girls who love to suck cocks, you can tell the difference. I'd love to come in your mouth sometime. I bet you swallow."

The door opened.

“Busy,” Jake said sternly.

“Oh, hey Jake,” someone said. I didn’t see them, they were blocked by the stall door. “I just need to pee. Two minutes.”

“I said busy,” Jake repeated.

“Just two-”

“Busy! Use the other restroom!” he bellowed.

Silence. The Men’s Room door closed. Jake looked down at me.

“Sorry about that.”

I looked up from my knees, my lips distended around his erection. I tried to make agreeing noises in my throat. Actually, I did like sucking cock, the right cock. But this was...uninspired. Not awful or unpleasant, just kind of nothing. But, he seemed to like it. I guess this was his idea of a great blow job. As a general rule, I’ve found the bigger a cock, the less you can do in terms of creative, inspired oral sex.

"Okay, that's enough," he said. "I want to fuck you now."

"All right." I pulled off, I was still wet, so I thought it would be okay. "Then come and fuck me with that big cock of yours, I need a good fucking."

I like talking dirty, and with that thought came another deja vu flash. I ignored it. God, I must be getting repetitive, saying it over and over. I smiled and bent over the toilet bracing myself with my forearms on the toilet tank. I arched my back and swung my hips seductively.

"This pussy is so wet," I husked. "Waiting for you."

He pushed it inside me. I wasn't as crazy wet as I'd been with Leroy, so he felt bigger, and because he was so much taller, his cock, when it went in me, angled down in a way that was surprisingly, intensely pleasurable.

"Fuck!" I cried out. "That cock feels good!"

It wasn't quite acting, it really did feel good, and I really was surprised. As fucked up as the situation was, I was wet, his cock was hard, and there was something bizarre and exciting.

"Your pussy feels really tight."

"Oh yeah," I agreed. "Now fuck it, fuck my tight little pussy with that big hard cock!"

But he was already thrusting hard, his hands on my hips, plunging deep and down with every push. I moaned in genuine pleasure, feeling my heart racing, my knees trembling. My arousal built with each thrust. My breasts swayed back and forth. His fingers dug into my hips.

The sheer size of his body was overpowering, and despite my efforts, my face was mashed up against the back wall with the force of each thrust, making me use my arms to cushion myself. I felt almost like a bug hitting a windshield, going splat.

Then he stopped, after only a dozen or so thrusts still buried in me. He was grunting as he pulled out.

"What's wrong?"

"I don’t like this way. I like I to see you when I fuck you."

He turned me around, pushing me back gently, until my ass was up on the toilet tank. I felt cool porcelain on my butt.

"Hold on," he said.

He reached down, hooking an elbow under one knee and lifted. I grunted, just for a moment, I felt like a wishbone. I could feel my pussy suddenly gaping wide. Then he got his other elbow under my other knee, and suddenly I was literally suspended, ass perched on the toilet tank, practically bent double. He pulled my hips forward, until they were literally at the edge of the lid, and moved his hips forward, straddling the toilet bowl.

"Holy shit!" I was astonished.

This is what sex with really big guys is like I guess. They literally can pick you up and turn you into a human pretzel. It was exciting and disorienting. Suddenly, I couldn't move, my knees were up in the air, hooked over his elbows, my feet were dangling, I was spread wide open, so I could feel myself gaping between my legs. My pussy was wide open and presented for mounting.

With one surge of his hips, he thrust up into me, bottoming out, and making me cry out with breathless pleasure. He grunted as he pumped up into me.

“Oh fuck,” I groaned. I’d never felt so full, I felt stretched, opened, vividly aware of how far up inside me he was, of the uncomfortable pressure of his cock head on my cervix.

Pinning me against the wall, I could feel him pulling back almost half way. It felt like my insides were collapsing inwards as he withdrew. Then he thrust up, all the way in, filling me all over again, my eyes bulged and I went red in the face, wincing as he smashed past my cervix again and again, relentlessly.

“Oh shit!” I grunted, with his thrust. Then “Ohhh,” as he withdrew, and “Oh shit!” It became a litany as he started to fuck me like that, pinned like a butterfly, contorted like a pretzel, utterly helpless, my cunt a sleeve for his massive cock. “Ohhh...Oh shit! Ohh...Oh shit! Ohh…Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

There was something disorienting about it, being hammered inside out. He felt so fucking big, and every time he thrust, it pushed my lungs out, and I never quite refilled them on the down stroke, until I was gasping desperately for air on each thrust.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned. "Oh fuck! Your cock feels so big."

With each thrust, I could feel my whole body rock and lift as he rammed up into me. My shoulders and head were slammed against the wall behind me. His cock fell out, and he just pulled back and rammed in again, making me cry out.

"Oh fuck," I grunted. He was fucking me so hard it was almost hard to breath. I kept trying to time my breaths to his rapid thrusts, panting at a dizzying rate. But, he kept knocking the breath out of me.

Jake was barreling towards orgasm, I could feel the heat bursting off his body as his frenzied pounding ramped up. His cock felt bigger in me, hotter, harder.

"Yes," I cried my own orgasm closing in. "Fuck. Fuck me. Come in me. I need--"

Then it hit him, I practically saw his eyes roll up. Suddenly, he was pushing into me like a freight train, all his weight and muscle flattening me against the wall, contorting me even further, as his cock swelled and shot rope after rope of viscous semen up inside me. Teeth clenched, his face a rictus of contorted muscle, made this roaring noise in his throat, pumping into me with spastic jerks, trying to achieve a few more millimeters of penetration.

Finally, he relaxed, but he didn't let go. He held me in place as he panted and came down, our bodies jammed together so hard, I couldn't even get my fingers in to reach my clit if I wanted to.

My orgasm had been so close. Now it hovered, dissolving slowly into this sort of wet generalized arousal, a pressing mindless need to be fucked, even after the hard cock inside me, slowly softened and shrank with each tick of a second.

"Oh fuck," he whispered, relaxing finally. "You're a good whore. You're a real piece of ass. Fuck. Good cocksucker, tight pussy, hot bod, clean. Worth it. Any time you're around, I'm going to have you again."

There it was. Leroy’s insistence. Money changing hands right in front of me. I’d refused to think about it, but now I know. The knowledge merged with the erotic haze of his cock and semen in me, my own orgasm so close but not quite there, a sexual frustration and need unfilled and now the dirty knowledge. I wasn’t here to come, I was here to be used. I forced my fingers between us, stroking my clitoris roughly, pushing past, hooking fingers in my pussy and grinding my palm.

“Say it again,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Say I’m a good whore,” I hissed.

“Fuck,” he said, “You’re a great whore, better than most of the girls on the street. Nice fucking tits. Hot body. Pretty. Best I’ve had in a while.”

Oh god, I was so fucking close.

“Tight?” I demanded, my voice almost a whine.

“Oh fuck, yes. Tight wet cunt. No attitude like some whores. You just spread and take it like you love it. Fantastic whore. Fuck, I’d pay double. I’d pick you off the street any time.”

The orgasm came over me rolling like a tidal wave, capped with a foam of self loathing, carrying with it a filthy mess of dark emotions and thoughts, angst, self hatred, betrayal, depraved lust and worst of all an exultation that this was really who I was now, and I was where I belonged.

He grunted oblivious, lowering me. I felt my weight settle on the toilet tank lid. He sank down, sitting reverse cowgirl on the toilet seat, letting my knees lower, slipping his elbows from under. I felt very stretched out and cramped all at once. Up inside, I felt the sensation of his cum oozing rapidly inside me as my position shifted.

"Here," I said awkwardly, "Can you let me out?"

He backed away in the stall, and pulled up his pants, handing me my sweater and skirt which were now dirty and more mangled.

I felt jangly, I guess being contorted into a pretzel does that to you. It was like my limbs didn't feel right, my walk was loose and almost bouncy. My pussy, leaking cum again, felt funny.

“Well,” I said diplomatically, stretching awkwardly and recovering from pretzelness, “That was intense.”

"Can I take a picture?" he asked.

“Excuse me!”

“To show the guys in the bar, to prove I was here with you.”

I wasn’t sure if that made it worse or better. On the other hand, I was naked with a six foot five behemoth, so maybe it would be nice. Then I laughed at myself. This guy was a giant teddy bear. He might turn me into a pretzel, fucking me, but he wasn’t scary. I even kind of liked him.

And I was in a weird, jangly mood. Freshly fucked, it kind of throws you a little. I’d had an orgasm, barely but it was there, so I was sort of feeling well disposed to him, and open. You know how it is when you come, and you just feel nicer and more receptive to things.

I chewed my lip.

“Just one picture?”

“Just one.”

“Uhm,” I said. “I suppose. I can put my clothes back on, and we can take it together.”

“I was thinking, just you, and naked?”

I laughed out loud. Men! Give them an inch, they’ll take a mile.

“I dunno.”

“Please.”

The thing was, I really wasn’t happy with Leroy cornering me into having sex with this guy. I didn’t like it and I didn’t feel good about it.

But weirdly, I kind of liked Jake. Not in love or anything, and not huge, we weren’t going to be best friends. But, I felt affection for him. Maybe it was the orgasm or something. I was cranky that Leroy had pushed me. But, what Jake was asking was coming from him, not from Leroy. In some indefinable way, doing it would be a ‘fuck you Leroy’ kind of move.

And hell, I’d just given a live sex show in the back of a cab. I’d masturbated in front of a cab driver. Compared to that? This was phhttt.

Maybe I was a bit of an exhibitionist after all.

“Okay, sure,” I said. What the hell, right? Live a little. “But don’t text or email it to anyone, okay? It stays on your phone, period.”

“I understand,” he said. “I promise.”

“And make sure your wife never sees it!”

“All right,” I said, as he took out his smart phone. “Where do you want this?”

“Right there is fine.”

He held up his phone.

“A couple, just to make sure. I’ll keep the best and delete the others.”

“Fine,” I said, it made sense.

I cocked my hip, placing one hand on it, held up the other in a peace sign, and grinned.

“That’s good.”

Suddenly, I was curious.

“Let me look,” I said, stepping over to him. He turned the phone around, and we checked me out. I sucked air though my teeth, and then blew it out. Yikes.

“Holy shit! That’s bad,” I said. The lighting was just awful, stark and the angle of it made my skin tone look bluish, and put shadows on my face. I looked like a zombie crack ho. The image cut off part of the peace sign I was holding up making it look like I was giving the finger, and he’d cut my legs off at the knees.

Also, I looked fat.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I like it.”

The other two were even worse. I mean, holy shit!

Men!!!!

“No,” I said, taking charge because he was clearly hopeless. “Delete it! Delete them all! We’ll take a better one.

The Men’s Room wasn’t a big place for all the sex I’d had in here. A couple of toilet stalls, three urinals against one wall. A sink.

One sink.

Let that filter in. Men are pigs. Okay, technically, there were two sinks. But, one was out of order, and looked like it had been for some time. Men are still pigs.

But it was pretty clear that the lighting around the stalls was dire. And Jake’s approach to photography was the same as his approach to sex, point and shoot. No, I’m sorry, that was mean of me. Kind of true-ish though. So I needed to take charge.

I moved around the Men’s Room, looking for places where the light was more flattering and striking poses. Jake would take a few pictures in each spot, we’d talk poses, and then we’d try somewhere else. Jake’s idea of poses was along the lines of “spread your legs wide” and “Okay bend over, show us your butt hole.” I tried to be a little more creative. At one point I got on the broken sink and did a split beaver and scissored my legs, with this pained smile because I was worried the sink would collapse. We did the poses I found fun.

Then we turned the phone around, and went through about thirty pics. About twenty were just awful. We deleted those right away. About a dozen, mostly mine, like my ideas and my choices of poses, were kind of cool. We argued a little about those, but I had the last word.

In the end, we settled on three. There was one of me between two urinals, arms outstretched, one knee up and bent a little inward so you couldn’t see my pussy at all, grinning crazily, looking for all the world like I was doing a chorus girl number with toiletware. That was my favourite.

Then there was one of me leaning back against a tiled wall, one hand under my breasts, framing them, while I pretended to hold a cigarette in my other hand and gazed at the camera with Parisian detachment.

The last one was of me in the corner, one leg up with my heel hooked in the basin of the urinal, one hand pulling my pussy forward so it was on full graphic display, and I was giving a come hither smile. That was his favourite, because of course it was.

I let him keep those three and made him delete the rest.

Well, actually, I let him keep one more. It was a crotch shot, where I was holding my pussy lips wide open, and you could see his pearly semen oozing. But, you couldn’t see my face or anything identifying in there. Completely anonymous and generic. Literally, you could get ten thousand of the same thing off the internet.

“You’re really creative,” he told me. “You should have been an artist.”

I preened. This has been fun. Sexy fun, but not overwhelming. It was playful, sexy, not stressful, even kind of de-stressing. I liked that we had a bit of fun that Leroy didn’t own. I think we took as much time talking and taking pictures as we did fucking. Well, pretty close.

“Aw thanks,” I told him, while I was pulling on my skirt and angora, “You big galoot, bend down so I can give you a peck on the cheek!”

Peck duly delivered, I checked myself in the mirror, tidied up a bit, and tsk’d about the state of my Angora sweater. It had fallen off the stall door at some point, and apparently been stepped on. Angora collects dirt like you wouldn’t believe, and the floor near a public toilet...I sighed, barely wearable, for now.

Jake stood around watching, I half expected him to be out the door. Maybe he just liked looking at me. I wiggled my butt a little for him, not much, it was practically subliminal, and smiled into the mirror.

I realized I was dragging it out a little. I wasn’t sure how I felt about going out there. It felt like when I went out, every single man there would be looking at me, knowing I got fucked in a disgusting Men’s Room, knowing I was the biggest slut ever. That’s pretty intimidating.

But there was also a part that wanted to be bold, to look them in the eye, because I was an unstoppable sex goddess, and whatever shit they whispered back and forth, every single one would jerk off over me, and would give their left nut to have a chance, that I was their wet dream. And Leroy was out there, a mixture of hot sexiness, and wild kink, and bullshit, and he’d be smirking over sending me to fuck some guy like he’d won a prize. Sam wouldn’t smirk, Sam would cheer for me. So much uncertainty and bullshit out there. No wonder I lingered here.

Something occurred to me.

Turning away from the mirror, I asked casually, keeping any note of concern out of my voice, “Hey, just how much did you pay Leroy to have sex with me?”

“A hundred dollars,” he replied and shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I said. My makeup needed a touch up. I opened my purse, pulled out a compact, powdered a little, and fixed my lipstick.

Apparently I was a prostitute now, it seemed. I supposed Leroy found that funny. Probably laughed about it.

ANNOUNCEMENT AND TEASER

Hello Sweet Things. I have a few announcements.

First up, I decided that if I was going to raise my subscription, I should probably try and be a little more together on this. So I'm rearranging the site a bit here and there, hopefully to make things easier on people. So here goes.

First "Kayley and Sam" has been changed to "Slipping into Depravity." There are a couple of reasons. First, Kayley and Sam are real people, lots of Sams, lots of Kayleys, and at least some of them are married to each other. I went googling and found K&S married couples. I don't want to cause real people even accidental embarrassment. It's one thing to use the names in stories, but what if family members or friends google "Kayley and Sam" and this comes up... No way! To the real K & S couples out there, hello, and I hope you're totally in love and live happily ever after, and that you never meet a Leroy.

Also, when I originally started the series on Literotica, it was titled "Slipping into Depravity." I changed the title for Patreon. Why? How the hell do I know? I had no idea what I was doing back then. I think I was falling in love a little with my characters, so I wanted to use their names. I was just stumbling around. But now that I have a little experience, I realize its not good to make it hard for readers to find you from one location to another, so I'm trying to show a little consistency.

Also on "Slipping into Depravity" a 39 + chapter series could be really overwhelming for people coming in. They might look at that and think "Nope! That's a commitment! I want to jerk off, not buy house together."

So what I decided to do was break Depravity into a series of collections of about 8 to 10 chapters each. That's manageable for people and not too scary.

A lot of the series consists of 'mini-stories', 2 to 4 chapters long, as well as standalone chapters. So I introduced sub-heads to identify 'mini-stories' and where you were in them 'part two of three' that kind of thing. Hopefully, that will make it easier to find and navigate.

Then, I decided to add to the titles. Ch. 32 doesn't tell you much. But Ch. 32, Crushed like a Cuck Bug, is more intriguing, and better yet, more memorable. If someone wants to go back and find a particular chapter, that will make it easier.

I've added a special collection for "Slipping Into Darkness" commentary and annotations. Maybe people will find some of that interesting. Like where I reveal I've quoted a line from Dracula, or talk about Kayley's motivations, or give hints of this or that. Maybe people will like that, if they're into it, I should make it easy for them to find things.

In that vein, for most of the collections, I don't have to worry two much. They basically number themselves. So no problem.

Except for Memoirs, where I did four gangbang stories but didn't really show what order they take place in. So I fixed that. I suppose it doesn't matter what order people read them in. But maybe it helps? The big problem with Memoirs is that I'm just putting up stories randomly from my life. So while the Trains fit together, and the Jules/Alice/Phoenix all follow each other, what about losing my virginity, what about my crush on Neil, or running away to Minneapolis, or the Shit Game in high school. And if I put up stuff after Phoenix then there's no guarantee. This is just how I feel and what I feel like sharing. Anyway, haven't solved that problem.

I may change my picture. It's been pointed out to me that having my photo on site is not a great idea. I'll probably go with a cartoon version of me. Some younger, prettier, saucier four colour me. It's a shame though, I feel that I've really come a long way in opening up. When I was first on Patreon, reading Don Silver, or commenting on Literotica, I went with this ambiguous name that gave away nothing. I wouldn't even admit I was a woman when I made comments, I would just go "Huff huff, as a MAN with lots of testosterone, here's how I see Sarah's emotional dynamic and transference and how she feels she's flowering sexually." And other commenters would go, "You're a chick, right. You're totally a chick." And I'd go "NO WAY, I PEE STANDING UP AND MISS! GRUFF GRUFF." I remember, I drove my publisher write up the wall with my insistence on absolute privacy. Now he looks at me and just shakes his head. But I think changing my picture is sensible.

I notice Mr. Jakobs and a few others are using visuals and graphic images to flag their work. I like it, I'm not sure about it. On the one hand, it seems a bit intrusive and distracting. And on the other, I'm a little reluctant to do AI stuff. But I'm definitely thinking about it.

Inspired by Larry and Hannah, I've joined Discord. And I'm going to look at posting some of my content on other free erotica sites.

But mainly, right now, I want to focus on making this little Patreon as user friendly, as easy to navigate, and as inviting as possible. I've taken a look at what some other people do and picked up good ideas to copy, as well as bad ideas to avoid. I want a site where people who sign up can decide to hang around because there's so much that's enjoyable and they can access it easily.

FINALLY THE TEASER in the upcoming Chapter, you will meet someone you have met before. But the fact that you are meeting them has implications for the future arcs. You may even want to go back and find their previous appearance.

NEXT CHAPTER - SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY, Ch. 39 - dropping Thursday morning

Locked and loaded, ready to go. Just letting you know.

Bad News and Other Business...

Hello everyone. Well, let's rip the band-aid off. This month, I'm going to raise my monthly rate from seven dollars to twelve dollars.

It may be that for some of you, this will be too much and it's time to go elsewhere. If so, I'm saddened, but I will respect that decision.

I hope that for most of you, you'll decide that the talent, love and commitment I have shown you, the discipline of weekly postings, and the effort to keep things fresh, are all worth it.

I counted them up. I am currently at 67 chapters, with almost half of that being a monster of a story, and a bunch of single chapter or short stories of three to eight chapters, some completed, some ongoing, as well as personal meanderings and prospective ideas. That's well over 600,000 words. And I like to think that there are a lot of induced orgasms and erotic highs in those words. I feel that I've earned my place and shown my commitment.

Along the way, there have been ups and downs. I was in a disabling car accident which slowed me down. And then someone came back into my life who was very distracting, and I seem to have acquired a daughter. It hasn't been easy, but I've kept up the pace.

You may have noticed that I've set up a new series of Collections - the Depravity series. What I was feeling and finding, both on Literotica and here is that Slipping into Depravity (on Literotica) and Kayley and Sam (here) (same series), as it passed 25 to 38 chapters was just getting to massive to navigate. I feel that people were getting lost. So I've created a series of new collections breaking Kayley and Sam into smaller sub-collections "Men's Room Slut" "Cuckold Seduction" etc. I'm hoping that maybe this will help new readers navigate around. Opening up a collection with eight to ten chapters is (hopefully) a lot less intimidating than looking at thirty or forty and thinking 'should I even bother?'

I am very open, by the way, for any feedback or suggestions as to how I can make this Patreon page user friendly and easy to navigate, a pleasure to use. Looking around, I see some other people doing things, and they probably started the way I did... just stumbling forwards. But now they're thirty or forty chapters, and its a pain in the ass to navigate or find your way around. That's a problem. I want anyone who reads to have a great time, to find what they want easily, to find exploring rewarding. So... open to suggestions and ideas!

I'll be honest, I don't know how long I can carry this weekly pace. At some point it's going to catch up to me, and I'll have to go biweekly or less. I promise to never go less than monthly. And I promise to keep in touch with my audience. I don't want to be a creator who vanishes, leaving people in the lurch And I definitely promise never to phone it in - I want to be sexy, kinky, quirky and funny all the way.

I think at this point in my writing, I have enough confidence that I need to start reaching out to market and marketplace. I have a hundred subscribers. What should I be doing to build that audience? I believe I've proven myself in the consistency and quality. So what next? I know that some of you have already offered thoughts and ideas. I invite discussion. For instance, what is this thing called Discord, and how do I get on it, lol.

Finally, I want to say: Thank you. Seriously, maybe you're all degenerates and pervs, and sometimes someone crosses a boundary. But you're my degenerates and pervs, my kind of people, and I love you all silly-hard.

ALICE IN WANDERLAND, part one

The doe and the faun stepped out from between the trees, right onto the walking trail in front of Alice. She stopped motionless, holding her breath, not wanting to startle them. For a moment, they stood together on the paved path through the park. Sunlight filtered through the leaves gave them an almost luminous appearance.

For a moment, they stood there, blinking, as if deciding what to do next. The mother deer looked right at her, its ears flickered, without showing any concern at all. And then, as if deciding, the vanished off the trail, back into the woods.

Alice could breath again. It was the most beautiful think she’d ever seen. She was a city girl, and wild animals weren’t common there. She’d heard deer frequented the park, but it was still amazing to see a pair so close.

She waited a moment, just in case they came back. Hoping that they would come back. Their appearance had almost felt unreal.

When they didn’t, she unconsciously wiped her hand against her sun dress, just in case there was any semen left on her fingers, and walked down the path, smiling to herself.

What a strange day. What a marvelous day.

&&&

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself,” Alice replied pleasantly.

“Nice day?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded.

“Wanna toke?” he asked.

She thought about it.

“Sure, why not?”

Alice watched him as he took out a hand rolled joint, and lit it.

“Home grown,” he said. “Personal stock.”

He took a deep draft and passed it to her. She looked at it dubiously. Still, she thought, nobody ever actually got roofied from a reefer. Alice put it to her lips, inhaled and held it. She passed it back, exhaling slowly, letting a sense of vagueness and well being settle over.

They passed it back two or three times, before it was down to a small roach. He pursed his lip around it, clearly long practiced, and inhaled the last bit.

“That was nice,” he said.

She nodded. It was okay. Not the best, but all right. She could feel pleasant mild buzz. It lingered though. Sometimes it came on strong. This just left a pleasant lasting mellow.

“It’s nice to do nice things together,” he said. “Sharing.”

“Yes,” Alice said, noncommitally. She had the feeling he was working up to something.

“So are you just hanging around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I heard some stuff. I thought I’d take a look.”

He put his hand on Alice’s thigh, over her sun dress, not even looking at her. Just looking off into the distance.

Amber stared at him, then glanced at him. He was casual, pretending to pay no attention. Very carefully, she placed her hand on his pants.

“Can I kiss you,” he said, conversationally.

“No.”

He nodded,

“Want to fuck?”

“Mmm no.” Alice almost wanted to laugh. She wasn’t going to kiss him. She certainly wasn’t going to fuck. Who asks in that order? It seemed silly, comical.

“Suck my cock?”

“Nope!”

“Play with my cock?”

Alice thought about it.

She’s given hand jobs as a junior in high school. It had been exciting to have boys pull out their thing, and just let you touch it and play with it, learning to stroke it. All the girls in her circle had done them, it had been like a fad, like wearing poodle skirts, or hair ribbons, something to enthuse or talk about, before they all kind of lost interest. Ultimately, boys enjoyed them, but past the novelty, there was little for girls.

It felt like kids stuff.

“Okay.”

He unzipped his fly.

“Just reach in,” he invited.

Alice looked down at the open folds of his shorts, and reached in. He wasn’t wearing underwear. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. She found him easily, already half erect, his penis was warm and firm under her hand, the skin loose in her grasp, it was a little floppy.

She glanced at it, as she pulled it out. It was oddly featureless, pale pink, no veins or ridges, no trace of pubic hair, his scrotum had been velvet as her fingers hand brushed over it. The head was concealed by a large foreskin that covered it completely.

It was a cock without any identity at all, she thought. Like some sea cucumber, alive but undistinguished. Maybe that impression, she thought, was just the mild high

She squeezed it, feeling it become steadily harder, less floppy.

“That’s it,” he said tightly. She smiled at him.

She pulled back on his foreskin, the head of his cock poked into view, but the foreskin covered the arch. The exposed part felt moist. She slid the foreskin forwards, and concentrated on jerking his foreskin back and forth to masturbate him.

Alice looked around, smiling vaguely. There was a sense of unreality. Here she was, masturbating a complete stranger in public out in broad daylight. It was both sexy and not sexy in ways she found hard to describe. She didn’t mind doing it, and there was a sense of novelty and mischief, but at the same time, she wasn’t particularly aroused. It was just kind of ... fun. And... casual.

The day was nice, the trees were green, the air was fresh and she could hear birds singing, the sun felt pleasant on her skin, and she was ever so slightly high. There was no sense of danger or even unpleasantness. She was quite sure that this was the weirdest thing she’d ever done, the weirdest situation she’d ever been in.

It was kind of cool.

He moved suddenly, his hips lifting, he grunted heavily and kind of gave a half moan, his legs going stiff. His hand on her thigh clamped tight. She looked over, she’d almost lost track of him. His cock was violently rigid, every time she tugged his foreskin, she could feel it bumping over the corona. Then he ejaculated, not a spurt, but a sort of volcanic flow, all over her hand.

“Ah,” he said, “that was good. Thanks.”

Alice wasn’t sure of the etiquette for giving complete strangers handjobs in public parks.

“You’re welcome,” she tried.

He wiped himself off and put his shrinking penis away.

“Well,” he told her, pulling himself to his feet, “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Sure,” she said, and watched him leave.

Alice sat for a moment, reflecting on the experience. It had been weird and sort of cool, but in its own odd way, also vaguely disappointing.

He hadn’t actually done anything, just a hand on her thigh that didn’t move at all. He hadn’t tried to touch her breast, or any other part of her body, the hand on her thigh hand not slipped under her sun dress. Surely there should be some medium, some appropriate and enjoyable middle ground, between fucking or making out and just giving handjob.

She wiped her hand on her dress, trying to decide whether it had been a good experience or bad. Wondered about what she had expected, and what she’d found.

Alice waited for a few minutes, enjoying the residue of the mild buzz, and the simple quietness and warmth of the park bench, waiting for something else to happen.

When it didn’t, she got up and wandered down one of the paths.

That was when she saw the two deer.

&&&

“They just go in the park and have sex,” the girl said. “Right out in the open.”

Alice’s eyes flickered to the mirror, intrigued. She was doing a layered hair coloring, which was an exacting process. Her chair was close enough to the sitting area that she could hear the girl’s talking clearly. It helped that they made no particular effort to be quiet.

“Assembly Park?” her friend responded. “You’re kidding. There’s people and everything all over the place. There’s kids.”

“Well, not out in the wide open - open,” the girl amended. “There’s all these walking trails in the woods off the main park. It used to be just gay cruising, but now it’s like for everyone that just wants to have sex. It’s called ‘Dogging.’”

“With dogs? Yuck!”

In the mirror, Alice momentarily locked eyes with her client, wrapped in a plastic shawl, festooned with chemicals. The young woman looked back at her, an eyebrow lifted, she gave Alice a half smile. As if to say ‘that sounds pretty fucked up!’

Alice recovered and smiled back, giving a small shrug that said ‘You hear all kinds of crazy shit in this business, you just let it wash over and rinse it away.’ She settled back into her work, affecting a professional demeanor.

Inside, she was utterly fascinated.

“Why do they call it that? Dogging?”

“I don’t know, maybe it started with walking the dogs. Two people would be walking their dogs, and they’d see each other and they’d go, ‘let’s tie these dogs to a tree or something, and then go have sex in the bushes.’”

“Probably just an excuse to get out of the house. ‘Hi honey, going to walk that dog again!’”

“How are you doing, Leah?” the first girl called loudly to her friend in Alice’s chair.

“Just fine,” Leah replied, equally loudly. She addressed herself to Alice. “How much longer?”

“Another half an your,” Alice replied in normal tone.

“We’ll be another half hour,” Leah called to her friends, as if Alice hadn’t spoken at all.

Over in the waiting area, the two girls resumed talking with no trace of self-consciousness. As if Alice wasn’t there at all, as if she was invisible.

“How do you know this?”

“Courtney told me, you know her boyfriend Mark. He heard about it, and he talked her into going out there.”

“Shit! Did anything happen?”

“They saw an orgy!”

“No!”

When it was all finished, Leah and her friends departed. Alice settled into the chair she rented at the Salon. There was nothing to do but wait for the next client.

That was part of the downside of being a stylist, just waiting on people. Trying to schedule appointments, but often waiting, hoping for walk ins and foot traffic. Trying to be outgoing, make that connection with the client so that they not only liked your work, but liked you, and would keep coming back.

Sometimes it was good, she flew through the day, only to feel an emptiness when it was time to sweep up, and everyone was gone, all the conversations and human contact vanished away, leaving her hollow.

Sometimes it was exhausting, she felt invisible and unseen, trapped inside a robot going through the motions, saying the standard things.

Sometimes she thought about doing something else, finding another job. But she was good at this, she always paid her chair, and somehow, finding something else seemed like an effort.

Alice thought of the girl’s conversation. That had been intriguing. She pulled out her smartphone and searched ‘Dogging.’ The material online was scattered and disorganized. Apparently, it had begun in England in parking areas in the countryside. There were pictures of women being fondled in their cars. It all seemed more bizarre than sexy.

She searched the park. There was surprisingly little information. Bit by bit, she teased out hints. Yes, apparently, people really did go dogging at the park, mostly Mondays and Tuesdays. Why then? It started in the afternoon, but it was late in the evening that things heated up. But there was a maddening ambiguity to it, the comments and snippets of information were almost frustrating in their brevity.

These were people who went into a park and had sex with strangers that they met there. How did that work? What was it like? They had sex while other people watched. What did that feel like? Sex outdoors? Sex in daylight and fresh air with the sun on your bum?

The very idea of doing such a thing, of such an activity, seemed to explode with all sorts of ideas and possibilities.

But the actual online information seemed to be all about hours and parking, locations, avoiding raccoons, simple notations of this or that.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. She looked up, a late middle aged man had entered the salon. Balding, graying, he had tufts of ear hairs sprouting, and an awkward comb over. “Are you available.”

“Certainly,” Alice smiled at him. Time to go to work.

&&&

Alice pulled up into the parking lot. It was mostly empty, there was a scattering of cars here and there. This was an outskirts parking lot on the far edge of the park. It wasn’t even paved, just packed gravel.

According to the internet, it was dogging central. There’d been descriptions of women and men exposing themselves in their cars, people wandering from vehicle to vehicle to watch, or to touch if invited.

But except for one man sitting in his car, there was no one around. She’d taken care not to park near him. He wasn’t looking at her, and she made a point of not looking towards him.

Alice was wearing a light floral print sun dress with spaghetti straps. She wore no make up, no bra, but had red cotton panties, and carried a small purse with condoms, and a little yellow cannister of dog spray that looked like a highlighter.

On the car seat beside her, was a map of the park’s wilderness trails. Again, the internet told lurid tales.

For a few minutes, Alice sat in the car, thinking about chickening out and going home. She could feel her nervousness, the way her heart raced. Maybe pick up some sushi on the way, watch some Netflix. Just give up, and make it an afternoon and an evening like every single other day.

Fuck that, Alice thought.

She folded the map and put it in her purse. She stepped out of the car, locked the door, and displaying far more confidence than she felt, she walked across the lot, stepping onto the paved trail into the wilderness section of the park.

&&&

“Hello,” the man said smiling at her. He was late middle aged, overweight but not grossly so, balding. He wore cargo shorts and sandals.

He wasn’t alone, he was holding hands with a woman, curly dyed red hair, in better shape than the man, but about the same age. She wore a shapeless purple dress, off the shoulder, fastened just above her breasts. Alice could tell by the shape and curve through the fabric that she had generous breasts, no bra and hard nipples.

They were both smiling at her, but there was nothing scary in it. It was just a friendly, neutral smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“It’s a nice day,” the woman said, “are you just here for a walk?”

“Basically,” Alice said. “Yes.”

“We love walking,” the woman said. “I’m Elaine, this is Bill. We just enjoy coming here, the fresh air, the birds, the flowers. Sometimes you see wildlife.”

“Nice,” Alice said.

“You are?”

“Alice.”

“Do you came here a lot, Alice?” Elaine asked. “I don’t recall seeing you, and we’re here all the time.”

“First time,” Alice admitted. “I don’t come to the park very much. But someone said the trails were nice.”

Bill and Elaine glanced at each other. Elaine’s smile broadened.

“They are,” she said. “We’re just going for a walk around. Would you like to walk with us, we could chat.”

“We’re always open to making new friends,” Bill offered.

Alice regarded them warily, butterflies in her stomach. But they seemed harmless. She walked along with them. They held hands, she maintained a courteous distance, as they made small talk about their jobs and their lives.

At one point, a jogger came up behind them, and they parted to let them pass.

“You know,” Elaine offered, “we’re swingers.”

Alice nodded.

“I kind of figured.”

“The park is a very fun place for swingers.”

“I heard,” Alice said carefully.

“Is that why you’re here?” Elaine asked. “We’re not hitting on you. But we know our way around, so if you’re new or you have questions... we’d be happy to talk.”

Alice walked a few steps, thinking, before she settled on an answer.

“Okay,” she said. “Yes. I heard, so I thought I’d check it out. I don’t know that I want to do anything with anyone. Maybe I just wanted to see.”

Bill nodded.

“That’s fair,” he said. “If your new, it can be a pretty freaky scene. It was a good idea to come in the daytime. At night, it can get a little crazy.”

“Mondays and Tuesdays,” Elaine said. “Those are the days. Afternoons, evenings. Tuesday evenings are when it’s really jumping.”

“But you’re here now,” Alice pointed out.

They both laughed, but in a friendly way.

“We really actually do like to walk,” Elaine said.

“Five to ten kilometers a day,” Bill replied. “At our age, you move it or lose it.”

“We like this place,” she said. “It’s safe, it’s beautiful. We meet old friends here, memories.”

“We meet new people.”

“And have sex with them,” Alice blurted, and wanted to kick herself.

“Sometimes,” Bill said.

“Are you interested?” Elaine asked.

“Uhm,” Alice began.

“Not right now,” Bill said. “That’s cool. First time, you just want to check out the lay of the land.”

“Yes,” Alice said, relieved that they understood. “So what’s it like? I’m sorry. I don’t even know what questions to ask.”

“All right,” Elaine replied. “Well, we’ll try and lay it out for you.”

“First rule...” Bill began.

“First rule,” Elaine said. “I don’t know. Look but don’t touch?”

Bill nodded. “Good start.”

“It’s all about consent here,” Elaine said, “People come, it’s all out in the open. Generally, no one minds being watched. I guess you have to be a bit of an exhibitionist to be here.”

Bill laughed.

“So it’s okay to watch. Just don’t be an asshole. Don’t be rude, don’t make snide remarks. We’re all here to have a good time, don’t be cruel. And don’t be a prude. If you see someone masturbating, and you don’t like that, just go somewhere else.”

“Don’t touch anyone unless you’re invited,” Bill chipped in. “If you see someone, no matter what they’re doing, you don’t have the right to just help yourself. If you see people having sex, you can’t just jump in. You watch, you can ask politely. If they say yes, fine. If they say no, respect it.”

“That’s... hard to believe,” Alice said. “Everyone obeys the rules.”

“Mostly. Thing is, after a while, people get to know each other. New people, particularly ones with bad attitudes, they get noticed. There’s always going to be some asshole showing up. But either they learn the rules quick or they get run off.”

“We look out for each other,” Elaine said. “If you get in trouble, scream. Everyone comes running. If there’s shouting, even a loud argument, it draws a crowd.. It’s actually safer here during the night, than at daytime - more people to look out for you.”

“I don’t know,” Alice said. “I really don’t know about that. I don’t know anyone. I don’t think I’d feel safe at night.”

“You could come back with us Tuesday,” Elaine said. “We could introduce you around.”

“Don’t put pressure, Dear,” Bill said. “She’s shy. She needs to do things her own way.”

Alice was grateful for Bill’s intervention.

“I’m sorry, Dear,” Elaine said. “I’m just enthusiastic. I believe in the lifestyle.”

“That’s okay,” Alice said. “I don’t know if it’s for me, that’s all. I’m just looking around.”

“No problem.”

Alice nodded.

“So... What do people do?” she asked.

“Everything,” Elaine said. “As long as everything is safe and consensual. Nothing crazy, no violence.”

“We’ve witnessed a few floggings,” Bill said.

“But that’s not really violence. A little B&D or S&M, it happens. But none of the crazy stuff.”

“Oh!” Bill raised a finger. “No campfires.”

“What?” Alice asked.

“No campfires,” Bill repeated. “That’s the one big absolute rule. No campfires. There’s a few barbecue pits tucked away. Use those if you need to. But absolutely no campfires. If the Park staff doesn’t kick you out, the rest of us will. No one needs this place burning down.”

“Also,” Elaine said, “pick up after yourself.”

“Oh yeah,” Bill said. “Don’t leave used condoms laying around. They’re gross and unsanitary. Bud for the wildlife. Animals can end up eating them and dying. Be respectful. Don’t leave a mess. Have fun, but you know, pick up.”

It was the weirdest thing. Alice felt like she’d somehow turned a mysterious corner and stepped into a smokey the bear infomercial.

“You said Park staff,” she asked.

“Don’t worry about them,” Elaine said. “I mean, don’t have sex right in front of them...”

“Well....” averred.

“They all know what goes on here,” Elaine said. “They look the other way.”

“Some of them play.”

“Always ask first.”

“We’re not doing any harm,” Bill said.

“But what do people do?” Alice insisted.

“They have sex,” Elaine said. “Boy boy, girl girl, boy girl.”

“Threesomes, foursomes, moresomes.”

“Sometimes its just masturbating. Or playing, but not all the way having sex.”

“Sometimes showing off. Sometimes watching.”

“Sometimes people just sit in the car, and watch. Or invite people in with them.”

“Watch out for poison ivy in the woods.”

“There are signs up for all the patches. There aren’t supposed to be, but we put them up.”

“Hard to see them at night.”

“There’s always one or two cases a year.”

“That’s why you should come with someone who knows the place a little.”

“This all happens out in the open?” Alice asked.

“Oh gosh no,” Bill said.

“Not on the main paths!” Elaine agreed. “You should be very well behaved there. Maybe flash a little bit, flirt a bit.”

“Side paths,” Bill said. “The narrow ones off the main path. Always make sure you’re out of sight of the main paths though. You don’t want to traumatize some girl scout troop marching through.”

Bill laughed.

“Not funny,” Elaine said, but in a light way, as if there was some joke here that they shared. “Anyway, if you meet someone you like, or several someones you like, the thing is, that there are all these little trails you can take, and little places in the woods where you can... have some fun.”

“We can show you,” Bill said.

Elaine smiled at her.

“Would you like to watch?” she asked. “Bill and me. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to touch us. You don’t have to come close. Just watch.”

“Just to see what it’s like,” Bill said. “No pressure.”

Alice found herself blushing deeply. Her knees felt a little watery, her stride not quite right, she had butterflies in her stomach and could feel her heart lurching slightly. It was intriguing, but scary. But they seemed nice.

“All right,” Alice said.

Elaine nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Just up ahead, there’s a little path. We’ll go down that. You just follow.”

A moment later, hand in hand, the stepped off the side trail, onto a narrow earth path. The path was clear at first, the grass worn to mud by tramping feet. Bill lead them deeper and deeper, the path meandering right and then left. Alice worried that she’d lose track of the main trails.

“Here we go,” Bill said. The trees and brush had thinned out, giving way to a thin stand of young willow and birch. Bill walked up to a birch tree, barely six inches thick, and laid a palm against it. “I like Birch. Poplar too. Some trees, the bark’s so rough, you don’t want to be anywhere near it, scratch you right up.”

“Usually,” Elaine said, “you might bring a blanket or something.”

“Grass stains,” Bill chipped in. “Hard to get out.”

“Sex can be tricky,” Elaine said. “A lot of people just do oral.”

“Come here,” Bill beckoned Elaine towards the birch tree. She smiled and went to him. He leaned back against the tree, as she threw her arms around him, and kissed passionately. The kiss went on and on, as if they’d forgotten about her, their hands moving over each other. Bill pulled Elaine’s dress up, exposing her bare ass. No panties, Alice noted.

Alice felt a little wet, and self conscious, as if she was watching something private. It was silly, they’d invited her to watch, but still, she felt as if she was intruding.

The kiss finally broke, and Bill turned Elaine around in his arms, so that they were both facing Alice. Elaine leaned back against Bill, smiling with feline satisfaction.

“Love of my life,” Bill said. Elaine’s catlike smile broadened into a Cheshire grin, and she squirmed against him, grinding her ass into his hips. His hands found her breasts, cupping them over the fabric. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Beautiful,” Alice said politely, it wasn’t that Elaine was unattractive, it was that they were all standing in the middle of the woods.

“Check this out,” Bill said. One hand let go of a breast, he reached down her dress, as far as he could, grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled it up. Alice watched Elaine’s bare legs come into view, moving as she shifted her weight from side to side. She parted her thighs, rolling her hips, as the fabric lifted above her hips.

There were no panties, of course, she’d seen that already. But from the front, Elaine was smooth and pink. She reached down laying painted fingernails above her pubic mound and pulled, exposing labia and clitoral hood. It was almost too perfect, too smooth.

“Lasered,” Bill said. “Not a hair. She’s just velvet smooth. It’s amazing.”

“I love it,” Elaine said, her voice proud and husky. “I love how it feels. I love touching it, I love Bill touching it. It was the third best thing I ever did.”

“I shave,” Alice offered. “Once in a while.”

Not lately. She’d trimmed a little, just in case, for bikini season. But it hadn’t been a priority.

“Would you like to touch her,” Bill invited. Elaine wiggled her hips slowly. “She is so soft, it’s amazing.”

“And wet,” Elaine whispered. “You should feel how wet I am.”

“Yeah,” Alice said blushing. “I’m fine. Maybe. Just...”

“It’s okay,” Bill said. “No pressure. Check this out...”

With both hands, he pulled the fabric of the purple dress all the way up, leaving Elaine almost nude but for the band of fabric above her astonishingly round, firm, perfect breasts.

“Wow,” Alice said. Impressed despite herself.

Elaine squirmed, rolling her ass against bill, swinging from side to side. She cupped her breasts, fingers tracing their ship, lifting them, as if on offer.

“They’re not real, of course,” Elaine said. “But they’re magnificent, aren’t they? They feel so good. Second best things I ever did.”

Alice felt like she had to ask.

“What was the first?”

Elaine grinned and released a hand to jerk a thumb towards Bill. He bent his head down to kiss her neck and she purred like a cat.

“Do you want to touch them?” Elaine offered.

“Uhh...”

“Have you ever felt implants before?” Elaine asked.

“It hasn’t actually come up before.”

“It’s all right,” Elaine said. “You can feel them if you want. Maybe it’s something you’ll think of for yourself someday. You never know.”

“Uhm,” Alice tried to think of something to say. “Okay.”

She stepped forward quickly, and put her hands on Elaine’s breasts for a moment, feeling the smooth taught skin and the firm rigidity beneath. She retreated.

“Okay,” Alice said. “That’s fine. They’re very nice.”

“It’s a little much for her,” Bill said, nuzzling Elaine’s neck. “Should we stop?”

“I’m sorry dear,” Elaine said, pressing one of Bill’s hands on her breast. “I understand what this must be like for you. It’s a lot at once, and you don’t even know if it’s something you want.”

“Yes,” Alice said. “I don’t mind what you’re doing. It’s kind of exciting. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

“It’s about being sexy,” Elaine said. “It’s about feeling it. It can be so easy to lose that, especially as you get older. You get caught up with life, and you get busy, you get older each year, and it sort of fades away, bit by bit, and suddenly you’re dull and empty. Sometimes, you have to reach for it, you have to work to get it back. But it’s what makes us feel alive. It’s being alive.”

She half turned to kiss Bill, their mouths pressing against each other. His hands were on her breasts, her body nude beneath it, pressing up against the birch. She reached down to Bill’s cargo shorts.

“You’re good?” she asked.

“Always for you,” he told her.

Again, Alice felt that weird embarrassment, as if she was witnessing something private and intimate and not for her. Again, she knew they were showing off. She just couldn’t help the feeling.

Elaine looked at Alice then.

“All right, honey,” she said. “We’re going to play a little. You can watch if you want. You can even join in if you feel it. We don’t mind. But this is for us, is that okay?”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Alice said, “I really should...”

“It’s all right,” Elaine said. “You don’t have to stay. No pressure.”

She winked.

“Although I’d enjoy it if you watched a little,” she said.

“Okay,” Alice said.

Elaine pawed at Bill’s cargo shorts, reaching in and releasing. For a moment, Bill’s pink stick came into sight. Then they turned away to the side and it wasn’t visible. Bill reached down and got an elbow under Elaine’s knee, lifting her leg high as they balanced against the tree. Alice couldn’t see, but she had the sense from Elaine’s reaction that Bill had entered her.

Alice was actually impressed by Elaine’s flexibility, and Bill’s for that matter, as they somehow managed to have sex standing up. She could see Bill’s hips twist trying to thrust up into his wife at that angle, and Bill’s bare ass. Elaine moaned deeply, over and over as Bill grunted, clearly building to orgasm, her hands wrapped around Bill’s back. One of Bill’s hands held Elaine’s thigh, presumably the other was on her breast.

She watched them fuck for perhaps five or ten minutes, feeling both excited and awkward. She couldn’t really see much from her angle, but she wasn’t sure she should move. So she remained rooted to the spot. It was arousing, but sort of weird, she could feel her body respond, but didn’t want it to. She wanted to touch herself, but didn’t want to encourage it.

Elaine seemed to have an orgasm, and the couple began to wind down. Alice was blushing so hard, she felt almost luminous.

“Wow,” she said. “That was ... amazing. I don’t know how ready I am. I think I’m just going to go off now. On my own. Maybe see you again later.”

“You all right, Hon?” Elaine asked, her expression full of genuine concern, her chin resting on Bill’s soldier. “This wasn’t too much, was it?”

Bill turned his face to her, his features kind and concerned, as if they were both a little worried for her.

“Oh,” Alice said, “I’m fine. I just want to explore a little. See you later.”

Alice turned and stumbled back to the main path, blushing madly, her legs wobbly.

Her thoughts were all over the place. Part of her wanted to stay and keep watching. Part of her, some wild rogue impulse, even wanted to join. Not join, but to get closer. To touch them as they made love, to feel her breasts or his ass, to be so close she could see them trade spit.

But it had been too much. Too much information from them, too much familiarity, they had names, Bill and Elaine, they were people. She needed a boundary, a line of safety. And what they’d done, it was too much. It was exciting, but overwhelming at once.

She needed to get away, and think about everything.

&&&

It was her day for clean up, so she stayed late. After, she went out with friend for coffee, and everyone talked about their lives, except her. Hers felt like it was passing her by. She thought about mentioning the dogging thing she’d overheard. But then suppressed the impulse. What was she going to talk about? Listening in on two teenagers talking about sex? So she sat and smiled.

By the time Alice got home, she was tired and hungry. Kevin, her nominal husband, was watching sports on television.

“We ordered Pizza,” Kevin told her. “There’s still some left.”

“Oh yeah?” Alice asked. “Who came over.”

“Kelly,” he said, “and a couple of the guys.”

“Ah,” she replied, noncommitally. At one point, she’d suspected Kevin of having an affair with Kelly. These days, she found she just didn’t care. Kevin could do whatever he wanted, as long as he paid his share of the rent, which he did mostly, and as long as he helped with the chores, which he didn’t, mostly.

They barely spoke to each other. The marriage had steadily gone cold, poisoned by Kevin’s selfishness and immaturity, and by Alice’s exhausted apathy. They should have gone their separate ways five years ago, instead, they’d settled into a rut.

“I think,” Kevin said, “I’m going to be moving out in a few months, I just need to find a place.”

“Okay,” Alice said. He’d said this before. “Let me know.”

She thought about mentioning the dogging thing, but they didn’t really talk any more.

Instead, she went into the kitchen. The pizza, a couple of slices, were in the fridge. She grabbed them and a bottle of gatorade and retreated to her bedroom.

While she ate cold pizza, she fired up her laptop and searched ‘Dogging + Assiniboine Park.’

&&&

“Excuse me?” Alice asked.

“I said you are an exquisitely beautiful woman.”

“Oh,” Alice smiled. “Thank you!”

They stood there, Alice smiling. The man seemed content to look at her, and Alice found she didn’t mind.

“Do you come here often?” the man asked.

Alice laughed out loud. A little startled, she put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh geez,” she said. “Please don’t be offended. I didn’t mean anything. It’s just, that’s such a line.”

The man didn’t seem to be upset, he was smiling at her still.

“It’s all right,” he said, “it’s just I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new?”

“First time,” she admitted. “Are you a regular?”

“I’ve been around a few times,” he asked.

What’s it like? Alice wanted to ask. What do people do? What have you seen? She had a thousand questions suddenly, crowding around in her, unformed unfocused, just a kind of floating excited curiosity. She felt so new, she didn’t even know how to figure out what questions to ask.

She didn’t ask any of them. She’d made that mistake with Bill and Elaine. She’d asked, and they’d told her. They’d shown her. It had been too much.

“Oh cool,” she said instead.

There was an awkward pause.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I like to look at a beautiful woman. I like to compliment them.”

“You see a lot of beautiful women?” she teased. “Around here?”

“Beauty is wherever you find it,” he said.

“That’s pretty.”

Alice wasn’t sure what it meant. But it sounded nice.

“I saw some deer go by,” she offered. “Just now. It was amazing.”

She wasn’t sure why she was prolonging the conversation. She felt safe and pleasant.

But she knew. It was what Elaine had talked about. You go through your whole day, no one looks at you. No one cares. You’re drowning in ordinariness. Some old guy says you’re beautiful, and wants to look at you, he’s harmless. And for a moment, for a few moments, you feel special. You feel the way he sees you.

“They are beautiful creatures,” he said.

“They were right in front of me,” Alice told him. “I felt like I could almost reach out and touch them.”

“A special moment,” he said.

Alice nodded.

“Yes.”

“You see them a lot here,” he said. “And other things. Young people. Women. Some of them…”

He lowered his voice.

“Some of them are hardly dressed.”

“Oh my!”

“Some even wear nothing at all!” he confided.

Alice laughed.

“I’m not taking off my dress for you,” she teased him. “You’re bad!”

“I didn’t ask you to take off your dress.”

She nodded.

“True, true,” she agreed. “Fair enough. I apologize.”

“But maybe… just your top?”

Alice burst out in giggles all over again, blushing. She looked up and down the path. There was no one around.

At least he seemed interested in her, not like the man on the park bench who had barely looked at her while she jerked him off.

“Well, all right,” she said, sliding the spaghetti straps down, “but just for a moment.”

She lowered the dress, exposing her breasts. There was a stray bit of awareness, the feeling of sunlight and warmth on them, it felt nice. He stepped close, but not too close.

“Perfect,” he whispered, staring. “Wonderful. As beautiful as I thought.”

She almost wanted to say ‘my eyes are up here.’ But really, he was supposed to look at them. The thought made her want to giggle. Perhaps it was the warmth of the sun, or simply being gazed on and admired, she left them out. Her nipples hardened.

“Thank you.”

“They’re lovely.”

“Thank you again.”

She swung her shoulders slightly, almost unconsciously, almost showing off. Her nipples were definitely hard, her breasts felt firm and full. They were beautiful. She’d been wearing them everywhere. How had they suddenly become gorgeous. There was a kind of giddy elation to standing there in the sunlight, bare breasted.

“Can I touch them?” he asked.

Alice was so surprised that her involuntary gasp became a snort, she covered them with her hands, turning away, and laughed.

“No!” she told him.

But why not? She thought suddenly. Why not? What’s the harm?

“Well… maybe?” she teased. “Okay.”

She lowered her hands, stepping off the path a little, watching him as he approached. She was taller than he was by a good four inches. He wasn’t even trying to look at her eyes, which she found amusing.

What am I doing? She asked herself. And some little voice replied: Oh fuck off, this is fun, where’s the harm?

She watched him reach out to tough, almost holding her breath. His fingers touched her lightly, just below the collarbones. His fingers were broad and stubby, perhaps a lifetime of manual labor, but the fingernails were clean. His touch was remarkably gentle, the fingers flattening against her skin as they moved down, tracing the swells of her breasts, reaching under to cup them, lifting slightly.

Alice looked past his hands, noting the thinning white hair, the bent nose, perhaps broken long ago, the wrinkles of forehead, eyebrow hairs perhaps too long. He had to be at least twenty or thirty years older then her.

His hands felt nice. Not sexy nice, she wasn’t aroused. If she could compare it to anything, it was kind of like the absent-minded sensual pleasure of stroking a cat.

“They’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she said.

His left hand teased her nipple ring, his right massaged the bare nipple. His brow furrowed slightly.

“Why one ring?”

Alice had never told anyone, except Mike. At some point, she’d made up a story, or a reason, but there’d never been anyone to tell it to. She decided to tell him the truth.

“I wanted to get them both done actually,” she said. “I thought it would be cool. But then, when I got the first one done, it hurt so much I chickened out.”

She paused.

“So you know,” she said. “just one ring. I’m a bit chickenshit, story of my life. I try things, and then chicken out.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, playing with the ring. “I think you’re brave.”

His head was so close, he could almost take the nipple in his mouth. She wasn’t sure whether she’d let him.

“My other nipple is the sensitive one,” she said.

He turned his attention to the bare nipple.

“They’re both sensitive, I guess. But that one was always more sensitive, definitely. I don’t know if other girls are like that. I always thought I was a little weird, like not right.”

Why was she confessing her secrets and insecurities to this little old man fondling her boobs? She wondered. Why was she letting him fondle her boobs in the first place? She shrugged and went with it.

He was making little circles around it, it felt sexy, even if she didn’t find him sexy.

“No,” he assured her, “I’ve heard of girls like that. Met them. Sometimes we’re a little lopsided.”

Both hands were on her breasts.

“Oh,” she said, “well, that’s good to know.”

“Mine aren’t lopsided are they?” She’d always felt one was just a tiny bit larger, but she’d never admitted that to anyone, and as far as she knew, no one else seemed to notice.

“They’re perfect.”

His head dropped lower.

I should tell him to stop, she thought. But didn’t.

He kissed the nipple gently, letting his lips enfold it. She felt his tongue lap the tip. A sensual, fluttering feeling rose up in her.

Then a jogger ran past.

Alice almost jumped out of her skin, they separated, quickly, she pulled up her dress covering herself, turning towards the woods, hoping not to make eye contact. The Jogger was mostly a presence, pounding feet, panting breath, an impression of shape and color, appearing out of nowhere and just as quickly receding. Alice tried to get her heartbeat under control and manage the adrenalin that surged through her. Had he seen them? What had he seen? He must have seen them? Did he see her breasts? Did he see the old man kiss her nipple? But he was gone, leaving just the shock of his presence.

“Yike!” she said. “Public pathway, I guess.”

As her heartbeat steadied, she noticed she was flushed, and a little wet.

“No harm done,” the old man said. He saw his opportunity. “Would you like to go someplace quieter… and continue?”

He looked hopeful.

Almost regretfully, but only almost, Alice shook her head. She hadn’t even intended to let him feel her up, much less kiss her nipple.

Once in the woods was enough. She definitely wasn’t going to go off in the woods again, this time with an old man who could be her grandfather. There wasn’t anything mean in that decision, no revulsion, just simply ‘no.’

“Sorry,” she told him.

“Well,” he said, “if you’re strolling, may I accompany you.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I enjoyed this… you. But I think I want to be on my own.”

He nodded philosophically.

“I understand.”

Alice felt grateful, and pleased. This was, she thought, the best molestation ever.

He hesitated.

“May I see them, once more,” he said, “before we part?”

Alice smiled.

“One last time.” She lowered the spaghetti straps of the sun dress, letting the top of her dress fall below her nipples, once again feeling the warm sun on her bare breasts. She gave it a count of ten, or what was probably ten, and put them away.

“Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure.”

“You know,” he said, “the one ring, it really is quite stylish on you. It looks wonderful. You should tell people you meant it that way. You shouldn’t call yourself down. I think you’re genuinely beautiful and brave - full of life.”

She grinned, feeling a warm glow inside her. Alice simply lived her life, and she knew she was okay, not ugly. But most times, she felt ordinary and dull, not special at all. He’d made her feel special, even if he was a horny old man handing out cheesy compliments.

On impulse, she stepped close to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping back. “Now, we should get going.”

He nodded, taking the hint, and stepping onto the path.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again?”

“Maybe.”

She watched him go around the corner that the jogger had vanished, strolling out of sight.

Alice checked her emotions, she felt excited, engaged, but safe. A little aroused, which surprised her. But the pleasure of feeling the sun on her breasts was stronger than the excitement. The pleasure of his hands on her was almost divorced from sexiness.

She checked carefully, but felt no regret, no disgust either with the act or with herself. I got felt up by an old guy, she thought. But that was actually fine. Kind of fun, in a harmless way.

There was a kind of giddiness to it, a childlike playfulness. She almost wanted to brag. Alice mentally scrolled through a few of her friends, looking for someone she could call and go ‘Guess what I just did!”

So this was the park? It wasn’t what she expected. Alice had sort of expected something more… degenerate? Raunchy? Something closer to a bacchanalia, a Roman orgy, a deep, drenched bath of sex and excess. Perhaps she’d hoped for that, although she wasn’t sure what she’d have done, if she’d encountered it.

It had felt safe, and harmless. Innocent, in a weird way. Perhaps later in the evening, or with more people, it would be the way she’d expected. But she hadn’t expected it to just be so odd, and kind of fun.

&&&

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 38, Cab Ride Sex Show

A NIGHT OUT WITH THE GIRLS, PART ONE OF FIVE

PHOENIX

Phoenix sucked. I bet it still sucks. Major suckage. In Phoenix, the wind always blows into the city, sucked in, the oxygen leaching out along the way so all you’re left with is gritty air that never quite feels right.

Phoenix is what you have when you take every run down cheap ass 1970's strip mall in America and stitch them together and call it a city. Phoenix is all fucking concrete and asphalt, a place where even the little bits of grass looks like discount astroturf and the trees look like they’re all made in Korea in some cheap sweatshop with recycled green plastic. Everything in Phoenix is too bright, it’s all sun baked and harsh and has too many edges. Everything is cheap, cheap fucking wood paneling, and plastic, neon and sequins, and it’s falling apart even as they build it, but they don’t care, because its cheap.

Even the people are harsh and jagged and cheap and fake, and they have no more regard for each other than an anthill full of beetles, all crawling over each other, waving their cheap plastic mandibles, rushing to be somewhere else.

I sound so hostile, don’t I?

Actually, I didn’t really have a bad experience in Phoenix, except for the part about the armed robbery.

But still, I just don’t like it. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing wrong with Phoenix, Arizona, that scorching it off the face of the Earth wouldn’t fix.

I got off the bus. Phoenix was pretty much the first city I went into blind. I mean, Minneapolis, Lee had brought me there, and I’d fallen in with people. Chicago, a bunch of us had gone out together. Other places I’d been with Jules and the last place, Alice and Norman had looked out for me.

This time, all I had was a city map and a list of possible rooming houses. It was kind of scary, but sort of exciting.

The first boarding house I stayed in was okay. It was this clapboard thing run by this old gay man. I had a room on the top floor, I think it must have been a kids room. Like, basically, an attic converted to rooms, I had to go up these really narrow steep steps to get to it, practically a ladder, and half the ceiling was slanted, so I could only stand up on one side of the room. It was furnished, but that basically consisted of a single sized mattress and a dresser and closet that was basically built into the side of the room.

The other side of the attic was occupied by these two Hispanic brothers. They were actually second or third generation American citizens, but the were fluent in Spanish and English. Their room was nice, they had a little colour TV, a VCR, and they had this travelling cooler that they plugged in and used for a fridge.

The first time I saw them, or one of them, was a view from behind as he was going up our little stair/ladder. Ooh! I was in love. Or lust. They were exotic looking young men, men not boys, well muscled, lean. Their skin had a brown duskiness and they had these limpid eyes. I had trouble telling them apart at first, they looked so much alike, something which only fed my interest. I even liked the exotic way they talked, the almost musical accents and rhythm. I smiled at them, they smiled at me. Pretty soon, they had a crush on me. They’d climb over each other to talk to me, it was delicious.

The first one thought he seduced me, in their loft. The second, I had a day later in my loft. After that, I spent most of the time in their loft. It was nicer than mine. At first, they’d take turns, but I wanted more. I remember the first time they were each sucking on a nipple, their hands down between my legs and on my body. There’s a thing, like two different men's hands don’t feel at all like two hands on the same man. If it's one man groping with both hand's there’s always a dominant hand, and they tend to work together. With two men, it was sensory overload. Ooh. I liked it.

Their bodies were sweet. Their cocks, their semen actually tasted sweet. They ate a lot of fruit, they loved pineapple, and I’ve learned since then that really sweetens the taste of a man's semen. I guess the sugar content or something. Most men I’ve tasted have always been slightly sour, but these brothers were deliciously sweet.

It was like they’d been made just for me.

I wanted to explore double penetration. I hadn’t really gotten into that much, I think for a long time, I’d had this lingering bad feeling cause that was what I was playing with when I got caught by my parents. And really, it honestly isn’t the kind of thing that comes up a lot, unless you’re some sort of porn star. I mean, in real life, opportunities don’t come along that often, and most of the time, it just doesn’t seem like an appealing thing to do.

Part of it was the surroundings. The lofts were like a pair of whitewashed wombs, stuffy, claustrophobic, warm. It was about as safe a place as you could ever want to be. You had to climb up a steep narrow stair ladder and then practically crawl through the narrow doors up top, no landing. Like, nobody was ever ever going to accidentally walk in on you there. It was a good place to have a d.p.

Doesn’t that suck. D.p.? It should have a real name. I mean, apart from a technical description ‘double penetration.’ I think it should be called a ‘deep’ at least. I’m got deeped. I’m going to get a deep. We did her deep. I love deep. The art of deeping. I mean, it just sounds better.

But them... They seemed perfect, their cocks were long, they were the same size, and so much alike, that it just seemed natural. Frankly, the thought of an Eve sandwich, these two long muscular slabs of olive-toned meat. with me as the well buttered white bread between them... Well, it just made me wet. It took me a little while to get them into it. A lot of men don’t really go with that kind of intimacy. Sure, they love it in a porno. But in real life, the thought of their cock or their thigh even accidentally touching another man's, oh the horror! Sometimes they’re such babies.

Anyway, usually, what they wanted to do is one would do me while the other watched, then he’d finish and roll over, and the other would get on top of me. They only wanted missionary position. God forbid I should be on top.

Eventually, I got them to lose their fear of it, and we would do it. We got good at it, once they got over their guy-stuff, they could get this wonderful rhythm back and forth in me, oh my god, that was... I could do that all afternoon. Or they'd synch in and out pumping, that was exhausting, but when it was going... I'd just be breathless. We even did double vaginal a few times, which always made me sore, but it’s kind of a rush. My first time with two cocks in my cunt, we rode bareback, no condoms.

I think that was the only time I skipped condoms in Phoenix. I shouldn't have though, after that, they were always kind of hoping for bareback, sometimes they got whiny and I'd have to really put my foot down.

We experimented. Side by side worked, they liked that, I guess because neither of them was on bottom and it minimized their touching. You never see that in a porno, I wonder why. Maybe because its hard to get really intense fucking going on. But you know, a long gentle penetration, I don’t mind that at all.

The sandwich position, the one where I sort of start by having woman on top vaginal sex, and then crouch low and the second man slides up my ass, that’s not bad, it feels good, it works, it doesn’t put too much strain on anything, and I could move around. Not as much vaginal thrusting, but I could move up and down on top easily, and he could thrust from below.

You know that position where the girl sits on the guy, like for anal, and then the other guy gets on top for vaginal? That soooo doesn’t work, it’s awkward, it’ll hurt if you move wrong, and your motion is completely fucked up. I’ve watched porn stars do it like that, and I can’t imagine how. Some of them can actually move around, it’s like their abdominal muscles must be made of steel. Or maybe there’s some trick to it.

Anyway, that was my first few weeks in Phoenix, spending altogether too much time in this tiny loft, with two latins spending altogether too much time in me. Kind of lazy and luxurious, but oh so sweet sweet sweet.

Of course, it wasn’t all great. I’d get so distracted or busy playing with them, that it cost me work. I’d get a casual or a part time job. I was trying to get into catering, because that often looks for a lot of casual workers, but if you were good, you could work steadily and then you’d have something you could take to other more stable restaurant or hospitality places. But, they fucked that up for me. I’d be sleeping over, and they wouldn’t wake me, or they’d kind of distract me so I wouldn’t make it, or make it on time.

Thing with these kinds of things is that you have to be a good worker and most of all, you’d have to be reliable. Basically, I could get hired on a try out basis, and if I did well, then more shifts, more hours and more money. I was a hard worker and I was reliable. Most times I’ve had trouble with this was when I was juggling a few part time or casual gigs, because sooner or later, you’d have to be in two places at once, and when that happened, you’d basically have to think really hard about which job meant more and was better, because you were going to lose the other one. I mean, if you’re careful, you can make it work, but it’s tough sometimes.

But these guys really really screwed with my reliability, which in hindsight, I kind of regret. It made it harder for me to find a job, and keep it, or to go into certain areas. And that made money tighter. I don’t know what it was about Phoenix, but it was just miserable for work. I had a hard time finding jobs, and a hard time keeping them. It was worse than any other place I’d been.

Of course, if money was tight, I could just move in with them. Uh uh, no way Jose. I liked having my own place, even if it was an empty room with a mattress and I only spent ten per cent of my time there. Maybe it’s growing up an only child. I find I have this ‘territorial’ thing going on.

Yeppers, I’m spoiled, get over it.

Then one night, we were laying around naked, just swimming in the smell of fucking, with used condoms laying around (they never picked up after themselves), we were watching this Mexican film, something about cops and gangsters and hookers. I couldn’t really follow it, but every five minutes something would happen and they all seemed very earnest.

One of them started talking about how we could all make a lot of money. Doing what? Doing what was in the movie. Eve could work for us. As I started to understand what they were talking about, I was all ‘I don’t think so,’ but they were sort of running through what they might make, and how they’d do it and what were the risks.

I said fuck off.

Eventually, they agreed with me it was a bad idea. The pimps in Arizona were too scary. They didn’t like new girls on their territory. And that was it. The conversation sort of drifted around, talking about the movie mostly. I had sex with them one after the other, and we all went to sleep in a bundle of arms and legs. No blankets, it was always too hot and stuffy for blankets.

That sort of soured me on them a little, though. I mean, I was simply disturbed by the idea that for them, the big obstacle to pushing me into prostitution was the fact that they were afraid of the real pimps, and not necessarily how I might feel about things.

No, that wasn’t good at all.

I did meet a real pimp in Phoenix one time. He was this black guy with corn rows and tattoos at a nightclub. He had a diamond in one tooth, he was really well dressed and smooth. He got interested in me, I politely excused myself to go to the bathroom, then I was out the back door and not looking back. Maybe my time with Jules made me more cautious. I didn’t take a lot of chances in that city. But then again, it wasn’t the kind of place you ought to take chances.

I have this theory that I’m not unusual. Not unusual in my basic promiscuity, I mean, like in my foundation of who I am. Basically, I think any woman, is potentially willing to consider sleeping with just about any man. Until she gets to know him. Like, I’ve found, the more I’ve gotten to know most men the less appealing they get. Like, show me a face, you know, and if he’s not like oozing open sores, I’ll consider it, he’s a possible.

But then, he starts talking. And whoops, he’s a self absorbed, conceited jerk. Oh oh, a bit of racism there. Hmmm, and some baggage about women. A couple of kids, oh that’s attractive. Career trajectory is definitely downward. Toxic sense of humour. Votes Republican. How charming, he talks to my breasts, perhaps because they’re as intelligent and perceptive as he is. Oh wow, I am so turned on by his condescending attitudes towards the kind of work I happen to be doing, and his contempt for poor people, of which I am one, and his attitude to women and life in general....

I mean, you’d be surprised how often men just turn into their own worst enemies, and suddenly, it’s like they're giving me this crash course in why I shouldn’t sleep with you. I don’t know why that is.

Men have it on women too. I used to know a guy, he told me he was really interested in this girl, until he started talking to her. That made me laugh out loud, because I knew exactly what he was saying. We spent an evening telling stories and laughing.

Him I fucked. I don't remember the sex much. But I remember laughing together. And having this really terrible breakfast together. That was in Windsor, a lot later.

Still, I get the impression that either men have a lot lower standards, or we aren’t shooting ourselves in the foot nearly as thoroughly or quickly as men do.

I’m not sure what’s going on. Maybe men try too hard. Or maybe they’re too self absorbed to pay attention. That may be a good thing, because frankly, I don’t think our lives would be improved if more men were better liars.

Maybe we’re just too picky.

I just showed this passage to my cousin Melissa. She’s being very diplomatic.

I don’t know. I only swim in this gene pool, I didn’t build it.

Anyway, back to Phoenix and the twins. Cousins really, but they were twins to me. And their 'great idea!' If that was all there was to it, that one conversation, I wouldn’t have worried too much. I’d have been quite happy to let things develop, with the three of us forming a happy little unit, and long lazy sessions of threesomes and double penetrations and being just pampered totally up in our mutual loft.

I mean, after all the shit, I wanted something idyllic and sweet and unthreatening and totally totally all about making me feel good.

And they were very very sweet to me.

It’s just, they kept bringing it up. I shit on the idea the next time, and they went, ‘oh, of course, you are right, Eve.’

But it came up again. And again. Never serious, no. Never aggressive, no. I couldn’t imagine them being aggressive to me. Or could I. It was just talk.

They bought me a sequined dress. A very very short, low cut sequin dress, I swear, I could wrap it and carry it in my purse. A very sexy dress for a very sexy woman. Thanks guys! Wonder where I’m supposed to wear something like this?

We could make a lot of money, Eve. It wasn’t always hooking. Sometimes it was Hustler magazine, or pornos, sometimes it was polaroids, or stripping. They had this one idea, they would take close up polaroid pictures of me sucking one of their cocks, and then they’d just go around to bars and sell the pictures of me at twenty dollars a shot. Fuck that.

But we'll split the money! No.

I was seriously wondering why they kept using the word ‘we’, when these plans seemed to revolve around my body and my doing all the work.

They were poisoning my nice juicy apple, and I was losing my taste.

So, one day I started to phone around from Norman’s list, and look at a few other places. I found a decent room with its own lock, where I could stand up all over the place in. No furniture, but I could buy an air mattress pretty cheap. Anyway, it wouldn’t be the first floor I slept on.

A few days later, I told them I had to leave. They wanted to know where. I said I wasn’t sure. The landlord was kicking me out, he didn’t like me carrying on with them. Actually, he didn’t care at all, but I had spoken to him and said they were creeping me out so I had to move. They offered to help me find a new place. I said no, I promised to get in touch later in the day, maybe tomorrow, or the next few days for sure.

The whole conversation was like five minutes.

Then I was gone, left them behind totally. Never even thought about wanting to get in touch with them.

Sometimes, I think I did the wrong thing. Maybe I was a bitch? Cold hearted? Fucking Canadian, eh, we're the ice-people. They were sweet and they whetted my appetite fiercely. I think I would have loved to have explored with them for a while.

Did I freak? Did I run when I didn’t need to? Was I still freaked from Jules? Was it a screw up? I dunno.

I get a little wistful, it hardly started before it was gone.

On the other hand, maybe I was better off leaving before it had a chance to go sour. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered to nibble the fruit at all.

I just read this over, and you know something. I had one of those moments of self realization. It occurred to me, that I never really thought about what they must have been thinking, about how they looked at things. I mean, I bet most of their experiences came from prostitutes, maybe they’d even done trains with hookers. And here’s this exotic pale freckled redhead who wants them to do the wickedest things, who urges them into the wickedest things. What he hell did they make of all that?

I can see them basically taking me for a prostitute on some level, if that's all they knew, or simply assuming that I’d go into prostitution. But still, what must they have thought of me? Did they have any sense of me as a person at all? Or was I some sort of human porn cartoon?

I think I basically saw them as sex toys, satisfaction plus, and they seemed okay with that. But I don’t think I really was into much more. I think on some levels we were just failing human contact.

I dunno, it just makes me think, that’s all.

It’s all your fault anyway. You guys are always doing that inscrutable male thing all the time. After a while, cause we can’t tell, we just stop caring what you think.

I just wish they’d shut their fucking mouths. But then again, maybe its good that they didn’t. At least it was up front, they weren’t talking themselves into something behind my back.

Their fucking loss.

My neighbors in the new house were this couple next door with a screaming one year old. They were nice enough, he was missing all his front teeth, so it was weird when he smiled. They were waiting for his brother to get out of jail in a year's time. The baby was his brother's. Okay, I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be all about, but what the hell, it’s a big world. Downstairs were two teenage girls, but I never clicked with them. And the others were Mexican men who kept to themselves.

The couple next door lent me a blanket, which was nice of them. I’d visit, and I’d even help babysit, just to return the favours. ‘No teeth’ found a gym was throwing out its old exercise matts one day, so he ran and found a shopping cart and brought back as many as he could carry. I watched the baby, and he and his brother's girlfriend (or maybe his girlfriend by that time, I wasn’t clear and wasn’t asking) actually got to make a few trips, so their room was full of matts for a while. They were light canvas, all torn at the seems, and you could smell the foam rubber rotting in them. I bought a couple for twenty dollars, so I could sleep on something. Eventually, he sold them all, mostly to the Mexicans, so it was actually a good deal of his.

I had the impression that between him and his brother, ‘no teeth’ was the catch in the family. He really worked hard to look after them. I hope he did all right.

One thing about this place was that there was no one, absolutely no one, I could ever imagine thinking about wanting to have sex with.

Well, at the house next door, there was a charming friendly mutt... But no.

The Mexicans I never got to know. And ‘no teeth,’ well, I didn’t find that attractive. As I got to know them, I got to like him, but his or his brother’s girlfriend was really clingy and possessive and insecure, and frankly, whatever dynamic was going on, every instinct I had said don’t get involved.

It wasn’t claustrophobically stuffy, like the loft. But the days were stifling hot, and the nights were chattering cold, even with my blanket and my matts. There was one bathroom, which frankly, was way too nasty for me ever to go into. There was a sink upstairs though, so I’d use that for washing and to pee. Hey, I wasn’t the only one. I usually shit at the garage around the corner. It was supposed to be for customers only, but I got to know the guys who worked the gas pumps, and I’d try and buy a chip or pack of gum or something, just to justify it most times.

Anyway, I got an old clock radio to listen to music, and some old folding chairs, some plastic packing crates and a hotplate and some odds and ends. After a while, the place was even kind of livable. I took a leaf from the boys, and bought one of those electric travelling coolers from a pawn shop. It still had the cigarette lighter attachment, so I cut that off and spliced a plug on, so I could plug it into the wall. It worked fairly well.

It wasn’t the best place to live. Actually, it was pretty crappy. But I’d slept on floors in Minneapolis and Chicago, so I figured I could hack it for a while. Basically, my plan was to get some money together and find a better place, or find some people to move in with. No problem.

I only had sex once in my room. Some guy I met at a bar. He insisted on coming to my place instead of going to his. I was a little tipsy, or I’d have taken that as a sign. We had quick sex, he had to leave. I could see from the way he looked around that the poverty of my room repulsed him. He offered me some money, I told him to go to hell.

The better you get to know them, the less you want them around.

It left a sour taste, yes. Basically, it made sex in Phoenix with anyone a lot less appealing.

Which is too bad. I didn’t get laid much in Phoenix after I moved out of the loft. I masturbated a lot, a few one night stands, guys from nightclubs or bars, basically, mostly sleeping over at their places. I still loved bars. The drinks were free, and when I was in them, I was someone else. I was older, more confident, more assured. I was sophisticated and stronger.

The rest of the time, I was waking up on a gymnasium mat smelling of decaying foam rubber, doing sponge baths in a tiny sink in a closet, waiting for buses and chasing after shit jobs.

But in a bar, I could be a whole different person. I wanted to get laid a lot more than I actually did. Which might have said something about me being more cautious, or it may have been a reflection on the men I talked to. Probably a bit of both, but more of the latter.

I didn’t think of it this way at the time, but in Phoenix, women were either prostitutes or they were bitches, no middle ground, no in-between, no third choices.

I remember being at a bus stop and this guy hitting on me, and he just exploded in this torrent of obscenities when I wasn’t interested. Just screaming ‘fuck you, filthy cunt’ and other stuff at the top of his lungs. Misogyny wasn’t just a word there, it was part of the air.

The horrible thing was that women seemed to buy into this and play to it themselves. The whole time I was there, I wasn’t ever friends with any women. We were all on guard against each other. I mean, I’d had that in Hamilton, but that had just been my situation. Here, it was a way of life. Women were afraid of each other, distrusted each other. There was a careful wariness and a disturbing willingness to strike if an opportunity presented itself. And there was a willingness, I think, to switch roles.

“Every whore is a bitch, and every bitch is a whore.” I read that on a bathroom in Chicago, but my god, I think it applied here.

It’s not a friendly city to get around in when you’re poor. It was really spread out, but not well organized. It would take me over an hour to get to work, or to get back. Even for groceries, I had to take the bus. But bus service was awful, they never came on time, the spacing was long, the bus stops always seemed to be in some fucked up place. It was just miserable. I think I spent most of my time there waiting for buses. It took five times as long to get around Phoenix as anywhere else, and most of that time, you spent waiting for rides, even if you were hitchhiking. That made any kind of job search, or even job keeping hell. Twice, I got screwed on part time jobs because the buses were so bad.

Basically, if you weren’t driving a car in Phoenix, you were in big trouble.

There was just so many ways that the city was generally unpleasant to be in, and so many little incidents that were unpleasant all by themselves.

The cops were mean in Phoenix. From where I worked, I could see them hassling drunks or prostitutes. They weren’t nice and they weren’t gentle. Being a cop in Phoenix basically seemed to mean stopping people and fucking them over. It was like they were all on a quota: You had to abuse a certain number of people a day or they’d take your police-hat or something.

I never had any problems with cops myself. But I always dressed carefully, not anything like a hooker, not anything sexy. Basically, if the cops had even half an idea that you might be a hooker, it was open season. Still, I got stopped a few times anyway. They were always rude, it was ‘Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you hanging around?'

One of those times, I was at a bus stop. I was dressed normally, wearing jeans and a sweater and jacket with high tops, standing at a bus stop waiting for the frigging bus, but it was right near the hooker territory, so they fucked around with me anyway, just in case I was a stealth hooker or something. That made me so angry. I didn’t wait at that bus stop any more after that.

Still, my encounters with them and what I saw of cops was trivial compared to the stuff I would hear about. I mean, if you believed rumours, basically, some of the cops out there were running half the crime, or they were allowing it. Drugs, prostitution, whatever, and people would get beaten up by the cops, hookers would be raped, some people would just disappear. These were probably just stories, but you know, it was in the back of your mind every time you saw a patrol car. I never wanted to end up in the back of a patrol car. No matter where the ride was going, you didn't want to arrive at that destination.

Even if the cops were okay, there were lots of mean people in town. Practically everyone was mean. It was a lot more violent than any place I’d lived before, especially down where I was working. Maybe it was the heat, but there was a crazy feel to the place. And hey, I'd lived in Chicago!

The bottom line was being poor in Phoenix really sucked.

I looked hard for a job. Strip clubs were hiring, but I wasn’t really interested in that. Years later, a girlfriend who was an exotic dancer would tell me that Phoenix was a bad place to be a stripper. All the clubs were mob run and the working conditions were complete shit and they all basically followed each others leads, so if you were in trouble at one club, you were in trouble with all of them. There were a lot of bad stories out of Phoenix, girls getting beaten up by management, or pushed into addiction to drugs, or even forced into prostitution. It just goes to show you.

I’d go through the want ads in the paper, sharing them with ‘no teeth’ and his girl. They didn’t read so well, like me, they were dropouts. But I think they dropped out in elementary school. Then I’d spend the day phoning from the pay phone at the garage and trying to get around from place to place in the city. I went through quarters like you wouldn’t believe.

Not having a phone, or even a place to take messages hurt a lot. A lot of the employers I was hitting were looking for casual, call-in labour. Sometimes admitting I didn’t have a phone number for them to call when they wanted me meant the end of the interview.

I was actually a lot better off than ‘no teeth.’ I mean, I was young and pretty, well spoken, friendly, and female. And of course, I had all my teeth. I think he eventually found something with a landscaping company. But basically, I had it a lot easier looking for work than he did. As for the Mexicans, well they were Mexicans, and in this part of the U.S. people had a hard time deciding whether they despised Blacks or Hispanics more, so they had a hard time. I always tried to be nice to them so that they liked me back. I wasn't interested in fucking any of them, well I thought about it, but no - sex was a bad idea. Sometimes you can tell, open that door, its not going to lead anywhere good. Or maybe I was growing up.

I had lots of bitty shitty jobs. Basically, there’s always part time stuff somewhere, if you look hard enough, or casual, or something, a way to scratch out something.

I got a job for extra money handing out leaflets for strip clubs in the evening. That lasted three whole evenings. Basically, it was just a slimy job, I got ripped off every time I turned around by the guy who was supposed to be running things, and finally, I just said fuck it. I was supposed to make fifty dollars a night, but I think I only cleared thirty-five the whole time.

Jobs like that are basically scams. They promise you money to get you to work for them, it’s all big cash up front no questions. Then for some reason, they can’t pay you right away, times are tight, or you made some mistakes, yadda yadda yadda. Finally, you get tired and just fuck off and they’re reeling in the next suckers. I mean, some people could do that and make money, but they’d be the ‘favored’ ones. The teacher's pets.

I worked part time at a bowling alley for a while. I was the girl who sprayed shoes for odour and fungus and stuff like that.

And then there was evening work as a phone slut. Not sexy though. Basically, I was one of a bunch of girls going through computerized lists asking if people needed their carpets cleaned, or their oil changed, and stuff like that. The supervisor was this little Hitler, it seems they always are in places like that. It was fairly steady work, for as long as I could stand it.

And there was a lot of phoning up about ads, going through quarters at the gas station pay phone, or walking or busing around looking. I remember being on the bus and seeing a help wanted sign at a dry cleaner. I pulled the cord, the bus stopped so far away I had to walk six blocks to get there. I was turned down in three minutes flat, no experience and not big enough for the heavy machines. It took over an hour for the next bus to come. Basically, a whole afternoon fucked for nothing.

I got a job at a convenience store. It was downtown, in the nasty part of town. But it was a dollar over minimum wage, and I had a day shift, which meant I didn’t have to work late nights. Not something I wanted to do in that part of town.

The owner, Mister Levene, a short middle aged guy, came across really nice and friendly. Ingratiatingly so. I didn’t mind at first, but I really got to dislike it. He stared down my top a lot, which again, I didn’t mind at first. Just because he was paying me so well, he seemed to have this thing about talking to my breasts.

This convenience store was different than what I was used to in Canada. I basically put it down to that it was an inner city place in a crime area. Essentially, the entire store was walled off, it was a big glass L. You came in through the door, and you saw the store's wares through the glass wall, and you just pointed out what you wanted, the clerk (me) would get it, pass it through the slot, and you’d pay your money and get your change through another slot. Absolutely minimum human contact. Sort of creepy, but I dunno, I’d seen stuff like that before in the States. Just not this extreme. It wasn’t a really big place, either, which I wondered about. But man, we were busy.

Basically, there were three other people I worked with. Chris, some goth punk chick with tattoos all up and down her bare arms, and Mickey, who was kind of a slacker. There was also Lenny, a middle aged black guy, who pulled a lot of the weekends. They were all nice enough, but what I found was, they were all pretty late. I always tried to show up on time, and so did Lenny. But Chris was an hour and a half late once. I was really pissed off at that, but she never cared. Once in a while, Mister Levene would be there, or someone I wouldn’t know would be working. Once a complete stranger came in to relieve me and I had to phone Mister Levene to make sure he was who he said he was.

Mostly, we were working alone. I only saw the others when the shift was supposed to change. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we wouldn’t. Let’s face it, it wasn’t really some place where you bonded with your co-workers.

I did go to a few raves with Chris. My official rave outfit was the little sequinned dress, I finally found a place to show it off, that I wore over a fishnet body stocking. Alone, the sequin dress was crap, but over the body stocking, it was funky. I did a lot of ecstasy. One night, I got fucked against a back wall by this big punk cowboy who just reached down and ripped the crotch out of my body stocking. It was like only five minutes, but afterwards, I went straight back to dancing with these rips in the fishnet down my thighs. It was hot. No condom. I was really high.

I managed to move again, this time to a better boarding house. It was women only, I think a couple of the girls were pregnant. So it might have been one of those places they sent girls away too, to wait on their babies instead of being in their buttfuck towns. The woman who ran it was good for taking messages. My new room was the smallest yet, but it was clean, no bugs, and furnished. I gave away my matt and my electric cooler to ‘no teeth.’ By this time, I’d been letting them keep the baby’s milk in the cooler, so I figured they needed it.

And once in a while, I’d splurge and buy one of those twenty dollar long distance phone cards and just run it right out, calling Missy or Gran, or just calling around trying to keep in touch with people.

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great. But at least it wasn’t boring, and I had some kind of sense that things were happening. I was getting somewhere.

But, the job...

I was selling hair spray and aftershaves, a lot of that, to some of the scuzziest fucked up people you’d ever seen. Actually, that was pretty much all we sold. We had pop and chips and toilet paper, but they hardly moved. Things like hair spray and aftershaves were like half our shelf space and three fourths of our sales.

I mean, my god, I didn’t understand it at first, then I had it explained to me. They drank it. You take like an aftershave and you mixed it six to one with water, and you could, if you were a hard core alky, get a decent buzz off it. Like, it would kill a normal human being, but it got them going.

So, basically, I was working in a liquor store catering to sub-winos. People so poor and fucked up and degenerate that real wine or liquor was out of their range. I mean, for these poor bastards, skid row would have been social climbing.

That’s so unbelievably fucked up.

Someone would pass me these nickles and dimes and pennies, a couple of rumpled dollar bills, I could smell them through the glass, and they’d be like looking forty but probably twenty, totally rags, dirty, their hair like stiff and sticking out, eyes not even focusing right. I’d pass them like pink panther hairspray, and then they’d go off with it.

How did people get that way? How long could you live like that? I couldn’t imagine it. It frightened and horrified me. And it disgusted me a little that I was a part of it in some way.

I got to look forward to Welfare day. When the welfare cheques came out, they all would go to real booze and partying, and the store wouldn’t do any business. Mr. Levene always fretted about that. I think he’d have liked to close the store those days.

One time, a kid came in, like this dirty skinny little boy, about ten years old. Maybe hispanic, he had this breathy wheeze that could have been an accent, or it could have been a lung condition. I don’t know. He asked if he could have some money for something to eat.

He just broke my heart. I passed him five dollars from the till and some chocolate bars that no one ever bought anyway.

Ten minutes later, this woman came in, and she bought some listerine. She passed me a five dollar bill. I looked at it twice, it was the same bill I’d given the boy.

After that, I never gave money. When the boy came back, I’d just give him a chocolate bar. Other kids came in, and I’d give them chocolate bars too, it started to get to be a thing. But after a while, I just started to feel like I didn’t want children coming into this place at all, so I stopped.

I didn’t feel good about that. What if that chocolate bar was the only thing they’d get to eat that day?

But what if they were selling them? No, that’s too fucked up, I won’t believe that.

But I just couldn’t stand them coming in. I felt guilty. I was working in what was basically a crack house, or the alcohol equivalent of a crack house. It was sickening.

Anyway, basically, the longer I worked there the more unbearable it got. I just couldn’t stand it. I would have quit, even without the robbery. I think I will always regret having worked there, to me it feels a lot worse than many of the things others might judge me harshly for.

Anyway...

One day, I’m working at the store. Basically, there wasn’t anything to do but wait for a customer, so I was reading this Steven King novel that got left behind. Someone came in. I looked up, and they were wearing a balaclava.

The first thing I thought was, ‘that’s a strange thing to wear in this weather.’ Then the second, really incredibly fleeting thing that went through my head was that he was some sort of S&M fetish guy. Then I saw the shotgun. I froze, I went totally all deer in the headlights.

He just rushed up and pointed the shotgun straight at me. It looked like a cannon. It was huge, absolutely fucking huge. I wondered for a split second if the glass was bulletproof, I remember, the thought just whizzed right through my head. He was screaming at me. I was just screaming and kind of cowering and crouching. Get down, stay there, come out of there, give me all your money. He kept shouting out these orders that made no sense, they all contradicted themselves. I’m going, please don’t kill me. I grabbed everything that was in the till, all the bills, and shoved them at him. He wanted more money. I grabbed fistfuls of quarters and shoved them through. He grabbed them and threw them back at the glass, and I shrieked and ducked, but they just bounced off the glass. He kept yelling at me to stop holding out on him. I held up the till drawer to show it was empty. It was just nonstop yelling. He said he was going to shoot me. I said no no don’t, I’ll write you a cheque. I don’t know why I said that.

Then he ran away.

It was like, suddenly there was utter silence. And it was loud. You hear that phrase ‘silence was deafening.’ It was like that. I swear, the quiet after he left, it was like a physical presence.

At first, I had no idea what to do. I was terrified he would come back. Then, just in case he came back, I ran out and locked the door. I was shaking a bit. I got a piece of paper, and scooped up the change he’d flung at the window, and tucked it in an envelope. I had this idea he might have left fingerprints. I dunno, it seems really irrational now.

Finally, I called Mister Levene and asked if the glass was bulletproof. I don’t know why I just didn’t start telling him about the robbery. It just seemed really important to me to know whether it was bulletproof or not, now that it was over.

You got robbed?

Yes.

First robbery?

(????)

All right, call the police, tell them the robbers got $500 and they’ll be right over. I’ll come down right away.

He only got $50.

Yes, but if you say $50, the police won’t come. They only come for $500.

Looking back, I think that’s just complete bullshit. They have to show up for an armed robbery, don’t they? I think he was inflating for insurance or something, I don’t know what. But it was a scam.

I said I didn’t think I could keep on working, could he send someone to replace me.

He said he’d come over himself, just keep the shop open.

I asked how, I didn’t have a float.

He said get exact change.

I asked him how long. He said fifteen minutes.

Fuck that, he was just unreal. I went and checked that the door was still locked and sat down to wait. I was shaking like a leaf. Someone came and tried the door. They knocked. They kept on knocking. I saw it was one of the regulars. I made signs for him to go away, but he wouldn’t.

Finally, I opened the door. I explained that I’d just been robbed. He was sorry to hear that. Could he buy something anyway?

All right. I let him in and went back behind the glass. He bought hair spray and paid with exact change. So, I was back in business.

The police showed up about an hour later. I’m pretty sure if I’d been shot, or there was a gun battle or something going on, they would have shown up more quickly. But I guess, the robber had left the building, so they figured they had time for donuts.

The cops, for once, were nice, and they acted professional I think it was cause I seemed so upset, and obviously, I wasn’t the perpetrator of an armed robbery. They were dealing with me on the basis of my being a civilian and not a potential criminal. One of them gave me his card. They said that this place should really spring for an alarm system. And maybe, I should think about working somewhere else. Apart from that though, I got the feeling they were going through the motions. This was more part of keeping statistics on armed robberies than crime solving. They gave me a receipt, or a sheet or something, and an incident number.

I gave them the quarters that I thought he might have left fingerprints on, but I think that only amused them. I could see them exchanging glances as one of the officers pocketed the envelope.

Mr. Levene showed up about two hours later, at the end of my shift. I was so pissed off at him. He said sorry, he got delayed, things came up, yadda fucking yadda. But I think, he just didn’t bother at all.

Anyway, I was mad, so I told him I was quitting.

“You forfeit your pay,” he said. “I’m entitled to two weeks notice.”

Fuck!

So of course, I had to run after him and beg for the job back. He graciously allowed that I’d been upset by the robbery. He let me come back.

I talked to Chris a couple of days later, she was following me on my shift, so she would have been the one he would have called in early. He never called. He was waiting when she showed up for her shift, late as usual, and he’d just told her I’d had to go home sick. Never mentioned the robbery. We all agreed he was just such a complete asshole.

So, I finished out til payday. I got half the regular amount on my paycheque.

“Don’t you remember? You quit. I hired you back.”

Asshole, what a complete motherfucking asshole. He was such a totally despicable human being, a human cockroach.

I cashed the cheque. I didn’t show up for my next shift. I don’t think he expected me to either. We both knew I was only waiting around to get my paycheque, so he just took it as an opportunity to screw me over.

That kind of thing happens all the time, or at least, it does on those levels. I can’t imagine that high powered lawyers and bankers ever get screwed over. But bottom wage earners, us part timers, casuals, hell, bending us over was like America's national sport. Well, actually maybe once in a while, but the thing was, we had no protection. It happened before that, it happened afterwards, and it always pissed me off.

But for some reason, this was the one that pissed me off the most. It still pisses me off.

It really screwed me over too. I wasn’t close to enough money to get me out of here. I wanted to go back to Minneapolis. Fuck all this ‘shining cities on hills’ crap, I wanted to go back to someplace that I’d been happy in, where I knew it was decent. Probably, Minneapolis was looking better than it was, cause you know, it softened in the glow of fond memory.

Phoenix sucked. The city was this endless wasteland of pavement and strip malls. It was like, if you took every run down seventies strip mall in the world and pasted them all together, you’d have Phoenix. There was nothing I liked here. The only good things I’d ever come across in Phoenix were absolutely generic, I could have had them, could have found them anywhere.

It was time to leave.

Except, I had to hang around a few more weeks, looking for anything, part time, casual, whatever. The drill is always the same, you buy the newspaper and a map, and then you go through the list, trying to find where everything is. Then you phone around, trying to find information and make appointments. I probably went through a hundred dollars in quarters when I was there, probably more. Then you hit the street, and if there’s a ‘help wanted’ sign you see along the way that’s not on your list, you go in and ask.

I was in a rooming house, basically the next best thing to homeless, no phone, no family, no references. I didn’t even bother applying at the chain places like McDonalds, cause they just want all their paperwork to fit. After that, it was basically the small marginal places, and those were always always hit and miss.

I sold flowers in bars, going around to couples or singles. For some reason, my best sales were in gay bars. For some reason, gay men just liked me. I made a lot of money doing that, I was good and I worked hard. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to keep that much of it. The guy who supplied flowers charged me like crazy, and then I discovered that I had to kick back to the bartenders if I wanted to sell flowers in their bar. Some of them had arrangements with other flower people, so they wouldn’t even let me in. There was one prick who took twenty bucks and then kicked me out anyway.

Restaurants were dead. It’s like that, sometimes restaurant jobs are like growing on trees. Sometimes there’s nothing. The joys of service industry. I got work in a car wash for a while, part time, mornings. That sort of helped keep me going.

Finally, one of the strip clubs was looking for waitresses. I applied. Basically, it was a dance club that served meals. So the original idea was some girl would grind around a pole for half an hour, then she’d serve you your shrimp and lobster. The trouble is, strippers didn’t make good waitresses, I guess. And like, the feature dancers didn’t like doing it. I guess if you’ve invested five grand in a set of artificial breasts, its sort of demeaning to have to get coffee for these shmucks. What it wound up with was you’d order at the bar, and then the bouncers or the bar girls would bring your food.

They gave me a hard time. They didn’t need a stripper, and I wasn’t their type (real breasts). I didn’t want to strip, I wanted to waitress. How old was I? Old enough. Was I on drugs? Fuck off, no. We don’t need waitresses. What about the sign? Its an old sign. Well, its still up there. You’ll have to wait topless. Fine, tips? Fifty fifty (actually, turned out more like 70/30 a lot of guys tipped off their credit card and I never saw those). You don’t really look like our type. I just got mad and started reeling off places I’d waitressed in Minneapolis and Chicago, and I even threw in Des Moines, and finally, I got a try out for the afternoon. I wouldn’t have even done it, except I was mad. Basically, the height of my ambition wasn’t to work in some nude bar, no thanks.

Oh yeah, that’s another thing I loved about Phoenix. Everyone was so fucking rude, it was like you couldn’t be civil about anything with anyone.

So, I waited tables in a G string. It was okay, once I got over the self consciousness, and I was actually a better waitress than anyone else they had. Mostly, waiting tables in a G string, I noticed the drafts a lot more. Air is just a lot more mobile and cool when you’re walking around without clothes in a place like that. Oddly, I thought I’d have more problem with nudity. But practically all the girls were naked or half naked, so being bare breasted became almost an unconscious thing, it was like I was just wearing the house uniform, I didn’t even think about it after a while. It was a lot different there, than being naked or partly naked in other situations. I just didn’t feel nude. That’s weird, isn’t it.

That job lasted only a couple of days. They had the worst food you’ve ever seen, and half the time, the cook was coked up. It was so badly run that often, instead of cooking, we’d just get take out from down the street. It was probably the worst restaurant I’d ever been in. Frankly, if I was running it, I’d have fired the cook and kitchen staff, and gone 100% take out. I mean, there were restaurants all over, I’d have just made arrangements, incorporated their menus, picked a few items that could be done fast but would last under a heat lamp, and set up a delivery system. Get the food in, put it on the house plates, and serve topless. Instead, they just seemed to choose the most fucked up way to do anything.

But one of the bouncers who moonlighted as a muscle dancer put me on to this other place. From there, I wound up serving food and drinks in a gay bar, and the tips there really were fifty fifty. I was a short timer, I was just covering someone’s vacation, so it was actually less than two weeks. I also got on with a maid service, basically, part time daily, but its hours matched up, I was the only white girl in the service. And I got about 10 or 12 hours a week bagging groceries at this supermarket.

A few weeks later, I was riding the greyhound. I had just enough money to cover it, but I didn’t care. By that time, even if I’d been flat broke, I’d have just started hitchhiking.

So much for Phoenix.

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 37, Helen gets punished

THE ENSLAVEMENT OF HELEN AND COLIN, PART 3

KAYLEY

Helen was telling me she didn’t have a clitoris. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Nope,” Helen said, with unshakable certainty. “I don’t have one. All the other parts, the lips, the pee place, the ... canal, yes. Definitely. No citrus.”.

It's a fucking clitoris, not an orange! I almost screamed at her. And you fucking have one. You do! You do! You absolutely do! You're not some weird Christian-cult mutant. You're just a creepy little bobblehead and you absolutely, definitely, completely have a clitoris!!!

With an effort, I locked it all down and put on a carefully neutral, friendly expression.

“I’m pretty sure you do,” I insisted.

She shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly.

“I don’t think she does either,” Colin said, “I’ve never noticed it.”

Oh Jesus Christ, Colin, what's wrong with you? I swallowed that down too.

I stared at both of them. Were they fucking with me? I kept waiting for them to burst out laughing, but they seemed so sincere. For a moment, I thought about throwing an epic tantrum. How could they be that stupid? That naive? That innocent?

Yeah, sharp Kayley, beating up on a couple of naive innocent kids. I felt ashamed of myself, for even thinking of letting loose on them.

I sighed.

“Okay!” I said finally. I put on an artificially bright smile. “So one more time, then we’ll skip the written test and proceed with the driver’s portion of the exercise.”

They just looked at me.

Finally, I snapped my fingers twice to fix their attention and stood up. Either they knew it all along and they were fucking with me, a proposition I had no evidence for. Or they had eventually gotten it, another unproven hypothesis. Or it was time to just give up and go on to the next phase.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s see what you’ve learned! Show and tell time, boys and girls! Off those chairs, and on your knees.”

I turned around and sat my ass on the table, pulling two chairs close so I could brace my feet. Legs spread wide. Oh fuck, they were on their knees. My pussy clenched. I really loved naked people on their knees looking up at me. I loved it way too much. I needed to be careful about that, before I started a cult or something.

A room full of naked people on their knees in front of me... Just the thought made my clit throb. I wondered how I could arrange...

Down girl!!!

I pointed at Colin.

“You first, pretty boy,” I ordered, “crawl over hear and see if you can find the clitoris! You might win a prize!”

Soon, his mouth was on my vagina. His tongue seemed to probe the general area, while his lips moved with something resembling purpose. That was an improvement at least. I slid my hand along his scalp and wrapped fingers in his hair to guide him.

“Wrap your arms around my thighs,” I told him, “reach in just above my pussy, fingers flat, and pull upward. That lifts the clit hood.... Okay... now a little higher... a little lower.... there, can you feel it on your tongue? No? How can you not feel... Oh never mind. Just stay in that area.... Slow down... now a little faster... Try making circles...”

I sucked in breath, and looked over at Helen, watching us with something like horrified fascination. Or was it confusion?

"Are you watching?"

She nodded, attention rapt but dubious. She clearly wasn't sure about this, but couldn't look away. I didn't have the impression she was turned on. It was more the expression of someone watching a car crash.

That was so flattering! Stupid bobblehead.

I pushed Colin’s head back a little, he paused.

"Don't stop!" I ordered, and snapped my fingers with my free hand.

"But..."

"Just stick your tongue out," I ordered. "It will reach. You can focus more. Just remember the Alamo."

"What?" he asked.

Fuck, I thought to myself.

"Remember the citrus!" I corrected.

Double fuck! Now they've got me doing it.

"Look," I told him, "just stick your tongue out as far as it will go, and keep touching the tip around the top, where my lips are spread open. Got that."

Don't make me get out the diagrams, I thought. But he complied.

I snapped my fingers. "You, Bobblehead, get over here, I want you to get a better look."

Oh shit, did I just call Helen a bobblehead out loud? I was mortified. I felt myself blushing all over, going hot with embarrassment. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice, and simply moved closer. I pulled her gently to me, so that our hips were touching, and she was looking down directly at Colin as his tongue probed away.

“Pay attention,” I told her, and kissed her cheek in a friendly way. “You’re next.”

I let Colin continue to mess about, offering occasional instructions and guidance, until I’d decided he was a passable beginner and was starting to show the appropriate enthusiasm.

Enthusiasm counts for a lot with this kind of thing. Well, I don’t know how much it actually counts for, but it definitely makes up for lack of skill. Look: It’s men, all right. Standards are just lower.

“Your turn,” I told Helen, once I was nice and dripping wet and starting to pant. I pushed Colin and he knee walked back. He was hard, I took that as a good sign. I patted her ass, and she knelt obediently between my legs, her face inches from my pussy, I pulled my clit hood back and pointed.

“See this, that’s my clitoris, you see it?”

My pussy was wet, and I could feel it hard and excited, my sweet bean. Surely she could see, it was practically on a pink platter.

She poked it with her fingertip. Oh! Ow! What the fuck?

“No,” I said crossly. “You don’t poke it! Why did you poke it! It’s not a rattlesnake. Are you Steve Irwin? Did you want a stick to poke it with? What’s wrong with you two.”

No, I thought, I was being mean. I needed to stop. I took a deep breath. Another deep breath. I looked down at Helen, on her knees below me, her head between my thighs. She looked up, her eyes were wide. I hoped I hadn't frightened her. I took a deep breath and smiled down.

“It’s okay,” I told her, “you’re doing great!”

“You don’t poke, the clitoris,” I explained gently. “Other things you poke, but not the clitoris. You stroke it, you circle it, you fondle it, you lick it, you tease it, if you’re kinky you pinch it–”

Wait! She was reaching with thumb and forefinger! I grabbed her wrist, lightning quick. She looked up, confused. I smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t pinch the clitoris!” I said quickly. “Just be nice to it. Just ... appreciate it. It’s there, you can see it, now that you know where to look.”

“Yes,” Helen said. “I see it, and all the other parts."

Oh thank god!

"Except the pee hole.”

“It’s there too,” I said.

“How come I can’t see yours?”

“Focus on the clitoris.”

“Okay.”

“Remember, you have one too.”

“No I don’t.”

Oh Jesus!

I grabbed her hair, struggling to be gentle.

“Well, until yours comes in, you can lick mine.”

Then I shoved her face into my cunt. She was more timid, at first, I could feel the reluctance. But I patted her hair, and called her pet and good little slave, I told her what to do, and praised her for how well she was doing.

Then I felt it, I couldn’t see it, but I felt it, her smile and then a little roll in her hip as she moved. Then more and more enthusiasm. Her tongue danced, her lips pressed, and she even dipped down as far as my asshole, making me sigh and gasp, before going up.

Then she found it!

“Oh,” I whispered, “you are such a good little pet. I may have to keep you. Yes I will. Yes I will. Who’s a good little pet.”

I was getting very close.

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered, right on the edge. I pushed her head away. “That’s enough. Back off a little.”

I held my stomach, feeling my pussy clench, as I panted and came down from my near orgasm.

“Are you okay?” Colin asked. They were watching me.

Oh, it was so fucking close, I took a deep breath. Maybe I should have gone for it. I could have. But no, not in front of the pets. Also, their cat was watching me. Everyone knows it’s impossible to come when a cat is watching you. They’re so judgmental. It’s like they’re critiquing your orgasm, and not generously.

I nodded.

“I’m fine.” I took another deep breath. “Colin, you have some idea of what to do, and Helen, you should have a better sense of what you have down there. It’s your turn. Come on up on the table beside me.”

I patted.

“Me?” she asked.

“You,” I replied.

“I don’t know,” she said, doubtfully. “It doesn’t really seem hygienic.”

I nodded.

“Number one, it’s a little late for that given that my pussy juices are all over both your faces. And Number two, you’re both my slaves and you do what I tell you.”

She still looked doubtful.

“The words you’re looking for is ‘Yes Miss Kayley, right away Miss Kayley!’ Then you do what you’re told.”

I snapped my fingers twice.

“Right now!”

“Yes, Miss Kayley! Right away Miss Kayley!” spoken in a rush, as she scrambled up on the table.

Pets, you have to be firm, or they’ll just walk all over you.

Also, slaves, ditto.

At least the cat had wandered off into the bedroom.

As she settled in on the table, I pulled one of her legs over mine, and eased her toward until her butt was on the edge.

“Spread, sweetie,” I ordered, watching as she complied. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted.

I put an arm over her shoulders.

“You’ll be fine,” I said, “I’m right here.”

I reached down between her legs, making her gasp as I slid a finger inside, and worked my knuckles along her clit hood, right where her allegedly nonexistent clit should be. She gasped, stiffening and then relaxing.

Yeah ‘I don’t have a clit’ my ass! I thought with satisfaction.

“You’re already wet, so wet,” I teased, my voice dropped to a whisper. “I think you really liked licking my pussy.”

She blushed. Yes, I thought, world’s worst poker player. I could so clean them both out. I snapped my fingers twice and pointed at Colin, before she was too embarrassed. He worked his way forward, as I held her pussy lips open for him.

She tensed as his head brushed her thighs.

"Shhh," I whispered. "Trust me. This will be good for both of you."

Maybe I was overdoing it. Maybe it would be easier to just have Colin kneeling there and jerking off while I fingered her until she admitted that, yes Santa, she did have a clitoris. It was sinful how much I liked that idea of Colin kneeling and jerking off.

But then she'd probably imprint on me, and follow me around like a puppy. I wanted to get them into each other and leave me out of it.

As Colin’s mouth closed on her pussy, I kept my fingers on her, pulling back to expose her clit hood, fingering lightly around it, feeling his tongue lap against it.

“Hoo!” Helen cried, she made such odd sex sounds. Her body stiffened, relaxed, stiffened again. I could feel the tensions rippling through her thigh over my leg. “My! Oh me! My! My!”

I pressed, pulling her clit hood, so she was exposed to Colin, and watched her reaction. Her eyes went heavy lidded, she leaned her head back against me, panting lightly. I pushed my fingers down, tapping out a soft beat, making semicircles, seeing her response intensify.

Slipping my hand from her pussy, I reached out to pat Colin’s head.

“Good boy,” I assured him. To make sure, I took a grip in his hair, trying to guide him a little.

“Ooh-hoo,” Helen groaned. “Ooh my my my. Me my. Dear! My!”

I let Colin go, and worked my fingers up again her pubic mound, pressing down. As Colin licked wildly, I focused in beneath her clit hood. The effect was electrical, she heaved, her body stiffening. She cried out incoherently. Her hips jerked. I could feel her against me, her face going red, her body going hot, muscles rigid and trembling. For a moment, her right hand flailed, and then she brought it down on Colin’s head, pushing his face and my fingers against her mound.

“OH MMMMY MY MY MY!” she shouted, and squirted in his face. He struggled for a moment, but she wasn’t letting go her death grip. I held her until it passed through her and she was left panting, the tension flowing out. She took deep breaths. Her liquid continued to trickle out, and I realized she was no longer squirting, she was peeing.

“Colin,” I said quickly but gently. “Be a dear and go get the paper towels. Now.”

He scrambled. I hoped she hadn’t peed on him. I’d tried to convey calmness, and that this wasn’t gross or anything. Although it was. It wasn’t weirdly hot at all. Nope. Gross.

Helen laid back on the table. I should have made them go to the bathroom first, I thought to myself.

“What was that?” she asked dreamily.

I thought for a moment about how to respond, and decided it was best to come clean.

“That was an orgasm,” I said.

“Oh,” she seemed to think it over. “That’s not at all what I thought an organize ‘em was.”

“You’ve been having sex for a year,” I said. And this was her first orgasm. That was tragic.

“It’s been good,” she assured me. “Colin has been good. He’s a wonderful lover.”

No orgasms for the whole marriage up to now. Also, I hadn’t seen Colin last longer than three minutes. Uh huh. I tried to dial back my cruelty, it wasn’t their fault, they were naive kids, raised ignorant, stumbling through life together.

They were in love, and they were trying their best.

“It’s been good, and Colin is great,” I agreed. “But now it’s going to get better.”

I hoped that didn’t sound like I was making commitment or anything.

She looked up at me.

“You were right,” she said, “I do have a citrus.”

What? Oh right, clitoris. She kept doing that. I suppressed the urge to correct her. It wasn’t really the time to be a spelling Nazi.

“Told you.”

“It was like a little tiny land mine, I could feel it going off.”

“That’s a hell of a description.”

I reached out and bopped her nose.

“Pet?”

“Yes.”

“You peed, didn’t you?”

She blinked.

“Yes, I guess,” she said. “After the organiz ‘em I just felt so relaxed it just sort of went.”

I nodded.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head.

“No way. Not at all. It’s just,” I scrunched my face, “a little messy. Hard on sheets, the mattress. Smell can stick around.”

“Sorry.”

I shrugged.

“First time,” I told her. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll have more control next time.”

I paused thoughtfully. “Or if not, get a plastic liner for the bed. Either way, no worries.”

I bopped her nose again, and she giggled a little.

“Okay,” she said. “At least let us lick your citrus–”

“Clitoris!”

“Let us lick your citorus until you organize.”

“Orgasm,” I corrected. I shook my head. Not with pee dripping off the table and the stupid cat watching to critique me. Somehow, the urge to have one had faded. I think I was in too much of a ‘taking care of them’ mode.

“You know what? From now on, just say ‘come.’ Anyway, I’m good.”

I sat up, to check on my other victim, busily mopping up. Victim?

“Hey sweety,” I said, “you okay? Did she get you?”

“The first splash, yes,” he said.

“That’s okay then,” I said, “that’s a squirt, female orgasm. Doesn’t always happen when a woman comes. You should consider it a badge of honour.”

I paused.

“Do you need a hand?”

“I got it.”

I nodded.

“Do you need a shower? Wash your face to feel cleaner?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” I said, “let’s all just relax. Come over to the futon.”

I dragged Helen off the table, and the three of us navigated around the coffee table. I pulled the blanket cover off and we all huddled under it, pressing naked bodies together. I felt relaxed and comfortable, between them, their body heat radiating. This was nice. They were nice. It was odd to think they were only a few years younger, they seemed so innocent and naive. But really, they were sweet kids, and my lingering guilt had long since evaporated away. I felt I’d done something good for them, improved their lives.

We’d cuddle for a while, I thought. Then we’d hug it out, maybe chat a bit. And then I’d go home, all my karma cleansed. I smiled and relaxed.

“I’m ready to go again,” Helen said, “what’s next.”

Oh for fuck’s sakes!

“So am I,” Colin said. “I’m ready.”

Double fuck!

Okay, think fast. We’d done Oral Sex 101. Colin’s erection was back, it had been back for a while, so we could work with that. AP Blow Jobs? No. Maybe demand some Kayley worship? Tempting. What if I made them both kneel at my feet licking my toes. I liked that idea way more than I should. I could really take advantage of them... if I was an awful person. I didn't want to be an awful person. I flashed on the way I'd treated Sam and shuddered.

Hmmm. Fuck Colin again? No way! A ninety second tumble, forget it, I’d be just starting and he’d be over. Besides, I didn’t want to do it in front of Helen, that’s how this all started.

And the fucking cat would probably be watching.

How about Colin fucking Helen, I thought? Make them do all the work, while I sat back and looked stern. Right, that could work. Low stress domination, I liked it. Maybe I could give some pointers disguised as orders and improve Colin’s technique. No disrespect to Helen who thought her sex life had been great, but she didn’t even know she had a clitoris. Even small pointers would be a sex miracle.

That would work. That was a plan.

“All right,” I said, standing up and stretching. “Colin, you get up. Pet, stay on the futon. I want you to get on all fours - knees and elbows. Arch your back.”

I needed to get a catsuit, I thought suddenly. Leather, vinyl, even spandex. Something. It kind of undermined the whole domination thing when you were as naked as your victims. Victims? Was that the right term? Submissives.

Note to self: Stop thinking about your victims as victims. I mean submissives.

I watched Helen get into position. Get them boning. That will take care of that, and if they take too long, I can sneak out while they’re distracted.

Wait. Did they know? They must have but who the hell could be sure? Neither of them had any idea of what a clitoris was.

“Okay,” I said, “just to be clear. When the penis gets hard and goes into the vagina, that’s sex.”

They looked at me like I was stupid.

Oh you little bitches!

You do not get to have that attitude with me. I suppressed the urge. You want to know why sadists are so mean to their subs? Because the little shits deserve it!

Still, better safe than sorry. Be kind. Be careful.

“Girls have two holes down there. There’s the one that poop comes out of, and the other one. The other one is called the vagina, and that’s the one you used for sex.”

“Yeah,” she said, “we know.”

She actually rolled her eyes at that.

The bitch!

“Watch the attitude, Pet,” I warned. “Just a little more disrespect, and I’d punish the fuck out you.

She stiffened, I could feel the sudden tension in her frame. That’s right, slave, smarten up.

Very briefly, I considered explaining anal sex to them, but then I came to my senses.

“Are you going to spank me?” Helen asked, with surprising eagerness.

“What?” Where the hell had that come from? For a moment, I was confused.

“My hairbrush is in the bedroom," Helen said quickly "Colin, go get it please?”

He jumped to comply, with more confidence and eagerness than he'd shown our whole time. What was going on?

Then it all fell into place. Home schooled, religious nutcase household. Complete ignorance of sex, plus physical discipline and weird religious ideas equals kink. Probably a lot of repression, lack of genuine affection even physical warmth. Maybe she didn't even get hugs. But discipline, lots of that, lectures and rules, and punishments. All that, together with insecurity lead to some deep craving for submission... All these insecurities and needs, compounding with ignorance and inexperience. She’d had a year of probably semi-comfortable, non-orgasmic sex, plus true love. But deep down, all these dark cravings from a fucked up upbringing.

Then one day she meets the woman who fucked her husband, but betrayal and jealousy is forgotten, because she turns out to be a full fledged dominatrix!

The next thing I know, she’s dragging me home so she can be a sex slave.

Suddenly, her ‘aim butt cheeks and pussy at the door’ pose when I walked into the bedroom made so much more sense now. Oh my god, she'd been presenting for punishment!

And how excited she seemed to get when I grabbed the hairbrush. I thought it was nerves or intimidation. But it was anticipation. She'd thought I was going to...

Holy shit. I’d misread that completely.

Oh geez, what had I walked into?

Colin was coming back with the hairbrush..

“I’m ready,” she almost sang. She actually wiggled her ass. Between her thighs, her pussy looked wet and bright, the lips swelling a little. She was getting wetter. Oh geez! How could she be so innocent, and so kinky?

Christianity had a lot to answer for!

What the fuck, Kayley! I thought. What am I doing? Colin handed me the hairbrush. I didn’t even know what side to use. I put it down beside me on the coffee table.

“I’m going to use my hand,” I announced firmly. “I’m going to slap that ass until you beg for mercy. Then I’m going to make Colin fuck you like a dog - doggy style, and you’re going to love it.”

“Be ready,” I told Colin, “when I give you permission, you’re going to pound the shit out of that tight little...”

Wait! If I said cunt, would it shock them?

“... that tight little hoo haa!”

Hoo haa. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing. What if I accidentally said that in front of Leroy or Sam, I’d just die.

“I’ve been bad,” Helen announced. “I’ve been a bad girl. I accept my pun–”

“Nope!” I said loudly. “None of that. You’re not being punished. I’m spanking you because I enjoy it. You’re my slave, so your duty is to please me.”

“I want to please you, Miss Kayley,” she said, “please–”

"Oh shut up," I told her, and smacked her ass cheek as hard as I could, leaving a very gratifying hand print. My hand stung, but at least she squeaked and shook. Take that, I thought.

Make me your mistress will you? I smacked her other cheek.

Try and be my submissive little sex slave? Smack!

You and your gumdrop shaped nipples! Smack!

Who calls it a citrus? Smack!

How dare you be so... sweet! Smack!

Innocent! Smack!

Naive! I was mad! Smack!

Jesus Christ my hand was stinging.

After a half dozen slaps, my palm was raw, I could barely close my hand. Why doesn’t anyone mention this? Helen was practically yawning. What was she made of? I was practically crippling myself, and I was on the edge of boring her. Her religious fanatic mother probably whaled on her twice a day with a fucking cricket bat.

“Colin!” I held my hand up, I could feel my fingers stinging and swelling up, hard to move, “Brush!”

“Okay,” I told Helen fiercely, desperate not to look like an idiot in front of them, “the warm up is over. Now you’re really going to get it. And then Colin’s big hard cock is going to split your slut pussy like cordwood, and you’re going to love every second of it.”

“Yes Miss Kayley!”

Way too enthusiastic! I flipped the brush around in my palm, rotating from smooth to bristly side, as if I knew what I was doing. But really, my hand just stung so much it was hard to hold. Bristles? No way!

To buy time, I slid my other hand between her legs, slipping two fingers in her cunt. She was so wet, they slid in with no resistance. She moaned like a normal person, arching her back.

“You slut!” I snarled, genuinely angry, “you’re getting off on this! You’re totally getting off!”

“I’m sorry Miss Kayley!” she cried out.

"Don't apologize!" I yelled

I whacked her with the smooth side, and got a gratifying squeal. I suspected she was still enjoying it. She wiggled and squirmed as if trying to get away, but I noticed she didn’t actually go anywhere. She remained right in place for the next one. I brought the brush down hard.

"You didn't do anything wrong!" I snarled.

I slapped the brush down on the other ass cheek, and she squealed.

"You don't deserve to be punished."

I whaled on her for at least a half dozen hard strokes, getting caught up in the satisfaction of smacking her with the brush. Take that you creepy little kinky nympho bobblehead! How can you be such a freak and not even have decent underwear!

Each strike seemed to ripple through her body, bring a new squeal. There was something so naked, so raw about her reactions, it excited me. Her response to each smack made me hungrier to do the next one, awoke this lust and cruelty in me. I found myself grinning and breathing hard, choosing my spots, trying to elicit a response. The pink blossoming on her ass cheeks was thrilling. I slammed harder.

"You are a kind and loving person, and you deserve to be loved! Do you hear me!"

"Yes Miss Kayley!!!"

I started to worry about bruising her. Hah, probably wasn’t even bothering her. The weird-ass little bobble-head home-school slut. I wanted to teach her a lesson, show her whose boss. She wouldn’t be able to sit down. Do it! Punish the fuck out of her!

Geez, get a grip, Kayley!

"Then say it!" I roared.

"I deserve to be punished!" she cried out.

I slapped her hard.

"Loved!" I snarled. "You deserve to be loved."

Smack.

"Sorry!!!!!"

"Say it then!"

"I deserve to be loved!"

I gave her a few strokes for good measure, and left her gasping and writhing on all fours on the futon. By the redness of her face and chest, and the way her back arched and flexed, I could tell she was aching for it. Even her toes were curling. I was panting, my pussy was wet, I could feel it. I had a sudden urge to mount her, squat over her, squeezing her face between my thighs, and punishing those gumdrop nipples. I imagined her gasping and thrashing under me as I worked towards orgasm. With an effort, I pulled back.

Helen was panting and shivering and giving these breathy little gasps.

Colin was standing beside me, eyes wide as saucers. Oh god, I hoped I hadn’t traumatized him.

Follow up thought: I hope he lasts more than two minutes this time.

Helen’s pussy was dilating, and shiny wet. I didn’t even need to touch her, she was actually dripping. I’d never seen anyone so wet. I could do it, I thought. I could flick that clit and make her come instantly.

No.

This wasn’t about turning these two into toys. This whole thing started because I was a selfish asshole and I used a stranger like a toy. It’s about them. I was a good person, not a monster. Not out of control. Not callous. Not like that night. Not to strangers.

Deep breath. Control.

I reached out and gently took hold of his cock, resisting the urge to squeeze it until he whimpered. To crush him like a bug and use him. Still rock hard, that was good. I pulled forward guided him onto the futon between Helen’s knees.

“Hands on her hips,” I ordered. “For stability.”

I was still holding his cock, guiding it up to her pussy.

Was I micromanaging too much? Fuck, domming was hard! I had a lot more sympathy for Leroy, especially with how easy he made it look. You don’t really appreciate it until you’ve done it yourself.

“Colin?”

He looked at me.

“I want you to make her organize,” I told him. “Orgasm! Come! Make her come! Hold off for her. Hold yours off as long as you can.”

“Yes Miss Kayley!”

I released him, and he started to slide in. I slapped his ass lightly with the back of the brush. He shouted with surprise and lunged forward, producing an answering squeal from Helen. It had been a hostile impulse, but I was thrilled at the result. He didn’t object. Clearly, he liked it too, I could tell. I did it again.

The minute it's too much, I told myself, the minute I see he doesn't like it, I'll stop.

“Faster!” I cried, smacking him, not too hard, not nearly as hard as Helen, but hard enough to leave red marks and have him lunge to my strikes. Still not objecting. There was a wild excitement in his eyes.

“Harder! Harder!”

“Hoo! Golly!” Helen was squealing. “My my my! Oh me! Golly!”

“Fuck her,” I roared, giving Colin another smack. Couldn’t she swear like normal people? It was so distracting.

Colin fucked her like a wild bronco, pounding her mercilessly. Every time he slowed, I’d smack his ass with the brush. And when he was going good, I’d reach under her and pinch one of those gumdrop nipples, or try and stroke her clit to excite her further.

“Golly me!” Helen shouted suddenly. “Golly me! Golly GOLLY GOLLY, OH MY GOLLY ME!”

She was coming.

“Go girl!” I shouted encouragement.

“Harder!” I smacked Colin.

Then she was gone, and a couple of minutes later, so was Colin. For a moment, they remained locked together, panting like dogs, sweat covered, bleary, sexual exhaustion and sheer happiness radiated off them in waves. As one, they seemed to look at me expectantly.

Wait.

My approval was required?

Fuck me.

“I’m very pleased,” I said solemnly. “With both of you.”

Their smiles turned into blissful grins. Helen stretched out on the futon, and Colin stretched out on top of her. For a moment, I wanted to poke them, so they’d be laying on their side, and he wouldn’t crush her, she was such a delicate little thing. But they seemed okay, and I was a dominatrix, not a mother hen.

I noticed she didn’t pee on the futon this time. Good. Maybe that was a fluke.

“Make room,” I ordered, pushing my way onto the futon. They squirmed about, until both their heads were in my lap, and I was stroking their hair.

“You did well, pets,” I told them. “You did very well.”

Helen giggled happily. Colin sort of did this pleased grunt.

“I think we’re done,” I said. “I’ll get going soon.”

“But you didn’t come,” Helen complained.

Yes, I noticed. Thank you for pointing that out. My lack of personal satisfaction had completely escaped me. I hadn’t noticed. I was totally not at all troubled by the unfairness of it all. Nope, I completely was not bothered by the fact that I hadn’t and wouldn’t be getting any, because I’d had to spend all my time taking care of those two whiny, demanding, little bitches. And their cat.

“That’s okay, Sweety,” I said. “This was training. I have to teach you to please each other, before I can start to train you to please me properly.”

Which... had a certain allure to it. The idea, I mean: A pair of hot and cold running sex slaves waiting on me hand and foot? Yummy. I flashed back on the two of them kneeling naked below me, as I'd sat on the table. A roomful of naked people kneeling in front of me. Ordering Colin to make out with Sam while I watched, oh my god, the things I could make them do while Helen licked me through one orgasm after another.

But I suspected that they might be more work than let on. A lot more work. They might be more demanding than I liked.

And how would I explain them to Sam?

‘Sam, they followed me home, can I keep them?’

‘Kayley, I warned you about collecting slaves.’

‘But they’re so cute! And submissive! Pleeeeeaaaassssse.’

‘Well, okay, but this is the last time.’

The calico cat jumped up in my lap, navigating around their heads, to find a comfortable spot to settle down and purr. I petted it. Helen turned around to smile up at me.

“Jezebel likes you,” she said happily, as if cats were ever any kind of judge of personality. Dogs sure, dogs could tell good people from bad, or at least people likely to feed them from people not likely to feed them. But cats? If they could, they wouldn’t because they didn’t care.

Anyway, I noticed Jezebel was a boy cat while it was showing me its anus.

“I like Jezebel too,” I said politely. “But...”

“Just a few more minutes...”

“Just a few...” I sighed.

It wasn’t actually bad to wait. It was kind of nice to be all together, albeit with a misgendered calico cat sticking its testicles in my face.

“You didn’t tie us up,” Helen said thoughtfully. “Or do the leash thing. Not much spanking. We didn’t do most of what you were saying you would do. Or the dress up.”

Oh fuck! Now I was getting notes!

“Well, you know,” I said airily, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“I guess,” she said, “that will be next time? When you’ve got your domatricky stuff? Oh, and butt stuff too! Let's do that!"

Next time? Next time? Oh and wait, butt stuff? Where had she gotten that from? And Dominatrix stuff? Like she wanted me to have gear? What was she thinking, the kinky little Bobblehead? I played with her hair and looked down at her, as she stared up at me with complete innocence, not even a trace of guile. How can you be that naive and that perverted at once?

I wondered suddenly if either of them had a pee fetish? Nope! Don’t even think about that.

Oh Jesus, as if my life wasn’t complicated enough with Sam and Leroy and all Leroy’s bullshit and cucking and the booths and everything, now I had sex slaves! What was I going to do with sex slaves?

But I couldn’t just blow them off. God knows, if I left them running around on their own, what kind of horrible assholes they might end up with. They could get hurt. Goddamn. It’s like the Chinese say, give a person an orgasm, and they’re your responsibility for the rest of your life.

This is what comes of fucking waiters, I thought as I eventually got up and got dressed. Damn. Never again.

“I have a full schedule,” I said diplomatically.

“Oh sure,” Helen said airily. “We understand. I guess you do this professionally. We don't have much money, but...”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, forgetting what I was going to say.

"I'm not going to charge you."

Creepy little bobblehead, now she was giving me her big orphaned waif eyes, and smiling like I was the greatest person she'd ever met. I sighed.

“I’ll fit you in,” I told them. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Then they hugged me. Because, of course, they would hug me.

“I’m so glad you fucked my husband!” Helen told me, her eyes shining.

“Yay,” I said flatly.

&&&

It was late driving home. I wondered what I was going to tell Sam. God, my sex life had gotten weird and messed up since Leroy had come into our lives. Not that I could blame him for this.

There was no way I could tell Sam about this. This was just too crazy. I couldn’t even begin to explain it.

This was happening more and more, and it was eating into me. I sighed unhappily.

More and more it felt like I was keeping secrets, sins of omission, outright lies, and perhaps worst of all were the ones when I was with him.

I remembered my hunger for those men to come in me when we had our evening, and my desire, my need concealed from him. He wouldn’t have cared, but I’d needed to hide it. When we played with Leroy, there were hungers and cravings I could barely describe to myself, much less share with Sam.

And in the cuck sessions, and now in this latest encounter, something dark inside me had risen up and tried to seize control, something dark and predatory. A relentless cruelty. And alongside, a hunger for power, for control, for domination. Was this just the other side of my submissive nature, or something else. I had no idea. I’d felt it with Helen and Colin, though I’d kept it from running wild.

I was ashamed of what I had done to Sam during the cucking. And yet, when I’d been doing it, I’d loved it, I’d barely been able to rein myself in, the drive, the need had been overwhelming. It was like there was another Kayley, a terrifying, relentless version of me.

As bizarre as the encounter with Colin and Helen had been, that other version had been triggered, had risen up. I’d been ravenous, hungry to dominate, just barely restraining myself.

Gods, I needed to talk about this with someone. But the only person I trusted to reveal this too was also my victim.

I couldn’t talk about this with Sam.

&&&

“Honey, I’m home,” I called.

Sam looked up from the couch, where he was reading a book. He smiled.

“Welcome back,” he said, “how was the apology tour? Went late?”

I rolled my eyes, walked over and plopped myself in his lap. He wrapped warm, wonderful Sam-arms around me. I sighed heavily.

“That bad.”

“His wife was there,” I told him.

“Ouch!”

“Yeah,” I said, “there I was, stammering out this apology, and finally he says ‘this is my wife.’ He’d told her everything. She’s glaring daggers...”

“Ouch!”

“I felt like an inch tall. At that moment, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me up.”

“Poor baby,” he kissed the top of my head. “Tell me all about it.”

“Nothing much to tell,” I said. “I felt terrible. It was awkward as fuck. But we talked, and talked and talked, and eventually worked it out.”

“They forgave you?”

“I think the important thing, was they got past it with each other,” I said. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I’d fucked up their marriage.”

“You care about people,” he said. “I love that in you. That decency and compassion.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. I didn't feel like a good person.

And here I am lying to you. Again. I thought about the cuckolding session, my runaway savagery, the insatiable cruelty that had risen up in me, and felt a wave of shame.

“Just for the record,” I said, not looking at him, “I didn’t actually have sex with either of them. Just so you know. I’m not a complete slut.”

“Hmm,” Sam went, thoughtfully, “that’s an oddly technical way of phrasing it.”

“I guess so,” I said. “Yeah.”

He didn’t push, he just waited to see where I was going to go.

“It all got complicated and really hard to explain,” I explained.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said.

He nodded, and shrugged.

“Okay,” he said, “I trust you.”

Oh goddamnit!

I started talking about it. I didn’t want to, but I just started. I couldn't help it, it all just came pouring out, this bewildered confession. Sam listened quietly for a while.

Then he laughed.

“Creepy little bobblehead?”

“Don’t laugh!” I complained. “Helen is really nice. I was just frustrated.”

“Tell me you didn’t say it out loud?”

“Sam!”

“Okay, okay,” he snickered.

“She really does have a nice body,” I insisted, “once you get used to it.”

“You saw her naked?”

“May I continue?”

I picked up again, and he listened with attentive care, until...

“Citrus!” he bent over laughing. “Citrus!”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “She couldn’t seem to even pronounce it correctly.”

“And she was positive she didn’t have one?”

“I know! Right!” I said, enjoying myself. “Fucking weird-ass Christian home-schooling. Totally fucked up. Oh, and they know it too, it’s a sensitive subject for her. She got touchy. But the ignorance was so stunning...”

A little later...

“It was crazy,” I laughed. “I kept making drawing after drawing. Like, I was practically flow charting it out, trying to explain it to them. They’re going ‘oh no, that doesn’t look right at all’ I’m going ‘It’s your anatomy, how can you not recognize it!’ It was like, I was doing an entire ad hoc sex-ed class. It was like I needed puppets, visual aids.”

“At least you didn’t have to try and explain anal sex,” he said.

I doubled over laughing.

A few minutes later...

“So that’s what you meant by ‘actually’ - hate to break it to you, hon, but in forty-eight countries, that counts as sex.”

“Nuh huh,” I protested. “Not the way he did it. Sam, it was so epically bad. It was like he’d never ever done it in his life.”

“Which, from your description, is accurate.”

“That’s doesn’t even go halfway there, it was so inept.”

“But he improved.”

“Sort of,” I said, “it makes me appreciate you so much more. Truly you are a god among linguists.”

“God of cunning?”

“I think I got them to baseline, some knowledge of anatomy, what to do, but...”

A few minutes later...

“Wait, you’re telling me that she just peed. On the kitchen table. Just went. No self consciousness at all?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was freaky. She just didn’t realize.”

“Something physical? Medical problem?”

“No,” I said, “I just don’t think she was aware she shouldn’t. It was all so new to her.”

“Naive!”

“Extremely,” I said. “It was kind of endearing in a strange way. It made me want to look after them.”

“I get why you said it wasn’t actually sex,” he offered. “It didn’t even come across as S&M. They just seem so naive and vulnerable the way you describe them. You weren’t being a Mistress so much as their spiritual spirit animal guide.”

“Ahhh,” I went. He was so empathic and understanding.

“Ghost pussy totem,” he deadpanned.

“Jerk!” I stuck my tongue out.

A few minutes later, as I explained how I kept failing to get away, he did his deadpan Al Pacino impression from the Godfather.

“She thought she was out, but they kept pulling her back in.”

“Not funny!” I hit him with a cushion. He just laughed so I kept hitting him with it.

A moment later: “So she was asking for it?” he said, “With a frigging hairbrush!”

I glanced down at the cushion in my hands.

“Not just asking: Demanding!” I said. “But it pulled it all together. It was that weird home- school, religious fruitcake, bible thumping, corporal punishment upbringing.”

He nodded.

“I’ve heard about something like that,” he said thoughtfully, “that English fetish, caning, flogging, stuff like that. All those grown men obsessed with getting whipped. Came down to being punished as boys in public schools during a formative period.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “All of a sudden, it all made sense. The whole weird scene. I think she'd been craving and didn't even know it. Then suddenly, I drop into their laps.”

“Colin too?”

“I’m not sure, I think maybe. Some. But definitely her.”

“Well, well, well,” he said, “so my love is started on her career as a professional dominatrix. I’m so proud. Some day, I’ll be able to point and say, ‘I knew her when I was just a lowly cuck!”

“Stop!” I giggled and shoved him.

“Once it starts...”

“Oh you wish!”

“Seriously,” he pulled me to him, “how do you feel about it?”

“Weird,” I said thoughtfully. “Almost surreal, like an out of body experience. Part of me all the way through is going ‘is this really happening?’ It was hard to get a handle on it. It just kept throwing me. I had conflicting urges. Part of me really wanted to dominate the fuck out of them, I mean crush them. But I started off feeling bad and guilty for using them, and I kept wanting to take care of them. I remember going back and forth from one state to the other. I feel okay, though, I guess.”

He kissed my forehead.

“You know what I think?” he said.

“What?”

“I think you are a caring decent person, and you encountered a pair of confused, vulnerable people, and you looked after them, you took care of them, and you guided them and taught them, and left them better off. After a life of ignorance, and a year of bad sex, you rescued them. I think you are a good person, and that’s why I love you.”

“You do remember the cuck session, right?” I asked. He winced, and I knew right away I’d stepped wrong. I’m so sorry, I thought, but shame choked the words back. I wasn't sure that I was a good person after all, I tried, but I'd met my dark side and liked her way too much.

“Any thoughts,” he asked. “Things you regretted? Things you missed? You going to keep doing it?”

I thought about it.

“Colin’s ass,” I said reflectively. “It was just such a perfect boy-ass! Almost as good as yours. I so wanted to bite into it and leave teeth marks.”

I paused.

“Helen’s gumdrop nipples. They were just crazy sensitive, and I kept wanting to play with them. Suckle them. They were irresistible. But I didn’t spend nearly enough time. I have this idea, that I could maybe make her come, just by teasing her nipples.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t think it’ll be a thing though. I don’t think I want it. And I don’t think they really need me. I think that for the next while, they’re going to go nuts with oral sex and real orgasms and learning to actually fuck. They’ll forget all about me. I don’t mind. Life is too complicated already.”

I swallowed.

“This wasn’t so bad,” I said. “I had no idea how I was going to tell you about it... but...”

He hugged me a little tighter.

“You know we can talk about anything, babe,” he told me.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

Except we weren’t. Or more accurately, I wasn’t. I was keeping things from him. I needed to talk about my solo encounters with Leroy. About my trips to the booths. We needed to talk about the cuck session, I’d gone way too far and hurt him, I needed to address that.

But we’d talked about this, and it hadn’t been so bad. Maybe it was time to open up, before it got too deep.

I licked my lips, trying to prepare the words, figure out how to say the things I needed to say before my courage failed me. I took a deep breath. Confession time.

My phone beeped. I jumped in his arms. We looked at each other.

“Maybe it’s them,” he laughed.

I dug it out of my purse, and glanced at it.

“Oh Jesus Christ!” I swore and tried to drop it back in.

But Sam was too quick. He grabbed it and held it up, laughing his ass off. I’d just been texted a photo - Helen and Colin, grinning like hyperactive kids, suspiciously bare shoulders on both of them. Caption “Miss Kayley’s Newest Sex Slaves!”

“Oh this is precious!” He laughed. “Yeah, they’re going to forget all about you and move on. It’s totally over.”

“You bastard,” I mock-swore at him, “give that back.”

“It’s like baby ducks, you know,” he said. “Sometimes they’ll imprint on a human and think it’s their mother, and they’ll follow around in a little row. I’ve seen it on youtube. It’s the cutest thing. They’ve imprinted on you.”

“They have not!”

“Nope. You're their mother-duck now. Totally imprinted."

He paused.

"This is a disappointing picture,” he said. “You should text them back a failing grade, kick them out of sex-slave academy, tell them they blew it. I’m sure they’ll take it well. Tell you what, I'll text them, and tell them.”

“Sam!” I laughed, clawing for the phone, “No! You’re so cruel!”

“Yeah,” he said, holding it out of my reach, “you’re right. The deserve another chance. Hold on, I’ll send them a text for you.”

“Nooooooo!!!!”

“Here, let’s see: ‘Disappointed w pic. Kno U can do better!’ Now.... Send.”

I grabbed the phone away, and we wrestled around, until I got on top and started kissing him, laughing all the while.

“You’re a madman!” I told him. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re horrible!”

My phone beeped again. We looked at each other.

“You are in so much trouble, Mister!”

I grabbed the phone, and cuddled up against him, as we looked.

Helen and Colin, again, full nude top to bottom, still grinning like rednecks inheriting a strip club.

“Your fault!” I said.

Sam nodded.

“I see what you mean by bobblehead,” he said.

“Sam!” I cried in mock-outrage, “What a terrible thing to say!”

“Hey,” he replied, “I didn’t say creepy little bobblehead. You said that.”

“I didn’t say that!” I said, “I thought it. I never once said it out loud! And I was being an asshole! She's sweet! And pretty!”

“You said it to me,” he replied, “and I record all our conversations. For a small gratuity, they’ll never have to know what you really thought of them.”

“Liar!” I cried. “And anyway, I unplugged the recording equipment.”

“Back up batteries! And uploaded to the cloud!”

“Ha! I rearranged all your icon! It all went into the recycling folder!”

“Ah,” he said. “You got me. Foiled again.”

He paused.

“I suppose this is a bad time to confess my profound sexual attraction to bobbleheads,” he said. “Especially the creepy ones.”

To emphasize it, he tapped out a row of heart emojis to them.

“You are so evil!” I laughed, kissing him. “You leave them alone. I had enough trouble fixing their marriage. I’m not going to let you go wrecking it like a bull in a china shop.”

“They do seem like a sweet couple though,” he said, studying the picture, “you can tell they’re in love.”

I took the phone and swiped back to the previous picture.

“They are. I think that was why I was so patient with them. They remind me of us, you know. More innocent, more naive, not nearly as fortunate as we were, they didn’t get the opportunities we had. They got shitty home-schooling by religious creeps, and toxic families, and crappy jobs. But when I look at them, I see a bit of you and me. When you get to know them, there’s a sweetness to them.”

“I’m glad they found you,” he said, “even if you do seem to have acquired a couple of sex slaves.”

“Oh god!” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to let it go.”

“Give up something like this,” he laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Evil,” I sniffed. “You are so evil.”

The phone beeped again, a new picture appeared.

“Oh my god!” My eyes bulged. I covered my mouth with both hands, then my entire face. It wasn’t enough, I jumped up off the couch, turning way.

Sam picked up the phone and looked. “Wow! I guess you went easy on me after all.”

“I did not do that!” I swore. “That’s not me!”

The had sent a backside shot. They must have used a timer. Both of them had huge livid purple and black bruises all over their butts.

“You must have been really whaling!” Sam said, sounding impressed. “That’s ER levels of bruising. Wow!

“I swear!” I said. “That’s not mine. I didn’t do that. I just got them a little red, that’s all. Oh my god! Oh my god! What did I do?”

“Kayley,” Sam called, he wrestled me back to the couch. “Kayley, come here, take a look. Another look.”

“No!” I covered my eyes.

“Just a peak. I want you to look again, I’ll hold you, it’ll be okay. Don’t look at the bruises. Look at the top of the picture.”

“Don’t wanna!” But I peaked with one eye through the gap between two fingers.

“See their heads?” he asked. “See how they’re turned to each other. What are they doing?”

He waited.

“Kissing?”

I noticed he’d sent them a row of heart emojis. That would only encourage them.

“Yes, they’re kissing. They’re happy. You can see how happy they are. They sent you three pictures, probably happier than they’ve ever been in their lives. They sent the pictures, because that’s what you did for them. They don’t mind the bruises at all.”

“But...”

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks. Lighting can make things ten times worse. Maybe they used make-up. Who knows. You did something good. Don’t be ashamed.”

“It’s just...”

“I know,” he said. He swiped it away, back to the full body nudes, because he’s a man, and men are pervs. And he might have actually been telling the truth about a sexual attraction to bobbleheads. I’d suspected it for a while, actually.

I relaxed against him.

“I know,” I said miserably. “Life is just already complicated, you know?”

“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry, it will work out.”

He paused.

“I’m glad they met you, instead of someone really nasty.”

“Yeah,” I had a thought. “Let’s make sure we don’t introduce them to Leroy.”

He shuddered. “For sure, a guy like Leroy would eat them alive. They wouldn’t be able to handle him.”

“Not like us,” I agreed. “No way. They wouldn’t have a chance.”

I turned around in his arms, looking at him, then at the image on the phone.

“They are pretty hot,” I said, “I’ll thank them later for the pics. And say nice things.”

“That would be polite.”

“So....” I said speculatively. “Sexual attraction to bobbleheads, huh?”

“It’s good to finally confess,” he said, “It’s been weighing on me.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, I put my finger to my bottom lip and pulled it down.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

Scratch that sexy gesture. “Nothing."

I paused and smiled.

"Anyway, I don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but I bobble my head pretty good.”

“Really?” His brows lifted.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “In high school, Captain of the Head Bobbling team. Went all the way to regionals. I even made the Olympic Head Bobbling tryouts.”

“Oh my, tell me more.”

“I think this is the sort of conversation we should have in the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Totally agree!”

“Lead the way.”

Behind us, the phone beeped again and again and again.

But I didn’t care. My head was bobbling.

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 36, Kayley makes the Rules

THE ENSLAVEMENT OF HELEN AND COLIN, PART TWO OF THREE

KAYLEY

Oh fuck. I was never getting out of here!

Right, so I was supposed to dominate them. They probably didn’t have any gear, no handcuffs, restraints, ropes, nothing. I bet they didn’t even have a fucking vibrator. Think, girl! It's all about the attitude. I stiffened up and glared sternly until their eyes dropped.

“Fine,” I snarled in my best possible dom-bitch voice . “But from this point on, I want absolute obedience. You do exactly what I say, and only what I say. You shut your mouths, speak when spoken to. No more questioning me or my methods. If you don’t enjoy, that’s tough, you signed up for it. Your purpose is to serve me, not whine like babies. And I do whatever I want. From this point on, your bodies belong to me.”

I slid off the table and walked towards them, walking in a circle around them. They stood at attention, staring straight ahead as I inspected their nude bodies. Helen still had that flush down to the tops of her breasts. Once I was behind them, I felt a little better, there was less pressure when they weren’t looking at me. I could breathe. I looked them over.

Colin really did have a nice ass. I really, really nice. His best feature was his eyes, but his ass was running a close second. I bet that ass brought in a lot of tips from women and gay men when he was working as a waiter. I also bet he had no clue.

Oh, I wanted to bite that ass!

Impulsively, I stepped up behind Colin, breathing heavily on the back of his neck. He shivered. I felt a flicker of predatory impulse, like when I was cucking Sam, this wolf-woman impulse to chase, to bring down, to tear into prey. I stepped closer, pressing my body against his back, feeling him cower almost subliminally. It would be better if I was naked, if I could feel his skin against mine. I felt hungry. I licked the side of his neck and carefully placed my hands on his bare hips, careful that he might bolt.

“Not one word from you,” I whispered directly into his ear. He gasped loudly. I glanced at Helen, pleased she was obediently staring straight ahead.

I let my hands rise slowly up Colin’s hips, moving inward, tracing his ribs, up to his pectorals. Colin had pert little nipples, and I amused myself pinching and twisting them, until he was giving little gasps with every touch. One hand glided up towards his neck, closing around his throat, my fingernails pressing lightly into the delicate flesh, while the other slid lower, down his ribs, across his belly, fingers burying in his pubic hair, just brushing the base of his hard shaft. He moaned and shook.

“You asked for this,” I whispered, hand on his throat. Then I licked the side of his neck. His whole body shivered gratifyingly. He groaned. I smiled to myself. My uncertainty and nervousness was finally melting away. I was starting to feel that hungry eagerness I’d experienced when cucking Sam, that heady sense of power. The urge to crush.

No need to be cruel, I told myself, that wasn’t part of it. Not really. These were strangers, I couldn't let go. I could be cruel to Colin, I thought, with his twink body, and his smaller cock and his two minute fucking, there was ammunition there. I wondered how far I could go. Could I make him cry? Or would he be impossibly stoic and strong like Sam, as I joyfully emasculated him? I wanted to try. I wanted to break him, crack his shell open, leave him quivering and suck out the juices. I wanted him under my boots, whimpering as I ground down mercilessly.

No. Jesus Christ, Kayley, what the hell is wrong with you?

He was just a naive kid.

And anyway, I didn’t know yet how to dig deep into his real vulnerabilities. It would just be superficial emasculation. Not nearly satisfying enough.

I inhaled, breathing him in, pressing myself against him. No cruelty, just... power. It was almost as intoxicating.

I let my hand drop further, curling around his penis, as I lowered my other hand from his throat and wrapped an arm around his chest, holding him in place. He was trembling now. Weak at the knees? His cock was absolutely stiff, like polished wood. Fingertips traced the uneven surface, the velvet smoothness, all the way up to the glans. What a lovely little cock, I thought of whispering in his ear, too bad it's useless.

He was gasping and groaning nonstop, his body in constant tremble, wracked by periodic shudders. I pulled the foreskin back to feel the shape of his cock head.

“I like the shape of this,” I purred. Then I let it go, he was too close. Instead, I simply enjoyed the sound of his gasp, excitement and longing, raising his temperature, making him quiver and holding him there.

I reached up to his collarbones, dug my fingernails in, and drew them slowly down the length of his body, down past his nipples, his ribs, his belly. I left rows of claw marks down his inner thighs, my hands brushing against his cock lightly, all the way to his knees.

His whole body was trembling, shivering. His skin was red, the heat radiating off it, goosebumps everywhere. It felt like he was ready to pass out. He was practically whimpering.

Time to leave.

I turned to Helen, slightly nervous. Colin was easy prey, a weak male that I’d wrapped around my little finger twice already. Helen was the pushy one. I’d have to take her apart more carefully.

I stepped up behind her. I noticed Colin facing straight ahead, but desperately struggling to side eye us. Helen’s body was so stiff I could almost see the muscles straining. She had really well defined shoulder blades, and this pert ass that looked so tight you could hang paintings off it. I had this impulse to rub my nipples on those shoulder blades.

I reached out, tracing her ear lobe. She jumped. Ignoring her reaction, I let my fingertip find her hairline, tracing it to the back of her neck, and then I drew my fingernail down her spine. She gasped, loudly, a high pitched, almost hooting sound. As I slid past her collar bone, she gasped again, and then again when I reached the small of her back, and one more time as I stroked her tailbone, her asscheeks snapping together like a vise.

I stepped up behind, pressing my body against hers, wrapping my arms around her, trapping her arms at her sides in my grip. It was intoxicating, physically controlling her like this, suddenly I understood how men get off on it.

“You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you,” I whispered in her ear. Involuntarily she sucked in her breath. Her whole body shook helplessly.

I remembered how I’d made Sam come without touch, simply by psychological force. She seemed so high strung, maybe I could do it to her as well. That would be exciting. Then I remembered how traumatic it had been for Sam, like drowning he’d said.

No, I wouldn’t do that again. Not to anyone.

“No, I whispered. “I didn’t forget about you at all.”

I shifted, to whisper in her other ear, my hips humping ever so slightly against her ass. Her body jumped with every casual touch.

“I want you to know, I’m not apologizing any more,” I husked, blowing moist breath. She whined helplessly in fear and desire.

I licked her ear, eliciting a squeal, and shifted to the other side.

“I gave you both every chance. You could have walked away. But here you are. Helen... Helen... Helen... I'm sure you're regretting it now.”

I laughed.

"Too late!"

I loosened my grip and began to run my hands up and down her body, staying away from her breasts and pubic area. Her skin was so smooth.

“Your skin is so pale, like milk. So smooth. I love your body, it’s so perfect, it’s so beautiful. I’ll appreciate you so much more than Colin has. I’m going to make you kneel in front of me,” I whispered. “I’ll make you crawl. I’ll make you beg. I’ll make you love it.”

I slipped my hands down her arms, seizing her wrists.

“Huahh...” she blurted, gasping.

“Maybe I’ll tie you up,” I whispered to her hooting gasps. “Handcuff you. Tie you to the bed spread eagle. Or bend you over the table Or bind you to the chair or some other piece of furniture that leaves you accessible. You have so much furniture, and I have so much imagination.”

I nibbled her shoulder, feeling her body shudder, and her knees almost give way. It excited me wildly, and I could feel myself getting wet. Mine! I thought. My property! My prey! I want! I bit a little harder, again and again, moving up to nip the back of her neck, and then biting her other shoulder.

"Ready to be... contorted?"

“Hoo!” she gasped. “Ah hoo. Ahh”

“Or I might spank you,” I gloated. “Maybe I’ll take that tight little ass and get it all red and hot. Maybe I’ll use a toy on your body. Something that vibrates between your legs. Or goes inside! But, oh my, which hole? How much can that I fit into this tight little body? More than you ever imagined? I'll stretch you! Yes I will! Or clamps for your nipples, oh yes! Maybe I’ll blindfold you, so you can’t see what I’m doing... until it’s too late. I’ll do things to your body, make you feel things you’ve never imagined. Because you’re mine now. I own you. Soooooo many possibilities.”

I reached up, teasing those huge gumdrop nipples. As I touched them, the merest lightest touch, I could feel her reaction as if lighting went through her. I felt their shape, longing to kiss them, to take them between my lips, hold them with my teeth. Bite! Just a little nibble, to see how she reacted. Bite! Bite! I wanted to so badly.

Regretfully, I left her nipples, placing one palm on her belly, and one between her legs, parting her lips. Her knees went loose, and if not for my gentle pressure holding her against me, she might have collapsed.

“You’re so wet!” I whispered triumphantly. “You can’t wait for me to break you, can you?”

“Perhaps I’ll make you kneel and kiss my feet. I’ll turn you into my personal slave, to serve me any way I want. I’ll dress you up in leather and lingerie, maybe a ball gag, and parade you around, show you off to my friends.”

She was practically panting. I could feel it in her, her feeling of being trapped, of danger, the fight and flight impulses frustrated to helplessness, her rapidly beating heart held in my palms.

“Maybe I’ll just teach you to please me with your tongue. Maybe I’ll make love to one of you, and force the other to watch. But which one of you will that be?”

“I might like to fuck Colin again... but this time, you’ll be there, watching. And if you’re very good, I’ll let you touch yourself. Or maybe I’ll punish Colin and make love to you, in front of him... he won’t be allowed to touch himself. Which would make you suffer more, I wonder ?”

I chuckled devilishly. I released her, sliding around in front. She was breathing heavily, panting. Her head hung. I lifted her chin with two fingers and tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes were liquid, sliding all over the place, refusing to meet mine. I wanted to eat her, and not in the good way.

“I’m going to do all sorts of things to you.”

“Uhh ahoo uh uh,” she whimpered. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t form any words. Her skin was goosebumps, cold, with this light sweat. I reached down between her legs, she was just melting on me.

I paused thoughtfully, allowing a sly smile to come over me.

“Question: Do you know what I’ve just noticed right now?”

Her eyes focused on me momentarily.

“What?” she asked. That should have been ‘What did you notice, Miss Kayley’ I thought, but I decided to let it pass.

“All these terrible, awful things I’ve just said, things I’m going to do to you and Colin...”

She looked so hunted, so haunted, terrified, but in lust, a trembling delight. My smile broadened.

“You didn’t say ‘no.’ Not once. At no point did you say ‘no.’ Not once have I heard you say ‘no’ to any of it. Why if I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted it, every bit of it.”

“Ohhhhh,” she whispered, her thin lips parting. Her eyes almost rolled up in her head.

I couldn’t help it, I licked her face. She whimpered, and I had the irresistible urge to do it again.

Fuck! Dial it back, Kayley, what’s wrong with you?

I kissed her, carefully, gently. On some level, I thought I should have asked before I kissed her, but I didn’t want to. I simply pressed my lips against hers, wanting to see how she’d react. Would she retreat? Would she stiffen and resist? Embrace?

She surrendered utterly, I parted her lips, slid my tongue past her teeth, her jaw opened. It was beyond welcome, it was total passivity, complete capitulation. No trace of resistance.

She sighed, moaning into my mouth. I reached up and tweaked a nipple, sending a ripple through her. I broke the kiss, looking at her, her eyes were bleary.

“You’re so beautiful,” I told her, vividly aware of how she must have felt humiliated when Colin had told her I was the most beautiful woman he’d seen, I hoped this would balance things. I whispered, “you take my breath away.”

Actually, I was breathing fine, it was Helen that was breathless. As it should be. The prey pants, the predator closes in.

“I own you now.”

The sound that came out of her was something between a sigh and a sob, it was almost musical to me. It made me so hungry.

Colin moaned.

Reminded of Colin, I glanced at him. I caught his head twitch, he’d turned just enough to try and watch us from the side-eye, and he’d snapped to staring straight ahead. His cock was throbbing urgently, semen oozing from it. Your punishment isn’t finished, boy, I thought to myself.

“Colin,” I snapped, “I want you to look at us. Watch me as I kiss your wife. And don’t you dare touch yourself!”

He turned his head.

“No, turn fully,” I ordered.

He turned to face us. This was kind of fun, no satisfying. They did everything I told them. The possibilities enthralled me. I had no idea what to do with them. But I wanted to do things to them, explore their compliance, direct, control, own, use. It's too bad this was a one time thing. Otherwise, I would make up lists in my leisure time.

“Good boy,” I said with malicious satisfaction. I turned back to my quivering possession. God, she was so aroused, I could literally smell it on her, a scent of vaginal arousal stronger than I'd ever encountered. I bet every stray dog in the neighborhood could smell her pussy.

“Are you all right?” I asked Helen, careful to keep any trace of kindness or compassion under wraps.

She nodded.

“Ready?”

Nodded again. There, a ghost of a smile. A hunger.

I kissed her again, and again, she surrendered completely, without even a trace of resistance.

Some cruel deep part of me thought ‘fuck you, Colin, she belongs to me now.’ Ouch! God, I was toxic. I took that thought and shoved it way down and locked it behind a steel vault.

I just let myself enjoy the kiss, letting her melt into me, yielding, submitting. As I kissed her, I let my hands find her nipples, sending electric shocks through her, feeling her twitch and tremble and shiver with every touch. I'd kissed girls at parties, to give guys a thrill, and a part of me had always wanted to go further.

But this was so different. This wasn't just kissing her, it was wilder, more exciting, more urgent. It was owning her.

Finally, I released her, easing back gently. I looked over to Colin. Oh fuck me, those blue blue eyes! Just looking at them made me wet.

I wanted to kiss him so hard that I inhaled his soul. To kiss him and feel him quiver helplessly under me, not even waiting for his surrender, just taking.

Suddenly, a rogue image flashed through my mind - Sam kissing Colin, the two of them naked, their male bodies pressed together, cocks rampant. I imagined Colin ejaculating, the lost look in those stunning blue eyes, and Sam gently turning him around, to that perfect ass.

Oh fuck! I took a sudden deep breath. Now I was really wet!

“Your turn,” I told him, and grinned wolfishly, showing all my teeth.

“M... Miss Kayley,” Helen called, her voice trembling with urgency, as if she desperately needed to go to the bathroom. I looked over to her, expecting her to have her hand raised. She didn’t, not quite. But she looked wide eyed and distraught, trembling like a leaf.

“Helen?”

Oh shit, shouldn’t treat her like a person.

“Yes, Pet?”

“M... may I sit? Please?”

Shit, I thought. She really was suffering. I stepped into the kitchen are, grabbed one of the mismatched chairs from the table, and slid it behind her, easing her down.

“Better?” I asked, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then I remembered I needed to be dom, and to be mean. “You sit there, and watch. And spread your legs, I want that pussy on display as I kiss your husband.”

I hesitated a moment, hovering over her.

“Do you need water” I asked. “Or anything? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Oh fuck, I thought. Maybe ask her if she needs a foot rub? I was the worst dominatrix ever!

She shook her head. I wasn’t persuaded, I thought she might need to pee. But I wasn’t going to push it. I dismissed the thought.

Back to Colin, and those gorgeous eyes and that biteable ass. Prey. Weakling. Fuckhead. Toy. No, wait, I had to remind myself that this was my fault, I’d taken advantage of him, not the other way around, and if he’d blabbed and said stupid things to his wife, it was guilt and honesty, not him being hurtful. He was just my victim, and not in the fun way.

It occurred to me suddenly, that I hadn’t even gone over safe words with them. Or time out. Or boundaries. Informed consent. None of that stuff. Fuck, I really was the worst dominatrix ever! It didn’t really make sense to stop everything in the middle and go through an explanation. Maybe I could work it in as we went along. I made a mental note to try and remember.

Back to Colin. I sidled up to him, and turned my back, rubbing my bottom against his erection. I raised my hands to the back of my neck, lifting my hair luxuriously, letting it fall as I raised my hands to the heavens, my body swaying and pushing against him, in what was basically a standing lap dance.

“I bet you’d love to touch me,” I teased. “But if you do, if you put one finger on me, I’ll tie you over a chair and whip your ass in front of your wife. Understand?”

“Yes Miss Kayley,” came the strangled reply.

I smiled. With my back to him, those irresistible blue eyes lost their power. Helen watched us, her eyes as big as saucers. I swear, her pussy was dilating, I don’t know how she wasn’t touching herself. She must be sitting in a puddle. Maybe waiting?

“Pet,” I told her, “I hereby permit you to stroke your pussy, but not come.”

She didn’t touch herself, although she glanced at the calico cat.

“Or maybe no,” I changed my mind. “Tell me pet, are you enjoying?”

She nodded, swallowing rapidly.

I clutched my breasts, and then turned slowly, facing Colin, continuing to press myself against him. Fully dressed, I slid my boobs side to side, dragging them up and down his naked body.

“You’re looking at me,” I told him, sounding bored. “I don’t remember giving you permission to do that?”

“Eep!” he went and stared straight ahead, beads of sweat on his forehead. His neck muscles were corded with strain.

I ran my fingertips over his chest, his skin was baby smooth and so pale I could almost see blue veins in spots. Had either of them ever had a tan in their lives? I could practically feel his heart racing. Bending my head, I licked his nipple, then pulled it between my lips and slowly bit down, until I felt a whimper.

I backed away a little, running hands all over his body, all the way down to his cock, watching those gorgeous blue eyes staring off at some fixed point. So tasty. I glanced down at his cock, rampantly hard, and then realized, he’d left come-smears all over my skirt.

Oh fuck! That was a good skirt, I didn’t even know if a dry cleaner could get that out. Damn. Never mind, never mind.

“On your knees,” I commanded, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, I’d seen him leaking, and had still pressed up against him. But geez. I had such an urge to punish him, an impulse it took me a moment to suppress.

But then he looked up at me with those eyes... Oh he was so lucky. Ooh those blues. I wondered how he felt about artificial insemination. I wanted eyes like that for my baby. Okay, so now that I had him down there, what to do with him. I thought about throwing a knee over his shoulder and grinding my pussy on his face, but I was still fully dressed. Still, it was something to work towards.

“You bad boy,” I whispered, running fingers through his hair. I pulled him into my breasts. “You’ve ruined my skirt. We’re going to have to do something about that.”

I let him go then, and turned around, grinding my butt into his chest.

“Kneel lower,” I ordered, swinging my hips, grinning at Helen.

He sank to his haunches, I reached behind, pushing his head down, until his face was pressing between his ass cheeks.

“Colin, my dear,” I said, “would you be a good little slave, and unzip my skirt for me.”

I felt his hands move, the zipper slowly going down.

“Now slide it off, would you?”

He pulled my skirt down, and I stepped out of it, one leg and then the other, leaving me only in black lace panties. Now I could really get his nose between my cheeks.

“Well,” I said to Pet, sitting and watching, “I guess Colin has finally solved the mystery. Isn’t that sweet? Are you enjoying what I’m doing to your husband?”

We both knew it was a rhetorical question, so she didn’t bother to answer, and I didn’t care. I just ground my ass into his face, making elaborate figure eights with my hips. Colin didn’t lift his hands to touch me, he was learning his place.

“Now,” I said, “Colin, you’re going to lift your hands up, and using only one finger of each hand, I want you to hook the waist band of my panties at the hips, and take them slowly off. As slowly as you can.”

I stared at Pet.

“Pet,” I said, “watch very very carefully what I’m going to do to your man. Remember, you’re the one that asked for it.”

She nodded, ever so slightly, eyes round and unblinking. What was going through her little mind? Was she elated? Excited? Horrified at how things had gone so quickly out of control? I smiled, arching my back, throwing up my arms, clasping my hands behind my head and wiggling luxuriously as my wet panties slid down. It was actually a relief to be free of them.

“Is this really what you wanted?” I asked, I grinned like a tigress, showing all my teeth and no mercy at all. “Or what you were afraid of?”

Wait a beat.

“Or both?”

I stepped out of the panties.

“Kiss my ass, Colin,” I ordered coldly. “Now!”

I felt his lips press against my butt cheeks. It felt like he was kissing his sister’s ass.

“A little enthusiasm, please!” I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

That was better.

“And hands off!”

I really loved cracking the whip. A fleeting impulse swept through me to pull my cheeks apart, and order him to lick my asshole. Sam would have done it in a heartbeat, and magnificently. I wouldn’t have even had to tell him. But these two felt so naive. How would he react? I wasn't sure, and decided not to take the chance.

Mmmm, I thought, maybe I’d go with my first impulse to just turn around and throw my thigh over his shoulder. But that didn’t feel right. My creepy little bobblehead pet would be watching. But I wouldn’t be able to watch her watching me. I sighed, it’s so hard to have a good time. Even smiling was making my face ache.

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, to no one in particular, “now that my panties are off, I bet Colin is just dying to see my pussy. The same pussy that he put his cock inside. I bet he can’t wait. I bet it’s all he can think about.”

I smiled blissfully, enjoying Colin’s kisses on my ass.

"Put a little tongue in there, worm!"

I took a deep breath, delighting in his instant compliance.

“He'd love to see. But... Too bad,” I said, and swiveled my hips suddenly, stepping around behind him. I bent way down and whispered. “I’m not here for you’re pleasure, you’re here for mine. It’s been that way from the start. Remember that.”

Then I kissed his cheek.

“Stand up!” I barked.

As he rose up, I wrapped my arms around him, humping my bare hips against his glorious man-ass. Sam’s was the best I’d ever seen. But oh my, this was close. Colin’s eyes, Sam’s ass and Leroy’s dick, and I’d be on my way to building the perfect man.

I let my hands drop down...

“Look Pet,” I husked. “Look what I’m doing to your man.”

I made my fingers a cradle and loosely stroked his cock, beginning a gentle stroking. I watched her watching us as Colin moaned, contemplating my next taunt.

Colin ejaculated all over my hand.

Fuck! What was this? Two and a half minutes? Three? Damn it. I had to physically suppress the desire to bite his head off. Instead, I smiled gently at him, resisting the urge to look around for something to wipe his come off. All I could think was ‘wow, their sex life must really suck, and they had absolutely no idea!’

I had to remind myself not to be cruel.

“Well,” I said annoyed. I struggled to keep anything nasty out of my voice, going for gentle and friendly, “looks like someone’s down for the count.”

I kissed his cheek to show him no hard feelings, despite my irritation at his premature discharge. Okay, yeah, it was nice to spare his feelings. But no matter what, he was still humiliated, and too much forgiveness would feel like condescension. There should be some punishment.

“Don’t think this is acceptable,” I purred. “Naughty, naughty boy. Now, I’m going to punish you.”

Thinking fast.

“You,” I told him, “are going to stand at attention, until you are standing at attention again. Understand.”

I wiped my hand on his naked chest. Make him stand in a corner, I thought suddenly, and then felt an immediate disgust and revulsion. Too far.

“And I,” I offered with careful emphasis, “am going to take your wife into the bedroom, and I’m going to do unspeakable things to her... out of your sight. You’ll just have to imagine it all.”

I lifted up on tip toes, and whispered into his ear, “You can sit down if you need to. Just don’t let me catch you sitting, okay?”

He nodded.

“Hmph,” I snorted, and flounced away from him, wiggling my butt a little to torture him, as if to say ‘yeah, you could have had this, if you didn’t make a mess on the rug.’

Behind me, I caught a glimpse of their calico cat wandering over to sniff at his semen on the floor. I hoped she didn’t lick it up. Probably wasn’t healthy for cats. Or was it? I should look it up.

I strolled past Helen, snapping my fingers twice. “Slave. Follow. Bedroom,” I said, as I headed towards the closed doors in the cramped apartment. Going to the nearest, I grabbed the knob, twisted, and walked right in...

To the bathroom.

Fuck.

From behind me, Helen said, “that’s the bathroom.”

The bitch.

“I know,” I said breezily. “I just wanted to pick up a few things. Get your sexy little ass in the bedroom and on the bed before I spank it.”

“Yes Miss Kayley!” she said enthusiastically.

I sighed. That girl. What the fuck was I going to do with her?

Still, I was in the bathroom, and I couldn’t let on that it wasn’t on purpose. So... grab some shit in here, and act like it was my idea all along? Then it hit me - that scraggly bush, it needed pruning.. Colin’s disposable razors? Check, I’d need one. Shaving cream? Check. Scissors? Check. Moisturizer? I didn’t see it, probably in the bedroom. Helen did use moisturizer? I wasn’t sure. She must.

Exit bathroom, walk into bedroom, and stop dead. For a second, I was glad they couldn't see my expression.

Helen was on all fours on the bed, pussy aimed directly at the doorway.

Yikes. And me without a strap on.

“Is this right?” she asked, twisting to look at me.

“I love the view,” I said diplomatically, “but right now, I’m shaving that little pussy, so on your back, legs up, grab your ankles and spread.”

She rolled over, but was clearly confused.

“Why?” She was genuinely curious.

Because I’m desperate, have no clue what I’m doing, and it seemed like an idea. I sat down on the bed beside her and stroked her hair. Because stupid Colin ejaculated before we even got started and now I had to play for time? No, I couldn’t say that.

“Because I enjoy touching you, and I hope you enjoy me touching you–” She nodded a little. “And this is a convenient excuse. Because shaving someone is inherently dominant, and being shaved is inherently submissive.”

Because your pubes are an ugly mess. But that would be mean. They were though! A total mess! I reached between her legs, running my fingers through her pubic hair, as her body instinctively trembled. Some of these hairs were over two inches long when uncurled. Had she ever even trimmed? I bit back the impulse to ask.

Yeah, scratch that, not saying it, too mean.

“And because Colin will love it. Because it will make sex better for you two. And because I want you reminded, every time you put on or take off panties, every time you go into the shower, every time you get naked or even look down, who owns you now, that you’re my little pet, and I like smooth silky little pussies.”

“Is that sufficient?”

Her eyes, staring at me, were as big as saucers.

“Wow!” she whispered.

“Glad you approve,” I smiled. “Not that your approval is necessary, but it pleases me.”

I lowered myself towards her, cupping her amazingly wet pussy. Helen closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss. But at the last moment, I dipped my head, to take one of her gumdrop shaped nipples between my lips. Her body surged. I was sure Colin heard the moan all the way from the living room.

After teasing, I took the scissors, and trimmed her down. Her hair was really sparse and messy and the area was narrow. Honestly, it looked like hell. I was doing her a favour. Once pruned, I applied shaving cream, took Colin’s razors and shaved her down, carefully navigating around her lips to care for stray hairs. Then I cleaned and moisturized her so her pussy was shining, and she was gorgeous.

“Done!”

“Done?”

“Sit up, touch yourself,” I offered.

“I’m not supposed to,” she said.

What? I kissed her forehead.

“That’s an order, pet,” I said, pulling her upright. “I want you to feel what I’ve done.”

Obediently, she sat up, putting her hands between her legs. I deposited the shaving cream and razor blades on the Vanity and spotted a hairbrush. She followed my gaze and stiffened then smiled. I thought it might ease her tension levels. I took it, and started brushing her hair, feeling her settle down again. I smiled at her as she relaxed.

“It feels.... uhm,” she began, as I brushed her.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘Nice,’” I said, “or maybe ‘great.’ No gratitude necessary, all in a day’s work. Although it is recommended.”

“Different.”

Bitch, I thought, my brush not missing a stroke.

“Nice,” I corrected.

“Nice,” she said. “Really nice. I like it.”

Well, now she was just sucking up. For that little missy, you can shave your own damned pubes from no on. Or get Colin to do it when you finally come around and decide you like it.

I paused in my brushing. She really had way too much forehead. It really did make her look like a bobblehead, or someone who grew up being home-schooled. Experimentally, I brushed her hair forward into her face. I held up my hand, trying to visualize.

I shrugged, anything would be better than what she was doing now. I picked up the scissors, and cut across her forehead, doing some serviceable bangs. I studied my work for a second, and then snipped again, straightening the edges.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Dominatrix stuff,” I told her. “You asked for it, remember? Don’t whine.”

A little too much. I cut a half inch off the bangs. Brushed a little. Did the corners a it, but not too much. Hardly professional, I judged, but only about a thousand times better than her regular hair style.

“There,” I said with satisfaction. “That looks so much better. You look like that old time movie star, Betty... Davis? Cooper? Page? One of them.”

She faced the mirror, looking uncertain. I could tell she had the urge to brush it to one side.

“Give it a chance,” I said. “It will grow on you. It’s really hot, and it frames your face better. It really brings out your eyes and your cheekbones. It works.”

She smiled then, like a shy little girl.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” I said, and impulsively planted a kiss on her cheek.

She blushed, and the smile widened. I threw an arm around her, and reached for her nipples, tweaking them. She gave a pair of loud gasps, so I kept doing it until the volume eased.

“Oh you’re such a sexy little bitch,” I told her, “I want to dress you up, put a collar on you, and lead you around on a leash!”

She squealed and giggled happily, so much so I kissed her cheek again.

“I’d like that,” she said.

Yikes, I thought.

“Well,” I said, retreating from anything resembling a commitment, “you’ll have to earn it.”

I had a thought.

“Do you have any nice lingerie?”

“You mean underwear?”

Bad sign, I thought.

“Sure,” she said, pointing, “top drawer.”

I went to look. Panties. Panties. Granny panties. Different colours, none of them good. Oh my, star wars themed panties, oh be still my heart! No thongs, no skimpy silk or satin. Bras, she didn’t really need them, but she had them. None of them matched the panties, of course. Pantyhose. Nothing fun - no garters, stockings, bustiers, teddies, not a fishnet or lace to be found.

There was a black pair that wasn’t completely horrible. She must have got it mixed in from someone else’s laundry. I tossed them at her.

“Here, put these on,,” I muttered, “I’m going to have to take you shopping.”

Fuck, I kicked myself. Another commitment? Stop doing that.

“Do you have a nice nightgown, something shimmery?” I asked hopefully.

“I have pajamas,” she said.

“Of course you do,” I replied automatically, and then mentally kicked myself for being a bitch.

There was a short bathrobe hanging on a hook off the bathroom door. It would have to do. Either that or a towel. I reached up and tossed the robe to her.

“Put this on,” I told her, “we’re going to rock Colin’s world.”

I opened the door, just slowly enough that if he was sitting, he'd have time to jump to attention.

“On your knees! Now! And close your eyes,” I barked at Colin, “you’re not allowed to look until I say so.”

I snapped my fingers twice for emphasis. Hmm. I noticed that when I’m domming I snap my fingers a lot. I wonder if anyone else noticed? It just felt so natural. Finger snap, order. Finger snap, obey!

Once Colin had assumed the position, I lead Helen out, and had her turn around.

“Open your eyes, doofus,” I snapped. “Check out my lovely new pet!”

I slid the robe down over Helen’s shoulders, lowering them until they were hanging off her elbows.

“Check out this back,” I said, brushing her hair out of the way. “Isn’t this sublime. Perfect. God, these shoulder blades, so sexy!”

Not the desired effect I was hoping for. Maybe the shoulder blades thing was just me?

“Turn around slowly, pet,” I ordered. Helen turned, keeping the robe low, her almost nonexistent breasts exposed, but the robe was closed below, concealing the rest.

Colin’s eyes widened.

“Wow,” he whispered. “You look amazing!”

“Told you so,” I hissed at Helen between clenched teeth. She blushed and gave one of her shy smiles. She was so transparent! I’d totally clean her out at poker. I was pretty pleased with myself, sometimes all it takes is just a little touch up. S&M Makeover! That’s me.

I threw an arm around Helen’s shoulders.

“Isn’t she just delightful. She followed me home,” I told Colin cheerfully, then I put my little finger to my lower lip, pulling it down and staring at the ceiling. “Or was it the other way around?”

I shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m keeping her. Isn’t she gorgeous? Lips I could kiss all day, and gumdrop nipples made to suckle. I’m going to make this little pussy purr nonstop!”

I tweaked a nipple, drawing one of her hooting gasps. I turned cold eyes on Colin.

“Now, why don’t you get on all fours and craw over here to us,” I ordered. “I have a job for you, if you’re man enough.”

Oh wait, I was doing the Leroy and Sam thing, but this wasn’t a cuck situation. I should dial it back. Too late, he was already crawling. We watched him approach, until he was kneeling in front of us.

“I want you to reach up with both hands,” I told Colin, looking down on him.

Honestly, it was just so satisfying. Men should be on their knees all the time, the view was just better, both ways. “And then I want you to pull those panties down, as slowly as you can. You remember, you just did it. This is practice, so some day, maybe you’ll be good at it.”

I almost giggled at that last part. I was such a bitch! But it was fun!

As we both looked down at him, Colin raised his hands to her hips, hooking his ring fingers into the panties. I could feel Helen under my arm, just easing into me, so slightly, but definitely. It made me happy she was so comfortable with my touch. I could, I thought, I could own you, you creepy little bobblehead munchkin. But I wasn't in the market for munchkins. Where would I keep her? In the closet. And really, this wasn't about ruining a marriage, but ... actually, I wasn't sure. It had been about some sort of expiation, but now I had no idea. Do it, finish it, leave them to each other and get out of Dodge. That's the plan. Get out of Dodge? What a strange phrase.

His eyes widened as her newly bald pussy came into view, there was an intake of breath. I couldn’t help grinning. Men were so easy! It was unbelievable. His eyes shone with lust, his breathing was just a little quicker.

I smiled at Helen. “I think he approves,” I said conversationally. “What do you think?”

She smirked, it made her face light up. “I think so too.”

“Wonderful,” I gave her an affectionate peck on the lips. This went right by Colin of course, he was entranced by his Wife’s suddenly bare pussy.

I reached down, and pushed his face between her legs.

Nothing.

I tapped his head. His forehead remained pressed against her pubic mound.

Still nothing.

“Spread your legs wider,” I told her. She obeyed. That girl was lubricating so hard he was going to drown.

Nothing.

“Let’s...” Bracing from behind her, I reached down one leg and lifted her thigh, hooking her knee under my elbow, opening her wide. Her pussy lips spread like wet slippery wings. Awkward, but it should get things started.

Still nothing.

What the fuck?

“Have either of you ever heard of cunnilingus?” I asked.

They looked at each other, and then at me.

“Something to do with languages?” Helen asked hopefully.

I pressed one hand against my face.

&&&

“All right,” I said, grabbing another sheet of paper, “let’s try this again.”

Quickly, I sketched a little starfish to represent the asshole. Then a pair of lines to represent the borders of the thighs. More lines for labia major, pubes; then labia minora, lips; arching up into a lovely suggestion of clit hood, a little circle for the clitoris... I changed my mind and drew a big ‘x’ and then several arrows pointing, and then just marks for a urethra and vaginal canal.

Not bad, I decided. I was getting better at this. I added a few more arrows, to emphasize different parts, labeled them. Colin sat beside me, watching intently.

Telling them, hadn’t worked. The more detail I tried to explain things, the worse it got. I’d resorted to acting it out with fingers, but that only confused them.

So drawings. Lots of drawings.

“Okay,” I said. “How’s this?”

“That’s a lot of parts,” he said doubtfully. “I’m pretty sure it’s not that complicated. Are you sure? Maybe you added some extra parts?”

“No,” I said patiently, “It’s all there. It’s just that it's all pink, you know, like Barbie’s house.”

“Even the arrows?”

“No, I added the arrows.”

“So they’re not pink?”

“I just said I added them.”

I grabbed another sheet of paper, and did a simplified version, just a few lines, with a little circle at the top. I poked the circle with my finger.

“The clitoris!” I announced. “That’s where you want to be. Go there, you can’t go wrong. Now, what you need to know–”

“What’s a citrus?” Helen asked, peeking over our shoulders.

For one of the only times in my life that didn’t include Sam, I was struck utterly speechless. About two dozen responses flickered through my mind.

Ultimately, I smiled carefully, and said, as gently as possible, “How about you pull up a chair and we’ll go over it all together.”

I grabbed another sheet of paper.

The impromptu anatomy lesson went well. I kept doing more diagrams, each vagina sketch better than the last, with only a couple of awkward moments. They nodded along as I explained everything, they were getting it.

Finally, on to cunnilingus!

“So the clitoris is where pee comes out,” Colin asked.

That stopped me, I glanced at Helen and we exchanged knowing smiles. Men. But really, I couldn’t blame him, I mean, men pee out of their penises? Talk about bad design! That can’t possibly be hygienic. Tailor made for weird kinky piss fetishes, if you ask me.

Not that I know anything about that.

“No,” I said politely, contemplating the failures of bible school education, “the pee comes out of here. How about we go over it one more time.”

And then, later:

“I don’t have a citrus,” Helen said thoughtfully.

Yep. Speechless once again. I had no idea what to say to that.

“Uhm...” I wasn’t sure how to break it to her. “It’s kind of standard issue equipment. Everyone gets one.”

“Do I have one?” Colin asked.

Speechless yet again.

“Uh.... no," I said carefully. "Only girls have a clitoris.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” he said. “Why don’t men have one?"

I could see I was going to have to make more diagrams. Lots more.

“Nope,” Helen said, with unshakable certainty. “I don’t have one. All the other parts, the lips, the pee place, the ... canal, yes. Definitely. No citrus.”.

“I’m pretty sure you do,” I insisted.

She shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly.

“I don’t think she does either,” Colin said, “I’ve never noticed it.”

I stared at both of them.

A Quick Little Note

Normally, I alternate Kayley and Sam with another story, so it's biweekly thing. One week K&S, next week something else, then K&S, then something else, and so on.

This time, I'm going to go straight K&S for the Helen & Colin sequence.

So next week, it's Kayley and Helen and Colin. Then the week after Kayley and Helen and Colin.

After that, I'll go back to alternating the stories.

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 35, Apology gone horribly wrong

KAYLEY

The Enslavement of Helen and Colin, Part One

I waited in the parking lot, checking the restaurant’s back entrance in my rearview. I leaned back against our car, folding my arms, and resisted the urge to check the time.

What had come over me that night? How had I been so out of control? I’d gone wild. I didn’t recognize myself. I had said and done things that I could only look back at with absolute horror.

The worst part was dragging an innocent person into this. Leroy, me, Sam. None of us were innocent, we were all involved and at play. We knew what we were doing, had consented, had gone in with our eyes open. We were all playing the game.

Colin? He wasn’t part of it. I’d brought him in, lied to him, gotten him to cross boundaries and do shit that could have gotten him fired, and then treated him like a sex toy, not even wondering whether he really wanted this, or whether he was in a relationship

I really didn’t want to be here. But I felt I had to. I needed to make things right and come clean. Apologize.

I didn’t want to walk into the restaurant. That would be awkward for him and I didn’t want to make things worse. So I made a few phone calls, found out when he was working, and when he would go off shift, and so voila, here I was in the parking lot.

It wasn’t all that inconvenient, I wasn’t being a stalker. Actually, the timing was great, I’d finished work and had almost an hour to drive over and figure out what I was going to say. Dignity this time, no ‘fuck me’ ball gown this time. I wore my business armor. A deep blue skirt and jacket, the skirt a little short but thoroughly professional. With a red silk button up blouse, buttoned all the way up, I might add. I felt it would add conviction to the apology, show him that I was a person of respect and dignity... As opposed to whoever I’d been that insane night.

Colin came out the back entrance, chatting with co-workers. His gaze passed over me without recognition. I thought that was a good sign. Maybe he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he’d forgotten the whole thing. It could be he did this all the time, and he’d just dismissed the whole thing.

He’d walk by me with barely a puzzled glance, living his life, and I’d be spared this awkward encounter. I could get in the car, drive home and forget the impulse that lead to this fool’s errand.

Throwing a puzzled glance in my direction, he waved goodbye to his co-workers, put his hands in his pockets, and started walking in my direction, seemingly lost in thought.

Then, suddenly, perhaps a couple of dozen paces away, he looked up, saw me again, focused, and a shock of recognition passed through his body. He almost lost a step. Expressions flickered across his face. Surprise, confusion, intimidation, uncertainty.

Ah fuck, this wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Hello Colin,” he said.

“Uh...”

“Kayley,” I reminded him. I wasn’t sure if he remembered my name.

“Right, Kayley,” he said. “What are you–”

“I came to apologize,” I said, letting the words rush out. “What I did was wrong, and disrespectful to you. I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was a strange night, and I guess I had too much wine, or something, and I was getting carried away. And that was all right, but then I got carried away with you, and made you part of our game. I didn’t respect you, and I didn’t respect boundaries. And I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have been more considerate. I’m ashamed. What I did was wrong and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

He stared at me for a moment, with those startling blue eyes. I couldn’t help it, those eyes, they made me wet.

“Okay,” he said. He thought for a moment, looking at me with those startling blue yes. Those blue, blue, blue eyes. I wondered for a moment if maybe I could give him a blow job to make up for it.

I had this imaginary flash, part sense, part taste, part vivid image. Him looking down at me with those stunning blue eyes, while I knelt before him with his cock in my mouth. Suddenly, I was wet.

Down girl!

We’re not living in a porno, this is not something that actually happens!

He chewed his lip.

“Maybe you should explain this to my wife,” he said finally.

Oh fuck! I thought. I felt a pit open up in my stomach.

“You told her what happened?” I asked, haplessly.

“Yes.”

Oh fuck, this was bad. He’d told her. I’d begged him not to. Now their marriage was fucked up. I wanted to run away. This was outside my pay grade. Oh fuck. There was no way I could handle this. I’d just screw it all up.

Take some responsibility Kayley, you had to at least try. This was going to be so unpleasant. She was going to call me names. She might cry. I hope she didn’t attack me physically.

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose I could try to explain it to her, that this is my fault, not yours.”

“She’s standing right behind you.”

I froze.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCKETY!

I turned around. Oh shit. Colin’s wife turned out to be a tiny little thing, slender, waifish. I guessed 5 foot in flats. She had limp black hair, huge hurt-looking eyes, an expansive forehead and no figure to speak of. Well, at least she probably wasn’t going to try to beat me up.

“Yes,” she said, in an I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass-anyway tone of voice, “explain it to me. I would like to hear it.”

I was blushing, I could literally feel sweat running down my back, pooling at my butt cheeks. This had been such a bad idea. I should have just taken my guilt, balled it up and shoved it down into this tight little knot in my stomach along with all my other sins, lies and betrayals.

“Well...” I began. Very quickly, I decided that the whole cuckold thing was going to be too complicated. So I settled on trying to explain it as sexy humiliation games, and dominance and submission, and control as foreplay, with the big payoff later, and how it was done with love. And how I’d roped Colin into innocently participating. And really, I shouldn’t have, I was so very very very sorry. I felt terrible.

She listened, her face neutral, not even blinking, just staring at me with her big owl eyes.

“So where does sex with my husband come into this?” she asked.

Ouch! Fuck me,!

“Well,” I began again. “It shouldn’t have. I mean, that’s what I feel so bad about. That and all the other things. I should have never done that. Totally on me. It’s not Colin’s fault...”

Still staring.

“I just got carried away,” I admitted. “I mean, he has these amazing blue eyes, and every time he looked at me...”

I just trailed off before I dug myself in deeper. The corners of her lips twitched just for an instant, like there was almost a smile, coming and going so fast it barely registered. Yeah, she understood about those blue eyes.

And it wasn’t going to help me a bit.

“So...” she said finally, “you’re one of those women who dresses up in leather outfits and whips men?”

“Uhm...” I wasn’t sure where to put that. “A Dominatrix? I... guess... sort of... I don’t have a whip. But... Yeah?”

I totally wasn’t, but then trying to explain the fucked up scenario I’d gone through with Leroy and Sam, and the history of that complicated relationship seemed impossible. Any way I looked at it, it just got weirder and more messed up. They wouldn’t think I was a dominatrix, they would think I was some weird, pathological, insaniac sex freak.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m a dominatrix. I was doing ... dominatrix stuff at the restaurant, and I got carried away and roped Colin into helping me mess with a... client.”

“And then you had sex with him.”

Flat, emotionless, judging

Gods, I am such a horrible, amoral slut. Everything I said made it worse. Made me sound selfish, and reckless, nearly sociopathic. A cheap skank that simply uses people for her own pleasure.

“I got carried away,” I said lamely, realizing how stupid it sounded.

How was it that I kept making things worse for myself?

She nodded thoughtfully, those big eyes blinking owlishly at me. She looked at me for a long time, as I steadily grew more ashamed of myself.

“Show me,” she said.

Wait. What? What did she just say? What did that mean?

“Excuse me,” I said carefully.

“Show me," she repeated, her voice flat.

Still confused, I asked, “Show you what?”

“You say you’re a dominaticks,” she said, “I want to see.” She pointed at her husband. “Do it to Colin. Dominate him.”

“Uhm,” I whispered. “Dominatrix. I can’t do it in public... And I don’t have any gear...”

She shrugged.

“You did it in a restaurant full of people. There’s no one here. Now do it, I want to see.”

“You...” I was trying to be very careful. “You want me to prove I’m a dominatrix?”

My unspoken thought: And somehow, to her, that would explain or excuse my fucking Colin? How? Maybe because then she'd be assured it wasn't Colin's fault? He'd been unable to resist me. Okay, but then she'd hate me. How much would she hate me? Like, enough to attack me. She wasn't very big, but you can never tell. But ... she wouldn't beat me up if I was just doing what she said. She wouldn't have a very good opinion of me. But if it got Colin off the hook....

Yes. I needed to suck it up and take it for the team.

“Yes.”

That was absolutely crazy, but there was a certain amount of screwed up logic to it that I could almost follow. Unless...

“You don’t mean for me to hurt him, do you?” I asked. God, what if this was some revenge thing to punish Colin. “I don’t hurt people, not for real. That’s not what I’m about. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Worse than a mistake. You can punish me. But he doesn’t deserve–”

“I don’t want you to punish him,” she said, “or hurt him. I just want to see.”

I stared at her, she stared back. Over to the side, Colin cleared his throat nervously. I glanced at him, his startling blue eyes were confused. He had no idea what the hell was going on either.

“Okay,” I said. I just gave right up. Maybe she should be the dominatrix.

Now what?

Fuck me? I had none of the wild mood from back at the restaurant when I was a cruel sadistic sex machine. I'd been in the zone. Now I was in a fucking parking lot.

I straightened up, squared my shoulders, tried to put on a bitch face, and folded my arms. What the fuck was I going to do?

To buy time, I let my gaze swivel, pretending that I knew what I was doing and actually planning something. I was really self conscious. This was way too out in the open.

“Too open,” I said curtly. I snapped my fingers. “Let’s go over behind the cars.”

The simple act of moving, and watching Colin’s ass precede me, got my brain functioning again. Oh my god, that ass! Eyes to die for, and an ass like that! But I was thinking again, the terrified paralysis was wearing off. I realized I had this. I’d dominated the fuck out of Sam twice, I had experience, so... messing around with Colin for a five minutes? Piece of cake.

“Have a seat,” I waved to Colin’s waifish wife, “uhm...”

“Helen.”

“Right, Helen,” I said. “Have a seat, relax, we’ll make sure you get a good view.

I turned my attention back to Colin.

“That’s a nice ass,” I said. Can I bite it? I forced the thought down.

“I hadn’t really noticed in the restaurant.”

“Thank y–”

“Shut up!” I snapped. “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

I strolled around the front of him, trying to think of my attack. How about ‘I caught you looking at my breasts, you little bug, and I decided to punish you...’ No, that made me sound psychotic.

‘I caught you looking at my breasts and decided to play with you...’ No, I was trying to save his marriage not wreck it more. I couldn’t play him as the asshole.

Play the slut? That would let him off the hook, and I couldn’t imagine she was ever going to think well of me.

“Oh those blue eyes,” I said. “He does have the most startling blue eyes, doesn’t he?”

No response from Helen. I sighed mentally, I was going to have to do all the heavy lifting myself. I locked gazes instead with Colin, which was not a hard thing. Oh those baby blues.

“Oh those eyes, those eyes,” I said to him. “The minute I saw them, my heart skipped. Those are panty-wetting eyes, if I’d been wearing panties then. I almost forgot who I was with. The minute I saw them, I knew all I wanted to do was wrap you around my little finger.”

“From that point on,” I said, “all I wanted to do was tease you and tempt you. And you were easy. So easy.”

I tried a fiendish laugh.

“Men are so weak!”

I paused thoughtfully.

“I should have paid attention to whether you were married,” I said. “I should have checked. My fault. I went too far. I apologize to you both. Well, I apologize to Helen. I have never apologized to a man, and I’m not going to start now.”

I shrugged, nodding to her. Hopefully they wouldn’t dwell on the last ten minutes of groveling to Colin.

“Now,” I said conversationally, not quite looking at Colin, “on your knees please.”

Colin looked surprised, he glanced at Helen.

“DON’T LOOK AT HER. YOU LOOK AT ME! ONLY ME! UNDERSTAND?” I snapped loudly. They both jumped.

“Do you understand?” I snarled, rounding on Colin. He stepped back, intimidated. I took another step. “I said, ‘I said, do you understand?’”

“Y.. Y.. Yes!”

He looked way. I caught his chin, and guided his face back to me, until I was looking straight into his eyes. Still startling blue, but now surrounded by white. I was scaring him, it was kind of exciting. I should stop though... in a little bit.

“Then what did I say?” I asked gently, and all the scarier for it.

“Uhm...”

“Use your words,” I demanded.

“You said look only at you, not Helen, just you?” he said hopefully.

I chewed my lip, looking up and to the left, as if for inspiration, and then shrugged.

“Close enough,” I said genially. I let go his chin, and stepped back, letting him relax. Then I waited a beat. Then I frowned at him. The frown got darker, deeper. I lifted a hand and snapped my fingers.

He got down on his knees. I hoped the pavement wouldn’t mess with his pants. I looked down at him, examined my fingernails, and sucked in one cheek, pulling a face. I sighed.

“Well, at least you’re not completely useless,” I said.

I stepped towards him, looming over him, looking down. His head was bowed. I snapped my fingers again.

“Look up,” I ordered.

“Possibly barring that ass,” I said, “those eyes are your best feature. You should be doing whatever you can to stay on my good side.”

His mouth opened. I held up a finger. He shut it.

“Now,” I said thoughtfully, “I know, that being a man and being weak willed and all, you’re probably wondering if I’m wearing panties right now. After all, I wasn’t wearing them the other night. But what about today? Maybe, maybe not. I guess it’s fifty fifty.”

I touched my little finger to my lip and pulled down, I’d picked it up from some old movie somewhere. I remember it had been silly, Sam and I had laughed.

“You know, in all this excitement, why I completely forgot. I guess you’ll just have to look for me.”

“Would you like that? Would you like to help me out that way? Take a peek and let me know whether I’m wearing panties.”

He didn’t take the bait.

“Honestly, I don’t really care what you would like, and I certainly don’t need anything from you. But I will do you a little favour and maybe let you look.”

I stepped past him, and put my foot up on the bumper of the car next to us. My skirt rode up, not in an ‘exposing myself’ way, but definitely showing a lot more leg, and emphasizing my hip.

:So here’s what you’re going to do,” I told him. “You’re going to lick my shoe, I’m not even going to be demanding. But if you want to see up my skirt you do have to earn it. So just one little lick. Then you’ll say ‘May I look under your skirt to see if you’re wearing panties, Miss Kayley?’ and I’ll say ‘Yes.’ And then you can look. Got all that?”

“Uhm–”

“Never mind. I don’t care,” I told him. I snapped my fingers twice, and pointed at the shoe I was resting on the bumper. “What I do care about is you wasting my time. Chop chop.”

He started to get up, I shook my head, and he went back to his knees, and shuffled over to the bumper. He bent forward, nervously. I dipped my head towards him.

“Psst,” I hissed quietly. “Don’t lick the shoe, it’s hot hygienic, just touch your forehead.”

He touched forehead to my shoe, rubbing it and looked at me. I lifted both eyebrows expectantly and nodded.

“Uhm...” he began. I made a waving motion, get on with it. He actually blushed, oh that was so adorable. I almost wanted to kiss him. “Uh Miss Kayley, may I have permission to look under your skirt to see if you have panties on?”

“You mean,” I said, “with foot still up on the bumper, you’re asking to bend way down and crane your neck to look? Because I certainly am not giving you permission to touch my clothes, and I absolutely will not lift my skirt for you. Is that what you meant?”

“Uhm... yes?”

“That’s what I thought you meant,” I nodded pleasantly.

“The answer is no.”

I took my foot off the bumper, and glanced over at Helen, sitting on the hood of the car next to us. Her face was expressionless, but she nodded. I nodded, back, relieved.

"And that's how it's done," I told Helen triumphantly. "Men are such weaklings. I love to bend them, or break them. Have you seen enough?"

Oh please let that be enough. I had no idea what do do for an encore. Force him to lick my pussy? Not outdoors in a parking lot. It was tricky, I mean, what we could get away with out here? I just really felt like I was on the spot.

She nodded.

Oh thank god. I was off the hook. Well, glad that’s over with.

“Now do me,” Helen said

What? I thought.

“What?” I asked.

“Do me now. Show me.”

“Why?” I demanded. This was very unfair.

“I want to see what it’s like,” she said. “What you did to him.”

“But you just watched it.”

“I want to know.”

She just stared at me with her owlish gaze, hands perched like pink spiders on her knees as they pressed together. Helen was creeping me right out. I looked to Colin for support. He was still on his knees, waiting for permission to do something.

“Oh get up,” I ordered. “You look silly down there.”

Actually, it didn’t. He didn’t look silly at all. He looked distracting, very distracting. It was sinful, a man with eyes like that on his knees, looking up at you.

“... and that can’t be good for your pants,” I finished.

I turned back to Helen.

“I really don’t know–”

“You owe me,” she said. “You had sex with my husband.”

Guilt!

“Okay, fine,” I conceded. “Give me a minute to switch gears. Oh and get your ass off that car!”

She practically jumped off. Good start.

“And get over here,” I snapped, pointing at the ground in front of me. She scrambled over. Well, at least she was obedient, I thought.

“Well,” I said dismissively, “at least you’re obedient.”

Now what, you creepy looking bobblehead, I wondered? I fixed her with a glare.

Bobblehead?

Geez, when did I get so mean? But it kind of worked for the glare.

“Now,” I said sternly, “let’s be very clear on something. You’re asking for this. But I’m not your toy. You’re mine! You don’t tell me what to do, you aren’t giving orders, you aren’t in control. I am. I’ll show you what I do, because I want to. Understand?”

She nodded.

“That would be, ‘Yes Miss Kayley, I understand.’” I sniffed.

She bowed her head and mumbled, “Yes Miss Kayley, I understand.”

“I didn’t hear that,” I said, “please enunciate.”

“Yes Miss Kayley,” she said very carefully, “I understand.”

I smiled beneficently at her, not that I needed to, because her eyes were downcast. You better keep your eyes down, I thought. Patience, I thought, how do I handle this. Be mean, but not too mean. Pretend mean, be nice. What to do with her? I lifted a hand, and twirled a finger.

“Turn around,” I ordered, just in case she didn't understand the gesture.

She turned around slowly, as I pretended to critically appraise her. My initial impressions didn’t change. Skinny waifish body, head too big, owlish eyes, thin lips, way too much forehead and flat limp hair.

“You’re a very attractive young lady,” I said finally.

I didn’t mean it, she was a creepy little bobblehead.

She kind of half-flinched and half-smiled, as if she wasn’t used to getting any kind of compliment. Even if I was just bullshitting her, and kind of annoyed with the whole thing, my heart went out to her just a little bit.

“Anyone ever tell you that?”

The half smile turned up a few watts.

“Colin does,” she said, you could tell from the warmth that crept into her voice that he was her whole world. And I had peed in that swimming pool when I fucked him. Oh god, I am such a bitch. Guilt all over again. Say something nice, I thought.

“I knew there was something I liked about him,” I offered. “He has good taste.”

Her eyes drifted over to him

“Eyes forward!” I snapped. She whipped straight head, staring off into the distance.

“Don’t look at him,” I snapped. “Look at me!”

Her eyes fixed on me.

“Who gives orders?” I demanded.

“You do.”

“That’s right. Who obeys orders?”

“I do.”

“That’s right. You like to obey my orders. Obedience makes you happy, doesn’t it?”

She looked a little nervous, as if she was sensing a trap. There’s no trap, sweety, I thought, I’m making it up as I go along.

“Say yes,” I prompted.

“Yes!”

“Because your obedience makes me happy, and you want to make me happy. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes!”

Where the fuck was I going with this?

“All right... I am going to kiss you, because that will make me happy. And you want to make me happy.”

“Yes?”

“Now,” I said, “I have no idea why. But it turns out that men get very excited and turned on when they see one girl kiss another. Are you okay with that? With Colin getting very excited watching me kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“His penis will get very hard?”

“Yes.”

“He will want to take you home right away and make passionate love to you. Is that okay.”

She blushed.

“Yes.”

Get the message Colin, I thought, once this is done, you guys go home, have sex, forget about me and all is forgiven.

I dipped my head to kiss her. She was staring at me, like the creepy little bobblehead she was. I stopped and withdrew.

“Close your eyes,” I ordered.

She closed them. Carefully, I bent forward, lowered my head, and being careful not to touch any other part of her body, gave her a brief, chaste kiss. No tongue obviously, no pressure of lips, just a gentle touch. My grandmother had given me harder kisses. I withdrew.

She sighed, and her whole body did that ripple thing.

“How was that?” I asked.

“All right,” she replied without opening her eyes. Her expression was so carefully neutral I had no idea whether she had enjoyed it or been offended.

I smiled carefully.

“Well,” I said, “that’s all right then. I hope that this sorts things out. You guys go home, make sweet sweet love. I’m so sorry for all the misunderstandings, it will never happen again. We’ll all just move on–”

“Now do us both,” she demanded.

What the fuck! Seriously!

Fuck!!!

“Out here?” I asked, exasperated. “In the parking lot? In public? Out here?"

I was incredulous. I had a hundred different ideas as to how this might go, and this was absolutely none of them. How the fuck had it gotten to this? Were they playing with me? Was this all some horrible kink role play to get back at me?

“We could go to your Dominaticks place,” she said.

“Dominatrix,” I corrected automatically

“It’s a lair,” Colin offered, “a Dominatrix cave.”

“Dungeon,” I corrected automatically.

“Yes,” she said, glancing at Colin, a tilt of her head mocking Colin’s ignorance, “Your Dominattic dungeon. I want you to dominatrix us both–”

“Dominate! That’s what it’s called. A Dominatrix is the noun, dominates is the verb. A Dominatrix dominates,” I snapped. This was out of hand, I felt annoyed and cornered.

“I want you to dominates us both. If you can dominates two men at once, you can dominates both of us together. In your dominates dungeon.”

They were fucking with me.

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, I could see the little tiny wheels turning. “Your Dominatrick dungeon.”

They weren’t fucking with me.

“Dominattic,” she corrected herself again.

Fuck!

Well, I wasn’t taking them home. Jesus, how would I even explain this to Sam? What would I even say? And oh god, I absolutely wasn’t taking them back to Leroy’s place. He’d eat them like fried chicken.

“Sorry,” I said, “the dungeon is closed. Renovations.”

“We could do it at our place?” Colin suggested.

“Yes!” she said nodding quickly, “that would be good.”

“I uh...”

Think fast Kayley!

“I don’t have my leather suit.”

“You don’t need it do you?” She asked. “You didn’t need it out here. You didn’t need it in the restaurant when you had sex with my husband.”

Guilt!

“You’re right,” I said surrendering. I sighed heavily.

“Your car?” I asked.

“We take the bus.”

Oh damn, so every day, she takes the bus to meet him when he comes out of work, and then they go home together. It was so much like Sam and me, that automatic, instinctive love. I felt even worse.

“Let’s do this,” I said morosely

What the fuck just happened?

&&&

I drove. They sat in the back, every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, they were sitting stiffly at attention, their respective knees pressed together, holding hands, fingers intertwined, with pale looks on their faces.

They looked like they were going to their mother’s sentencing for murdering their father. Why were they so glum. I was the one cornered into this.

“You know,” I said, “we don’t have to. I can just drive you home. If you’re not comfort–”

“You had sex with my husband,” Helen cut me off. This was getting very familiar. “You used him like a toy, a bystander in your game. You owe us the respect of treating us like people. We’re not toys.”

“Right,” I said, struggling to follow whatever passed for logic in their heads.

Or in her head.

Fucking creepy little bobblehead. She could get a part time job at Halloween playing one of those weird chicks that crawls out of television sets, or maybe a haunted evil doll. Maybe she had, and she'd just decided to marry Colin.

I decided I didn’t like her one bit.

Helen seemed to be in charge. Was this because Colin had fucked me and she was getting back at him somehow? Or at both of us? Or was she usually in charge? What the hell was going on?

“I really am sorry,” I said. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t matter,” Helen said. “You have to make it right.”

“Well,” I said, “just give me directions to your place.”

What just happened? How had a simple heartfelt apology turned into an apparent S&M threesome. Where had I gone wrong in my life?

Had I slipped into some sort of porno dimension? No, Colin wasn’t hung like a porn star and he certainly didn’t last like one.

We drove into a region of modest, seventies-era, apartment buildings. There was outdoor parking, including visitors assignation. A hand lettered plywood sign said “All Visitors must be gone by Midnight or will be towed.”

Their apartment was a third floor walk up, no elevator. It was a modest little place, open kitchen with a few mismatched chairs and a small table, a futon for a couch in what passed for the living room. Most everything looked second-hand, but in good condition. I assume that one of the closed doors represented the single bedroom. A calico cat rubbed up against me.

The only thing really surprising was the art. Almost every available space was covered by prints, often cheap ones - a poster for a Picasso show, a tattered Pointilist reproduction, a Van Gogh flower vase. Mixed in were a lot of religious kitsch, paintings and crucifixes. A bible was prominent in the single, mostly empty book case. Helen noticed my attention.

“We pick them up at garage sales and things, not worth anything but nice,” I glanced out the window. From the orientation, they didn’t get sunrise or sunset, and the view was just the dull yellow brickwork of the apartment block next to them.

“I appreciate nice,” I said diplomatically.

Helen pointed out some riotous swirl of colour that seemed oddly pornographic, if not for the lack of any discernible form, florid initials in the corner read ‘BCK.’

“That’s an original, a Cjherskiszky, from a raffle at the art school. Colin won it for me.”

She seemed quite proud of it.

“You like art?” I asked Helen.

“I like beautiful things,” she said.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I work in a pet warehouse.”

Suddenly, I didn’t want to know about her job.

I felt bad. Colin and Helen were clearly younger than I was. Maybe university age, but they weren’t going to university. The two of them were working together, struggling to make ends meet, trying to hold onto a shitty little apartment full of secondhand furniture and garage sale art. They were just kids really, all they had was each other and I’d walked in and fucked up their relationship.

I felt like one of those assholes who, when you’re walking on the sidewalk in the rain, drives through a puddle and soaks you with muddy water. Whether it was deliberate or accidental, you’re still in shock, soaked to the skin in cold dirty water, brutalized by a callous indifferent world.

I needed to make things right. If that involved carrying through on whatever fucked up notion Helen had... okay, sure.

Sure.

Dominate them.

How exactly?

I turned to look at them.

Fuck, they were looking at me. They were looking at me expectantly, like puppies. Sex puppies.

I needed an instruction manual? A plan? Post it notes? Okay, Kayley, here’s what you do. Take control. You’re in charge. So... how to establish dominance. Pee on them? I suppressed a giggle. I needed a commanding position. A throne. None of this ratty furniture would do. Highest furniture to sit on? The kitchen table.

I snapped my fingers. “Follow.”

I walked into the kitchenette area, stepped up on a chair, and sat my ass on the corner of their kitchen table. I pulled another chair over, and propped my other foot on it. It was kind of wanton looking, but also kind of sexually powerful. Okay, work with this.

“Stop,” I held up my hand, they were closing on me. “Back up a couple of feet.”

They obeyed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. They did want to be dominated, didn’t they? Assuming my idea of domination was the same as theirs.

What was my idea of domination, anyway?

I fixed them both with a dominating stare, whatever that was. It involved just a little squinting, and looking serious, like my smart phone charger wasn’t working.

“Last chance to back out,” I told them. Actually, I wasn’t going to enforce that but it had sounded good for Sam, so why not here. The minute they wanted to back out, I was going to be magnanimous, permit them, explain how it wasn't for everyone, and get the hell out of there. “Before we go further, you both have to agree to go forward. If one of you doesn’t, it’s over now.”

They looked at each other, reached out to touch fingers in a gesture I found heartbreaking, and then first Colin and then Helen nodded. Helen swallowed.

“You have to say it,” I said. “In or out.”

“I’m in,” Helen said quickly.

“I’m in,” Colin said, more firmly.

Ah fuck.

I nodded wisely, trying to figure out what to do next. It occurred to me suddenly, that 90% of my domination with them amounted to desperately stalling for time while I tried to figure something out. Was that the secret of S&M?

“First step,” I said. “Take off your clothes. Both of you.”

Helen glanced at Colin. I snapped my fingers.

“Nope!” I said. “That’s an order. When I give you an order you obey. You don’t ask questions. You don’t look at each other. In fact, no more looking at each other! You look at me, only. Got it.”

Helen nodded, looking a little frightened.

“Words!”

“Yes!” Helen said.

“Yes Miss,” Colin said.

I snapped my fingers twice, looking expectant. They got the message, unbuttoning and pulling off their clothes with awkward haste.

“Even my underwear?” Helen asked shyly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Did I explicitly to say leave your underwear on?”

“N.. N... No?”

“Then....” I raised an eyebrow.

“Take them off too?”

I nodded ever so slightly. She slipped her panties down, wiggling out of them, before reaching behind to unhook her bra. Interesting choice. Colin was covering his junk with his hands.

“Hands at your sides,” I snarled. “No covering yourself.”

The bra fell away. They both stood there, blushing and naked, bare foot even, in their own apartment. I glanced at the curtains to make sure they were closed.

Colin was as I imagined him from the restaurant. His figure was slender and androgynous, no body hair that I would make out beyond his pubic thatch. He was already erect of course. Smaller than Sam, sharper curve than Leroy, uncircumcised. I noted a birthmark on his ribs, a scar on his knee. Pale, he didn’t get out in the sun much. Delicate, but masculine features, and oh blue eyes to make my panties wet.

Helen was a bit shorter. Naked, her head was slightly too big for her body. Her arms and legs were skinny, she had narrow hips and small breasts with huge gumdrop shaped nipples. I wondered if they were sensitive. I’d have to find out. She had a thigh gap, which is some weirdo male fantasy thing. The oddest thing was her pubic hair, it was just this narrow scraggly band, on either side of her pubes, climbing up to join at her pubic mound. From the length of it, she wasn’t shaving, she had a natural bikini line. Like Colin, she was pale.

Now what do I do? I had no idea. Why was this my problem? Maybe it should be their problem? Wait...

“All right,” I said, “you’ve pleased me. Now, I’m going to ask you some questions. You will answer them immediately and truthfully. If I catch you lying, if I even think you’re lying, I’m out of here.”

They both said yes.

What is your favourite colour? Geez. Come on Kayley, take this seriously. I had no idea what to ask. Seriously, what do you say in a situation like this.

“How old are you?”

They both said nineteen. Okay, good.

“How long have you been together?”

“Since October 18 last year,” Colin said.

“Why October 18?” I asked.

“My birthday,” Helen said. “I turned eighteen. That’s when we got married.”

“Uhm... we’d kind of been going out for a few years,” Colin explained, in response to my surprised look. I hadn’t actually wondered about that. “Technically, not going out, we weren’t allowed... but seeing each other anyway.”

“I see,” I said. I didn’t, it sounded fucked up, but I didn’t care and didn’t want to get into it.

“How long have you been sexually active?”

I could almost feel them wanting to look at each other.

“Since October 18 last year.”

I nodded. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.

“How many sexual partners have you each had?”

I was pretty sure I already knew the answers.

“One!” Helen said.

“Two,” Colin admitted.

Oh geez, I could see where this was going.

“Two?” I said. “So one of them... Helen, and one of them was...?” I twirled my finger.

He nodded. I covered my face with hand, suppressing a groan. Oh that was so fucking unfair! It was like two minutes if that. It shouldn’t have counted. I’d had handshakes that lasted longer.

“Yes,” he said. Because of course.

I turned to Helen.

“And he told you all about it?”

“Yes.”

“What did he tell you?” I asked Helen.

She licked her lips, trembling a little, staring at a point at the wall over my shoulder.

“He said you were at the restaurant with two men, your husband and this other man who had invited himself that you wanted to punish.”

“That wasn’t my husband,” I said too quickly. Leroy as husband? Ick! Ick! Ick!

“Your date. Sorry. He said you started flirting with him, to get him to punish the other man, but that you seemed to start to like him. That he was very attracted. You showed him your breasts. Then after, you took him into the supply closet and had sex with him. He said he was weak and couldn’t resist you. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”

Oh geez. It was amazing Colin still had a marriage. Why couldn’t he just shut up like I told him?

“You said all that, did you?” I directed a withering gaze at Colin, my voice was cold. “You told your wife, who, I assume, you love that I was the most beautiful woman you had seen?”

I paused. Seriously, what the fuck, Colin? I thought.

“If you ever do that to her again, or anything like it, I will find you and whack your pee-pee with a ruler. Hard.”

Colin swallowed.

“Say ‘Yes Miss Kayley.’”

“Yes, Miss Kayley.”

“Now apologize to Helen.”

He looked at her.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s all right, Pluffy.”

She gave him a nervous half smile.

Barf! Honey? Pluffy? I was going to go into a diabetic coma.

"You both understand what the apology is for?"

They looked blank. Oh fuck me, geez!

"Colin is apologizing for disrespecting you by saying I was the most beautiful woman he had seen."

"And for having sex with you?" he said.

I rolled my eyes. Yes, we all needed that reminder.

"That too," I said.

"It's okay that you had sex, Pluffy. I understand."

Oh no! Creepy little bobblehead self pity!

“How’s your sex life?” I asked suddenly to change the subject a little.

“Great,” Colin said.

“Wonderful,” Helen replied.

“What do you do?”

“We have sex.”

“What do you mean by sex?” I asked.

“You know...” Helen replied. “Sex.”

“Positions?”

That seemed to confuse them. Helen glanced at Colin helplessly.

“Eyes front. Don’t look at each other,” I snapped.

“The normal positions,” Helen said quickly, and then corrected herself. “Position.”

I thought so.

“Do you go down on each other?”

Total confusion on their expressions. Okay, forget that.

“Do you French kiss?”

Helen grinned suddenly, grinned and blushed, a flush that reached all the way down to the tops of her breasts. The girl lit up like a Christmas tree. Suddenly, I kind of liked her.

“Okay,” I said, to save them from embarrassment. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I’d taken this as far as I could go. I could ask more questions, but what would the point. STD’s? Not a chance. They seemed awkwardly naive, given the state of genital grooming and the conversations so far. I had this impression that they were oddly sheltered. Een after a year, they were only vaguely aware of sexuality. Maybe I would be surprised, but I bet if I asked them about sexual practices, positions, anything, I could predict the answer.

I thought for a moment. Stunningly naive, I really felt out of my depth. The best thing I could do for these two would be to walk right out of their lives. Whatever they really needed, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine where they would need to start, I couldn’t give it to them.

“Were you guys home schooled by any chance?” I asked.

Helen put up her hand.

I looked at Colin.

“My church had a classroom.”

“Hmmm,” I asked. “How did you meet?”

“His Dad was courting my Ma,” Helen explained. “So he’d send Colin over to do chores. Colin had to work out in the world. We kind of fell in love, but they wouldn’t let us marry, so when I turned eighteen...”

“You ran off together?”

Nods.

Honestly, I was shocked that Colin had the wherewithal to piss in Sam’s soup. If he had, after all. The facade of confidence he’d projected as a waiter was just that, a facade.

Well maybe not.

They’d both been out in the working world, I assumed. They’d have made friends with co-workers, been exposed to life, had learned some stuff. Cut off from church and family, they only had each other as they made their way in the world. That took strength. The shitty little apartment with its second hand furniture and garage sale art prints took on a different hue now. A sanctuary, a nest, a place filled with each other, cherished and loved.

“Colin,” I said. “Do you love Helen? And beg her forgiveness?”

“I do.”

“Tell her that, then,” I ordered.

He turned.

“Helen, I love you and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Helen,” I said. “Your turn.”

“Colin,” she said, she didn’t even hesitate. “I love you so much, you never have to ask.”

Barf.

I clapped my hands together.

“All right,” I said cheerfully, “I think we’re done! You guys are good. It’s been fun. But I think what you need is each other.”

“That’s it?” Helen frowned.

Oh fuck.

“I mean, you have us here naked, and now you tell us it’s over? You make fun of us and now you’re going to leave?”

“I didn’t make fun of you,” I said defensively.

“You asked if we were home schooled,” Helen said. “I know what that means.”

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” I back pedaled.

“And you had sex with Colin,” she said. “But now you’re not going to do anything?”

Oh fuck me! Not this again! I was getting tired of it. I mean, I felt really bad, but now they were just working it.

“This kind of thing is slow,” I said, looking for an escape route. “It’s about trust, and taking people as far as they can go and be comfortable.”

“I just thought there’d be more!” Helen said, she was getting upset.

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she replied, it was almost a cry for help.

Oh fuck. I sighed loudly.

“After this point,” I said, “it gets serious. I mean it. I’ll dominate the fuck out of you. I’ll do whatever I want to both of you. I’ll do all kinds of shit. You won’t be the same people after. Maybe you won’t even be able to look at each other, after. Or look at yourself in the mirror. I’ll make you my sex toys. My pets. Are you ready for that? Are you willing to take the risk?

Nods.

Oh fuck. I was never getting out of here!

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 34, Sam and Leroy and another Stripper

They were watching the dancer on stage. It was a different strip club, somewhat more upscale, but seedy the way they all were. The dancer was a statuesque blonde with platform heels, long legs, a sculpted muscular body, six pack and all, and expensively tailored breasts, billed on the club’s Marquis as Jayne Diamond, Miss Nude California.

Leroy and Sam watched her twirl around the pole in bra and panties, doing acts of athleticism that would have crippled an ordinary man. The audience watched patiently, waiting for the remaining strips of cloth to come off, so she could crawl around the stage showing her pussy.

Leroy glanced over at Sam, still nursing his second rum and coke. He should have had four or five, Leroy was buying, but Sam was being careful.

Lack of trust? Leroy wondered. Or just controlled. Sam had passed on Leroy’s offers of coke, he couldn’t get the younger man to do anything stronger than weed. It was annoying. Kayley was the same way.

It would have made things easier. Leroy shrugged. Didn’t matter in the long run, he had sunk wedges in their vulnerabilities.

“How’s things with you and Kayley?” he asked. “Sex life back to normal?”

Leroy had given the couple a few days space. He'd done his damage, and once you made a hit, you needed to give it time to settle in. Besides, he needed to take care of business, and think things over. What to do next? Where to probe?

“Yeah, finally,” Sam said. “She cut me off for three days, but we’re back on track.”

“Three days?” Leroy repeated. He buried a smile, he’d pushed her on twelve hour increments to two days, but she’d gone over the mark. The girl had very little restraint, once you got her going in a direction it was hard for her to stop. “What do you mean?”

Sam was carefully watching the dancer twirl on the pole, she’d dropped her bra, revealing mannequin perfect breasts and nipples.

“I wasn’t allowed to come, or fuck,” he said. “But we did everything else.”

“You mean like oral, she gave you head, you went down, all the other stuff.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, his voice was curt.

“Huh,” Leroy grunted, pretending to be surprised. “Wow. She really got into it. She had a hard time letting go. Three days, uh? Fuck. That’s cold.”

Sam shrugged.

“We’re fine now,” he said flatly.

Leroy did a quick calculation. The second cuck session had been Thursday. Three days was Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Monday was a working day, so Sam wouldn’t have gotten laid or gotten off until the evening. Today was Tuesday, Sam had only been allowed sex as of last night, and today he’d managed to drag Sam off to a strip club after work on pretense of making sure he was okay.

Sam wasn’t fine. He was relieved and hopeful for something like normality, and trying for it. But the last few nights had left him off balance and uncertain. The younger man was still surging with pent up sexual energy, confused over the denial, and hopefully still traumatized from the cuck session.

Vulnerable.

Leroy was happy to pretend Sam was fine.

“Listen,” Leroy said, with enough loud sincerity in his tone to make Sam turn his head to face him and make eye contact, “I need to apologize. This is all my fault and I feel terrible.”

Sam blinked, warily.

“I thought...” Leroy pretended to hesitate, as if he was gathering his thoughts, “I thought it would be good to let her take the lead with you. I thought she’d go easier on you, know both your limits, that she would control herself...”

Leroy turned away, watching the dancer, as if ashamed.

“I had no idea,” he said. “I was shocked. She was out of control. The shit she pulled in the restaurant... in the car... upstairs. I kept trying to say cool it, but she wouldn’t stop, she just kept going further and further.”

Sam was looking at him. Leroy stared down at his glass of beer.

“I mean, I put her down eventually,” he said. “I took control. But... I just didn’t expect she’d go so wild.”

Leroy looked up, facing Sam, staring into his eyes and placing a hand on the younger man’s arm.

“I should have been protecting you, Sam, and I’m so sorry. I let you down. I just didn’t...”

“It’s all right,” Sam replied, “no harm done.”

“I just didn’t expect her to go so hard on you...”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “neither did I.” He paused and almost laughed. “I guess I dared her. My fault.”

“Not your fault, man,” Leroy said. “Something’s going on with that girl.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, to Leroy’s pleasure.

“You never saw it before?” Leroy asked. “Before the first session.”

Sam shrugged, unwilling to continue, instead he pointedly stared up at the stage. She’d lost the g-string, revealing a smooth, equally sculpted vagina, but was still twirling around the pole. Leroy glanced up, too smooth to be shaved, she was either waxed, or lasered. There was something almost inhuman about her physical perfection.

“Hidden side to her, man,” Leroy said. “People got hidden sides. And maybe... resentment.”

Leroy pretended not to notice Sam’s shocked glance, he just watched the dancer and let his lips form the words, low pitched so Sam would have to struggle to hear, as if he was speaking thoughtfully to himself.

“Maybe... a lot of... resentment.”

A scowl passed over Sam’s face, vanishing quickly as he buried it in careful neutrality and turned back to watch the dancer. But Leroy caught it. The pole dancing was finally ending, the audience politely clapping, and finally it was time to display the meat they were all waiting for.

Sam was watching with blank discomfort. He didn’t really want to be here, he didn’t want to be at the front row watching her twirl, and he was genuinely uncomfortable with what was coming next. Too much feminism for the boy, Leroy thought, too much romance, too much pussy whipping, and maybe still a little raw from Kayley’s incendiary castration.

Kayley had frightened the living shit out of Leroy, though he hated to acknowledge it. He’d seen her as a chinese puzzle box, strong, but all you had to do was press her buttons and pop, her legs would open, and you had her.

This had been like discovering rattlesnakes waiting in the compartments. She’d utterly and ruthlessly vivisected her husband with a creativity and ruthless sadism that had taken him completely by surprise. Hell, he hadn’t even imagined anyone doing half the things she’d done. Eventually, he’d taken control of the session, subjugating and humiliating her, because he’d actually been scared. Even then, he’d had the feeling he’d only taken her down because she allowed it.

If she could do that to her husband, a man she clearly loved, and he’d seen her moments of hesitation during the session, what would she be willing to do to someone she didn’t particularly care about?

What would she do to someone she decided she didn’t like at all?

Thoughts like that made Leroy’s blood run cold.

He needed to rethink his whole strategy towards her. It took certain things off the table, shortcuts of coercion, even violence, he needed to work her flaws more carefully. Not just her, both of them.

“You know,” Leroy pretended to be thoughtful, “I think we should back way off on the cuck thing. I mean, way way off. That session was a mistake.”

He had Sam’s attention, despite, or perhaps because of the surgically perfected blonde, crawling on all fours on the stage.

“I think under other circumstances it might be good for you to explore,” Leroy said, “open up your sexuality, get more comfortable. But Kayley’s way to volatile, too out of control with it.”

He paused.

“She likes it way too much, she can’t control herself, she’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I wouldn’t mind taking a break.”

Unspoken and unacknowledged, Sam subliminally accepted Leroy’s description of his wife. Truthfully, it wasn’t that far off. Leroy made his move:

“The guys, the other guys, the ones before me that she fucked–”

“She didn’t fuck them,” Sam said quickly. “She just said she thought about fucking them.”

“Oh?” Leroy said, “I thought she told me when we were talking that day– Never mind...”

He let it trail off.

“My mistake.”

Mission accomplished.

The sculpted blonde was coming their way. Leroy reached into his wallet. Her eyes registered, and her meandering crawl along the stage focused a little more.

“You know what,” Leroy said quickly and loudly, blocking Sam from any direct follow up, “let’s just stick to regular stuff. Having fun, having great sex, hanging out. Fuck all the psychodrama, you know. We don’t need that. You’re an amazing couple, we’re all good together. Why complicate things, you know?”

“Totally,” Sam said, Leroy could feel the relief in the man, his need for Leroy’s protective stability in the face of Kayley’s apparent volatility.

The blonde dancer was coming towards them, on all fours with feline grace, her breasts swayed beneath her in an unnatural, almost mechanical way. Leroy held up a folded hundred dollar bill. Sam didn’t even bother to glance at it, drawn to the blonde and her meticulous perfection.

The blonde met Leroy’s eyes, nodded ever so slightly, and snatched the bill with her teeth, tossing it towards the pole, where her other, smaller bills were collecting. Then she swiveled smoothly to present her vagina for a moment, before rearing up to arch her back and flex her butt cheeks. Across the stage, more bills were waving, and she began her leisurely crawl in that direction.

“She is exquisite,” Sam admitted, “a lot of time in the gym.”

“And the surgeon,” Leroy replied, “nice change from home though.”

Sam hesitated just a second. ‘Yeah,” he said.

Leroy nodded.

The younger man was still carrying the misery from the last few days, it hadn’t really dissipated, just been papered over. A naked woman, particularly one as exquisite at this, was a welcome distraction for Kayley and the emotional baggage Leroy had made her inflict on Sam. It was another tiny wedge driven.

“We’ll sort it out with Kayley,” Leroy promised. “The three of us. I’ll have your back, bud.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, with a little too much relief. To cover, he picked up his rum and coke.

“Get you another drink?” Leroy offered.

“Nah,” Sam replied. “I’m good.”

For a moment, Leroy considered misogynistic remarks about the dancer, or women as sluts and whores. But no, Sam was too balanced, too fucking nice for that. Leroy hid his true feelings, waiting for the moment when he could just say these things, and Sam would go along.

Instead, they made small talk, letting the discussion meander harmlessly, as the dancer left the stage.

Leroy could feel Sam’s palpable relaxation. The overt sexual presentation of the dancer had intimidated him, a leftover sentiment of Kayley’s punishing treatment. And he was genuinely glad to carry the discussion to neutral and unthreatening topics.

Leroy waited for his moment, when Sam’s guard was down.

“You know,” he said, “I’d like a copy of that video we did together. Just like before. You don’t mind?”

“Uhm,” Sam wasn’t sure how to address this topic.

“Come on,” Leroy said, “we’ve done it before. You know you can trust me. And I’m in it. It’s half mine anyway. Kayley doesn’t have to know, just like before.”

“I guess,” Sam said, unable to find a good argument.

“Great,” Leroy said. “Settled. I think from now on, I should just get a copy. Not of everything, but if I’m in there...”

“Putting together a new demo reel?” Sam asked.

Leroy blinked, surprised the younger man had his wits about him. You could throw Sam off balance, but he tended to regain his feet faster than Leroy liked.

Leroy faked a laugh.

“That life is behind me,” he said, “I’m just... sentimental. Call it a quirk.”

Sam nodded, still uncertain, still uneasy. It wasn’t just the porn aspect, Leroy knew, Sam’s humiliation was on the video, writ large.

“May I join you,” a sultry female voice husked. They looked up. Jayne Diamond was beaming down at them, in a very tenuous suggestion of a dress, shining with sequins.

“By all means!” Leroy said quickly, covering Sam’s apparent surprise.

“Thank you,” she said graciously, swivelling into a chair and hitting them with a beaming smile. “So... How’s the sexiest man in the club tonight.”

Leroy leaned back and chuckled.

“Enjoying your show, Darling. Enjoying your show,” he replied. “Are you really Miss Nude California?”

“Mm hmm,” she said. “Also Miss Nude Oklahoma, Wyoming, Montana, Alberta, Kansas. California is the big one. And Biker Week Centerfold of the Year. A few others.”

“You’re a busy girl,” Leroy said.

She nodded. Sam opened his mouth, but she didn’t even look at him. It was as if he wasn't there as far as she was concerned.

“You can make good money in this business,” she told Leroy. “But the window’s short, you have to hustle.”

Jayne and Leroy settled into an easy conversation for ten minutes, casually brushing her platform shore against his calf.

A few times, Leroy tried to bring Sam into the discussion, but beyond a brief acknowledgment, she ignored him. Leroy understood her logic perfectly, he’d put a hundred on her table, that got her attention. Sam hadn’t waved a single dollar, that was an insult and she'd registered it. Sam though, wasn’t experienced with strip club etiquette, so Leroy enjoyed the youth's subtle but very clear humiliation.

“So,” she said, smiling, “are ready for some private California dreaming?”

“I think I might,” Leroy said, “but my friend here needs some pick me up.”

He turned to Sam.

“What do you say, Bud?” Leroy offered. “How about I spot you for a couple of lap dances?”

Jayne’s smile vanished, replaced with careful neutrality. Both men noticed. Sam covered with a shrug.

“I’m not really up for it, you go ahead,” Sam replied.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Leroy shrugged and stood, taking Jayne’s hand. Her smile was back. She rose and melted against him.

“Guess it’s just you and me, beautiful.”

He paused.

“You going to be okay, Sam?”

“Sure.

Jayne lead to the VIP Zone, not that Leroy needed directions. He’d been here plenty of times. At the entrance, he stopped and talked to the bouncer, Gus, a tall black man with a white earpiece.

“You see the creep I was with back there?”

Gus nodded.

“We heard all about him, Leroy. Why you bring someone like that in here?”

“Come on, Gus,” Leroy wheedled, “just out of prison. Be good for him to be looking at adult women.”

“You should have shut your mouth about the guy, dude,” Gus replied.

"Come on," Leroy said. "I wouldn't bring a guy like that in here and not give you warning. You'd have given me hell. Besides, I made sure he's behaved."

Gus shrugged.

“Something happens? I won’t guarantee his safety. Shouldn't have brought him at all, especially with the word out.”

“I had to give you some advance warning,” Leroy replied. “Anyway, I’ve arranged for Crystal to go over there and shut him down. That should keep him behaved. After that happens, wait five or ten, then I want you to come and get him, put him behind the peeper’s curtain.”

“Peeper’s extra,” Jayne said warily.

“I got an empty credit card, Darling,” Leroy assured her, Jayne’s smile returned. "Sky is the limit."

“All right,” Gus sighed. “But if he pulls something, I’m kicking his ass out.”

“Don’t worry,” Leroy assured him. “His kind never do anything when they’re being watched.”

&&&

Sam sat quietly. The next show wasn’t for another twenty minutes. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he would be up against the stage without Leroy there. He swallowed the last of his rum and coke as he considered moving to a back table.

“Hi there,” a radiant young black woman dressed in a complex network of straps and strings was towering over him. “I’m Crystal, mind if I join you.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “Why not?”

Crystal sat, taking Leroy’s seat, putting her hand on Sam’s knee as she rebalanced on the chair. Her hand slid up his thigh.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Uhm... fine,” Sam replied.

“That’s really nice,” Crystal replied, stroking his thigh.

She beamed at him.

“I notice you were sitting with a friend,” she asked, “what was his name?”

“Leroy.”

“Leroy,” she beamed. “That’s a nice name. Do you think you could introduce me? Where did he go? Is he coming back?”

“He’s just off with another dancer.”

Her smile lost it’s wattage. She withdrew her hand.

“Well,” she said, “I guess, when he gets back, I’ll come by.”

“I suppose.”

The smile was gone, all trace of warmth fled.

“Nice talking to you,” she said with an expression like she’d stepped in dogshit.

She stood up and walked away.

Sam sat alone, vaguely humiliated, no one came near him. There were several strippers, alighting here and there like butterflies, trolling for customers. But all of them seemed to avoid him. He imagined he saw a couple of them looking his way and having a conversation. The waitress walked by with drinks, pointedly ignoring him when he signaled.

Sam shrugged and waited, thinking vaguely about moving to a more remote table, feeling more lonely and isolated by the minute.

Just as he had decided to move, the bouncer appeared towering over him.

“Come with me please,” the heavy set black man ordered, “Sir.”

Despite the words please and sir, there was no respect in the tone of voice. And no negotiation whatsoever in the words.

“Is there something wrong?” Sam asked confused. Was he being kicked out? Had there been some transgression? He’d just been sitting there quietly minding his own business? Was it Crystal? Had he angered her?

“Just come with me.”

The tone had moved to frustration. Carefully, Sam stepped away from his seat and followed the intimidating black man, as he was lead to the back of the club.

“Nice place,” Sam said awkwardly.

“I’m not your fucking friend,” the bouncer snapped without turning around.

He lead him into the VIP area, to a small curtained enclosure shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the VIP room. Through a gap in the curtains, he could see Leroy and the stripper Jayne.

“This is for peepers,” the bouncer hissed. “Curtains between the VIP area and the lap dance room. Sometimes if a customer is sketchy we wait here to make sure he doesn’t get out of hand. Sometimes, if a guy likes to watch, we let him stand here and peep, for an extra fee.”

“The only rule is you don’t go in there, you don’t make noise. If you do, I throw you out myself. There’s a chair, you can sit or stand while you watch. Kleenex if you need it. You can leave any time, but you don’t get back in.”

Sam stared at him.

“Do you understand, asshole?”

Sam nodded.

“Fine,” the bouncer whispered. “I’ll be up front. Don’t make me come back for you. Get out of hand, I'll make sure you don't enjoy it.”

The intimidating presence left. Sam looked out, there, beyond the gauze, visible clearly through gaps in the curtain, Leroy was getting a lap dance from the gorgeous blonde stripper.

Leroy seemed to spot a movement in the curtain, and without Jayne noticing, smiled and offered a thumb’s up.

&&&

“Your peeper is here,” Jayne whispered in Leroy’s ear, nuzzling the side of his neck.

She was on her back against Leroy, pressing her shoulder blades into his chest, wiggling her butt on his hard cock. Her dainty perfect hands covered his, and his hands covered her surgically shaped breasts.

“Those are amazing breasts,” he whispered.

She laughed.

“They should be. I paid enough for them, it makes a difference,”

Leroy had already noticed Sam earlier, when she’d been busy trying to give him the standard lap dance. But Leroy had long experience in seducing strippers, slowly and carefully dismantling their limits under the noses of bouncers, to the point that he could do whatever he wanted.

Jayne was finding that out. He never moved fast enough or transgressively enough that she could shut him down. Somehow, he just did whatever she would accept in the moment, and then somehow, when she was distracted, or used to it, or comfortable in some way, he'd slip a little further. For Jayne, hard lines became muddy. She'd worked guys like that before, slippery ones. They were hard to deal with, you wanted to keep on making money, so it was hard to shut them down. You always went further than you intended.

For Leroy the hardest part was crossing the ‘no touching’ rule. He’d eased past that as she twisted and writhed on him, accidental touches at first on har or arms or thigh. But she accepted it, and so he’d gone further, until he was playing with her breasts, even pinching her nipples.

With experienced hands, he explored her body. The surgeon had been at work, there were implants, liposuction, a nip or tuck here or there. But underneath was hard muscle and a very carefully cultivated layer of softness over it, and skin carefully moisturized and buffed to be soft and supple. She probably worked out meticulously at the gym, ate carefully for just the right proportion of body fat. And beneath it all, a meticulous grace and control, most people stumbled along, but her body was a symphony of muscle and bone.

“This is a dancer’s body,” he whispered, sliding a palm over a smooth belly, feeling the hardness just beneath.

“Six years of ballet when I was a kid,” Jayne said. “Mom paid for all those lessons. Look where it got me.”

“If she could see you now,” Leroy teased.

She twisted smoothly under and away from him, sinking down to rub his tented pants between her breasts.

“She sees me all the time,” Jayne said. “I bought her house for her. This pays better than ballet.”

The mention of money brought an involuntary shiver, he covered it by running his hands along her cheeks, face touching a violation of her space, then down her neck and shoulders. In response she climbed back up towards him.

How long, he wondered idly, would it take to break her, to unravel her and take everything? Strip her of dignity, of every penny, leave her trapped in the shittiest biker dive, that perfect body going to seed from despair and neglect, take that house and put Mom on the street. It was barely a passing impulse, he had so many other things to do.

“You are exquisite,” he told her.

She smiled emptily at a compliment heard a thousand times before.

Jayne straddled him, rising high, balancing on the arms of the chair, arching her back to offer him an exquisite view of her lasered, buffed, collagen enhanced pussy. He reached up between her legs, fingers dancing along her skin.

She laughed and turned around on top of him, spreading her legs wide and pulling on her clit hood, for their silent watcher.

He was sliding his hands up her inner thigh, further each time, getting closer and closer. They had reached the point where they both knew he’d get there.

It was just a question of how long she could make him wait.

&&&

Sam watched, utterly mesmerized.

He’d watched Jayne Diamond dance on stage, twirling around the pole, stripping down to full nudity and crawling around the stage to show her pussy to any man who waved a few bills.

It had been an awkward and embarrassing experience out in the open bar, eased only by the rum and cokes.

He’d felt vulnerable, a feeling from the last session he’d hid from Kayley but hadn’t quite managed to shake. His attendance here felt wrong, as it had felt the other time, both juvenile and disrespectful, not his style, but more Leroy’s carefree vibe. And under the bright light, on the elevated stage, the muscular, polished, sculpted perfection of Jayne Diamond had been downright intimidating.

But now here, standing in the dark, everything was different. Anonymity gave him a feeling of safety. Jayne, off the stage, under the softer light of the VIP booth, seemed less intimidating, while her natural grace and focus, her polished perfection became alluring.

Sam found himself hard, his erection springing full force, as she danced and squirmed and writhed all over Leroy. He watched as Leroy’s hands slid across her body, growing bolder with every pass, bringing sighs and smiles of pleasure, as increasingly he posed and opened her. He began to stroke himself through his pants.

Jayne ground herself backwards against Leroy’s lap, and then leaned back as his hands travelled up her rib cage to cup her breasts as if presenting them. With graceful sinuous motions her knees pulled up until they were just beneath her chin, her toes pointing straight down, and then swung together to the left, the right and then opened like a flower unfolding her legs stretching out, her thighs spreading wide.

She looked up at Leroy, looking down across her body, and then as Sam gasped, spread her lips wide open, so wide her pink inner folds were exposed. Leroy slid his hands down her thighs.

Sam couldn’t take any more, with shaking hands, he unzipped. His mind was frantic with urgency. Wasn’t that what the chair was for? What the tissues were for? Wasn’t this an invitation to touch himself. He was both ashamed and elated, breathlessly excited at his transgression, reassured by his privacy. He couldn’t help himself. He was ashamed, but the compulsion to touch himself, to take his penis in hand was overwhelming. His psyche was too battered, any resistance melted away.

As he watched, Leroy’s hands moved smoothly down her thighs, holding her in place. His right stopped at the juncture of thighs and hip. The left glided smoothly across, stroking her clitoris for the first time. Jayne’s legs scissored suddenly and she convulsed in shock.

&&&

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, it was the first genuine thing Leroy had heard out of her. “You’ve got good hands!”

“Musician,” Leroy said.

She let his fingers slide back over her pussy again, in what they both recognized as tacit surrender, of this stage of their slow contest. He stroked her clit in two and four, until she shivered.

“I love musicians,” Jayne purred.

“Then you’re going to love this.” He beat out a time that left her gasping,

With a casual stroke of a finger, he slid it across her wet swollen pussy lips, and lifted it to her mouth.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, knowing the answer in advance.

Jayne shuddered at the humiliation of her own taste between her lips, and converted it to a smile, twisting in his grip to momentarily evade his touch.

“If I didn’t enjoy being touched by strangers,” she lied, “I wouldn’t be in this business.”

She turned around, straddling him, thrusting her breasts forward, inviting his hands on them instead.

But Leroy didn’t take the bait, instead sliding knowing fingers along her pussy lips and clitoris, refusing to let her regain the prize he'd won so carefully. She had no choice but to let him continue. With his free hand, he cupped an ass cheek, exposing her asshole to Sam, and holding her in place while he worked on her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” she whimpered, as he teased her clit, leaving her thighs quaking as they turned to water. “You’re deadly!”

Jayne leaned forward, pressing her breasts into his face, straightening her body and arching her back. She walked her breasts down the length of his body, until she was kneeling, openly stroking his cock through his pants, and getting those insidious fingers away from her pussy.

“You like that?” she teased, pressing against his erection, taking control back for a moment.

“I like everything,” he said, pulling her up. She turned around, to grind on his crotch but instead he pulled her into his lap, fingers dancing again between her legs, on the edge of going too far.

“No fingers inside, okay,” she warned. “Just outside. Not inside, okay.”

“Of course,” Leroy agreed to the terms of her surrender. For the moment.

He kissed her cheek, a tiny bit of condescension she would feel and resent, but not blame on him.

“Remember,” he whispered, “it’s not just us. We have an audience you need to play to.”

He nodded towards the curtains through which Sam could be indistinctly seen watching.

“Don’t worry,” Jayne said, arching her back and lifting her hips, so her pussy was thrust towards Sam, “You’ll get your monies worth.”

Leroy’s hand followed, tapping her clit hood relentlessly in a two-three beat, until her highs trembled and she collapsed on him with a groan.

“I’ll make sure of that,” Leroy whispered.

&&&

Sam gasped, stroking his cock. Leroy had slid two fingers up inside her vagina.

Jayne’s body went rigid, her mouth opening in shock. Expressions flickered across her face, surprise, consternation, a trace of a frown, a moment of calculation, and then a feigned surrender.

There was something incredibly erotic about the scene he watched, it seemed part dance between them, part contest. A contest Jayne was steadily losing, as increasingly, Leroy seemed to guide and direct her motions, taking incremental liberties.

There was a raw sensuality on display from the beautiful woman, her flawless skin seemed to shine luminous in the dim light.

On the stage, her moves had been polished, almost ritualistic, as precise and sculpted as her mathematically perfect, smooth, elegant body.

But this was different, her movements fluid rather than precise, graceful yet unrestrained. She twisted and arched on Leroy’s body, under his hands, sliding smoothly from one position to another, seemingly striving to escape his fingers only to find herself impaled on some new grip. His body worked with and against hers, so that when she kissed him his fingers slid inside.

When she turned in his grip, it was only to encounter a drum beat against her clit that left her gasping. He tortured her nipples, fondled her as or breasts. Her controlled rhythms dissolved, interrupted by twitches and quivers of her body's involuntary responses.

Sam could smell the odor of her arousal, and hear the increasingly frenzied quiet gasps and pants.

Jayne seemed trapped in a maze made of her own body, fleeing without leaving the chair, her smooth movements took on a desperate quality, as each touch drove her closer and harder towards a target she struggled to evade.

Leroy grabbed her stomach, locking her in place on top of him. Her legs scissored shut, but it was already too late, and as his palm moved, they involuntarily parted open.

Jayne gasped loudly. Sam knew she was so close...

&&&

Jayne tried to hide her orgasm, but was been unable to. Leroy noted the sudden flush of warmth and perspiration that spread across her skin, the momentary stiffness of her body, the hitch in her breath. He slid his wet fingers out of her.

Concealing anger and humiliation, she relaxed, deliberately, laying across his body bonelessly. She gave him a plastic smile. Leroy knew deep down she resented him making her come, although she was far too professional to show it.

A woman like her thrived on self control, on owning her body even as she shared it, at keeping some unattainable secret place inside herself, even as she went through the motions. She couldn’t survive, much less make it as far as she had, if some man could take her body from her.

“Oh, I needed that,” she lied. “You really know what you’re doing, Mister.”

“I do my best,” he said.

Then, to humiliate her just a little more, he kissed her, just a little too quickly, throwing her timing off. Caught off guard, she had no choice but to return the kiss, and when she did, he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

She squirmed in discomfort, feigning lust, and he took the opportunity to slip a hand under her knee and spread her legs wide, opening her pussy for Sam, so he could see how wet she was. Jayne understood what he was doing, and despite the humiliation, she could only go along.

It was hard to see for sure, Leroy had to keep his eyes on Jayne, affording only glances, and the peepers enclosure was unlit, but he was pretty sure Sam was openly masturbating. He grinned inwardly.

Leroy broke the kiss, looking into her eyes. No hatred there, just glimmers of annoyance. She thought he was just some bumbler, stumbling about, who had accidentally pushed the right buttons. She was refusing to admit to herself how easily he'd controlled her. Her humiliation and anger was internal, at her own clumsiness in allowing it.

Good, that just made it easier for him.

She looked away, her gaze casually sweeping past the peeper area.

“Looks like your friend is pretty excited,” she whispered quietly. “He’s taking matters in hand.”

Her looking allowed him to overtly glance towards Sam. Yes, he was definitely masturbating.

Leroy grinned at her.

“Then,” he said, “let’s make sure he gets a great show.”

He laid a hand on top of her head and pushed gently. There was just an instant of resistance, of rebellion. But then she'd come so far, and this offered her a way to regain control.

Not the first client she'd blown. Those had always been on her own terms, and lucrative. Fuck it, finish him, she thought, finish both of them, and get them the fuck out. Take a shower, wash it off before she went back to work. Although she resented it, the arousal he'd fanned in her helped drive the decision.

She smiled, sinking smoothly between his thighs with well practiced grace. She was already unzipping him and pulling his cock out.

“After all, that’s what you’re getting paid for.”

&&&

There she was, Jane Diamond, Miss Nude California, headliner, marquis feature of the club, on her knees, back arched, her pussy plainly visible. Her knees were spread so wide the pussy gaped before him, visibly wet from her orgasm.

Sucking Leroy’s cock with complete submission, his hand in her hair, guiding her up and down with metronymic precision, her mouth slowly swallowing his cock with no trace of resistance. She made a submissive noise in her throat.

Sam was in awe of Leroy’s raw sexual power and potency, to unstring and enslave a woman like this whose perfection verged on otherworldly, a woman who had ruled the stage, now groveling on her knees.

His hands were moving rapidly on his cock, back and forth, unstoppably. He was almost panting with lust, his vision narrowed to the sight before him, everything else in his world had been forgotten.

He couldn’t actually see her sucking Leroy’s cock, but the visualization was overwhelming. He’d watched Leroy take his Kayley, the eager submission with which she’d gone down. He could visualize Leroy’s cock, every inch of the shaft, filling his mind, a supremely potent erection, stiff and unrelenting, ever inch of the shaft glistening with wet saliva. Unconsciously, his own lips pursed and he swallowed, stroking his own cock, feeling himself harder and harder.

Sam’s gaze from the dripping open cunt and bobbing blonde head. He froze, his hand almost stuttering in its frantic stroking, as he realized that Leroy wasn’t looking down at the magnificent blonde abasing herself in worship.

Leroy was looking right at him, staring at him through the gap in the curtain. For a second, Sam felt caught and ashamed. But Leroy only smiled and nodded, encouraging, and suddenly it was a relief, as if some unspoken permission had passed.

Jayne made a noise in her throat as Leroy pushed her head down, and Sam knew she’d taken him all the way down, just like Kayley had taken him all the way down. His heart surged, his hand shook, speeding, the grip around the head tightening.

Then he gasped loudly, his breath freezing, his body going stiff as he ejaculated uncontrollably. He moaned loudly, ejaculating, shooting spurt after spurt.

When it was over, he fell heavily in the chair catching his breath, almost dizzy. He looked out, Jayne continued to submit to her master, her head bobbing in steady rhythm with Leroy’s hand in her hair. Leroy barely paid attention to her, he was looking out at Sam.

Leroy gave a thumb’s up. Shakily, Sam smiled and returned the thumb’s up.

Then he pulled a tissue, and wiped himself up, tucking his cock away. He wiped at a semen run on his jeans, and then went to hands and knees wiping away his traces from the floor. Throughout, he was aware of the naked woman, kneeling before his friend, and of his friend watching him benignly.

There was a subliminal noise, a trace of movement behind him. Sam didn't look back. But it occurred to him that the scary black bouncer had been watching, making sure he didn't get out of line or something. Sam felt a sudden wave of shame at the thought of being cruelly watched and judged.

Still shaky and disoriented, Sam pulled himself to his feet, to return to the club. He’d take a table at the back and wait for Leroy to finish.

&&&

Jayne raised her head off Leroy’s cock, glad for an excuse for a break.

“Looks like your friend got off,” she said, giving Leroy an artificial smile.

Leroy nodded, his hand tightening on her hair.

“Yeah,” he said. “You did real good. Now it’s time to finish your job.”

He shoved her face down forcefully, lifting his hips slightly and angling just enough to make her gag. He smiled at this crack in her professional veneer. He couldn’t do what he really wanted, of course, not with a bouncer nearby. And she was only in town for a week or so, not nearly enough time to properly break her.

But oh, he could sense how easily he could break her, if he had the chance and time enough.

Leroy pulled her hair up, enjoying the practiced way she breathed on the upturn, and then before she was quite ready, shoved her face down on his cock, again making her gag slightly. He felt her body tensing, her hands clutching at his thighs.

He knew how far to push her, and when to stop just short of her calling the bouncer. After this, she’d never give him another lap dance again. But he didn’t really care. He’d already had what he wanted.

Bitch was expensive, Leroy was intent on getting his money’s worth out of her.

She gagged again.

&&&

“Hey Bud,” Leroy said, “let’s fuck off out of here.”

“Finished?” Sam asked.

Leroy just laughed.

“Everything’s paid for.”

They walked out of the strip club toward Sam’s car. The air was warm, but Leroy shivered anyway.

“Fuck,” he said, “that was good, but I think I got her perfume and sweat all over me. Now I definitely need a shower. Let's head back to my place, we'll download the video while I clean up.”

"Sure."

And of course, Sam would be sitting, and Leroy would casually walk out of the shower naked, it was his apartment after all. His semi-erect dick would be swinging at Sam’s eye level. Impossible to look at, but impossible to get away from.

Leroy would walk to the kitchen and get them beers, then he’d sit down on the couch next to Sam, comfortable in his own nudity, and they’d download the latest video to his laptop.

He didn’t need to, he’d cloned and compromised Sam’s phone to the point he’d already downloaded it, and Sam and Kayley’s other little one on one videos.

The session aftermath: They’d both been so easy, Kayley still lingering in traces of her cruel dom authority, she’d only needed a push, and Sam so brutalized he submitted automatically.

Leroy had no intention of initiating the sort of cock handling he’d lead Sam into the last time. That would set off alarm bells. This time all he needed to do was present Sam with his nude masculine power, and let the younger man simmer in his own insecurity.

“Well,” Sam said diplomatically, “you were already going to.”

“What?” Leroy asked, distracted. “Oh yeah, I did say that. Now more than ever, I guess.”

Small mistake, he’d said too much upfront. Sam hadn’t sensed the trap though.

“Although,” Leroy covered, “I could do worse than the smell of her on me.”

They laughed.

“I’m glad you got off,” Leroy said. “I could tell you weren’t ready to go all in on her with me, and I didn’t want to push you. But I think you needed that.”

“Uh, I guess I did,” Sam said, not wishing to show ingratitude.

Suddenly, Leroy tossed an arm around the younger man and pulled him close in an affectionate gesture. Just subliminally getting Sam used to physical contact between them. To Leroy’s initiating and controlling physical contact..

“Hermanos!” Leroy said. “Brothers forever!”

“Brothers forever,” Sam repeated, his voice unsteady with confusion but gratitude.

“I wish we’d have had her to double team,” Leroy said, “instead of that psycho bitch Blade.”

“Blaze,” Sam corrected. “Blaze Midnight.”

And he didn’t think she was a psycho-bitch, just a slightly bored girl having a little fun with her job. He’d kind of liked her, the way she’d smiled and toyed with them. He didn’t say that to Leroy, there was no sense arguing.

“Right,” Leroy chuckled mirthlessly. “What a skank. That girl was not healthy... psychologically.”

“Uh huh,” Sam replied.

“Deep down,” Leroy said, “they’re all whores. All women really. Except Kayley, of course,”

“Of course.”

Sam was a little uncomfortable. He knew Leroy didn’t actually feel that way about women. But some boyish competitive urge in his friend demanded that kind of talk

“Push their buttons right, you can make them do whatever you want,” Leroy said. “But for god’s sake, never let them push your buttons, or you’re fucked.”

Leroy glanced at him, apparently casual, but carefully letting it sink in.

“I’m sorry,” he said with mock sincerity. “I’m making you uncomfortable. I don’t really mean that, it’s just talk. Guy talk.”

That was the thing with contempt, you had to drip feed it a little at a time, so it would sink in while they were trying to reject it. You had to assure them you didn’t mean it, while slowly easing them into it. Until one day, they thought just the way you wanted them to think.

And especially with Kayley, for Sam, you couldn’t do it directly at all. You had to poison the soil first, slowly, carefully. But once you did, then inevitably the roots would start to wither, and it would turn rotten inside.

It was all a delicate game, undermining Sam’s self assurance and self worth, his sexual confidence, nurture a sense of inadequacy without Sam ever quite zeroing in on where it was coming from, let his insecurity feed and grow. Then slowly and carefully, alienate him from Kayley, while building reliance and eventually dependence on Leroy.

They approached the car, Leroy stepped in passenger side.

“You okay to drive,” he asked Sam.

Of course he was, the little shit. Two rum and cokes nursed half afternoon. No drunk driving charges for Sam.

“Yeah.”

Sam started the car. Leroy reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“I guess?” Sam replied. “It was a little unexpected... what happened.”

“Sam,” Leroy said, “you just jerked off watching the most gorgeous woman in the club get fingered and give head. Considering what you’ve just been put through, that was the healthiest thing you could have done.”

Sam blushed and looked away, still ashamed, but a little relieved.

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Maybe.”

“Bud,” Leroy said, “you just reclaimed your manhood, and stayed loyal to the woman you love. You came without someone calling you a worthless loser. I call that a win.”

Slipping a little reminder of the ordeal, of what Kayley had done to him. Dripping it in honeyed compliments made it so much easier to swallow and internalize.

Sam laughed, genuinely.

“Weird to hear it put that way.”

Leroy laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Look,” he said, “once we finish at my place, we’ll head out and hit this burger place I know, nice booths, privacy... we can talk... and then I’ll send you home.”

He paused, almost as if the idea just hit him.

“We shouldn’t mention any of this to Kayley,” Leroy said. “She’d take it the wrong way. You jerking off to strippers and all. Just say you were out with friends.”

He laughed, conveying the ridiculousness of it. Another little wedge inserted.

“Don’t even mention my name. Shit, if she knew it was just us, she’d be asking questions.”

Driven a little deeper.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, he could see it, she didn’t need to know the full story, and even an edited version could e awkward. “I better leave you out of it.”

“Hermanos!” Leroy almost roared.

“Hermanos!” Sam laughed.

Lumps of sugar, soft words, leading the horse to its own gelding. Easing, leading Sam willingly into the role that Leroy would assign him.

Never quite realizing until it was too late. Never realizing he needed to fight, until it was already over.

“Tonight,” Leroy said, “I’ll give you a call, we’ll sort things out over the phone. You know, I was thinking, to thank you for the restaurants... How about I collect some ingredients, come over this week, cook you guys a restaurant quality meal. Make a thing of it. Afterwards we can all hang out, talk, watch TV, play board games - doesn’t matter, as long as it’s normal stuff.”

“That sounds good actually,” Sam smiled.

Leroy clapped him on the shoulder.

“Then let’s hit the road.”

Alice and Norman and Ruth updated

It's been a long time since. Putting it up made me nostalgic so I had an impulse to look things up.

Sig died five or six years after closing his shop. I knew that already. I'd heard it from Alice. I sent flowers. We weren't surprised, even when I knew him, Sig was overweight, did no exercise, terrible diet and lifestyle habits. I remember it upset me.

The last time I talked to Alice, they were planning on retiring and closing up. Juanita had gotten married and moved on. Nothing on Ruth, she'd just disappeared.

After that, we fell out of touch. I guess everyone moved on. Ruth was the only other person I cared about back then. I exchanged a few Christmas Cards with Alice and Norman but that's about it. Honestly, people drift away from each other, and that's natural.

But putting up the Chapter, re-reading and revisiting that part of my life got me thinking about them. So I decided to just go looking back, touch base, reconnect with that little chapter.

So anyway, here's what I found: It was all gone.

Google Earth, Google street view, nothing was the same as I remembered. The hotel, the restaurant, it wasn't there any more. Some apartment building had replaced the whole thing. The greasy spoon all the girls and boys my age had hung out with was gone. The gravel quarry wasn't there either - it looks like half of it got redeveloped. There's a street grid overlapping where it should be, and the rest seems to be a park.

The building that Sig's store was in, wasn't there. I remember exactly what it looked like. Run down place. Gone. So much new on that street I only sort of recognized one building. But the rest? Even the street numbers don't match up properly.

All the streets were still there of course. But you can tell the area had expanded, there was more urban density and redevelopment. Back then, we'd been on the outskirts, drive for a couple of minutes and you were going by farmers fields. Now its all subdivisions. Going around on street view, there were a few things I recognized - A MacDonald's a Burger King. The mall was still there, but now its dead, surrounded by chain link. Buildings, but the storefronts were different.

I hunted them down. I found Norman at a rest home. Alice had passed away about ten years ago. Stroke, she'd hung on for a year, and had even made some recovery, then zap. I had no idea, it hurt to hear. I apologized. Norman sounded so frail on the phone, but he was lucid. We spent an hour getting up to date. He's in his eighties.

I tried looking up a few of the people I'd known from back then on social media. Leo, no trace of him... until I found his obituary. I found a few, some had moved on, some hadn't. There were pictures on social media, I was amazed by how some had aged - I mean - yikes!

It's hard to describe my feelings as I was doing this. I think maybe I shouldn't have done it, gone looking. In my mind, they're all as I remember, everything is as I remember. I remember the hallways and pushing the cart down, and casual banter with Alice or Juanita as we processed a hotel room. The greasy cheeseburgers at Mike's. Even the gravel quarry has this luminous beauty in my memory, the starkness of the night and the way it threw shadows, the shimmer of the scum pond, as I'd wrestle a cock out of someone's pants in a rusty pickup truck, giving head with the smell of engine oil and sweaty privates. You'd think I could never find that romantic or wistful. But it's there as a vivid memory.

And now these places are gone. It feels like... I don't know. A phantom limb. Does that make sense?

Then there's Ruth.

That was the scariest thing. I found her. She'd changed her name, so I had to jump through a few hoops. Norman didn't have any idea. But I tried a few things, and then in one of the places I looked I turned up a photo, and once I knew who to look for it was easy. Contact information turned right up.

Remember when you're a little kid, and that warm friendly glow of a stovetop looks so inviting, but at the same time, you're afraid to touch it?

Like that.

So what if I called? The number would probably be discontinued. Probably nothing there. But what if I did call and it was her. Maybe she'd be out and I could just leave a message. Its all texts nowadays, strange number, you just let it go to voicemail. But if it was her, what would I say? What did we have to say to each other? How could I justify even calling?

Nostalgia? What the fuck, eh?

In the end, I tried the number.

She picked up. Oh my god! My heart was racing. "What?" she sounded so bitchy and angry. I flashed back on her old free-floating anger. I was going to say wrong number and hang up. I really flustered, usually I'm together, but this time, it was tongue tied. She just pushed, until I told her my name, and asked if she remembered me. Stupid thing to say. I was sure she remembered me. I just didn't know if it was a good memory.

Then ten seconds of dead silence.

Suddenly, this huge intake of breath, like she'd forgotten for a moment. And a squeal like a little girl, just total excitement.

"EVE-EL!!! You Who-er! You Liz-bo Who-er!"

It turned out she was thrilled to hear from me. We were on the phone for two fucking hours. When we finally hung up I was physically and emotionally wrung out.

So here's the story - Ruth lasted a few months. Without me, it was fucking unbearable. The pressure cooker of her life went into overdrive. I was gone from Phoenix by the time she finally broke.

So she went to Seattle. That had been my dream. She thought I might be there, but mainly, it was a dream place. She just needed to get out, some place to go, some place with that glow of desire and dreams.

I wasn't there, I was in Minneapolis.

Alice and Norman knew, but it seems that maybe they didn't really approve of whatever it was the two of us had going on. They never passed her my messages or me hers or any information on where I was.

I wish I didn't know that. But Alice is dead, and Norman's in a home. I didn't feel like calling him up to ask about that. What would he say? It would just be awkward. There wouldn't be any point.

I guess I've changed a lot. There was time in my life when that discovery would have left me furious.

Anyway: Ruth went to Seattle. Seattle was good for her, the best thing that could have happened to her. She came out within a month. She did all sorts of things, became a community activist - somehow I inspired her in that, according to her, I was the one that took no shit from no one, always stood up, never backed down (I'm thinking what the hell?). At one point she was in a punk rock Lesbian band. She got to be friends with Courtney love. Ran a bookstore. Did a bunch of things. Got pregnant and had a daughter. She lived an amazing life. I was impressed. I felt boring next to her.

She did look for me a few times, but back then I changed names like some people changed hats. It wasn't constant, but just now and then, when the impulse seized her. She found me at U of Hamilton, after I'd graduated and moved on. The trail was cold, but it made her happy to know I'd made out okay. And I showed up on the radar after my accident, but her life was pretty crazy then - middle of a very messy break up.

Oh yeah, daughter. She texted me a picture. A redhead. Looks way too much like me at that age. Just, almost creepy.

Seattle isn't far from Vancouver, so she's coming to visit.

She arrives tomorrow, with her daughter.

I really don't know how I feel about that.

Yes, we had this torrid intense little affair thirty years ago. But for me, that's all it was. The so many people passed through my life, before and after. So many passed between my legs. After her, I went through so many things, I had relationships, children, reconciled with my family, watched people die, built a career and a life. She was a chapter, a part of a chapter.

But for her? I changed her entire life, I derailed everything. I'm this... star in her heaven. I don't know what to say to that. I want to apologize, but she seems happy.

On the phone we were great. Two hours just went like that, zip.

But now she's coming here.

I'm a bit freaked out.

I've been changing the names, obviously. But I don't want her finding and reading this. Or the chapter I uploaded last week. I might take them down, just to be safe. I definitely don't want her reading what I wrote. I don't know that she's understand. I might need to talk to her about it.

Maybe take all the Memoir pieces down.

Maybe.

Funny, this is really the first time I've thought about anyone that is in the Memoirs reading what I've written. I guess I figured changing the names would cover me. And if someone like Peter or Keith or anyone who recognized them ever found it and read it? Well fuck them, deal with what you did to me, assholes.

Oh fuck, my face picture is all over the place on this Patreon stuff. I should take it down!

I am freaking out.

What's Coming Next...

Hey lovely people. I wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Years, and any and all other Holidays of your choice and inclination.

And I'd like to offer some thoughts and sneak peaks at what comes next.

Kayley and Sam - more wacky hijinks to come. The last session will be hard to top, so I'm going to drag things in new directions.

Kayley's been unmoored, she's cut loose from her moral anchors and floating adrift. Dark things have been woken up inside Kayley, depraved things. Leroy has woken stuff within her and thinks he's in control, but really, she's running wild, and she doesn't need him to take her to the dark places, he just makes it easier.

Kayley's going to do a wet t-shirt contest, swinging, gangbangs, exhibitionism and threesomes. She'll dom, she'll sub, she'll kink. She'll make more visits to the glory holes and go further. Leroy will chip away at her self respect and lead her in certain directions. But she'll do depraved things she conceals from him and Sam. It's going to be a wild debauched ride. I've already written several scenes, and there's a few that's bright in my mind.

Sam is broken. He's holding together, but it's scotch tape and thread. Kayley doesn't understand how broken he is, because he's hiding it from her. But Leroy sees it, and he's going to carefully take Sam to pieces. Sam is going to see himself doing things he never imagined and in situations he never expected. Some of this is going to be really hard on him. But Sam's not a standard cuck. So even if he's broken now...

As to other stories - I kind of want to return to Catfish, but its going to be dark. Basically, Kate and Better Kate get exposed, Steve realizes that the love of his life is a fictional character and walks out. Kate goes into an intense horrific tailspin, creating a new persona - WW-Kate, Wicked and Worst Kate. She's broken hearted, there's no hope, so she punishes herself with the most depraved and self destructive sex imaginable.

How much worse? I have a scene where she goes to a bar to get drunk, hangs out at a table of drunken assholes, and ends up stripping on a small stage. On knees and elbows, she spreads wide and promises to twerk for her audience - all they have to do is put a quarter in the slot...

How low will Kate go? Will she be able to arrest her downward spiral? Will she fall into sea of dark nasty sex and self punishment from which there's no escape? Or will she drag herself out? Return to Better-Kate? Will Steve come back into her life? I guess you'll have to find out.

Amber? Amber will just have consequence free fun. She'll explore nasty sex with a safe partner, and will remain the healthiest of all my characters.

Actually, I have a scene in mind - probably in the Kayley storyline, where Amber, Kate and Kayley all end up on a streetcorner, dressed as hookers, waiting to turn tricks.

Susan, I want to continue to explore. She's a bitch slowly turning into a human being. She's a dominatrix who has no idea what she's doing, and that terrifies her. Because the further she gets into S&M the nicer a person she becomes, and she is increasingly terrified that her sadistic urges might cause real pain and injury.

Daphne - this is actually the story I want to start writing. It's totally Scooby Doo. I want to have a chase scene through a haunted house, in and out of doors, just like in the cartoon. This version of Daphne though, on her own, will be slightly older and a lot more jaded. She's been through countless mysteries where it was just a greedy old man trying to steal things, and she's had real encounters with the supernatural. She's seen it all. And in downtime in the Mystery Machine, she's done it all. Count up all the possible permutations for the gang - she's done very single one, multiple times. After you've been molested by a legion of ghosts, real and fake, faced off with the demon penis of Yog Sothoth, and scooby dooby did, nothing phases her. She's hard boiled and horny.

Trampire I definitely want to get to. This is a sort of erotic horror serial, where the protagonist is a succubus - a sort of sex vampire. Except she barely understands what she is. She's been on a sort of autopilot for ninety years, she's almost the only one of her kind left. Then some young and fearless Vampire Hunter wakes her up, rousing her from the half-sleep of her existence. She'll meet and .... real vampires, werewolves, frankenstein, a minotaur, mummy, aswang, Doctor Moreau's creations and any supernatural creature I can get away with. And along the way, she'll fall in love with the Vampire hunter who considers her an unholy abomination.

Actually, my writing mentor wants me to do this as a real novel. But I want to do this for the crazy sex scenes. This is actually my most intimidating project, because it comes closest to a real novel - character, plot, setting, an exotic arc. I honestly don't know that I can pull it off. I think that's why I just want to make it a sex story. Because I know I can do sex.

Finally, somewhere in there, I want to do my "Undercover Boss" story - a hard driving corporate CEO ends up doing an "Undercover Boss" reality show shtick at a recently acquired division with high productivity but rampant sexism. Signing on undercover as a receptionist, she slowly loses control of the situation, and loses control of herself, as she sinks into a morass of bimbofication.

"Memoir of a Slut" - more to come. My adventures in Phoenix and Minneapolis, in Calgary, ups downs. Losing my virginity. Playing the shit game as a high school slut. Crazy sex escapades.

Now the bad news - I don't think I can keep up the pace. I've been averaging about 40,000 words a month, a chapter a week, every week, for months on end. It's a punishing schedule, and sometimes its been near impossible.

I'll do my best, but I may slow down a bit. Skip a week here or there. But I promise you, I'll try and do the hottest stories I can.

Alice and Norman and Ruth

After I left Jules, while the bus was on t

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Chapter 33, Cucking Ends, or Does it?

THE SECOND CUCKOLDING, PART 5 OF 5

KAYLEY POV

Sam would have done it way better, I thought. But this was good, this was still really good. I realized that Sam’s semen was dripping down my face, but I couldn’t find the impulse to care.

Leroy kissed my shoulder blade, licking away the film of sweat.

“I own you now,” he whispered.

Again? Geez.

“Yeah,” I agreed, too exhausted to roll my eyes. Honestly, I was annoyed by the way he never let up, but so exhausted I didn’t have the energy to do anything but go with it.

After a moment, with a deep grunt, he pulled himself off me.

“Sam,” he said, “get this.”

I felt him pulling my ass cheeks apart.

“See that?” He said. “That’s a fucking gape. That’s an asshole that’s taken a good hard fucking.”

I just laid there, sweat dripping off me, panting, boneless, limp, listening to him, feeling him handle my body like a slab of meat. I didn’t even have the energy to resent him being an asshole. I just laid there. He slapped my ass, I grunted and shook, but made no other response.

I was allowed to rest, panting, not even listening as Leroy spoke to Sam. Finally, he made his way around the bed. At first, I thought he was going to unbind my wrists. But instead, he grabbed my hair at the top of my head, pulling. Raising my head voluntarily, I sensed what was coming.

Obediently, instinctively, my mouth opened and Leroy shoved his cock, wiped hopefully, but still fresh from my ass, in.

“Clean it,” he ordered unnecessarily. Exhausted from the fucking and orgasms, my will shattered, I did as I was told, sealing my lips around his limp cock and swirling my tongue around.

“That’s how you do it,” he was telling Sam cheerfully.

As I laid there, limp and panting, I was struck by the dichotomy between how I’d totally dominated Sam, I mean, I’d fucking crushed him, on the one side. And on the other, how completely I’d been ruled and wrecked by Leroy’s ass fucking. I almost winced as I remembered my sarcastic attitude as I’d gone along, even as he’d utterly broken me down and pounded me into exhausted submission.

Leroy slapped my ass. I didn’t even bother to respond, I just felt my body jiggle with the force, the hard sting, and the burst of warmth and pins and needles. He was going to leave a red handprint on my butt.

“Okay,” he said. “You look after her. It’s late now, I’m going to grab a shower, and after, I’ll just fuck off. You guys going to be all right?”

But he didn’t wait for an answer. I sensed, rather than heard or saw, him leave the room. A moment later, the shower turned on. Then Sam’s hand was on my back, stroking me.

“You all right, babe?” he asked.

“Fine,” I purred. “Just fine.”

&&&

It was an hour later. I’d sorted myself out, showered. We’d put on clothes and had a drink together.

“Listen,” Leroy said sincerely, “all that stuff, about my owning her, taking her away from Sam. All the bullshit about being pathetic, control power. All that stuff is in the session. But it ends there. Session ends, it’s over. None of it carries over, understand?”

“Got it,” Sam said. I yawned, I was so tired.

“It can be really intense,” Leroy said, “but you have to remember, none of it’s real.”

“Except the sex.” I said.

“Okay, that’s real,” he admitted. “But none of the rest. It’s not who you are. It’s a role play. What goes on in the session stays in the session.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We know.”

He nodded.

“I’m just making sure. Sometimes there are ... feelings. They’re powerful, it’s an illusion, but illusions can mess with you. If there are feelings, you come to me, okay. We’ll all talk it out.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, he was obviously exhausted.

“Promise?” Leroy demanded.

“Promise,” Sam sighed.

“Promise,” I said.

“Great,” Leroy replied. “Now let’s hug it out, you crazy kids, and then I’ll hit the road.”

We hugged. Finally, Leroy left. I looked at the time. Christ, we were going to have to get up in a few hours to get ready to go to our offices. We were both going to be so fucking wrecked and exhausted tomorrow at work.

The door closed, we looked at each other and waited, it felt like we were counting down.

After fifteen seconds, I took a giant breath and exhaled.

“Jesus!” I swore. “Thank the holy fuck he’s gone. It was a wild scene, but I think I would have gone out of my fucking mind if he stayed over. No more overnights. Fuck.”

I could feel the tension boiling away, stress and angst, that bizarre roller coaster sort of excitement physically leaving my body. I dumped myself n the couch and held out my arms to Sam.

“Come here, baby,” I said. “I need you.”

He stretched out on the couch, his head in my lap.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I’m glad he’s gone. That role play, it’s incredibly intense, but it’s exhausting. It was too fucking long. I like Leroy,” he said. “I like him a lot. But sometimes it feels like he sucks the energy right out of you.”

I nodded. I’d noticed that too.

“You’re not too traumatized are you? No permanent damage?”

He laughed.

“I don’t think so. Honestly, it feels like I’ve been hit by a car. I was just walking along and WHAM! What the hell was that?”

He paused.

“I think I’m okay though. We did agree that I could just say uncle. I don’t think I ever reached that point where I needed to say it. Just... the next time I tell you to do your worst, slap me silly.”

I stroked his hair. He seemed fine, just regular Sam. I wasn’t entirely sure. I decided to watch him, just in case. No damage, I hoped, and no damage that couldn’t be healed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said,”about the leg-humping thing. I don’t know what came over me.”

I was too ashamed even to mention the other thing. I hoped he wouldn’t bring it up.

He looked up.

“You know what? It was so bizarre, I couldn’t even feel humiliated. It was practically an out of body experience. I felt like I was in a Fellini or a Warhol film. It was like Salo, where suddenly, you’re in something so fucked up and weird, that you can’t have any normal reaction. You’re just there, doing it, going ‘okay, so this is happening.’”

“You sure,” I asked. “I didn’t psychologically warp you?”

He thought about it.

“I guess you’ll know for sure when you start finding cum stains all over the furniture.”

I snorted involuntarily, and then coughed. I couldn’t help it, I laughed right out loud.

“I think maybe you missed your calling,” he said. “You’d make a world class dominatrix!”

I smiled.

“You think so?” I asked. I stroked his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe I could only ever do it with you.”

“That’s... both reassuring and terrifying,” he said.

He paused thoughtfully.

“I felt it, you know,” he said. “Every now and then, no matter what you were saying or how mean you got, every now and then, I could feel you caring. It was like dark clouds, so dark and scary, and then once in a while, the clouds would part and for a second it would be warm, I’d feel you shining through, checking on me, making sure I was okay, caring, loving.”

I nodded.

“That gave me the strength to keep on going.”

He shivered.

“But sometimes, a lot of the time, you were fucking terrifying. I think you even scared Leroy.”

I laughed at that.

“But you sure as hell scared the fuck out of me.”

I laid on him and wondered about that. My ‘caring’ had been a lifeline. I was glad of that. But maybe I shouldn’t have. Had I contaminated the experience? Should I have been harsher, been more careful about showing care?

Or would that have been too much trauma? Would that have broken or scarred him irreparably, or liberated hm through catharsis? There was no instruction manual for this kind of journey.

For that matter, was he traumatized now? He seemed okay. He’d bounced back incredibly well. Of course, it was just a role play, we all knew it wasn’t real. But...

I decided to keep a close eye on him, just in case.

Something I couldn’t tell him was how real the darkness had been. How cruelty, sheer viciousness, had called to me. How I’d constantly been on the edge of running out of control. On the edge? I’d run wild, and loved it. It’s sobering to discover that part of yourself.

In the meantime, time to change the subject, lighten the mood.

“He told me to pee on you,” I said. “I wouldn’t.”

He nodded.

“I’d never do that to you,” I assured him. “I mean, you could pee on me if you wanted. I’d let you, but...”

I stopped. What had I just said? Wow, that had come out completely garbled. I hoped he didn’t get some weird idea from that, that I was some kind of pee freak. That wasn’t what I was saying at all!

I turned, shifting position again, taking my weight away from him.

Let’s just tip toe away, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Totally not into that stuff. I was blushing hot.

“What’s with the whole ‘anal virgin’ thing?” Sam asked suddenly.

Relieved, I chewed my lip.

I’d meant to bring it up with Sam, at least to get him on board. But the whole thing at Leroy’s apartment had thrown me. I didn’t like keeping secrets from him, and somehow, once I’d committed to the secret, I couldn’t see how to raise it.

Sam could have simply blurted out ‘I fuck her ass constantly.’ And that would have shattered the fantasy.

Nah, I would have stuck my tongue down his throat. In the end, we’d been able to read each other well enough to navigate it.

“I don’t know, really,” I said honestly, giving it a thoughtful examination. “He just got the idea in his head somewhere along the way and got really excited about it. He fixated. I could tell he was fixating. I went along because it seemed so important to him.”

He nodded.

“He really was into it. You should have seen his face. He was like a kid at Christmas. You just know, he was gong to run home and put it in his scrapbook. Or maybe ask his mom to sew an extra badge onto his boy scout uniform - ‘Anal Plunder.”

“I don’t think that boy scouts have an Anal Plunder badge,” I said.

“Honey!” he said. “It’s the boy scouts! Of course they have an Anal Plunder badge.”

I smacked my forehead. “You’re right, what was I thinking. Do they have a fisting badge too?”

“Girl guides.”

“That makes so much sense!”

He paused.

“I could see he was really into it,” he said, “and you were going along. So I figured I’d just keep my mouth shut and ask later.”

“I didn’t ham it up too much?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “You were very convincing. You had me going there for a bit. I was really worrying for you. I thought I might have to stop it.”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, you and I do it all the time. I just started to pick up that you were... not exactly faking, but acting, performing. It was role play, and you were okay.”

I smiled down at him. We were so in synch, the two of us.

“How was he?” he asked.

“Okay,” I mused. It wasn’t like I had a sample size to compare with. I’d done anal with only two men - Sam on a wonderfully regular basis, pun intended, and Leroy twice. “Not nearly as good as you. Hurts a little. I’m tender. My clit too.”

Definitely not as good as Sam. Sam seemed to instinctively do everything perfectly, his body knew just what to do with my body. He slid inside me without a shiver of pain, it was all welcome and joyful and filling. Sam was always welcome up my Chimney, all year round, not just Christmas.

“I guess because I’m smaller,” he said thoughtfully.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, as running jokes went, this one was already tiresome. I just wished they’d let it go, it’s stopped being funny guys. True, I’d indulged it for the cuckolding session. But we weren’t in the session now, and I don’t know why he had to keep at it.

“Oh yeah,” I said sarcastically, laying it on with a trowel, “that must be it. Because he’s soooooo much bigger. Obviously.”

I almost rolled my eyes.

“Think we should tell him the truth?” Sam asked.

“Oh god no!” I said. “Did you see how happy he was? He was like a kid at Christmas! I don’t want to ruin it for him. And he’d think we were just... toying with him. I think it’s better to let him believe. Let him think he has something unique.”

I nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It might help him bond. Lose some of that competitive bullshit, if he thinks he’s got a special trophy.”

“God,” I reflected. “We talk about him sometimes like he’s a kid. Our kid. I don’t know whether we want to fuck him, or adopt him.”

“He comes across as immature, sometime.” He nodded. “Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s annoying. On the one hand, he’s so ... accomplished. And then...”

“Yeah.”

We contemplated the mystery that was Leroy for a moment.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you really think of sex every man we flirted with?”

I burst out laughing.

“Oh my god no!” I said. “That was just for role play.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sam said defensively. “I never snuck off to the bathroom to masturbate... except that one time at Holden’s.”

Sam was insecure! It made me want to laugh. I scooched back over on the couch, so I could lay flat on it, side by side facing him, our bodies pressing, looking into each other’s eyes.

“It was just fun flirting with them,” I said, “and it was only fun because you were there.”

“Ever think about fucking any of them,” he asked, he couldn’t let it go.

“No!” I laughed.

I paused.

“Well... Some of them. Especially as we went on,” I admitted. “Mostly no, but once in a while.”

“Like who?”

Fuck, I was on the spot. I tried to think.

“That salesman from Ohio, at the Fairmount lounge.”

“I remember him. Why him?”

“I don’t know. He was just so sad.”

“A pity fuck?”

“Eugh!” I said, appalled, “that’s a heartless way to put it. No. He was just so quiet and sad and lonely. You know. Reflective and thoughtful, my heart just went out to him. And I thought, ‘I would like to take you to bed, so that for a little while, you wouldn’t be so lonely and broken, and maybe after, you could ... I don’t know. Start living again.’”

“I would have said yes,” Sam said. “If you’d come and asked me.”

I kissed him.

“I know you would have, Sweetie,” I told him. “That’s why I didn’t.”

“Anyone else?”

“That guy with the stopover, you know the one - the computer nerd, Edgar. Overweight. Sweaty. Gross.”

“Lester?”

“Lester!” I said. “That’s his name.”

It was Sam’s turn to make a face.

“Why him?” he asked. “Are you turned on by gross, fat, sweaty, hairy guys?”

I laughed, just slightly nervously, but not enough to be noticed.

“No,” I said quickly. “He was just weirdly sexual. Hung, you could kind of tell, gynormous I bet. But there was just something about him. I think he was autistic or asberger’s or something. Hyper-focused, even when he was pretending not to be. He had this selfish sexual intensity... It’s hard to explain.”

“I guess,” Sam said. “Although I don’t see it at all.”

I stuck my tongue out.

“He’s definitely not your type. I think he was the first one I really thought about it. I just had this feeling, that he really wanted to fuck me. And not panting, horny-dog desire.”

Sam blushed.

Oops, I thought, I’d have to watch myself around that. Edgar... Lester had definitely given me the tingles. I hated to admit it, but there were certain kinds of men that my body seemed to yearn for. It was a little embarrassing.

“But this kind of laser focused quality. Like he absolutely didn’t care how I felt or what I thought, but if he had even the slightest chance, he’d go for it, one hundred per cent, relentless. If there was any opportunity, he would have fucked me. And I sensed that.”

“And...”

“That’s when I wondered what it would have been like. He was too creepy though. Soooo seriously creepy. I got bad vibes along with the sexy ones. The wrong kind of bad vibes.”

“Okay,” he said. “Who else? Mr. Astronaut?”

“Mmm...” I said pretending to consider it. “Not really. Maybe, for about two seconds. No, not even one second. He looked good, but everything was too plastic. He was like a GI Joe. You didn’t want to take him out of the box. And if you did, and took his pants down, there’d be nothing there.”

I thought a moment.

“There was Tom, the Dwarf,” I said. “Actually, definitely!”

“Kinky!”

“Shut up!” I laughed. “The swimmer,” I said. “That guy in for the comedy festival. He actually invited me up to his room. I wasn’t really tempted, but I liked the invitation. Definite maybe. And that traveler - the one who lived in a yurt. No wait, definitely not him.”

I shrugged. “Not that many. And only a few, really, where I thought about it even half seriously. Like not so much, I should or even could. But thinking, what would it be like? Mostly not even interest, just... vague curiosity?”

“These are mostly later,” Sam said. “None of the early ones?”

“None.” I shrugged. “I guess I started to as we went on, more and more, later and later.”

“So Leroy was just right time, right place, you were ready to go for it?”

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “Well, he was one of the most aggressive for sure, and the sleaziest. Maybe. I think part of it was the ‘right here/right now vibe.’ He wasn’t even inviting me up to a room, he was going to go for it right there in the bar.”

I gave a rueful smile. “Even then, I probably wouldn’t have. At best, I was straddling the fence. You were the one that kicked me off.”

“Regrets?”

“Nope, not as long as I’m with you,” I smiled and played with his hair.

“Would you do any of them now?” Sam asked.

I thought. “Lester. There’s just a creepy magnetism to him. I don’t know.” I almost said the salesman, but buried that. “Stand up comedy guy.... nah. The swimmer... no. Tom, the Dwarf. Maybe, maybe not. There’s a huge difference between thinking about it and actually doing it. I could do it, doesn’t mean I would. But... Maybe.”

I thought a little more.

“Scratch Lester, too creepy.”

I thought some more.

“The only one that would be a closest to definite yes would be the Dwarf. Before Leroy, he was the one I almost said yes too. He got me to feel his cock in his pants. I was so embarrassed, but it was exciting.”

“Really! You never told me that?” Sam said.

“I was kind of embarrassed. It was just an impulse thing.”

“So...?”

“Hung,” I admitted. “I was curious.”

“Why the Dwarf.”

“Really aggressive,” I said. “Very up front about it. Funny. Driven. I liked his personality, and honestly... this is so un-politically correct, I was really curious about sex with a Dwarf.”

“You are kinky!”

“You just noticed?”

Now some decidedly un-politically correct images were going through my mind. When I’d felt his cock, it had been very generous. Very very generous.

“If you ever tell anyone I said that last part,” I said, “I’ll have to kill you.”

“You have a Dinklage fetish?”

“Peter Dinklage is a brilliant fucking actor,” I replied. “And he oozes sex appeal. It’s those eyes. And the voice. And the sheer raw talent! Any woman would do him in a heartbeat!”

“Interesting,” he said. “So when... or if... we do the dating game again, you’re more... seduceable?”

“Theoretically,” I said. “I guess now, with all we’ve done, it’s a real option now. I’d have to really feel it, and want it. I think the bar would be high though. And I suppose I’d want to check with you. Have a signal or something, a go ahead. But let’s say we’re at a hotel bar, and I meet some guy, say a big swarthy Sikh, dark dark skin, thick body hair poking out of his shirt, about six foot two, turban, big bushy beard, huge hands, and just penetrating eyes–”

“That’s oddly specific,” Sam said.

It was, I thought. For a moment, I wondered where that had come from?

“-- and we talk, and he’s just radiating this carnal sensuality, and my panties are just wet, and he says ‘come up to my room, I have always wanted to impregnate a redhead, and I want to do the Kama Sutra on your tiny white girl body.’ And you were giving the green light, I’d go ‘Yes! Yes! YES!!!’”

I paused.

“That’s very very very specific,” Sam said. “Any particular Sikh in mind.”

I shrugged. I had no idea, it just popped into my head. I didn’t know any Sikhs.

“Just a random example. But if it’s just an accountant or tile salesman from Des Moines, even a Sikh one... Meh, why bother?”

Sam nuzzled my neck, making me giggle.

“Now I know your secret lusts,” he said - “Fat, hairy ugly guys; big brawny Sikhs like Jason Mamoa, and Peter Dinklage.”

I laughed nervously.

“Jason Momoa’s not a Sikh,” I said. “But I’d hit him anyway.”

“Who wouldn’t,” he replied, fondling my breasts, and kissing me.

“You’re incorrigible,” I giggled, kissing him back.

His eyes were sparkling.

“Sort of,” he said. “Honestly, I’m only half way back, but after the session, I just want to feel playful and relaxed. I want to shake it off.”

I reached down, squeezing him gently.

“More than half way, I judge.”

“What can I say,” he said. “You’re my everything.”

“I love you,” I said urgently, the words tumbling out. “You know that I really love you. I would never hurt you, or allow you to be hurt. This was all just play, none of it was real. You’re the only thing that matters.”

“I know,” he said. “I trust you, and I’ll never stop trusting you.”

I laughed joyfully, relieved and elated. No matter what, I promised myself, I’d protect him, I’d keep him safe. I’d broken through the armour to the vulnerable raw Sam-soul beneath, and I cherished it. I’d never let anything happen to it.

The laugh turned into a gasp and a sigh, as his fingers found me.

“Oh,” I said breathlessly, “I should tell you, I fucked the waiter.”

He nodded.

“I know,” he said, “Leroy was going on about it. I thought he was just bullshitting. So you really did?”

“I really did,” I agreed, “although Leroy didn’t know. And I’m sure he didn’t believe me when I said I did. I don’t think he thinks that I did. I think he was just bullshitting to get to you.”

“Huh,” he said, absorbing that. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“The waiter.”

“Oh,” I paused, thinking it over. “He had the most gorgeous blue eyes, like just amazing deep blue. Every time he looked at me, I got little wet shivers. It was easy to flirt with him. But the sex? Two minutes. Meh.”

“Too bad.”

“I’m not shitting on him, it was just really rushed circumstances.”

I paused, thoughtfully.

“Right after he came though, he had a crisis. He was married, or had a girlfriend, I can’t remember. But suddenly, he was just... flaking out. And I felt terrible. I realized something.”

“Yes?”

“Well,” I said, “there’s fun, right? But people aren’t sex toys. They have lives. Feeling. You can’t just use them, that’s fucked up. You can hurt them, just by messing with them. I shouldn’t have fucked him. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t considerate or respectful of him.”

He kissed my forehead.

“You’re a good person,” he said. “And I know you’ll be... we’ll be careful of people. Do no harm. No one unwilling or regretful. Just... spread joy.”

I was a good person? After the shit I’d just done to him? And the way I’d genuinely enjoyed it? And fucking around privately with Leroy, and the booths? I’m not sure his faith in me was justified. I wanted to be a good person. It just felt really hard to navigate.

I was keeping things from him. The booths, the private encounters. Maybe now was the time to come clean. Just tell him everything. I took a deep breath.

I thought back to the roof top, Polaris, the north star. With it, you could always find your way. Be my Polaris, Sam, I’m just a little it lost right now, but as long as you’re there in my sky, I’ll always find my way.

My lips parted, and then closed. No words came out. Just tell him, I ordered myself.

Was I a good person? I felt bad about what I’d done to the waiter, and to Sam. I would be more careful. Maybe that was the key. Maybe a bad person would do these things and never feel bad, they’d just keep on doing them.

“Uh,” I whispered. Truth time.

Sam’s fingers moved against my clitoris, I gasped and shifted.

“It’s hard to think really deep thoughts,” I complained, “when you’re fingering me like an electric guitar.”

“Just practicing. Oh my!” he teased. “You’re really wet.”

I pretend scowled.

“And you’re not doing anything about it,” I complained.

“Now who’s incorrigible!”

&&&

My ringtone went off, even before I picked it up, I knew who it was calling me in the middle of the night. We hadn’t decided between trying to go in to work, or just both calling in sick and sleeping it off. The one thing for sure, we weren’t sleeping.

Before Leroy left, he’d made us both promise no sex for twenty-four hours. Yeah. Fuck that noise.

I held the phone to my ear.

“If Sam’s there,” Leroy said, “don’t let him know that it’s me.”

“Hi Jan,” I said cheerfully. “You’re up late. Really late. Is everything okay?”

“Is he close by?” Leroy asked.

“Totally,” I said. “Extremely.”

“Is he doing something sexual?”

“I would agree with that.”

“Licking your pussy?”

“You got it.”

“Is he hard?”

“Uh huh,” I replied. “So what’s up Jan? Something on your mind? It’s crazy late.”

“I just wanted to check up on the two of you, especially Sam. It went pretty hard on him.”

I looked down at Same, faithfully licking my pussy.

“Jan says hello,” I said.

Sam paused long enough to lift his head and say “Hi Jan.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, “he’s fine. It’s all good.”

“He’s very submissive,” Leroy said. “A natural cuck. He really takes to it. I thought you might have pushed him too hard, but he rolled with it.”

“I suppose so.”

“Anyway,” Leroy said. “I was a little worried about him.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“How about you? How’s your ass? You got it hard physically.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” I said. “Those things are built to handle all kinds of situations.”

I reached down with one hand, winding my hand in Sam’s hair, and pushed him hard against my clit. I moaned.

“Sounds like he’s doing a good job,” Leroy said.

“Oh that,” I said. “Sorry, that was a yawn, it just came over me. I couldn’t help it.”

I grinned down at Sam, his eyes were sparkling as he looked up at me, thinking I was talking to Jan. His tongue became wildly animated, and I had to struggle not to gasp too loudly.

“I’m not surprised you’ve got him licking your pussy.”

“Oh yeah, and why is that?”

“Because he’s still lingering. He’s hanging on to his submissive mode.”

I pulled Sam’s hand up to my breast.

“Really? That’s an interesting theory.”

“Are you going to fuck him?”

“There’s a personal question,” I said. “Didn’t we talk about that?”

“There’s making promises and keeping them,” Leroy said. “I think this time you should keep it.”

“Oh you think that?”

“Tell you what, let’s make it interesting.”

“I’m listening.”

“No fucking,” Leroy said, “but oral is okay. Oral is great.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“You can go down on Sam, if you feel like it,” he said.

“Oh I don’t need incentives,” I said. “I’m always there for that.”

“Sam goes down on you, all you want. You come as much as you want.”

“Still liking it.”

“But Sam doesn’t come at all. You blow him, you fondle him, you tease him, you keep him hard the whole twenty-four hours, but he doesn’t get to fuck, and he doesn’t get to come. You edge him, until he’s screaming. Tie him down if you need to. I guarantee, it’ll blow both your minds.”

“Interesting,” I said. “I think I could be up for it. It’s definitely a possibility.”

“Think about it,” he said. “Twenty four hours, of oral servicing, coming over and over, and keeping him hard and helpless the whole time.”

“You’re definitely selling it.”

“You’ll go for it.”

“I guess.”

“Say it.”

“All right,” I said. “Yes.”

“Then let’s make it really interesting: Forty-eight hours.”

“Whoa!” I said. Sam looked up at me. I pressed his face between my legs, suddenly much wetter. I could feel my pussy squeezing. “That’s really hard core.”

“You’re not refusing.”

“That’s true,” I said.

“You told me you cut him off two days before the session,” he said.

“I did say that.”

“So what’s two days after the session?”

“It seems exhausting and difficult.”

“But exciting?”

“Yes.”

“Try this - twenty four hours, set in stone. That’s your target. If you make the end of the twenty-four, then add twelve. If you get all the way through the twelve, then add another twelve.”

“That sounds feasible.” Oh poor Sam, I thought gleefully.

“If you can make forty-eight, then another twelve and even another...”

“Too much.”

“But forty-eight.”

“All right.”

“Then do it!” His voice changed timber, suddenly commanding.

I gasped, and jumped a little, my body flushing hot suddenly. I pushed Sam’s face down against my pussy, so he’d think that the sudden surge of wetness was him. But it wasn’t. It was Leroy’s command. Not a suggestion, not a request. An order, immutable, irrevocable, non-negotiable.

Perhaps it was my own lingering submissiveness, but as my heart beat faster, and my muscles tightened, it felt like a seismic shift. He’d shocked me by exerting dominance, and caught by surprise, I’d slipped or been thrown into utter obedience.

“Yes.”

“Promise.”

“Yes. Totally,” I tried to sound casual. My heart was racing, and suddenly I was breathless.

“You know,” he said. “You don’t have to tell him. Just go ahead and do it.”

“And how would that work out?” I replied unsteadily, my voice quavering. I hoped that Sam thought it was because of him. I supposed partially, in different senses, it was.

“Just do it,” Leroy said. “And he’ll figure it out and accept it, and you won’t have to say anything.”

“Maybe,” I gasped a little.

I was starting to be a little uncontrolled with my sex noises. I couldn’t help it, while Sam licked my pussy, Leroy was fucking with my mind, and the two tracks of stimulation were really difficult.

“Oh, nothing,” I said randomly, for Sam’s benefit. “I’m just moving around, getting things done as we talk.”

“I bet,” Leroy chuckled. “He thinks it’s him doesn’t he?”

“You got that right.”

“Anyway,” Leroy said, “option two - he figures it out, and he starts to beg. I think you’d love having him beg.”

“Oh Jesus!” My hips lifted up against Sam’s face. “Oh no! No! I was just opening a jar. I think I spilled some juice. Yeah? What you were saying? You know me so well.”

Leroy chuckled.

“Option three - he figures it out and rebels. And you crush him. You’re dominant, he’s submissive, he’ll give in, and you’ll fucking love it. You love setting up these little contests where you get to surrender. I think you’d love arranging one where you win and conquer.”

“Wow!” I said breathily and a little too enthusiastically, my hips lifted again, I was so fucking wet, and I could feel tingles going up inside me. I grabbed Sam’s hair tight in my fist and started grinding into his face, which only made the sensations stronger.

“You’ve really got it all worked out! Anyway Jan,” I spoke quickly, my voice straining with approaching orgasm, it wasn’t here yet, but I could feel it gathering, “this has been really interesting, but I have to... Take care of some... things. So talk later, okay.”

“You’ll do what I told you.”

“Yes! Of course! Definitely! Bye!”

The last thing I heard before I broke the connection was Leroy’s cruel laughter. I barely had time to think ‘what an asshole’ before the orgasm broke and barreled over me, I howled, squeezing my thighs against Sam’s head, grinding hard against him as I gushed and gushed.

The orgasm was intense and delicious, leaving me breathless and sated. Finally, I went happy and limp, utterly sated, loosing my grip on him.

“Come up and kiss me, Lover,” I called to him.

He came up, our lips pressed together, my mouth opened on his, and our tongues flicked gently against each other.

“What’s up with Jan?”

“Oh,” I said. “Her usual crises. It’s too involved, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Sometimes that girl has boundary issues. I didn’t really have to say anything, she just needed someone to listen for a few minutes.”

Hopefully, he’d forget about it in the morning, or I’d be able to make some shit up. Because he loved me, he swallowed the lie without blinking. I felt a little bad, even with the excitement of Leroy’s call and his persuading me to his little game. I was lying to Sam too much, it was harmless, but maybe eventually, it wouldn’t be. I needed to stop.

On the other hand, Leroy’s idea was so utterly delicious, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m a bad person... and I found I loved it.

So, as we kissed and made out with increasing intensity, as our bodies ground together, and I felt his hard cock pressing against me, I smiled looking into his eyes. His knee parted my thighs willingly, I laid back as he moved up on top of me, his cock hanging rigid between us.

Sam moved his hips forward, his rigid cock sliding forward. God, he must have such a sexual charge, the night had been so intense. He was so ready to feel my wet pussy wrapped around him, and for the two of us to make frantic love.

He thrust, and his cock met the back of my hand, as I covered my pussy. It slid up and then off, leaving a wet trail.

Surprised, he looked down at me.

“Naughty, naughty,” I told him, my eyes dancing merrily, as he play thrust again against the back of my hand, his cock sliding smoothly off again. Or did he hope that I’d relent and grant him entry? No chance! “Didn’t we both make a promise? Hmm? You can’t come in just yet.”

“But the session is over,” he said, he shrugged. Another smooth pelvic thrust, the head of his cock pressed between my fingers. He adjusted a little, and it glided over my knuckles along the back of my hand almost to my wrist, where it fell off, nestling somewhere between the inside of my thigh and my belly. “There’s no harm in trying.”

I smiled, keeping my hand in place

“There’s no harm in making you wait a little...” I said. He thrust smoothly between the edge of my hand and my thigh. Denying him gave me this buoyant feeling of power and control. “You didn’t mind waiting last time. Maybe this time, we’ll go the full length. Think you can last the full twenty-four?”

Or forty-eight, I thought.

“Ouch!” Sam said. “You like torturing me.”

“You like me torturing you,” I pointed out.

“We still do other stuff?” he said hopefully. “Like before.”

I nodded. “We just did, and I definitely approve. I intend to return the favour... But...”

“But?” he asked.

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I intend to perform the act of oral sex upon you, with celestial enthusiasm... But there’s nothing in the rule book that says how many times I make you come, or when I decide to make you come, or whether I choose to allow you to come at all.”

“There’s a rule book?” he asked.

“I’m writing it,” I teased, “as we speak.”

“Oh my!” he said. “You have an idea?”

“Something might have occurred to me,” I smirked.

He stared at me, excited.

“You look positively devilish.”

I grinned.

“Maybe I feel positively devilish.”

His eyes darted back and forth, as if playfully looking around.

“Should I be worried?”

“Not at all my love,” I kissed him. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy every minute. I just don’t guarantee your orgasm. You’ll come... Eventually... when I decide. You just won’t know when I let you come... Imagine how intense it will be when you finally feel it happening...”

“If you allow it at all?”

“If I allow it at all,” I whispered. “That’s the evil part. You won’t know for sure, will you? You just have to hope that I will... Eventually. Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Evil!”

“And you love it!”

“I do!”

I wondered if he would be saying that at hour twelve? Or Twenty? Or Thirty-two? Or Forty-seven? I wondered how he would react when it began to sink in. Frustration? Desperation? Panic? Pleading? Would he whimper? Or challenge? What would he do? And what would I need to do to enforce my will on him? The thought of finding out gave me a wild thrill.

I kissed him deeply, running my fingers through his hair. Looking deeply into his eyes, I was overcome with pure love, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have him in my life, or how happy we made each other.

His face was wet and slick from my pussy, he smelled of me.

Leroy may have inspired or pushed a little bit, but I was the one in control. I didn’t have to do what he said. And I wasn’t really doing what he said. I was just going to do what I wanted, what excited me, what felt deliriously intense. And if it happened to line up with his commands... well, so what? He wasn’t pulling my strings. I was the one making choices.

Oh my darling, I thought, I have such plans for you over the next two days. Or three?

My plans.

“You know what?” I whispered.

“What?”

“I think I’m recovered.”

His eyebrows lifted.

I placed a hand gently on his head and whispered, “down boy.”

He got the message and sank, kissing his way down my breasts and belly.

“Who’s a good boy?” I teased, as he made his way between my legs.

He looked up at me, eyes shining.

“You are,” I said. “Now get to work.”

I closed my eyes and smiled happily, thinking about the next two days.

Such plans.

SUSAN, Redux - Ch. 2

“Welcome back,” the pretty little Goth. beamed at her, lips luscious and red as an evil queen’s apple, just the glint of a silver stud in her mouth. Once again, Susan felt the wild impulse to stick her tongue down the woman’s throat.

“Did you see something you liked, the other day?” she asked politely. “Is there something specific you’d like me to show you.”

Susan had no idea. She was standing in the middle of an adult novelty store, and she had no idea what she wanted or needed.

Her impulse was just to say: Here’s my credit card, it’s empty. Just give me everything in your kink session. Fill it up, package it, ship it over. I’ll figure it out.

But that wasn’t going to work.

Okay, plan B.

Why not just be honest with someone?

“I’m looking for... for ideas,” she said. “I have a date tonight, and...”

She was watching Susan expectantly. Why couldn’t she just read Susan’s fucking mind.

“We’ve been doing some things, just...”

“Things,” the little Goth. nodded. She looked over at the fetish section of the store. Susan nodded gratefully.

“Yes, exactly,” Susan told her.

The Goth. beamed, Susan watched for a glimpse of the tongue stud, but didn’t see it. Instead, she took Susan’s arm in hers.

“No problem,” she smiled. “I know what you mean. Let’s go see.”

Susan felt a palpable wave of relief wash over her, a fleeting sense that it was all under control, that it would all work out.

“I’m Susan,” she said.

“Elaine du Lac,” the girl said. “As in Mort d’Arthur.”

“Nice,” Susan said. There was a lot of leather, and shiny plasticky material. Susan ran her hands along what seemed to be a glistening black pantsuit for a famine victim.

“PVC,” Elaine said. “It would look great on you.”

“It’s nice,” Susan said. “He likes boots.”

“We have an entire fetish footwear section,” Elaine told her.

“Oh nice.” Did she want to do that again? What did she want to do? “Non toxic.”

The girl, Elaine nodded and smiled. There was that tongue stud again. “Absolutely. Everything is lickable.”

All right, that did it. Susan was wet again.

She hesitated. There was too much here, the choices were overwhelming. She need some kind of reference.

“Is there,” Susan began, choosing her words carefully, “is there an instruction manual for S&M? Maybe a guidebook? Step by step? Something like that?”

Elaine nodded and walked her to a corner.

“We have a very good selection of literature,” Elaine told her. She picked up a large paperback, and placed it in Susan’s hands. “This is an excellent Shibari guide.”

“Shibari?”

Susan flipped through the pages which contained elaborate drawings of people tied up in increasingly ludicrous positions with what appeared to be miles of rope.

“Japanese rope binding,” Elaine explained. “An ancient erotic art. This is one of the best manuals. It has an entire section on knots at the back. It’s definitive.”

Susan flipped to the back, it was like sailors manual. She flipped forward, there was a large drawing of someone suspended in a contorted position, rope would around every other inch. It would take forever to tie someone up like that. Who could possibly get into this?

“I have my own copy,” Elaine confided.

Susan glanced at the petite woman, covered head to toe in clothes. What was under there? Tattoos? Of course. But what else? Piercings? If she was naked, would she have rope marks all over. Where? She imagined porcelain white skin, pink nipples, cris-crossed with rope marks Susan was wet all over again.

She shook her head to dispel the image, and handed the book back.

“It’s a little elaborate,” Susan said carefully as Elaine replaced the book. “Maybe something more basic.”

“We do have a variety of restraints for every experience level. Metal cuffs. Leather. Velcro.”

“Velcro?” Susan perked up. That sounded simple, appealing.

“Oh,” Elaine replied, “Velcro is very popular. Some of our best sellers. Machine washable, you know. I can show you.”

“Very nice,” Susan said. She had mentioned tying him up. But knots and things seemed complicated and fraught. Velcro seemed like it might be the way to go. “I think I’d like to see those.”

“Of course,” Elaine said, offering her arm. Gratefully, Susan slid hers in, entwining, enjoying the Victorian sensuality of it, as they walked together, and tried not to think of her naked. Embarrassed by the thought, she looked away, at a row of what seemed to be stubby strap on harnesses.

“What are those?”

“Harnesses, of course,” Elaine said. “Vacu-Lock.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a brand, and a technology. The trick with strap ons, is holding them in place. That peg you see on the plate, in front...”

Elaine disengaged to pull a unit down, holding one between them. “It’s a vacuum lock seal, so that it remains tight in place. You can switch out the dildos, different sizes, colors, shapes. Even vibrators. Double penetrators. It’s very versatile.”

Sally took it in her hands.

“Is this something your... friend would like?”

“It’s a him.”

Elaine licked her lips. “It works for boys and girls.”

“Nice,” Susan said. Handing it back. “... Maybe? Later?”

“The trick is getting the harness right. If you change your mind, I’ll help you get it fitted properly.”

Elaine replaced it on the shelf. Was the girl flirting with her, Susan wondered.

“I would really like that, thank you.”

They passed a glass cabinet, full of oddly shaped metal objects.

“What are those?”

“Specialty items. Sounds, chastity devices, Tense...”

Susan shrugged, that all seemed very oblique. There was so much else to look at, things that actually made sense.

“Cool. Let’s look at the restraints,” Susan said. “I’m very curious about this velcro. And maybe after, I’d love to see your boots.”

Arm in arm they walked the store. Susan felt safe, she patted Elaine’s arm in hers.

It was all going to work out.

&&&

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Susan called. Could he hear? She didn’t want to shout. That would be undignified. She picked up her phone and texted. “Come in. The door is unlocked. Lock it behind you when you enter.”

Then she put it to the side and waited.

An instant later, she heard the door open. Her heart skipped a beat. There was the clicking of the door locking, exciting, a little scary. There was a finality to the sound of the lock engaging, trapping her in. Ridiculous, she told herself, the lock was inside, if she needed to escape and made it to the door it wouldn’t slow her for an instant. Still, her pulse was racing as she listened to the footsteps down the hall towards her living room.

Nervously, she took a breath and tried a smile.

Mark turned the corner and froze with shock, staring at her, his eyes wide, mouth dropping.

Susan was in her tall red wingback chair, absolutely naked except for shining black boots extending all the way up to her knee, laced so tightly they clung to her legs like a second skin, silver stilettos gleaming, her legs were discreetly crossed, one foot swinging lightly in the air. A glass of red wine was held, cupped casually by the base.

Had he noticed her boots. They were PVC, a shining latex plastic that literally shimmered, with stiletto spike heels so tall she could barely walk in them. They made her legs look fantastic. They’d certainly cost enough. She wanted to make sure he appreciated them.

She felt absolutely powerful. The wingback, covered in red velvet, was an outlier among her furnishings, a bit outsized, dwarfing her sofa. She’d always felt a little lost in it, like a little girl. But it was perfect for cuddling up in with a blanket to watch some streaming movie with a cup of hot cocoa.

But now, for the first time in her life, Susan felt like she filled the chair, that she inhabited it. It wasn’t a chair for her to be a little girl in. It felt like a throne, a sensual, carnal throne, that she occupied as a goddess.

She’d carefully arranged the sight line, moving furniture aside, so that when he walked in, he would have a clear view of her sitting here, with no obstructions, no furniture. She’d even fiddled with the lights, arranging lamps, changing out bulbs, trying for exactly the right effect.

It worked perfectly. Paul had stepped around the corner, and been struck dumb by her glorious, powerful nakedness.

“Hello,” Susan finally said, “I’m glad you could come... Although not just yet.”

The entendre went completely over his head, she could tell. Disappointing, she’d practiced that line. But she was still immensely satisfied, as he stared at her, she could see his pupils dilating, his face flush, his erection stiffening in his pants.

Mark was completely in her power, as if she’d put a spell on him.

“Hi,” Mark replied. His voice cracked slightly.

“Please,” Susan said, smiling. She dipped her wine glass, toward the couch facing her, just out of his direct line of sight. “Come in, sit down. I’ve poured you a glass of wine.”

“All right,” he agreed, crossing hastily over to the couch. There was something about the loose awkward way he moved, as if his body had come unstrung, untethered by

She watched him take a seat. He picked up the wine, stared at her, then stared away. His eyes darted, not sure where to look. He kept sneaking peaks at her, looking at her body, but not sure where to look and then looking away. His expression was so awkward, it was perfect.

“My eyes are up here,” Susan told him flatly.

Secretly, she wanted to laugh at the intense blush that spread over his features, the nervous way he startled, as if she’d caught him being naughty. With an effort of will, he met her eyes. She could tell he didn’t want to, he looked trapped, like the last thing he wanted to do was make eye contact, but at the same time, he didn’t want to look away, and although every fiber of him wanted it, he didn’t dare look at her.

Instead, she simply maintained her composure, staring back at him, like a cat staring at a juicy mouse. Her smile grew more intense.

I love this! She thought to herself, it was so satisfying.

“Thank you for dropping by,” Susan said. “I was looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Was he sweating? Was he actually sweating? This was too delicious!

“How was your week?” Susan asked, feigning casual innocence.

“My week?” Mark said, as if thrown by the topic. “My week. Yes. It was... it was okay.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said casually. “Anything interesting.”

“I ... uhm,” he tried to think. There was a glass of wine on a little coffee table beside the couch. Normally, it was in front, but she hadn’t wanted anything to spoil the view. She let him trail off.

“So...” he began again.

“You’re naked?”

“Very much,” she replied. “Yes.”

“Should I be looking at you?” he asked, finally.

“I am sitting here, absolutely naked,” Susan replied. “I’m insisting you look.”

She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, mainly to do something with her hand. She was covered in goose pimples. Her stomach was full of butterflies, surging around. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time, but she felt nowhere near as poised as she looked.

It was exciting.

Susan watched him, watching her. He stared, not looking at her eyes, just stared at her, blinking. She tracked the slow progress of his gaze, top to bottom. What drew him? Her breasts? Nipples? Her legs? Everything? It warmed her, the naked lust, the fixation and attention.

His whole world was narrowed down to her, her nudity. Nothing else.

“So... “ Susan offered critically, “this is the male gaze, I’ve been hearing so much about. Interesting. Not sure I’m impressed.”

She fixed a glance at him, his eyes darted up, half awkward and embarrassed.

“No!” she snapped. “Don’t look at my eyes. Look at me.”

His eyes dropped, staring at her.

“That’s right,” she said. “I want you to look at my naked body. Don’t look anywhere else. Just look at me.”

He nodded slightly, staring at her. He was blushing, brightly.

He’ll do anything I tell him. The thought was almost delirious. A thought occurred to her.

“Tell me what you see.”

“What?”

“What do you see? What hits you. Give me your first impressions...” she hesitated. “Give me your impressions. One word, and don’t make it a cliche.”

She watched him think for a moment, his brow furrowing.

“Raw,” he said finally. “Overpowering.”

Susan thought about it for a moment, and decided she liked it.

“Interesting,” she replied. “You can have some wine... don’t look away... Elaborate.”

Keeping his eyes on her, Mark reached for the glass of wine, finding it by feel. His eyes kept sliding all over her body. He didn’t seem to be able to stop at any one spot, no matter where they settled, they’d be drawn. What drew him most, she wondered. Breasts? Nipples? Legs?

“We section ourselves,” he said, there was something tentative, as if he was trying to work it out as he was speaking.

“What do you mean?”

“Section. Sections -We divide ourselves up visually. Faces, but shirts and blouses and jackets, pants and skirts, shoes and boots, different shapes, different covers. We divide our look into sections, styles and colors, textures. Visually, we’re assembled. You walk along you see a person wearing all the same color or shade, it’s striking. We’re used to experiencing each other, subdivided into all these little sections,” he said.

Susan’s brow furrowed and she sipped her wine.

“Interesting,” she said. And it really was. “I’m intrigued. Please go on.”

“I don’t know. I think we relate to each other in those sections. We treat people differently by how nice their shoes are, how expensive their handbags or wrist watches, the condition or quality of clothes. Sections allow us to slot people into cultures and subcultures.”

She nodded.

“I see,” she said. “So stark, unapologetic, nudity....”

“Is overwhelming,” he said. “It short circuits everything. You’ve just got raw total person.”

“Powerful,” she said.

“Very powerful,” he agreed.

It was interesting, and satisfying. He’d articulated something she’d intuitively stumbled towards preparing for the night, and she liked it. She felt in synch with him, as if their minds understood each other.

Still, as intuitively right it felt, she had to poke at the idea.

“You’ve seen naked women before,” she said. “I’m very sure of that. Strip clubs. Porn. You’ve had girlfriends. Hook ups. I don’t think that’s the same, is it. The effect isn’t the same as it is now. You don’t get power from nudity there, you just get your rocks off..”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But that’s different.”

“How?” she asked.

“Uhm...” he seemed uncertain. “I don’t know.”

“I think,” she said, speculatively, “because those other times, you’re in control. You’re the customer at the club. You’re the viewer. You’re with a girlfriend, or a hooker, or a hook up. There’s an order, a top and a bottom, someone in control, the man, and someone just following... the woman, actor and object.”

She paused.

“But you’re not in control now, are you? You’re not the actor.”

“No.”

“There’s a naked woman in front of you,” she said. “But this time, she’s the one with the power. That’s very different, isn’t it? I’m in control. I have it, and you don’t. I’m naked, but you’re the object.”

“Yes.”

Susan hesitated. Should she ask him if he liked not being in control? Better yet, tell him he liked not being in control? That he loved her being in control?

But then, that made it all about him, didn’t it? Talking about him liking it was begging for his approval. He loved it, there was no need to weaken herself, by acknowledging it.

She was in control, it was her pleasure that mattered. She wasn’t going to discuss it, or debate it, or ask him how he felt about it, or if he liked it. This was what it was.

“I want to see your cock now,” she said. “Stand up.”

Awkwardly Mark put down the wine glass and stood up, fumbling with his trousers.

“No!” Susan barked. Mark froze.

“The last time you did it,” she said, “it was like you were doing laundry for me. That was boring. That was so boring. You wouldn’t accept a stripper getting undressed like she was doing laundry. Why should I? Do it better this time, a little style, a little sexiness, take your time doing it, make it interesting.”

He stood, the expression of confusion on his face was almost comical. “I’m not sure what to do?”

That was disappointing, she thought. But Susan found she was unwilling to let it go.

“You’ve seen strippers right, women taking off their clothes,” she said. “Do that.”

He still hesitated.

“I don’t have those kinds of assets,” he mumbled.

For a second, she had the impulse to be cruel and biting, but she bit it back at the last minute. That was true, he didn’t have an ass, or boobs, or legs, his body was okay but unremarkable and men didn’t radiate sexy like women could. He probably wasn’t even wearing lingerie - they didn’t even make lingerie for men anyway.

He genuinely didn’t know what to do. It would be easy to humiliate him.

Which would be like kicking a puppy, really. That didn’t feel right. So, what to do, Susan wondered? Just let him off the hook and have him undress? But she’d already upped the ante.

She was in control, he’d given that up to her. She couldn’t blame him for not knowing, it was up to her to tell him.

“All right,” she said, “then I’ll help you. I want you to swivel your hips slowly, roll them, a quarter turn each time, until you’ve made a complete circle.”

That should keep him busy, Susan thought, while she figured out what to do next. Why the fuck had she opened her mouth in the first place? Why couldn’t he just know how to do things like an experienced male sex slave?

Awkwardly, Mark began rolling his hips in a slow quarter turn, she could see him blushing, his face drawn in tension, as if he was concentrating.

“Unbutton your shirt,” she ordered. “Start with the cuffs.”

He fumbled with them, awkwardly, doing two things at once was a challenge. He managed the uneasy quarter turn, and then began another. Undoing buttons, Susan decided, was just not sexy. And he clearly wasn’t having fun. Another quarter turn, his back was to her.

“Like that,” she said. “I want your back to me, I like looking at your ass.”

She didn’t, not especially, want to look at his ass. But him facing away from her was easier for them both. She couldn’t bear his awkward expression.

Not having to look at his face counted as being sexy. When had she turned into such a bitch, she wondered?

“I like that,” she said, “swing your shoulders a little, as you unbutton your shirt. Just put some movement into it.”

He obeyed, and it seemed he was looser. More comfortable.

“Good boy,” she said, she winced a little every time she did that. “When your shirt is unbuttoned, pull it out of your pants, slide it down your shoulders, one shoulder first, and then work it down slow.”

He did as she ordered bringing a kind of slow sensuality to it that pleased her. He did have a nice back, she decided. It was hard to go wrong with a back, she thought. The front was always geography and texture, nipples and navels and collarbones and muscle. A man’s back was simply, smoother, there was an elegance to it. If not erotic, then at least something like dignity.

The shirt slid down his back, down his arms, and dropped away. She clapped lightly, he was catching on. He reached in front, undoing his pants.

“Keep them tight,” she ordered. “Don’t just drop them, pull them tight against your ass, stretch the fabric across your butt, and slide them down, keeping tension. Bend forward as you lower them, bend down as far as you can.:

The pants stretched tight, pulled smoothly across his butt, slowly revealing his cheeks as she watched. It actually was surprisingly sexy, and watching set butterflies going in the pit of her stomach. As he bent forward lower and lower, his testicles swung into view between his thighs, darker than his regular skin tone and hairy. The cheeks of his ass flexed slowly apart.

“No boxers this time?” she asked. Was he wearing underwear? The last time he’d pulled it off with his pants, but this time she hadn’t spotted it.

“No,” he said, rising to stand straight, “I...”

“Good choice,” she said. “New rule: Never wear underwear when you come to see me. I like you better without it.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

She smiled. His trousers were down around his ankles, trapping him. There were shoes and socks, but above that, he was naked. He didn’t look bad from behind, not bad at all.

“Nice ass,” she said, conversationally.

“Thank you miss,” he said to the wall in front of them. He wasn’t turning around. He was waiting for instructions, she supposed.

“Are you nervous,” she asked. “Self conscious. Being naked for me.”

“Very, Miss!” he replied.

“Interesting,” she sipped her wine. “I’ve been naked all along, but I’m not even a little self conscious. That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Are you hard?” She was genuinely curious.

If a tree falls in the forest, when there’s no one to hear it... Is a man still hard if he’s not looking at you? Did it matter? Men’s erections were something of a mystery. Were they hard all the time? Most of the time? Or just when needed? Mark had been rigid the entire time he’d been licking her boots. But did that prove anything?

“Yes, Miss.”

“Show me,” she ordered. “Turn around. Slowly...”

When he was in profile, his cock sticking straight out, she barked a command. “Stop.”

She sipped her wine again, making him wait. His erection was still standing straight, pointing slightly upwards. It bobbed a little, was he doing that? Or did it move on its own? She noted he was sucking in his gut, but didn’t fault him for it.

The surprise was his ass, flat and muscular, definitely male. But shaped and pleasing nevertheless.

“You know, that is a nice ass,” Susan’s voice was conversational. “I think I want to leave my teeth marks in one of those juicy cheeks. You don’t mind, do you?”

He didn’t reply immediately, but his butt cheeks clenched automatically, the sight thrilling her. It felt, now that she’d finally gone dominant, that the machineries of the male body were laid out before her, and that she could appreciate it in a way she’d never had before.

“No.” The word was hesitant. What did that mean? Was he into it? Not into it?

She really wanted to just seize his ass in her hands sometime during the night and just bite into it. She wanted to leave teeth marks, to lift her head up and look down and see her hunger written in his flesh.

“Is this what it’s like,” she wondered out loud, “when you watch strippers? You sit at the stage and wave dollar bills. Is it like this?”

He shook his head.

“It’s nothing like this?”

“Because it’s you this time, and not a stripper performing for you? Shoe’s on the other foot?”

He swallowed.

“No,” he said. “Strippers do their own thing on stage. This isn’t like that, this is you’re telling me exactly what to do, and I’m obeying.”

“Hum,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll accept that. Are you enjoying?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Very much, Miss.”

“All right,” she said, “Turn around and face me.”

He shuffled, his cock bobbed more as he moved, she noted. Was that a thin thread of pre-ejaculate beginning to ooze from it in a thin like? He was blushing, his hand swung inward, as if to wipe it, or perhaps in simple modesty.

“Don’t you dare cover it,” she said. She slowly uncrossed and then crossed her legs again. His cock twitched, she enjoyed the hunger in his eyes as they tracked the movement of her thighs.

“It’s interesting,” she said conversationally. “I’ve been sitting here naked all this time, and you’ve been staring at me. But, the part you’re most interested in, my pussy, you haven’t seen that at all. You know I’m naked, you know it’s there, you’re completely aware of it, I bet it’s all you can think about, you’re just waiting to glimpse it, wanting it, willing it, but you haven’t seen it.”

He swallowed, but didn’t reply.

She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs again, his eyes tracking her hips with insatiable hunger.

“So close...,” she said. “Almost, but never quite.”

A delicious pause, she could feel herself clenching, feel a little surge of wetness, as she contemplated her next words.

“Would you like to see it?” she asked. “Would you like to see my pussy? Would you like me to show it to you?”

His cock leaped visibly, she caught a flush of red in his chest, a blush across his face, tension in his posture.

“Yes, Miss,” he said carefully. “I would very much like that.”

She pretended to think about it.

“Beg,” she ordered.

“Please Miss,” he whispered. “Show me. Please, show me. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since last week, how it felt, how it tasted. I’ve been staring at you, and all I can think about is it, how much I want to see it, how much I need it.”

She looked up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.

“Acceptable,” she said finally, her thighs shifted, as if she was about to uncross her legs, but didn’t, settling back instead. “Supposing. Just supposing, I let you see my pussy, what will you do for me? What do I get?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice husked. “Anything you want, Miss. Just say it, and it’s yours.”

“You?” she teased. “What if I want you? What if I want to own you? Body and soul. My little toy? My property?”

“You already do, Miss,” he whispered. “From the moment you told me to kneel and lick your boots, you owned me. I was yours.”

She giggled, she couldn’t help it. She could tell, he was passionately sincere. Crazy horny, obviously, the way his cock jumped on its own. But what amused her, was the feeling that his memory of how it had begun was so very different from hers. For a moment, she saw herself the way he must see her, and the effect was giddying. She almost wanted to laugh with embarrassment and delight.

I wish I was her, she thought, the woman he saw.

And then... Maybe I am. Or I can be.

“You are such a good boy!” she teased. “So clever, so obedient. I think you do deserve a reward.”

She uncrossed her legs, keeping her knees together, sliding one hand down between her legs. She smiled at him.

“Ready?”

Without waiting for an answer, she slid her putt to the edge of the chair, her shoulders sinking down as her ass moved forward. Slowly, her knees parted, velvet thighs opening, parting wide like a dew covered flower opening to the morning sun. Her hand rested on her vagina, covering it.

Slowly she slid her hand back, fingers pressing down to part her lips as she exposed herself. Her hand slid all the way back resting on her public mound, pulling lightly on the skin to expose her clit.

Mark gasped involuntarily. His body seemed to shake.

She was dripping. She had never felt more powerful, more erotically charged.

“This is what you wanted to see,” she said. “Look. In fact, don’t stop looking. Don’t look away, don’t look at anything else. Don’t even blink. Just look, from now on,” she felt another wet surge, resisted the urge to roll her hips, to stroke her clit. “From now on, this is your world, this is everything. Nothing else matters. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Good boy,” she said. “Now listen very carefully, because if you make any mistake, if you disobey in the slightest, I’ll make you put your clothes back on, and send you out the door, and you’ll never ever see or hear of me again, do you understand?”

“Yes... Miss.”

“Very good boy. Now, just take off the rest of it. Don’t try to be sexy, you can’t be sexy taking off your socks. Just get naked. But don’t look away, not even for a second. Then, when you’re completely naked, I want you down on all fours, just like before, knees and elbows.”

“Then I want you to crawl towards me, like a dog, like my good little dog, crawl slowly towards me, always keeping your eyes on my pussy. That pussy is your whole world, its your universe, it’s god and Jesus and the sun and the moon all in one.

“I want you to crawl right up between my thighs on all fours, until it’s right in front of you. Until you’re so close you can practically taste me, so close it’s your entire field of view.”

His body was definitely flushed, his features were a mask of lust. His nipples were rigid, she’d never thought of them as being aroused on men, but they were. He was covered in goose pimples, almost trembling, his cock pulsed like a metronome swinging up and down, a clear thick thread of semen dangling from its tip.

For a moment, she wondered if she’d gone too far, if he might ejaculate standing there right in front of her. She almost wanted to see that, to make him do it. But then what?

Then nothing, if he ejaculated right now, she’d still make him crawl. She felt wild, almost drunk on nothing but the sensation of power.

“And if you do it right, if you do it perfectly,” she said. “I might, just might, allow you to kiss it, to taste it.”

“But one mistake, any mistake,” she warned sternly, “and you’re out of here. Gone forever. I’m serious. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I won’t change my mind. Do you understand?”

He nodded, staring between her legs.

She was so fucking wet it was insane, she wanted to rub her thighs together, plunge fingers in, frig herself silly. She was seized with a wild excitement, an energy that filled her and left her surging. She wanted to jump up with excitement. It was all she could do to maintain her poise.

“Excuse me?” she snapped.

“Yes, Miss, I understand,” his voice was raw and hoarse with lust. He didn’t even sound like himself. His expression didn’t shift, his gaze didn’t shift.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Susan demanded.

Heart racing, she watched him clumsily pull out of the pants around his ankles and shuck off his shoes and socks. A task made more difficult by his self-conscious nudity, his erection flopping around wildly with each movement, and by his need to have eyes on her vagina at all times.

It was comical, and she grinned, careful not to laugh out loud. At one point, he almost fell over, and only the fear of humiliating him restrained her. There was freedom in being like this, she could look at him, she could look anywhere, but he was constrained, locked into the heavenly space between her legs.

Her vagina had conquered the male gaze, she thought, as she casually made circles around her clit with her fingertips. It hadn’t even been a contest.

Somehow, he made it out of his residual clothes without shaming himself, and carefully got down on knees and elbows. Susan hoped that the carpet wouldn’t be too rough on his skin. Maybe if they did this again, she’d get him kneepads and elbow pads.

And a leash.

That little afterthought made her wetness surge, she could feel herself dilate wetly. She knew he was staring, could see her arousal. She could feel herself grinning, knowing he didn’t dare look up to see it. Her eyes sparkled. She was elated.

Watch me, she thought. Here is my power. Worship me.

He waited, still and on all fours, staring between her legs. For a second, she wondered what he was doing, why wasn’t he moving. Then she got it, he was acting like it was in stages, like it was some kind of game of Simon-Says, and he was waiting for the next order.

It hadn’t occurred to her like that, but quickly going over their interactions, she could see it. She liked it.

“Congratulations. First round, you’ve made it. Are you waiting for permission?”

Silence.

“You are such a clever boy!” she told him. “Second round, then. Crawl! Slowly!”

Eyes locked between her thighs, me began crawling deliberately towards her.

“Stop!”

He froze half way to her. She hadn’t planned on it. It was a last minute inspiration that almost made her cackle with glee.

She regarded him, he was unnaturally still, paralyzed in mid-crawl. He was taking the game further than she’d thought. Or maybe just reading deeper, unknowingly improvising.

“You’re doing very well,” she told him. “I’m impressed. Most men by this time, they’re already riding the elevator on the way out, crying like little babies - boo hoo hoo. And of course, I’m stuck, having to bring myself off. I’m very pleased with you.”

Nothing.

“You may speak,” she granted.

“Thank you, Miss,” he ground out.

“Let’s take this moment to chat a bit,” she asked. Oh god, this was so much fun. “How are you feeling?”

“Good Miss.”

Not as loquacious as she hoped. Oh well.

“How are your knees and elbows? The carpet’s not too rough on them?”

“They’re fine, Miss.”

She nodded wisely, wearing a thoughtful expression that he couldn’t look at, of course.

“What about your cock?” she teased. She couldn’t see it under him, without twisting around. And that might wreck his view. “Is it hard?”

“Extremely hard, Miss.”

“Mmm,” she leaned back a little, “that’s vague. On a scale of one to ten.”

“Forty-two, Miss!”

Susan laughed with delight.

“Oh my!” she said. “I hope you don’t come. Premature ejaculation disqualifies you. Then you’re in the elevator going home, and I’m stuck having to take care of myself. You may only come with permission, understand.”

“I won’t come, Miss. I’ll take care of you.”

“Bold!” she said. “You need to understand, there’s no guarantee that cock will be in me. This is not for you. This is for me, not you. If I allow you to come, I’ll be doing you a favor. And if I do allow it, you’ll come the way I choose. Understand.”

Was she overdoing it?

“I understand, Miss!”

She was okay, so far.

“Good boy! Now, I want you to get lower, you’re too high. Spread your knees and elbows. And crawl.”

He moved again, slowly and carefully. His ass was higher than his shoulders, she noted. She didn’t mind, she didn’t want carpet fibers in his cock head. His gaze remained fixed on her vagina. She leaned further back, spreading her thighs wider, reaching down with both hands on either side, to open her lips and pull back on her clit hood.

She desperately wanted to masturbate.

“Stop!”

His head and shoulders were between the heels and ankles of her boots. He was close enough now that he had to bend his neck sharply to keep eyes on her vagina. His body from ass to forehead was an exquisite bow curve.

“Lower please,” she told him. The bow curve grew more extreme.

“Do you like my boots?” she said conversationally. “PVC! So shiny, you can see your face in them! I bought them especially for you!”

“I’m flattered, Miss,” he hissed, staring straight at her vagina. His shoulders shook slightly. Excitement? Or the posture? Or some combination.

“You should be. Never worn outdoors. First time wearing them actually. Tell me what you think of them, I’d love your honest opinion.”

“They’re amazing, Miss.”

“You’re not even looking at them,” she probed.

“Anything you choose is amazing, Miss,” his eyes did not flicker from her vagina. Honestly, she didn’t expect them to, she understood the game he thought she was playing. It was fun to torture him.

“You do want to look, at those boots? Up close, sensuous. I know you’ve seen them, but they’re amazing, so amazing up close. You’re not even tempted?”

“Very much so, Miss.”

“But you won’t look.”

His eyes were locked on her vagina. She was so wet, she couldn’t stand it. She stroked her clitoris, desperately wanting to engage in full on masturbation. If she had her vibrator...

No answer.

“You win again! I am so impressed,” she told him. “All right, for this round I allow you to raise up, so you’re at eye level. You may approach to within one inch. But twice as slow again. Do you understand.”

A careful nod.

“Proceed.”

She watched him move again, with delicious, delirious excitement, almost breathless as he approached, stopping precisely one inch from her vaginal lips. He was panting, she could feel his breath, like a series of butterfly pats on her lips.

Susan realized she’d made a mistake. There should have been boot licking, but she’d lost her way, become distracted. It was past that now. With his face so close to her pussy, she couldn’t see any good way to reverse course and have him lick her boot toes.

And she’d spent so fucking much money on these boots!

And it wasn’t like you could wear weird fetish boots in regular life. Fuck. What a waste!

She couldn’t let the momentum wane, and his breath on her pussy was driving her wild. She had the wild urge to grab his head like last time, and just slam it into her pussy, grab him hard by the ears and just use his face to masturbate savagely.

But that was last time.

“Almost there,” she said. “You’re so good at this! Now, I want you to be absolutely motionless. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t even blink, I want you to open your mouth as wide as you can, and stick your tongue out as far as you can. I’ll do the rest.”

This time, there wasn’t even a nod, just a sharp intake of breath. His eyes were watering. Maybe she should have let him blink. His jaws stretched open. His tongue slowly pushed out. It was long, she had to retreat a little from it. It poked out there, wet and pink, the tip pointed. His body was trembling with effort.

Bracing herself on the arms of the chair, Susan lifted her hips up, easing them forward, drawing them along his tongue, from her taint up the center of her lips, to her clit. She ground her clitoris against the tip of his tongue, careful not to allow her body to touch his face. She did this again, and again, until her thighs and belly began to tremble with the strain.

Abruptly, she decided it was a stupid idea. Why was she doing the work? She was torturing him, not herself. She relaxed letting her ass fall to the seat’s cushion.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes."

"And..."

"Do it!"

Roughly, Susan grabbed him by the back of the head with one hand, twining fingers in his hair, drawing him in. His mouth surrounded her pussy, and she moved his head back and forth, as he licked passionately from lips to clit, in rhythm to her motions.

Susan gloried in the sensation, careful to avoid the frantic grinding of her first encounter. His tongue felt better, smoother, more fluid as it moved. Maybe making him spend an hour licking patent leather on their first date hadn’t been the best idea. His slips were supple, he responded so well to her finger's touch. His oral skills were quite satisfying. She'd have told him, if she'd had breath to spare.

She relaxed, laying back, enjoying the situations, watching the movement of his back and shoulders, and stroking his hair. He brought her to the edge of orgasm, her hips lifted, but she couldn’t quite make it. She fell back, starting all over again. And again, this time pressing his face, becoming more aggressive.

“Come on, damn you!” she snarled, beginning again, grinding his face as she lifted her hips. So close, so fucking close. And no. What was wrong with him. Wrong with her. Had she waited too long?

“Fuck this shit!” she finally lost it. She leaned forward, yanking his hair back, pulling him upright on his knees. Kneeling straight up, his erection bobbed in front of her.

“Come here,” Susan barked, reaching down and wrapping her hand around it. It felt hot and hard, wet and urgent, dripping pre-ejaculate. She dragged it towards her pussy, and felt an almost flaming satisfaction course through her body as she drew it into her. She met his eyes, his face slicked with her wetness. He was luminous, transported by lust and desire.

"Oh god, thank you, Miss!" he cried out. "Use me!"

“Don’t you dare come first!” she ordered, as she laid back in the chair, pulling him on top of her, and wrapping her legs around his hips. He started pumping her with wild abandon, lunging with fierce strokes, that made her hold onto him tighter. The huge chair began to rock back and forth. He was fucking so hard, the wooden frame was creaking. She could feel lightning dancing in her spine.

“Fuck harder!” she screamed. “Harder!”

She was so close, she could taste it.

“More! Harder! Now!” She looked up at his face, swollen and red, his eyes were wild. “You’re close. Do it! Do it!”

She dug the stiletto heels of her PVC boots into his ass, stabbing them, pulling his cheeks with her hands. The chair was rocking so hard on its legs it felt like it might tip over completely. There. There it was!

“Yes!” she screamed and clamped down hard on him. “Yes! Yes!”

It was blissful, and intense, and when it was over she could feel him turning to water on top of her. He went limp and loose. For a moment, she almost thought he’d lost consciousness. Did that happen with men? But no, he was just weak.

As she rose up, he slid down her body, until he was kneeling in front of her chair. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. The stiletto heels of the PVC boots briefly dug into his calves, before she eased them apart. He leaned into her, boneless, as she held him, the both of them panting away in the afterglow.

Had he come? She hadn’t noticed. It must have happened during her orgasm. Simultaneous orgasms, she thought, that was nice.

Something occurred to her.

“You weren’t wearing a condom, were you?”

He blinked at her incredulously, unable to form words.

“Okay, right,” she said, panting. “That one’s on me. Don’t worry about it.”

He was slick against her. His body was covered with sweat, he must have lit up like a furnace at the moment of orgasm. He was completely limp in her arms. She held him close, running her fingers through his hair, affectionately kissing his forehead.

She could feel his heart beating, the urgent panting. He was exhausted, she could tell. How difficult was this for him, she wondered. There must be an inherent tension in being submissive, in having someone in complete control. She held him in her arms like a child, letting that tension drain out.

“I think I jumped the gun a little,” she said.

“That’s okay.”

She nodded.

“So,” she whispered in his ear, “I was thinking of taking you into my bedroom, tying you hand and feet to my bed, and shaving off all your body hair. Every bit of it, your chest, your legs, your pubic hair, your balls.”

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“I thought it might be fun. To feel you smoothed. I don’t, know, it occurred to me that maybe if your scrotum was properly shaved smooth, someone might hypothetically be willing to put her tongue on them.”

She looked him in the eye.

“I am in charge, and I think it’s a very good plan. Any objections?”

“Nope.”

She paused.

“And then... take it from there. See what comes up.”

That had been the big plan. She’d actually been looking forward to it. But if he was done, she wouldn’t push it. Maybe next time, if there was a next time. If she hadn’t scared him off completely.

He had enjoyed it, she was pretty sure. But you never know, it had been pretty wild. And it might all be too much.

You could never tell with men, they were a deeply twitchy bunch. You could never fathom what went on in their heads. You could have the best night of your life, and then they ghost you, change their names and move to Australia, or they could be damp squibs and you never get them out of your hair.

Susan felt she sort of liked this one, and she’d been shocked at what he’d brought out of her. She suspected though, that he’d hit his limit. Whatever strange electricity had sparked between them was probably too much for him. He’d vanish from her life.

She’d be sorry if that happened. But it had been amazing. So be it.

Susan felt his cock move between them, swelling and twitching.

“That sounds good,” he whispered.

Susan smiled.

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Chapter 32, Leroy takes Over

SECOND CUCKOLDING, PART FOUR OF FIVE

KAYL

SUSAN, redux - Ch. 1

It began with frustration, Susan would remember.

Frustration, and anger, and most of all, boredom.

It wasn’t personal. Mostly, it had been work. Work had sucked, things hadn’t gone well, the project had bogged down, management was demanding, co-workers were shirking, sales were idiots and suppliers were irrational. Susan had been frustrated, and frustration had bled into her personal life.

She was alone, which was just as well. Her last relationship had been with a loser. He’d been a soul-sucking self-centered drama queen. In the end, she hadn’t been able to stand the sight of his face. But being alone sucked. She still couldn’t let the anger and resentment of her failed relationship go.

She wasn’t much fun to be around, something she was well aware of when out with her friends. But she couldn’t stand being alone.

So she inflicted herself on her friends, hating that she was inflicting herself, but unable not to. Sooner or later, they’d start to avoid her, and that worried her. But she couldn’t help herself.

Out of desperation, her fifth best friend (she ranked them), Sandra proposed a blind date to her.

Insulted, she refused and walked out.

Two hours later, she called back to apologize.

She agreed to the date.

Not because she wanted a date. The very idea of it was deeply stupid and offensive.

But she needed her friends, and if she couldn’t help being a bitch, then she needed to make amends.

&&&

Mark turned out to be a lawyer, in reasonably good shape, but more from very modest exercise and diet than any particular athleticism. His hands were soft, his grip not particularly firm. Mark was bland and uninteresting, he had that ‘stamped out with a cooky cutter’ feel. Susan wrote him off immediately, five minutes in.

They went for dinner together. He chose someplace drearily conventional, overpriced, bland. It didn’t surprise her at all. They made small talk. He was dull. Susan was snappish.

Susan cursed herself. She didn’t particularly want to be a bitch, but she couldn’t help it. The free floating frustration and anxiety just seemed to seep out of her uncontrollably. Mark picked up on it quickly, and seemed to retreat within himself. He volunteered little about himself, and the few bits of information were carefully neutral and so uninteresting, she didn’t bother to inquire further. Instead, he politely asked questions about her life, drawing her out, which hadn’t been a good strategy, because it simply unearthed the anger and frustration.

But then, efforts to move to some neutral topic - politics, weather, culture, film and television, people in common were so uninteresting they were like sandpaper on her soul. She knew he was making an effort and it wasn’t his fault, she just couldn’t play along very well.

Fifteen minutes in, she decided to sleep with him. It wasn’t out of any interest in him at all. Just sitting here, she was dry as a bone. Any sex would be artificially lubricated, orgasm free, and if she had any read on men at all, he would be five minutes.

She just hated being a bitch to him. She couldn’t stop it. He didn’t deserve it, he was just some beige nobody. Worst of all, here he was, vainly trying to get through it all with some degree of civility and dignity. It made her feel like she was kicking a puppy.

The simplest thing to do would be to just drop it - “I’m sorry, let’s call it a night, you’re fucking boring, and I’m in a bad mood, and it’s just not going to get better.”

That would make her a psychotic bitch. He’d think she was the biggest asshole in the world, not that his opinion would matter to her. He’d probably be grateful to escape. But it might get back to Sandra, and god knows who else.

“Sandra,” she rehearsed. “I wen tout with him. It was nice. We tried. But it just didn’t click. Thank you so much, but don’t do it again.”

Just go through the motions.

She wouldn't even enjoy it. She'd just do it, getting through it, staring at the ceiling, thinking about checking her phone.

Think of it as an apology fuck.

The one thing that they would both be sure of, was that they’d never do it again. He might think she was a psychotic bitch, but he’d get something out of it, and her conscience would be clear.

It was, Susan understood, the worst reason in the world to have sex with someone.

But the world could just go fuck itself.

&&&

The restaurant experience turned out to be tolerable. The food was uninteresting, but prepared and served competently enough that Susan didn’t have an excuse to snap at the staff. There were enough strangers around, that she felt inhibited from expressing too much. That was probably for the best. Even Mark, quickly aware that he was walking through a minefield, was careful to avoid setting her off.

In the end, Susan was just left feeling like a bitch and hating herself for it.

The next step was supposed to be a nightclub show. She suggested going back to her place instead.

Maybe Mark would decline the offer. If she was in his shoes, she’d run for it. She could respect him for that, at least. The offer had been given, she’d made restitution. He had chosen his dignity. They could part company, with the score balanced, no hard feelings on either side, their heads held high.

She hoped he would decline, and end this miserable night.

He agreed. Of course he would. The loser.

Maybe she’d be surprised. Maybe she’d luck out and he’d be amazing in bed. Her life was shitty, a great fuck wouldn’t make up for that, but it would be something.

Not a chance, she decided, looking him over.

She sighed.

The sooner it was over and done, the sooner she could settle down to Netflix and boxed wine.

Maybe she should get a cat.

No.

It probably wouldn’t be able to stand her.

&&&

Mark was sitting on the couch, alone. Susan watched him from the shelter of her wingback chair. She’d poured them both a glass of red, ignoring the silent judgment as he’d watched her pour wine from a box. She’d blushed self consciously, right on the edge of kicking him out.

Bringing him home had been such a fucking mistake.

What she needed to do was join him on the couch. Then they’d put their wine down, have a perfunctory make-out session and then into the bedroom.

And after that? Out the door. Goodbye. So long. Oh it was fine. No I enjoyed sweaty inept fumbling. I'm so glad one of us came. Certainly. Oh no, I'll call you. Not call, text. Maybe. Just have a nice night. There's the door. Fuck off and get out of my apartment.

She just couldn’t bring herself to go to the couch.

Instead, she sat back in her wingback chair, legs crossed, sipping her wine, her foot swinging idly, watching him, trying to steel herself to go through with it.

Maybe he’d be satisfied with a handjob?

Or just tell him she’d changed her mind. He didn’t seem like the type to go psycho at rejection. Honestly, this must be as awful for him. He’d probably be relieved to be out the door and away from her.

“Those are nice boots,” he said, desperately.

Susan wanted to roll her eyes, simultaneously angry and guilty. He’d been floundering all night, one half-assed conversational gambit after the other, random lame compliments, and now this? Had he finally reached the absolute bottom? Was it really this dead? There was just nothing else to talk about?

She glanced at her swinging toe. They were nice boots, patent leather, almost up to her knee, hugging her calves like a second skin, the heel perfectly balanced for walking, room for the width of her foot, but with an elegant point to the toe. She’d paid a lot of money for them years ago.

“They are,” she said sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling, unable to help herself. “They’re very nice boots. Why don’t you lick them for me?”

Inside she cringed, she couldn’t believe she’d snapped at him like that. He must think she’s the worst person in the world. She was horrified. She needed to take it back, make it a joke, apologize somehow.

How do you apologize for something that ugly?

This was it, Susan decided. She waited for his face to turn to stone at the final unforgivable insult. In minutes, he would be walking out her door. The only question would be whether he would throw the glass of wine in her face, or simply call her a fucking bitch before storming off. She'd deserve it.

Maybe it wouldn’t get back to Sandra.

She was already thinking about damage control with Sandra. How to explain how it had gone horribly wrong so she could keep a friendship. Call it a joke? Say he overreacted?

Frozen, she watched the shock wash over him. The comprehension setting in.

Here it comes, she thought. He set the glass of wine down. At least she wouldn’t end up wearing it, then. He seemed hesitant, confused, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

He stood, awkwardly. Susan watched, her face carefully neutral. Should she apologize?

He took two steps toward her, and sank to his knees. Holding her boot steady with one hand, he licked the toe.

Three things simultaneously went through Susan’s mind in that split second. One was utter astonishment. The second was the worry that the boot wasn’t sufficiently clean, given that she’d been walking outdoors.

But the the third, the single most overwhelming thing, was that she was completely, absolutely, deliciously, instantly wet. Not just wet, soaking. She could feel it, a pulse like a slow earthquake, her vagina tightening and dilating of its own accord, her clitoris literally bursting with sensation, this impossible wet flood like a river of wetness, seeming to pour from between her lips.

For a moment she forgot to breath. She just stared at him.

Mark just kept licking the toe of her boot, as she watched, frozen with astonishment, her nipples going so rigid she was certain they were poking through her dress. Inside her, the most amazing storm of butterflies was rising from her stomach, seeming to fill every inch of her.

He stopped and looked at her. She realized he’d avoided her gaze, carefully looking down as he’d licked the patent leather. Now he was looking at her. What did he want? Approval? Condemnation? Was he finished? Her mind was an astonished blank. She had no idea what to say.

The toe of her boot was slick with his spit.

He was looking at her expectantly.

Susan swallowed, the motion making her head bob slightly. She turned it into a nod. That seemed to work for him. She decided to try risking a word, fearing the consequences, the disgust, the refusal, the laughter, but needing to say it.

“Continue.” The word came out as a chirp, a strangled whisper of a noise, barely audible, as if she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known about English.

But he nodded, and to her absolute thrill, he started doing it again, working is way along the side and up the arch. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted to burst out laughing in giddy ecstasy, and the only thing that prevented her from doing so was the fear that if she did, he might stop.

Her foot bobbed slightly with each stroke of his tongue. He was doing it. She still couldn’t believe it. She’d just said it, and now he was doing it. It had been a casual, stupid bitchy remark. She'd been ashamed of herself. But he was doing it!

She felt this overwhelming sense of power, as if the heavens had rearranged themselves with her whim, that with the slightest exercise of will, she’d reshaped reality around her, to her own absolute amazement. It made her feel immense, buoyant, as if she was ten feet tall, but so weightless that she might float away on a breeze.

His eyes lifted to her, as he licked. That human contact made her slightly uncomfortable. She shook her head slightly, a finger pointed downward, and his eyes dropped. Again, that surge of a sense of power and control, the most trivial gesture suddenly animated with irresistible force.

She took a sip of wine, to cover her stunned amazement, tasting it on her tongue. What was this? Where was it going? Was she supposed to have sex with him? That felt so weird, she was incredibly aroused, the slightest move of her hips brought home to her how suddenly drenched her panties were, but it didn’t feel right to have him in her.

What then? Was he supposed to do this all night? That seemed mean, and she didn’t want to abuse him. Unless he wanted to? That would be great! She almost quivered at the thought. But all night!

Was there a next step?

Susan had no idea. This was outside her experience. She vaguely understood that somewhere out there, there was a world of people who did this kind of thing. But for her, this was outside her experience. She had never imagined it, not really. Of course, there had been vague cartoonish domination and submission fantasies, everyone had those. But his act and her intense reaction, had shocked her, and left her adrift.

She sipped more wine, a larger gulp this time, holding it in her mouth, letting it swirl around on her tongue, as she watched him, trying to think. Every lap of his tongue, every gentle shove of it against her boot, sent shivers through her, made her pussy twitch. It made it hard to think.

Still, it was on her, wasn’t it. She was the one in control. She couldn’t just sit here all night. She needed to do something, exercise some more authority.

What she really wanted to do was send him away so she could masturbate furiously, reach her fingers into her panties, slip fingers into her vagina, and make frenzied circles around her clit. Hell, she just wanted to masturbate, plain and simple. Grab her vibrator.

Not in front of him.

All right then, what? She had given an order, accidentally. He obeyed. How to navigate this new territory.

A thought occurred to her.

Susan swallowed the mouthful of wine and cleared her throat, moving her boot way from his tongue. Oh, it almost hurt to do that last one. She enjoyed it way too much.

“This isn’t quite right,” she said. “I’m not pleased.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide, frozen. Susan was pleased at how clear and calm her voice was. The wine had lubricated her throat and allowed her to speak normally.

“You’re overdressed,” she said. He looked blank. She winced mentally, she was still discombobulated, barely coherent. She hoped he didn’t think she was some kind of idiot.

“Naked,” she said desperately. “You should be naked.”

That sank in. He nodded.

“Can I stand?”

“Why?” she asked, confused.

“To take off my pants and shoes...”

Oh right, she thought. Otherwise, he’d just be squirming around on all fours.

“Of course, and socks,” she nodded. “Quickly.”

She bit her lip, and then took another sip of wine, to cover. She shouldn’t have said that last bit, it made her sound needy.

But if Mark noticed, he gave no sign. He stood quickly, rising up in front of her. Weirdly, it made her think of Botticelli, Venus rising from the waves. Hurriedly, he unbuttoned his shirt, stripping it off. The pants went down. Was he even wearing underwear? Yes, she saw boxers nestled in his trousers, he’d taken them down at once. He pulled the laces of his shoes, pulled one off, standing on one leg as he stepped out of his pants, and then the other.

Mark was very pink, he clearly didn’t spend a lot of time tanning. She was pleased that her assessment of his body was accurate, an average build, but not athletic, no sign of hard muscle. There was some hair on his chest, on his calves, a thicker cluster on his belly and genitals and inner thighs. No manscaping worth noting, she decided. It wasn’t an unattractive body, but not remarkable.

His erection jutted out like a pink spear, more or less average, she decided. Not circumcised.

She was proud of her clinical assessment, of her control. He stepped toward her. Are we going to fuck now, she wondered. Did I set that in motion? Despite her arousal, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Like, okay, if it happened... sure. But should it? Did she?

“Stop,” she held up a finger.

He froze.

Again, she felt that weird feeling of exaltation, of control and power, that shot through her like a drug.

“I want to look at you naked.”

Did she want to? She wasn’t sure. Should she? Again, she wasn’t sure. Mostly, she just wanted him stopped, and he’d stopped. Again, to cover, she sipped her wine, this time barely kissing the glass and wetting her lips. She’d go through the glass at this rate, and she didn’t feel up to having a conversation or a distraction about another glass.

He waited patiently, while she tried to decide the next step. His erection was so hard, she noted, it bobbed on its own, a whitish bead of pre-cum oozing from the tip. No tattoos, she noted. No obvious scars or blemishes.

She needed to say something.

“I approve,” she said finally, her throat drying out and making the words awkward again. She made a note to herself, swallow a little before speaking. She made a small gesture indicating her boot, her toe bobbing. “Now, continue.”

Any thought they might proceed to sex evaporated instantly, as he fell once again to his knees, licking her boot.

If anything, it was even better, more exciting, more thrilling that he was now naked for it.

His fervor, his licking was even more intense, more urgent. Was he more aroused, she wondered? What was he experiencing? Was he getting hornier the more he licked? Was it progressive? Would he keep licking harder and harder until his cock spontaneously burst and he ejaculated? She almost wanted to see that.

Had the pause, the enforced nudity, aroused him?

Fuck, she wished that there was some sort of manual she could refer to. She had a fleeting whim to look it up on her phone, but it wasn’t the sort of thing you asked AI. She didn’t even know how to ask the question. And even if she did, she wasn't going to do it in front of him.

He was working his way around the other side, working towards her heel. She took a sip and swallowed.

How safe was what he was doing at all, she wondered. Should she even allow this? As wild as it was, she didn’t want him getting sick, or poisoned, or ending up with some splinter in his tongue.

“I don’t want you to lick my soles, or the heel,” she ordered. He glanced up, their eyes meeting, it made her feel awkward again.

“It’s not safe for you,” she explained. “I was walking outside in these boots. On the street.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and shifted, licking up towards the ankle.

She should stop him. Maybe put on different shoes or boots, something she could be sure was clean for him. But what? It wasn’t like she’d ever given a lot of thought to this kind of thing, how could she be sure that anything she had was cleaner than these.

What if she grabbed the wrong pair and he got botulism?

Could you get botulism from licking shoes? She’d have to make sure whatever she brought out was clean for him. But then, she’d have to clean them. That would distract from the moment, it would take time.

And frankly, she absolutely didn’t want him to stop. Somehow, they’d fallen into this magical spell of astonishment and ecstasy that was weird as fucking hell, and she absolutely was loving every minute of it. So no, no more time outs, no change of footwear.

He hadn’t died yet. That was a good sign.

She cleared her throat and shifted her hips, feeling her pussy roll liquidly, the simple movement sending electric currents of arousal through her. She uncrossed, and re-crossed her legs, presenting her other boot.

I’m an evil bitch, some far away part of her seemed to call out, as she redoubled on his humiliation. I should not be doing this to him, she thought.

Fuck that. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Now this one,” she ordered.

There was the barest nod, and an immediate compliance so utterly smooth and willing, so devoid of resistance, that if she hadn’t been soaked already, she’d have been wet all over again. She couldn’t believe how much she was loving this, how her pleasure went way past her arousal to some deep, profound joy at his eager, willing obedience, at his submission and her control. She felt like a goddess over an altar, soaking up worship and sacrifice.

Her boots were shining with his spit and saliva, glistening in the light. He was kneeling in front of her, naked, his erection bobbing away somewhere underneath him. He hadn’t even touched it, he was so completely consumed.

He was licking the inside of her angle, working his way up, toward the patent leather calf. She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, presenting the other calf. As if reading her mind, he started working his way up the inside of the calf. A moment later, she uncrossed her legs, leaving her knees spread, the heels of her boots turning inward.

“Do them both,” she ordered, taking a quick sip. The wine was gone, she set the glass aside, unable to take her eyes off him. “At the same time.. One to the other.”

Mark began to alternate, applying long tongue licks to one and then the other, working his way up. She stared, utterly fascinated by his eager enthusiasm. It was so bizarre, it was almost like being outside of her own body, something so beyond her experience. But each brush of his tongue against her calves brought her back to concrete experience. Intense, bizarre, wildly, erotic experience. And he kept moving higher.

"You're very good at this," she said, her voice low and breathy. She was surprised she could even get the words out. He grunted something that sounded like a thanks.

"You do this a lot?" she asked. A shiver of excitement went through her, a sense of catlike toying with him. "Are you the sort of man that goes around licking women's boots? Is this a regular thing for you?"

What if he was? The thought that she was in the grip of a fetishist was oddly thrilling. There was a shivering bouyant joy to the thought. At least one of would know what we're doing, she thought.

He shook his head. The merest pause in his licking.

"Oh my!" Susan smiled, catlike. Somehow, this was better. "First time? Virgin?"

A nod. It made her pussy clench. She felt powerful.

"Enjoying it?"

A nod. That was reassuring, as fucked as things were, that confirmation made her feel better, more confident. She didn't know where she was going with this, but at least she had a willing follower.

"A have a confession to make," she whispered. He looked up for a moment. Their eyes met. She reached out gently, lowering his head, holding him, feeling the pressure of his cheek against her calf, pressing on the leather.

"I'm really fucking wet," she said. "I'm dripping."

His head moved, and for a second lifted, their eyes meeting. Then he lowered, his tongue flicking out, leaving a wet trail on the pristine leather.

"I thought you should know."

He reached the top of her left boot, and she could feel his tongue sliding across the boundary of the patent leather, and against the bare skin of the bottom of her knee.

"You want to lick my pussy, don't you?" she asked.

A nod, a small grunt of affirmation.

Suddenly, Susan couldn’t stand it any more. She bent forward, grabbing his hair in her fist, her hips lifting as she pulled her dress up, and her panties to the side in what seemed like a single motion, and pressed his face between her thighs. He seemed to float in her grip, so willing and in synch with her, that he was almost weightless.

"You want this?" she demanded.

"Yes," he gasped, and pushed, she felt him against the softness of her body.

His face ground into her lower belly. Too high! She thrust her hips forward to the edge of her chair, her shoulders sinking down, and spread her legs wide, one knee rising involuntary into the air and then... Right there! Yes, his tongue slapped against her clit and her breath caught in her throat. Her hips pushed forward and she pushed down and he was lapping her pussy with frantic intensity.

“Oh god damn it!” she cried out, her grip on his hair like iron, she pushed his face into her, and he licked her with wild abandon. “Yes, yes, just like that!”

She didn’t last long, an orgasm rose up inside her so fast and hard it felt like it had stepped up slapped her face, leaving her breathless and panting. The pleasure was so intense, it became too much.

“Stop! Stop now! That’s enough!” She pushed his face away, releasing her grip, as he sat back on his haunches.

For a moment, she writhed in ecstasy in the chair, panting, allowing herself to recover. Her skin was covered with a light sweat, and beneath it, she could feel goose pimples.

The panting slowed down, Susan watched him watching her. She had no idea what was going through his mind. Between his legs, his erection was throbbing patiently. Unconsciously, she pushed her skirt down, covering her pussy.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? She had no idea. She needed to get away.

“Excuse me,” she said abruptly, levering herself up off the chair. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Susan retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She ran the tap, mainly as cover. The noise would let him know she was doing something and not to bother her. But she didn’t actually have anything to do, she rested her palms on the bathroom vanity, letting it take some of the weight off her legs. She was still wobbly, her heart still pounding. Then she sat on the toilet and took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself.

That had been the weirdest fucking thing ever in her entire life. How had that just happened? How had any of that just happened? Where had this come from? She’d been normal all her life, and now, as the post orgasmic bliss receded, she couldn’t even imagine the person she’d been only moments ago.

No. She could imagine it, she vividly remembered the orgasm, the wild urgency when she’d grabbed his head and shoved it between her legs. Even more: The elation, the overwhelming, shocking sense of power and control as he’d knelt and licked her boots.

Maybe it was the boots, she thought. She’d always liked them, had always thought they’d been exquisitely sexy. Not that anyone else paid them any special attention... until now. She’d apparently found someone who appreciated them even more than she did.

Also, her feet were sweating in them. It was almost clammy. She wiggled her toes, eager to be out of them, but decided to keep wearing them until he was gone.

What the living fuck? That kept going through her mind. What had just happened?

Her panties were so wet they were disgusting. She shimmered out of them, and then wiped herself down below.

Susan had no idea what to do next, or how to face him. Maybe he’d gotten dressed and left?

“Are you still out there?” she called.

“Yes, Miss,” came the answer.

Fuck.

“Have you moved?”

“No, Miss.”

Double fuck.

Take the hint.

Leave.

Except, on some level, she didn't want him to. She wanted him, but didn't want him. She couldn't imagine having any kind of conversation after this, the thought was ludicous. Post-boot-licking small talk? Ridiculous. She had no idea what to do with him. Sex at this point seemed inappropriate. But part of her didn't want him to go.

It was like they'd made a weird connection, shared something unique. He was the only other person in the world with this experience. If he went, it would be like it never happened.

She glanced at the time. Almost an hour and a half. He’d spent over an hour licking her boots. There was a moment of involuntary sympathy. His tongue must be raw.

Fuck it, she couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. She turned off the taps, and strode back to the living room. Yes, there he was, kneeling in front of her chair. She didn’t want to approach him. Suddenly thirsty, Susan went into the kitchen and poured herself another glass of wine. She drank it on the spot, and then poured another glass. She tried not to glance over at him as he knelt, but couldn't help watching him side eyed.

A warmth spread through her, helping steady her nerves.

Should she offer him another glass? No, she decided, not now. It didn't feel right.

What felt right? She had no idea what she was doing. But she wanted to do things, whatever they were. Susan took a breath.

She wandered over towards him, sat down in her chair and crossed her legs. Their eyes met, again, she felt that awkwardness.

“Did I give you permission to look at me?” she asked.

It came out meaner than she intended.

His head dropped, staring at the carpet at the foot of her chair. He was so close to her. Of course he was, she’d jammed his face into her pussy. She raised one booted foot, and prodded his chest gently.

“Move back... Please,” she ordered. Head down, he shuffled backwards towards the couch. When enough space had opened between them, she said “enough.”

Should she have said 'please'?

He waited for another order.

“All fours.... please,” she said. “Knees and elbows.”

He obeyed. He just did whatever she ordered, like it was the kinkiest game of Simon-Says ever. Even past orgasm, it was weirdly thrilling and satisfying, and erotic. But she didn’t want to keep him all night. He needed to go away. Tell him to just get dressed and leave? That felt anticlimactic, it felt unresolved.

Susan sighed. She stood up and walked around him, as he waited motionless. She still felt a little awkward about the cruelty of her earlier remark. Maybe it was the orgasm, or maybe the general weirdness of the encounter, but her bitchy mood had broken.

“You did very well tonight,” she said. “I’m very... pleased with you. I don’t know that we’ll do this ever again.”

This was definitely never happening again, she decided that on the spot.

“But I am very pleased with you.”

His head moved, nodding acknowledgment. He seemed reluctant to speak. Had she given an order about that? She couldn’t remember. She decided not to ask, it would make her look uncertain.

Susan went down on one knee beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. He was warm to the touch. Her hand slid across his back, as if stroking a cat, and she felt his body responding, the flex of spine, a slight tremble in the muscles. It occurred to her that apart from a perfunctory handshake at the beginning, and jamming his face between her legs, this was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him. There was something sad in that thought.

She stroked his back again, then because he looked so dejected with his head hanging down, she lifted him with a finger under the chin, his face pointing away from her as she knelt beside him. She ran her fingernails down from the back of his neck, down between his shoulder blades, down the spine, making him arch his back, until she was cupping his ass cheek. A tremor ran through him.

“You did very well,” she said again. “I’m very happy with you. Good boy.”

Good boy? She winced. She was talking to him like he was a dog. But if he noticed, he didn’t mind. Another shiver ran through him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” she said carefully.

She felt she needed to establish that, but also kind of hated herself. It felt almost cruel, and she felt she needed to make up for it. Too bad, she was old and self-possessed enough that she wasn’t going to do pity fucks...

She remembered why she’d brought him home initially.

Well, she wasn’t going to do it now.

“But I am happy with you,” she said. “Do you want to come?”

No blow jobs either, that was very definite. The eagerness of arousal was past, and she had no intention of putting a stranger's thing in her mouth in the first place, much less allow it to ejaculate there.

She wasn’t even particularly excited about a hand job. Maybe she could just order him to ejaculate. Or possibly simply have him masturbate. He would probably do that, if she ordered it and watched. Hell, she could go tell him to do it in the bathroom, or somewhere she didn’t even have to watch. She could do anything to him, even be cruel!

“Yes, Miss... Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that got her. She sighed. It was a weird night, and he wasn’t a bad person. It wouldn’t kill her to offer a little kindness.

“All right,” she said gently.

She moved closer to his hips, bending forward a little bit, to reach under him. Her hand found his erection. It was surprisingly wet, under other circumstances, she might have been repulsed, but she just wrapped her fingers around it, moving back and forth. He grunted.

Susan wasn’t really sure how to handle him. The truth was, that in her experience, men just preferred to take things in hand themselves. She’d given many more blow jobs than hand jobs. It just wasn’t a thing. Still, she stroked him gently.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Good.”

Disappointingly, he wasn’t as hair trigger as she’d been, and stroking, while clearly pleasurable, didn’t seem quite enough. She wasn’t sure what to do, too much might hurt him. After a moment, she reached around with her other arm, sliding it between his thighs and under his ass. She cradled and tickled his balls, and then reached under squeezing his shaft, while her first hand cradled his head.

“Good?” she asked.

“Very,” he moaned.

This was working, his body trembled and shook, tremors rippling through his muscles. He was starting to gasp, his breath coming faster and faster.

“Good boy,” she whispered. His cock was growing hotter and harder in her hand. “Good boy, who’s a good boy?”

Again? She wanted to kick herself, she was so self conscious.

But it was working his hips thrust against her hand, he grunted loudly, his body flushing hot, and muscles going stiff. She realized if she was going to do this, she should have put some newspapers down under him or something. But it was too late, with a loud moan he ejaculated, spurting all over her hand and beyond, and then suddenly going limp. He collapsed beside her, falling out of her grip, gasping for breath. She watched him, laying flat on the carpeted floor, in a small puddle of his own semen, panting. She stroked his back, feeling muscles tighten as her touch moved along. His skin was flushed, just slightly damp. It felt hot. She'd been with men when they'd come, but she'd never had the chance to observe a male orgasm, or a male afterglow this clinically before. It was fascinating... and sweet.

Impulsively, she bent forward and kissed the back of his head affectionately. “Good boy,” she whispered. “I’m very, very, happy with you.”

She stood up carefully, and grabbed her wine glass, swallowing the remainder in one gulp.

Then Susan walked around him, hoping that he wouldn’t just lie there, and made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, he’d crawled up to elbows and knees again. Was that the best he could do, or was he just being obedient? Please, she thought, just be normal.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You can get up. Play’s over. You can talk. You can even look at me.”

That seemed to work, he got to his feet. Still naked, but no longer erected, a long spool of semen hung from his cock. She reached down and wiped it, before he got it all over her furniture, and thrust a toothpaste and a toothbrush in its package into his hand. He looked at it.

“It’s for you,” she said. “Go to the bathroom and brush your teeth.”

He didn’t seem to comprehend.

“I walked all over the city in these boots, remember?” she told him gently, as if speaking to a child. Was she being condescending? She hoped not. But if she’d found it disorienting, then she supposed he must have too.

“Well,” he said, “those boots are made for walking.”

She snorted involuntarily. Had he just made a joke? Yes he had. Susan hadn’t thought he had it in him.

“I don’t want you catching anything, okay? So go and brush your teeth, and use mouthwash and rinse, all right? I want you safe and healthy. Okay?”

He nodded, seeming to understand. He was gaining clarity, focusing again. Good.

“That way,” she jerked a thumb.

It was only after she was listening to him brush his teeth, that she realized what she’d done, how urgently and impulsively she’d jammed that mouth hard up against her vagina in her desperate need to come. What the fuck had she done? Her stomach flip flopped at the thought, and she felt an urgent need to rush into the bathroom and clean herself thoroughly.

He was in there though, so she resisted the impulse, and calmed herself. A few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference. She remembered, her panties were on the bathroom floor. Awkward. Maybe he wouldn’t notice them.

Instead, she busied herself picking his clothes up from where he flung them, and arranging them on the couch. Hopefully, he’d get the message that he was supposed to get dressed and go away. She wasn’t interested in a sleep over.

To Susan’s satisfaction, when he emerged, he immediately went to them and started getting dressed.

“Well,” Mark said conversationally. “This was... unexpected.”

“It was,” she agreed.

“One for the books,” he said.

“Maybe we won’t be writing this one down,” she said.

Pants on, shirt still unbuttoned, he sat down to pull on socks and shoes.

“I don’t think we’ll do this again,” she said. “We definitely won’t. But it was nice. I don’t regret it.”

It was so hard to find the right level of certainty and niceness, to close the door, but not in a harsh way.

“I understand,” he agreed.

He stood, buttoning his shirt. Impulsively, Susan stepped close, to help him with the buttons, taking his wrists to do each cuff.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” he told her.

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Making him brush his teeth? Masturbating him to orgasm? Allowing him to lick her boots? She didn’t want to ask.

“My pleasure,” she replied carefully. Impulsively, she wanted to kiss him, but she knew exactly where his mouth had been. So she pulled his head down, and kissed him on the forehead.

Then he was out the door, and she was finally alone in her apartment, with nothing left of him but an extraordinarily large semen smear on her carpet. She stared at it for a moment, trying to decide if she should try and do something about it right away. To hell with it.

Instead, she went to the bathroom, to clean and flush herself with warm water and rinse. Then, exhausted, she went to bed.

An hour later, after tossing and turning, filled with vivid dreams, she woke up and reached for her vibrator. She didn’t sleep the rest of the night after that, but she didn’t mind at all.

&&&

The next morning, she woke to the realization that her favorite boots were covered in dried human spit. That was kind of disgusting, when she thought about it. So she made sure to clean them thoroughly.

Then, on a whim, she cleaned the rest of her shoes and boots, just in case. They were all dirtier than she’d thought, and it was satisfying to go over them, to buff or polish or simply wipe them, until they almost had the gloss of freshness. She was careful to make sure she didn’t use anything that might leave a toxic chemical residue, just in case.

Susan had never thought about it, or cared very much. But people had pets, and pets sometimes liked to lick things. You shouldn’t accidentally poison people’s pets. So really, this was just courtesy and politeness and humanitarian impulses.

And her shoes ended up looking really nice. So bonus.

It wasn’t that she expected anyone to come by and offer to lick her shoes while she was wearing them. And anyway, even if they did, she would probably refuse.

Politely. She would politely refuse.

There would be no need to be rude about it.

Admittedly, a strange request. But it was a big world, and there were all kinds of people in it, no need to be judgmental. Some people apparently really enjoyed licking other people’s boots. Assuming that they were really nice boots, clean and worn by someone hot, there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

Not her of course, it didn’t appeal to her at all. But yes, she could acknowledge some people, very nice people she supposed, were into that.

And some people apparently enjoyed having their boots licked. Intellectually, she couldn’t see the appeal. But she’d had the experience and the memories were surprisingly fresh and vivid. While it clearly wasn’t her thing and she would certainly refuse another offer, she could at least appreciate...

Fuck. Susan was really wet. Fuck it, she didn’t have anything else to do tonight.

She went into her bedroom, to her vibrator.

&&&

The memory of the experience, remained vivid, breaking into disconnected moments of breathtaking erotic clarity. The moments of him kneeling, tongue to leather, of course. But so many sweet moments, his undressing at a command, the breathless impulsiveness of pressing his face between her legs and the sweetness of his compliance, the sarcastic remark that unfolded everything.

Even kneeling beside him as he was on all fours talking to him like he was a dog while she masturbated him. That should have felt stupid and mildly disgusting. But somehow, it was... beautiful. There had been an intimacy to it, almost a communion.

It amazed her that a casual hour or two had gone so strange, had packed such a wild vivid eroticism. It felt like it distorted time, it should have taken much longer, it was like a weekend of wild sex, packed and compressed, distorted into something bizarre and intense.

Susan couldn’t let it go. She thought about it constantly. She masturbated a lot to it, of course. But even at work, it intruded on her thoughts.

She’d always been smart. Always been talented and smart. Talented people thought about things. They over-thought things. They’d take an idea or an experience, and pick it up, turning it around and around like a jewel, examining each facet, investigating different angles.

She’d always been intrigued by sadism and masochism, bondage and discipline. Susan assumed that, really, everyone was. She’d been tied up in university, had gone to a few risque parties, spanked or been spanked.

But she had found out, or decided, that it was one of those things that was a lot more fun to think about, to anticipate than to actually do. When you actually tried it, the experience didn’t measure up, the bloom came off the rose. It all seemed childish, just dress up and role play and silly. You got on with your life.

But this? This had been extraordinary, it blew everything away, the tepid experiences, the childish fantasy, the oh-so-fake pictures and videos and stories. It was as if she’d accidentally, somehow broken through to a new deeper reality.

She didn’t know what to do with it.

Susan read up on S&M. It was all just blather, elevated philosophy about power exchange harnessed side by side with grotesque physicality. She bought old Anne Rice books, and found performative silliness. She looked up porn and images, and couldn’t find herself in it. It all felt fake and commodified, a lifeless empty sketch in comparison to that surreal evening.

She visited an adult store, a strange experience, in itself. The young woman who worked at the shop was Goth., her make up and hair and dress carefully stylized. But she was friendly and approachable, and when she smiled and spoke, Susan caught glimpses of a tongue stud.

Out of nowhere, Susan wondered what it would it would be like to kiss her

The store was cleaner than she expected, better laid out, with an assortment from kitschy novelties, to dildos and vibrators that ran the gamut from functional to beautiful to unearthly. The S&M section was overwhelming and intriguing, half of it almost repellent, half seemed odd and pointless, and half... that last half, perhaps a residue, was intriguing. Glass dildos like works of art, ropes and cuffs, a swing. Elaborate constructions of metal she couldn’t fathom, inscrutable harnesses.

There was a shiny steel butt plug, with an amethyst jeweled base that was simply beautiful. It was the sort of thing you wore to show off. She couldn’t imagine any conceivable occasion to ever wear it, or even put it in someone. She bought it anyway.

The final facet, of course, the last unexamined angle, was Mark.

Honestly, she’d thought about him from the beginning, wondered about him. He’d seemed so normal, so conventional, but that apparently concealed a kinky, boot-licking, naked on all fours, freak.

Definitely, not for her.

She couldn’t even imagine a conversation, that would be excruciating. What would she even say? And god, the things that might come out of him, what he might babble, she didn’t want to imagine it.

The best thing to do would be to never speak to him again. If she ran across him on the street, she’d just turn around and go the other way.

It took her until Thursday to get his phone number from Sandra at work.

She managed to get all the way past supper time, before she called.

&&&

“Hello,” Susan said.

Mark’s voice was carefully neutral.

“Hi,” he said.

“It’s Susan,” she said. Maybe he didn’t remember? She had butterflies, and not good ones.

“We had dinner last week,” she continued. “And then later at my place…”

She couldn’t bear to speak it out loud.

“I remember, yes.”

What kind of freak was he? He probably did things like that every other night. Prim pristine lawyer, but once he left the office, he probably wallowed in endless pools of degradation and debauchery, drugs, alcohol and sordid practices. He was probably a complete asshole. Disgusting. Repulsive. Degenerate.

“Good,” Susan said. “I thought I should just call up to check up on you, to make sure you were all right.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“I worried you might have gotten sick. Outdoor boots.”

“Completely healthy. Thank you.”

“Good. I don’t normally do this with outdoor boots. I wouldn’t want you to think... Hygiene, you see.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, “I get it.”

“It just sort of got carried away,” she said.

Susan winced. It sounded like an idiot.

Silence on the other end, it was going on for several excruciating heartbeats.

"Yeah," he said.

“So do you do this a lot?” she asked too quickly.

“The uhm...”

He seemed embarrassed.

“Yes, the uhm...”

“Not really. No, honestly, I’d never done anything like that. It just seemed to happen. One minute we’re sitting there, and the next...”

His voice trailed off.

“Did I do it okay,” he asked, it was almost plaintive.

“You did fine,” she reassured him. “I was very pleased. I told you that. It certainly felt like you knew what you were doing.”

He laughed softly.

“I just went with the flow,” he told her.

“There was definitely flow,” she replied.

She leaned back in her chair. Smiling. Was she actually flirting with this guy? Why not? It was safe, it was on the phone, there was a security in that.

“You’ve really never done anything like this?” she demanded, skeptically. “I’m not sure I’m convinced. You were very thorough.”

“I just followed your lead and let you guide me,” he said. “I think that was a big part of it. Just trusting you. You seemed very experienced.”

“I suppose,” she said, unconsciously playing with her hair. She felt an echo of that earlier sensation, of being in control. She shifted in her chair again, making herself more comfortable, crossing and uncrossing her legs. It wasn't quite arousal, she just felt... sparkly, and playful. “I’ve done it before. Not regularly. Not un-regularly. When it feels right. I just like... it.”

“I got that sense very clearly,” he said. “You definitely knew what you were doing.”

“I’m not a professional domme or anything,” she said, confidently. “I mean, doing it as a day job? That’s not me.”

She leaned back in her chair, relaxing and put one heel up on the cushion, drawing a quiet breath. Involuntarily, her hand crept between her legs.

“I respect that,” he said. “I’m actually flattered that you liked me enough, to open me up to a new experience. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said. The moment of his orgasm fluttered through her mind, clear and crystal, the way he’d helplessly ejaculated in her hand, his whole body coming unstrung. “I enjoyed opening you up.”

Her fingers slid under her panties, pushing them aside, her lips were already parted. She was wet.

Opening you up like like you were a Christmas present, she thought to herself. What the hell was she doing? Where was this conversation going? Idly, she played with her clit. She was enjoying this way too much. It was harmless chat, she decided, and too much fun to want to stop.

“It’s funny,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting it at all. At the restaurant, I didn’t think you even liked me.”

Susan felt a twinge of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s just tricky to navigate sometime. This isn’t really a normal thing, it can be awkward to feel your way through. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable there.”

“So you were thinking of this at the restaurant?”

Susan stared up at the ceiling, wondering how to respond. She decided to lie.

“Mmmm,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d put it like that. I think maybe I sensed some potential. I thought... maybe.”

“Wow,” he replied. “I guess you were right. You’re really good at reading people, I didn’t see it coming at all. I was just... shocked.”

“Well,” she said confidently, “you do this kind of thing, you get a feel for it.”

“I guess,” he said. “Well, it was different. Thank you, for an unusual and remarkable experience.”

Wait, was he preparing to hang up on her?

No!

She was enjoying this, she was enjoying playing with him, talking to him. She was enjoying this game of harmless pretend. This was too soon.

“So,” she asked, desperate to keep the conversation going, “any plans this weekend?”

“No,” he replied. “Nothing special. You?”

“Oh,” she drawled. “I might...”

“That sort?”

“Could be...”

She teased her clit, making finger tracing a horseshow pattern back and forth.

“Anyone special?”

“I was thinking...”

The line was silent. There was nothing on the other end. She couldn’t even hear him breathing. Had she gone too far. This was just harmless flirting, it was barely even kinky. Not even kinky. Had she scared him.

“Are you there?” she asked.

Several more heartbeats of silence.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked finally.

What? She wondered.

“No dirty boots,” she said, to buy time. “Clean this time. Maybe not even boots at all. Something different. Maybe I’ll tie you up or something...”

She had no idea. She was just throwing darts at a wall. Maybe he could give her something? Suggest something?

“That’s... interesting.” He’d retreated into careful neutrality.

Oh fuck off, she thought.

“I promise you,” she said, “I won’t do anything that you won’t enjoy. I don’t want it to be unpleasant for you. That’s not my thing.”

“That’s intriguing...” he said. Was there a little life under that careful neutrality? Temptation?

Aha! She thought.

“Can you tell me a little more?”

Curiosity? Need?

She was drawing a blank.

“That would be telling,” she said, lowering her voice to avoid sounding uncertain to him. “I like to be a little surpising. It adds zest, when you’re not sure what’s coming. You enjoyed the last time. Didn’t you?”

“I guess...”

“You guess?” she demanded. “You’re not sure?”

“Yes!” he replied quickly. “I enjoyed it.”

“You’re not saying that to please me?”

“Yes. I mean, no? Yes, I enjoyed it. But I want to please you?”

She giggled.

“Mark,” she assured him. “It’s all right. This isn’t a cross examination.”

“Okay,” he said after a beat. “I have a question?”

There was something serious and plaintive in his voice.

“Go ahead.”

“Why me?”

Good question.

Why was she even in this fucked up conversation?

He wasn’t a bad person. Why was she toying with him, like a cat with a mouse? What was she even doing? Where was going? How could she even answer something like this?

“Because I like you,” she lied.

Susan decided she was simply an awful person.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, sure. Why not? When?”

When? When? Fucking when? If she let it go too long she’d get stressed out. She’d chicken out. She didn’t want to spend days agonizing.

“Friday,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

She regretted it instantly. She'd gone from a playful, vaguely sexy conversation, making up a domme persona. And now she'd stumbled into a date? Even worse, an S&M date. What the fuck? She had no idea how to do one of those. And she hadn't even particularly liked him. He wasn't second date material.

“Wow.”

Exactly, Susan thought: Wow. As in what the fuck?

“That’s not good for you?” she asked hopefully. Here was an opportunity to climb down, back away with dignity.

Bail she thought. Let her off the hook. Please. Just retreat, we can both let it go. No commitments. Get me out of this trap, I've put myself in, she silently begged him.

“No! No!” he said. “It’s good. Tomorrow.”

You fucking asshole, she thought. Don’t listen to what I say. Just read my mind, and do that.

“You just move really fast, that’s all,” he said.

“Like I said,” she told him, putting confidence in her voice, “I know what I want.”

They said goodbye.

She leaned back in her chair, frantically making little reverse horseshoes around her clitoris. She pulled her panties over her vagina, but kept her fingers under, playing casually as she went over the phone call in her mind.

What the fuck was she doing? What was the point? What was the end game? She was using this guy like a chew toy, well at least he didn’t seem to mind. But now he was expecting full dominatrix tomorrow?

Fucking tomorrow? Why had she said tomorrow? What was wrong with next week? Next month?

What was she supposed to do now?

This, Susan decided, was what she always did. She got too far up inside her own head, she over-thought everything. She needed to stop. Just stop over-thinking. Just go with it.

She stood up and went into the bedroom.

The sound of the vibrator was loud.

Susan's Boots - problem

Looks like Susan's Boots has fallen afoul of Patreon. Not sure why. Will do my best to sort it out.

I am not at all sure what the issue is. They're complaining about sexually explicit content, but there's no actual penetrative sex. There's nothing coercive, everything is voluntary.

The scene features boot licking, verbal domination, cunnilingus and masturbation. The characters explicitly invite, offer or ask, and consent is expressed.

Sigh.

I'll have to figure it out.

COMING TOMORROW

Friday, November 25, THE ACCIDENTAL DOMINATRIX - Introducing Susan's Black Boots.

Susan is kind of a bitch. She's smart, capable, impatient and she doesn't suffer fools. She's also frustrated. Her life is about to change in unexpected ways.

Two chapters. Although I like Susan, I might decide to write more about her journey.

I've been thinking about what I want to be doing. Kayley and Sam are fine. I've got several chapters written and waiting to go. There's a few spots I need to write to fill in. And there's the arc. But I know what I'm doing and I'm happy with it.

But I'm thinking of the alternate weeks. I've been enjoying the short series - 2 to 4 chapters. But maybe its time to start doing something more ambitious. I was thinking Trampire, but Daphne has caught my attention, and that might be good for seven or eight.

The Monster of the Haunted Block, a Teaser

Just something I've been kicking around....

&&&

“This building is haunted,” Cassidy told me.

She was a statuesque black woman with a full afro, and rich dark creamy skin. She wore a halter top, and bell bottom jeans, a seventies outfit that fit with the psychedelic seventies decor of her apartment. But mainly, I what I was noticing was the bare midriff and the small golden chain that dangled from her belly button piercing.

Every time she spoke, she took a breath, the delicate muscles of her abdomen flexed, and the chain moved a little.

I had a desperate urge to seize that chain between my teeth, nuzzle that smooth flesh and look for places to lick.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “I was thinking of something.”

“The whole building,” she swore. “Haunted. I swear.”

“Really?” I asked. “How so. Sounds. Sights.”

“Everything,” Cassidy swore, her lips pressed together. I’d never kissed a black girl. I wondered what it would be like.. “There have always been strange noises. Bumps, creaks, moans and howls.”

“It’s an old building,” I pointed out. “Old ventilation, old heating system, everything's aging. You’d be surprised at the noises that will make.”

“Moans and howls,” she asked.

“Drafts and temperature fluctuations. It can sound almost human,” I told her.

“Nothing human made those noises,” she insisted. “And there’s more.”

“Like.”

“Things moving around. Objects that are there, and then later on you come by, they’re not there any more. Chests. Boxes. Furniture.”

“Kind of like movers?” I asked.

“But no one has been by,” she insisted. “And some of these things, too heavy for a human to lift.”

“I see.”

“Mysterious footsteps when no one is around.”

“Old building.”

“Lights going on and off.”

“Old wiring.”

“Sightings. There have always been sightings of a ghostly figure stalking the halls,” she said. “Stories say it’s the ghost of the hanged highwayman.”

“The hanged highwayman?”

“Dirk Dobbin,” she explained. “He owned the property this building was erected on. Back in the 17th century, he was a notorious robber. Huge man, practically a giant. Would rob up and down the coast. But he was so strong, no one could stand up to him. One night, his neighbors gathered and set fire to his house while he was sleeping.”

“He burned to death?” That was gruesome.

“No,” she laughed. “He ran out in his nightshirt into an ambush, and they threw a sheet over him to blind him, tied him up and hung him. The house burned down, and the land was sold. But for a hundred years, they said his ghost haunted the countryside. When this place was built, ninety years ago, they say the ghost was the first occupant.”

I shrugged.

“There’s always stories with these old buildings. Half of them are made up.”

“I’ve seen him,” she insisted.

I raised an eyebrow..

“Really?”

“Two weeks ago,” she said. “I was coming up, I turned a corner. And there it was. It was big, hulking, and it made a clopping sound as it walked, like it had hooves. And it wore a sheet over it.”

I raised an eyebrow.

"A sheet? As in..."

"As in a ghostly apparition, not one of those other kind!"

I nodded.

“What did you do?”

“It didn’t see me,” she said. “So I stepped back behind the corner. But when I looked again... It was gone!”

“As if it had gone into an apartment?” I asked.

“No apartments down that hall,” she said. “It’s a dead end. It just vanished. That’s when I called you guys. I didn’t know you’d broken up.”

“We’re not broken up,” I said. “We’re all just taking some time off, that’s all.”

She nodded.

“Well,” she said, “I’m glad you came.”

“I want to come,” I said, and then blushed slightly. “I mean, I wanted to come the moment I heard. This seems like the sort of... thing I want to get into.”

“There have always been reports and stories,” she said, “but in the last few months it’s increased until it’s constant. Most of the residents have moved out. I’m one of the last ones left, and I’m going.”

She hesitated and then whispered.

“They say that some of them didn’t move, the ghost took them.”

I shrugged.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I said, "but I've been around, and in more ways than one. Ninety per cent of the time, it's not ghosts or monsters, it's just greedy old men scheming to rob people."

"And the other ten per cent?"

I shrugged.

She looked pleased with that.

"People always have to believe in something unearthly," I told her. "Me, I like getting down to earth."

Her eyes sparkled.

"Down to earth, uh? You mean down and dirty?"

I smiled back.

"Downright filthy."

I let my eyes linger on her luscious body, and imagined what she'd look like naked. Those high heels she was wearing would make great handlebars.

"Well," she said, "I've got a shower, if you get too filthy. It's hot and wet."

"Good to know."

"So you'll take the job."

I nodded.

"Let's say I like the lay of the land around here. A lot of curves to watch out for. I'm sure I'll find it entertaining."

Her eyes sparkled.

"Glad to hear that," she said. "That makes me happy. I'd enjoy seeing more of you. A lot more."

"I like to please," I told her. "Any questions?"

"Just one."

"I'm all yours."

She licked her lips.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve been noticing the way you keep looking at me. And I kind of like it. So it got me wondering, red, does the carpet match the drapes?”

I smiled.

"Only one way for you to find out..."

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Chapter 31, Sam Finds Out

SECOND CUCKOLDING, PART THREE OF FIVE

KAYLEY POV

They both turned to look at me.

“We don’t do time outs,” Leroy told me.

“We do now,” I said. “Look. You’ve come. Sam’s come. Neither of you are ready for action. This is a fucking role play. Let’s just take a break. We’ll go to the kitchen and have some coffee or something.”

Leroy stared blankly at me, trying to figure out what to do. I was breaking character horribly, I knew.

Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m cool.” He turned to Sam. “Hey Sam, you up for a coffee break? Probably beats standing in a corner for half an hour.”

“Uhhh... Yeah?” Sam replied.

Leroy nodded.

“Okay,” he said, reaching for his boxer shorts, “I think we need a break. I say let’s take half an hour, unwind. Relax before the next half. Kayley, you want to make some coffee for us?”

Wait! What? When did it become his idea?

But I decided not to fight about it. Obediently, I made coffee and poured for them. We all sat around naked in the kitchen, awkwardly at first, making small talk, and relaxing.

By small stages, the conversation turned to the role play.

Sam’s cock had filled out, and there was a sexual edge to the conversation.

Experimentally, I said, “Hey cuck.”

Leroy paused, but Sam quivered to attention. His cock literally swelled. Okay, I thought, I guess we were back on.

Slowly, I eased forward in my chair, spreading my legs. Both men watched me intently. I felt a flush of power.

“It’s time to make yourself useful. On your hands and knees, and lick my pussy, Cuck.”

Some part of me couldn’t believe I was saying that. I wanted to die of embarrassment, or laugh from the ridiculousness. But another part was excited, expectant, hungry for a result.

Sam actually slid off the chair, onto his hands and knees, and crawled to me. I felt wildly giddy, and amazed. And filled with a genuine sense of power. I wanted to laugh and grin, but kept my face impassive.

He started licking my pussy, his hands curling around my thighs.

“No!” I snapped.

He froze and looked up.

“Hands flat on the floor,” I said. “You lick my pussy like you’re a dog.”

He went down on all fours. His tongue went to work, his face pressing against my vagina. His semen was in there, a couple of drops, and a vastly greater quantity of Leroy’s. It must have been oozing out as his tongue lapped me. But he didn’t hesitate or complain.

I glanced at Leroy, watching us with interest and arousal, and then caught Sam looking up at me.

“Eyes down, Cuck!” I snapped. There was something about his whiplike obedience that excited me.

He didn’t just comply, he complied instantly. It was electrical between us, sizzling jolts, where we both got off. I knew he was into it, his mouth on my pussy had gone wild. That contact, the rapid eager movements of his tongue and lips told me exactly how he felt, how he was feeling. His tongue sizzled with hot eagerness at my commands. It was a non-verbal pipeline from his brain to mine.

As his tongue literally whirled, and his lips danced, I knew he wanted, or more accurately, he needed more jolts. Whatever button was inside him, he needed me to press it.

“How does it feel,” I asked, “licking Leroy’s fresh semen out of me and swallowing it. You must be enjoying the feeling. Having his come inside you is as close as you can come to being a man on the inside.”

Definitely, that jolted him. But I could feel a demand for more.

“That feels really good,” I sighed. And it was, fuck, this was one of his most enthusiastic oral sessions, he’d upped his game. “I think we’ve finally found something you’re good at.”

Jolt. But a craving in him for more.

“Too bad you lost your privileges to this pussy,” I teased. “Must be heartbreaking. So close to this beautiful, sexy pussy of mine, and another man... correction, an actual man... took it away from you. Poor Sam. If it’s any consolation, you weren’t ever any good, so no loss.”

His tongue was unreal. I put a hand on his head, into his hair, lifting a little and stroking to slow him down.

“It turns out, though,” I said, “you are good for something. Keeping my pussy nice and smooth and shaved, looking after me down there, so that real men can enjoy using me. And you’re very good at oral.”

“Tell me,” I asked, “which do you get off on more? Getting my pussy ready for other men to fuck, or licking me clean after?”

It was such a deliciously evil question that I was actually vaguely curious as to what he might say. There was no way out for him.

But I had no intention of letting him up, I just pressed his face into my pussy. I couldn’t believe how wet I was. I could feel the flow of sensuous fire in me, the slow pulsing waves. I wasn’t squirting, but I was so dripping wet I was on the verge of drowning him.

I looked over at Leroy and beckoned him.

“Come here,” I told him, “and see this.”

Leroy came over to stand beside me, grabbing my breast.

“Look at the Cuck,” I said to Leroy, but mainly for Sam to hear. “I think we have a division of labour. He goes down on me and licks my pussy... And you fuck it. He serves me, and I serve you.”

Sexual energy, sexual intensity was rolling off Sam in waves. I could literally feel it from him, I could almost see it in his back, in the luminosity of his skin, the flush of heat off him, in the micro twitches of his muscles.

He needed more.

“Hmm,” I said. “Hey Cuck, I told you not to look at me. But I’m going to kiss Leroy. So I guess while I’m doing that, I can’t know if you’re looking up at me making out with him or not. So I’ll give you a pass. But be careful I don't catch you, or I'll punish you. And don’t let me catch you looking when I finish...”

He knew I meant it too. There was something about the way that his mouth moved on my vagina, a lap of his tongue, that signified his understanding and eagerness.

“You’re a freak,” Leroy said, his mouth descending to mine. I opened mine to receive him. Our lips and tongues met and we kissed passionately. But the only thing I could think of was Sam watching, looking almost straight up as we kissed, his view of my breasts, the underside of my jaw, the angle he’d see.

We made out like that, and as each kiss parted. I made sure to move my hips a little just before I stopped to look down at him. In turn I could tell from the way Sam licked me, when his eyes carefully shifted downwards, so that I wouldn’t ‘catch him.’ As I kissed Leroy, we cut it closer and closer, the risk like electricity between us.

Inside I dared him to get caught, and I was ravenously hungry to catch him. It made me crazy. I was purring and panting, moaning and squirming.

Sam was triggering one small orgasm after another, like a string of pearls. But despite that, all I could think of was the erotic effect on him.

As I kissed Leroy, I began stroking his cock. Finally, with a mad grin, I brought his cock to my lips and started sucking, knowing full well Sam was watching. As I worshiped his tool, wildly slobbering in a messy way that left spots of drool on my breasts, I caught Leroy looking down, smirking. He wasn’t looking down at me, his eyeline was shifted. I knew he and Sam were making eye contact.

Another pearl of an orgasm swept through me, at that realization, this one more insistent than the rest. I let the cock drop from my mouth, gasping as it rolled through. I looked down at Sam, his eyes carefully downcast.

“You can’t lie to me, Cuck,” I told him breathlessly. “I can feel how excited you are, how you’re getting off on this. You’re so turned on right now, you’d hump my leg like a dog if I told you too.”

For an instant, his tongue went still with shock. I heard a subliminal gasp. Too far? Then his mouth returned, his tongue frantic, pushing between my lips, dancing a jig all around my clit. The idea was so degrading, so humiliating, but he was responding to it wildly. I could almost hear his heart racing.

“Would you like that, you worthless little cuck?” I said contemptuously.

It was delicious, and horrible. How could I face him afterwards? How could I look him in the eye when it was over? How could I do something like this to someone I loved? We all had our submissive aspects and our dominant aspects. But this was like a nuclear bomb going off in my dominance strata, releasing hot cruelty and a lust for control. The thought of making him do it...

His tongue beat out an answer - Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Fuck,” I said. “Why am I asking you? Like anyone gives a shit about your opinion. If I decide I want you to do it, you’ll do it.”

“What do you think, dear?” I asked Leroy.

For a moment, he was startled, caught by surprise.

“I dunno...” He began carefully. It was a little much for him I could tell by the nervousness. It excited me to think I was running ahead of him, but he caught up. “Have him do it?”

“You hear that?” I said. “Voting is against you. Remind you of anything? The Thai restaurant? I guess you didn’t expect that to come around against you. How’s it feel, you pathetic little cuck? Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it.”

Oh god, I was being so unspeakably horrible, and I couldn’t stop. It felt like I was on a roller coaster, out of control, everything wild and breakneck and extreme. It was breathtaking and delirious, I was either going to have an orgasm, or I was going to throw up.

I shrugged, elaborately.

“As it happens,” I said. “The only vote that matters is mine. And I’ve decided.”

I took a deep breath as the motions of his tongue meshed perfectly.

“Hump my leg like a little doggy. Show me how pathetic you are,” I commanded.

As I looked down, for a microsecond our eyes met, his were just shining. My lips quirked in the ghost of a smile, and I shook my head so slightly and subtly that even Leroy standing next to me didn’t notice, but Sam did. He blinked in answer, opening his eyes wide with eagerness. All right then, I gave the tiniest nod and waited for his response, his eyes dropped.

Yes! It was a yes!

I felt the brakes come off. Something wild and savage broke free inside me.

I really hoped I wouldn’t hate myself for this later on. But I was so fucking loving it, so crazy excited it was mind blowing.

“Do it!” I ordered, trying to make my voice cold as ice. “Do it now! I want you to show me how pathetic you are!”

As he lifted off my pussy, I leaned forward, guiding him backwards slightly with a fingertip on his forehead, allowing me space to cross my legs, folding one over the other. My top leg swung freely, my toes momentarily turning upwards.

“Don’t use your hands,” I warned him. “Clutch me with your forearms, just like a dog.”

With a frantic lunge, he wrapped his forearms tightly around my calves, up almost around my knee, bent forwards, and began to hump away frantically.

I straightened my foot, trying to brush it against his erection, now flopping wildly.

“It feels like you’ve done this before,” I sneered. “Have you been stepping out on me? Or maybe I should pay more attention to all those furniture stains.”

Leroy was watching us with fascinated horror. Had we shocked him? Good! About fucking time. I felt weirdly, oddly, proud of that. He was so insistent on being the ringleader, it was just satisfying to finally see him thrown, even if I had to be the worst human being on the planet, and do unspeakably humiliating things to the man I loved.

On some level, I knew it was my love for him that incited me to insane cruelty. My wild psyche tapped into that deep well, redirected it, and spurted with the energy of a toxic fire hose. Fuck, maybe I really was the worst person in the world, but this was so wild, so exciting, so fucking pleasurable I couldn't help it. Cruelty was like an orgasm, and I couldn't get enough.

Sam was humping so hard against my leg both of us were shaking. I could feel his cock brushing steadily against my foot, sometimes along the top, sometimes the ball or instep. His cock would thrust against my toes, and slide off. I wanted to tray and catch him with my toes, guide him against my foot. But he was moving too fast, his cock flopping too wildly. I got my foot arched downwards, toe pointed between his cock and his body, though he kept flopping.

“Come on,” I sneered. “Put your back in it. Do you want to come? Do you? Humping my leg? This is as close to my pussy as I’ll ever willingly let you get. Closer than you deserve. Do you want to come? Don’t you want to show everyone how worthless and pathetic you are?”

He didn’t answer. I appreciated that. What could he possibly say that could make this better? Or more intense? Or more degrading? Words would simply undermine this for him. He uttered a high pitched whine.

Fuck, I thought. Did he actually want to come? Did he want to pursue degradation right to the end?

Did I want that?

Holy shit, I wanted it so much! It was like the idea, once it had hatched, grew rapidly like one of those time sped up films about plants sprouting, until it was literally consuming.

“In fact,” I sneered. “I’ve decided. I want you to come, humping my leg like a worthless little dog. I want that useless little dick of yours to blow, just from humping. That’s your punishment for polluting me with your disgusting sperm and daring to mix it with Leroy’s cum in my pussy. Shoot. Shoot that pathetic little load.

He was going faster, wild, frantic, whining like some little bitch.

“I’m giving you a count of ten to blow. Ten.... Nine... Eight...”

On three, he grabbed my calves extra tight. I could feel a wet spurt against my foot and realized he was actually ejaculating. A weird mixture of arousal, triumph and disgust churned within me, as his frantic humping went spastic, and his whimpering pitched up high.

“Two....” I announce harshly. “One.... Zero... Stop!”

I’ll give him credit, as the count reached zero, he tried hard to stop and freeze, and after a few more frantic thrust and tremors, and uncontrollable ejaculations, he managed to halt himself, panting heavily. I was panting a little myself, despite the lack of physical stimulation.

I gave him a few minutes to calm down, and then gave him a gentle nudge to back him off. He released his death grip on my calves, backing up.

“You have cum on my toes,” I said. I bobbed my foot in front of him, as he crawled backwards. I held it forward. “Clean it off.”

Gingerly, he stretched his neck out, and carefully licked his own semen from my toes. I wanted to squirm. It felt as if any pressure whatsoever on my clit, and I would explode.

Satisfied, I uncrossed my legs, slowly spreading myself open in front of him.

“Look at my pussy,” I ordered. I reached down, spreading my lips apart, opening myself wide.

“This is where Leroy’s come goes,” I told him.

“Now look at this,” I ordered. I flexed my ankle, pulling back to show him the underside of my foot and a few pearls of his milky semen smeared along my instep.

“That’s where your cum goes,” I said silkily.

I deliberately put my foot down, grinding it on the floor, and stood up with more confidence than I felt. I was actually woozy. But I put my fists on my hips, shoulders squared, breasts high and confident, legs apart, and looked down at him as he knelt.

“Any questions,” I demanded.

He stuttered a little.

“N... N... No.”

“I didn’t think so, I sneered.

I glanced over at Leroy, I couldn’t help but grin, as if I’d performed some difficult feat of Olympic gymnastics, like some kind of dominatrix version of a triple spring somersault with a perfect dismount. Excited, satisfied, but drained.

“Fucking unbelievable,” he said. The praise made my heart leap. With one hand, I pulled him closer to me, and we kissed passionately.

“I guess Time Out is over,” I said.

I looked down at Sam, still kneeling, his cock pathetically limp and drooling his barren translucent watery semen all over the kitchen floor

“Oh,” I said, “by the way, just to make sure there are no more ‘accidents’ from now on the next time you’re lucky enough to put that pathetic little thing in me, which won’t be very often, I’ll guarantee you... You wear a condom.”

I paused.

“Of course, Leroy fucks me bare, whenever he wants to.”

Sure enough, even though he’d just come, I saw his cock twitch. I laughed harshly.

Just then, I felt Leroy’s touch, pulling me towards him. I went loose, allowing him to draw me into an embrace, his arm tight around my back, trapping one of my arms. I melted into him, pressing against his body, feeling his hard cock. He was ready. He kissed me brutally, bending my head back, forcing my jaws open, taking my breath away as his tongue pushed into my mouth.

I gasped involuntarily as he brought his free hand to my throat and squeezed, choking off my breath. Instinctively, I brought my hand up to pull his away. But I felt his head shake slightly from side to side, ‘No.’ I tried to swallow, and dropped my hand. His grip loosened.

“You’re a piece of work,” he whispered, his hand on my throat just tight enough to silence me. His expression was intense, lust and something else underneath. Uncertainty? Fear? “Such a hot piece of ass.”

He looked down at Sam, on his knees, his cock limp between his legs.

“Isn’t she a hot piece of ass?” he asked, Sam. “Just totally fuckable? Just a ripe piece of fuck meat? Grade A cunt?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered, as we looked down on him.

Leroy smiled sadistically.

“Yes... what?”

“She’s a ripe, fuckable Grade A cunt,” Sam said quietly.

“Fucking right,” Leroy said. “And you had her all to yourself. I got no idea how that happened.”

Leroy turned to me.

“How’d you end up with this loser?” he asked me. His grip loosened on my throat. I almost coughed.

“I didn’t,” I told him. It was weird, it was like he was insecure, somehow. I navigated my way to something to stroke his ego. “I ended up with you, he just delivered me to you. That’s all he was good for.”

Leroy laughed. “Good fucking answer.”

He dropped his hand, letting it slide down my throat, all the way between my legs. He gripped my pussy roughly, hard enough to make me gasp, pulling my hips forward wantonly.

“Nice fucking pussy,” he whispered.

“Your pussy,” I husked, I decided to flatter him, just to silence that odd trace of insecurity I'd glimpsed in him. “You own it, You conquered it, You took it from him, and me. It’s yours.”

That worked, his cock flexed against me.

“Good fucking answer,” he said again. “You’re hitting it out of the park, cunt. That’s all you are, right?”

“I’m just a cunt,” I said. “Your cunt. Your property.”

He laughed, mollified. His grip eased.

“She’s on a roll,” he told Sam gleefully. “I got to thank you, bud. You really came through. You wouldn’t believe how juicy you got her for me. I don’t know if it’s that cuck tongue, or the way she uses you for a punching bag, but you got her ready for my cock.”

“I want you to piss on Sam,” he whispered.

My body stiffened, I froze. Too much, too dark, too ugly. I couldn’t go there.

“I can’t,” I whispered back.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

Both, I thought.

“Can’t,” I whispered. “I just went to pee, remember, on the time out.”

He nodded.

“Right. Yeah. Oh well.”

Maybe, I thought, if Leroy wasn't around. If he wasn't ordering it. If it was just me and Sam... No! Too much!

Leroy shifted, moving, his other hand sliding from around me. Grabbing my free hand, he twisted it up behind my back, making me gasp.

“You ready to get fucked again, cunt?” He used the arm twisted up behind my back to swing me around, bending me over the kitchen table. The motion dislodged two of the coffee cups which smashed on the floor. His cock found my wet hole, opening me.

“By you,” I grunted out, “Always!”

But he was already sliding slowly smoothly inside, even as my face pressed against the surface of the table. I groaned loudly as he thrust slowly and smoothly, filling me. Pleasure rippled through my body, his pressure on my back pushing the air out of my lungs. But with the sensation of his cock in me was a kind of psychic whiplash, I’d gone from literally insane domming to utter submission almost in heartbeats. I felt a kind of mental vertigo, the world spinning as he thrust into me.

“You liking this Sam?” he asked. “Me fucking what you obviously can’t handle? Say yes.”

“Yes,” Sam said, his voice strange. Aroused, frightened, but hypnotized by the sight.

“Loving it?” he asked, picking up speed. The pressure on my back, from his arm twisting, was almost painful. My legs kicked.

“Yes,” Sam said, his voice crackling with untertainty and tension, “I’m loving it.”

“I bet you are,” Leroy laughed. The thrusting slowed and stopped. His voice became thoughtful. “You don’t have much of a view there though, bud, kneeling in your own cum.”

He let me arm go, I whipped it around with relief, dislodging the last coffee cup. Damn! There went the set, fuck, fuck, fuck! But that moment of distraction ended suddenly, as he grabbed my hair, pulling me upright. I reached back, to hold the back of my head. Where was all this roughness coming from?

“Tell you what,” Leroy said, swinging me around and marching me out of the kitchen, “we need to get you a better view of me fucking your girl. Get up off your knees.”

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“Anything for my Bud,” Leroy said magnanimously, “oh, and grab the phone. Let’s get this recorded for posterity.”

Oh I'd forgotten about the phone! Damn! The thought that we hadn't recorded the leg humping was almost heartbreaking.

I couldn’t see Sam because Leroy was frog marching me into the living room. I didn’t mind actually, the kitchen was full of broken crockery and probably spilled coffee. Not really good for stepping on. We’d have to clean that up. In the kitchen it would just keep on distracting me.

Leroy marched me into the living room, we paused, as he seemed to look around. I sensed Sam padding behind us.

“Now,” he said to himself, his cock brushed my ass, I felt myself quiver submissively, “where’s a good place to fuck the shit out of you.”

I was still getting weird vibes off him, he was naturally dominant, but now it felt like he was trying too hard, as if his confidence had broken, if that made sense.

He steered me towards the sofa chair, as my knees brushed it’s cushion, he pushed me forward and down, holding my hip in place, but arching my back down.

“Ass up, darling,” he ordered. “Head down.”

I obeyed, letting him guide me into place.

“Spread your legs,” he said, slapping my ass lightly.

“Yes Sir,” I mumbled, bending forward. My head made contact with the cushion seat and I braced myself on forearms, arching my back. I spread my legs wider, and felt his hand slipping up against my wetness, making me gasp.

“Step up, Sam,” I heard him say cheerfully. “I want you to see every minute of this. I want you to enjoy me fucking your wife better than you can. You recording?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam said. Was that the first time he called Leroy ‘Sir.’

“Good boy,” Leroy said. “I want you to be able to watch and enjoy it later. Make sure you get this...”

For a moment, time stretched out. Unable to see, my face pressed down, my position ungainly, I could only wait as Leroy’s hands slid up and down the insides of my thighs, fingernails scratching, fingertips teasing my clitoris. Two fingers slid inside me, and I began to moan.

“Don’t move,” he ordered me. “Stay perfectly still.”

His fingers slid inside, teasing around my g-spot, thumb stroking my clit with practiced ease. One hand slid back and forth over my ass, and then his other thumb pushed into my ass. I trembled all over, moaning. He chuckled and kept working, until my body was trembling.

“Do you want to get fucked?” he asked calmly.

“Yes please.”

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me, Sir,” I whimpered.

“Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours.”

“What are you?”

“A cunt.”

“Anything else.”

“No, Sir,” I mewed. “I’m nothing but a cunt, only a cunt, your cunt and nothing else.”

Leroy chuckled, I could feel his satisfaction radiating off him, I could feel it in the way he touched me. His insecurity had faded away.

“Hear that, Sam?” Leroy asked. “You got that recorded? That’s a keeper. We’ll get her to do it again later, make it a permanent loop for her, she can listen when she goes to bed. Make it her ringtone.

“Oh god!” I mumbled, it was so degrading, so filthy, it was like having a mini-orgasm. My hips twisted slowly, suddenly, the need to be taken by his cock was blinding. I was so instantly hungry it was like my pussy gaped for him, I could feel it flex.

But if Sam replied I didn’t hear it, as Leroy slowly slid his cock all the way into me, filling me with exquisite satisfaction.

“Oh god, oh god yes.”

“I am your god, cunt,” he told me with gloating satisfaction, as he gripped my hips and started to fuck me with hard deep strokes, reducing me to a living, willing, dripping wet fleshlight.

Leroy started to pound me, his cock opening and filling me in deep thrusts that made me gasp. From this angle, the way he entered, I could really feel him. It was almost like riding him, except my face was shoved into the padding at the back of the chair, and I couldn’t see him or Sam.

Suddenly, as I drifted in a wanton orgiastic haze, a wicked idea slipped into my mind, almost fully formed. I pushed back suddenly against Leroy’s cock, giving myself a little space.

“Let’s change,” I whispered.

He kept fucking me, so I said it again.

“You’re fine right here,” Leroy responded, thrusting back into me. My back stiffened, refusing his push. Bracing on one elbow, I shoved back, reaching under and between my legs with free hand.

“I want to do something different,” I grunted. “Come on... Lover.”

I’d almost said Leroy, but aware that Sam was right there, I had an impulse to switch. Darling? My love? Some term of endearment I used for Sam? I settled for Lover. Not quite what I wanted, but I hope that Sam would pick up, that he’d get that Leroy’s status was elevated, even as his declined. I don’t know if Sam did, but Leroy picked up on it, his thrusts shifted.

“Lover?” he asked.

“Lover,” I whispered. “Master. Sweetheart. Owner. Darling.... God... Everything.”

His rhythm changed, I had the sense he turned a little to look at Sam, and I imagined a smirk.

“Sure thing, sweetheart, darling,” he said, his voice was gloating.

Deep down, I shivered, my stomach tightened, as if I’d crossed a line I didn’t even know was there. Don’t think about it, I told myself.

Don’t think about it, Sam, I mentally ordered. It didn’t mean anything, I told myself. Keep going, I thought.

"Something different? You have an inspiration?" he asked.

Leroy’s thrusts slowed, becoming slower and less brutal, as if he was thinking it over.

“Come on, stud,” I whispered. Stay with the idea, I told myself, keep going. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “What are you going to do?”

“Fuck with the cuck,” I said, “like I promised.”

I needed to squash little cuck bug, a wild hunger that seeped past my submission.

"I don't know if I should let you," he said thoughtfully. "I like you where you are."

He stopped, I could feel his cock pulse slowly in me. Then, a moment later, I felt a smack, and a ripple stinging pins and needles as he slapped my ass. His cock slid out. I felt him stepping back.

“Okay,” Leroy said. “Let’s see what you got.”

Relieved, I got off the chair and stretched, glancing back. My face had left a dimple in the cushioned fabric. The idea was still unfolding deliciously in my mind, and I could hardly wait. Reaching for Leroy, I guided him until he was sitting on the chair, slouching down so that his butt was just on the edge of the chair.

“I’m going to ride you,” I told him.

“I don’t really like that,” he warned, his expression stiff.

I leaned in between his legs, balancing myself on the arm of the chair, and kissed him wantonly, our tongues sliding. His hand found my nipple and pulled on it like a cow’s udder, triggering the now familiar sensation of arousal and discomfort. I pressed my mouth to his, tasting his wet spit.

“Trust me,” I whispered as our lips parted and joined as I showered him with soft teasing kisses. “You’ll love it.”

Finally, he nodded, his expression wary. I realized, I’d never been on top with him. No cowgirl, no reverse cowgirl. Weird. It had always been intense and headlong with him, he’d always been in control, so I’d never thought about it really.

Lifting off, I turned around straddling him backwards. His hands curled around my hips, subtly taking control. But instead of sinking down, I sat on his pubic area, just in front of his cock, holding it in my fingers, pressing it up against my mound.

“Sam,” I called, “come here. Stand in front of me.”

He took a place a foot in front of us, his erection rampant. I absolutely knew he thought I was going to take him in my mouth.

I almost wanted to cackle. Oh you poor boy... Instead, I pushed him back another foot, my palm flat against his belly, carefully not touching his dripping cock. I had plans.

Glancing down, I stroked Leroy’s erection between my thighs. Sam was holding the phone, recording me playing with Leroy. Not good enough, I thought, I wanted his undivided attention.

“Put the phone away, Sam,” I told him. I glanced at the table near us. “Put it over there, just set it up there, and come back.”

We took a moment as he angled the phone on the table, I wasn’t sure what he’d be able to record. I didn’t really care. Making video seemed to be a boys thing, I thought as I rubbed Leroy’s cock back and forth against my clit, enjoying the sensation. I could feel Leroy’s hands on my hips, trying to guide me to lift up and sink down on him. I glanced back at him, shaking my head slightly. Not yet.

Hey! Leroy had never licked my pussy. Not even once. What was up with that? Peculiar. I filed the thought away, almost forgetting it, as Sam returned to stand in front of me.

“Hey, baby,” I said to Sam, my voice soft and loving. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re all right.”

I smiled at him, watching him stare at my naked body, breasts firm, nipples hard, practically shining, Leroy’s cock thrusting between my spread thighs, concealing my pussy. I swayed and arched very slightly, squirming on Leroy’s lap. Sam’s eyes were hungry as he stared. His erection was rigid.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Good,” he mumbled. His voice was low, tentative and uncertain, despite the clear urgency of his cock. It felt like a paradox, how could one part of him be so rigid and another part so timid.

“You’re good?” I repeated, wanting to explore it a little more.

“Yeah,” he replied, even more of a mumble, even more tentative. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum forming at the tip, as it lifted on its own.

“I’m not being too rough on you?”

“No.”

“You can handle it?” I asked, my voice rising slightly, teasing. I rolled my hips so that Leroy’s cock moved up and down a full inch, sliding smoothly against my pubic mound, Sam tracking it intensely. “My brave little cuck-baby.”

“I can handle it,” he whispered, stung. His hand reached for his cock.

“Don’t do that,” I warned, the warmth suddenly gone. “Don’t touch it while we’re talking. Hands at your sides... please.”

“Sorry,” he whimpered, jerking his hand back. Oh god, I loved cracking the whip on him, his reactions were perfect!

Forgiving, I smiled brightly at him, radiating warmth. I reached out, ran my fingers along his erection, it was rigid and almost feverishly hot, the skin stretched smooth and tight as a drum. I left my hand out there, almost but not quite touching. When it rose, it would barely brush my fingertips.

“It’s all right, baby,” I said gently. “You just forgot. How are you doing, Sam?” I asked. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Y– y– yes,” he replied

“I know,” I said sympathetically. I gave it a light stroke, just enough to make him gasp out loud. His hips thrust a little, involuntarily.

There was something wildly exhilarating about his arousal. I wasn’t even doing anything, just teasing a little, and he was on the edge of orgasm. I wondered how long I could prolong it, how intense I could make it for him.

Maybe I could make him ejaculate without anything touching it, just bring him to such a point of arousal and excitement that he’d blow spontaneously, like the first time.

“I’m glad,” I told him gently, “that you’re enjoying it. Seeing me getting fucked by a real man. It must be such a turn on for you.”

He blinked, but in his general state of arousal, I couldn’t tell whether he’d gotten the sting I buried in here.

“You like to watch,” I said. “Don’t you?”

“Y- y-”

“Use your words, baby. Tell me you like to watch, say it.”

“I like to watch,” he gasped out.

“Good boy,” I said, like I was patting him on the head. I kept my voice soft and friendly and cheerful. “That’s all you’re good for, really. Just watching.”

He blushed that time. That got through. I was really enjoying this, the experience of saying mean things in a friendly soft way. I filed it away, I wanted to play with that again.

“That’s okay,” I told him gently. “You don’t have to be ashamed. I want you to watch. I like it when you watch.”

Slowly, I lifted up until I was straddling Leroy, my hips elevated, my pussy directly over his cock, my soft lips brushing it lightly. I didn’t have to see to know that Leroy had reached under to hold his erection in place for me.

“I want you to watch this,” I whispered. “Watch me take a real man’s cock.”

I smiled gently.

“Taking a real man’s cock while you watch helps make up for all the worthless, useless pathetic sex you gave me. Fuck, I can’t even call it sex, can I. Just you going ‘uh! uh! uh!’ while I pretended to care. God, you were such a fucking waste of time. I can’t forgive it.”

Lowering myself onto it, I felt the exquisite sensation of Leroy’s cockhead parting my wet lips, spreading me open wide as it entered. I sank slowly onto him, slower than usual, because I wanted Sam to experience it. I sighed loudly, and moaned passionately, arching my back, throwing my shoulders back and thrusting out my breasts. I studied his face, watching as he stared at my body, focused on my pussy and Leroy’s cock as it slid all the way in up to its hilt. I gave another theatrical moan of satisfaction, only half faked.

I loved the feel of it inside me, filling me, and I loved Sam watching it, the way it seemed to consume him.

“Oh that feels so good,” I purred, my eyes half lidded with satisfaction. I started to rock back and forth. “So much better than you. Did you like it, Sam? Did you like seeing me take Leroy’s big cock? I can’t tell you how good it feels.”

“Uhh...” he began. But I didn’t care. I just continued. I reached out, and grabbed his wrists, putting his hands on my breasts, enjoying the feel of them. I loved the way Sam played with my breasts, gentle but firm, always exploring. It reminded me of a blind man reading braille, he didn’t just grab them, he read them.

“Mmm,” I said, pretending not even to notice Sam's hands, “Leroy's cock feels so good. So much bigger and thicker than yours. I can feel the difference so much. He fills me like you don’t. And he uses it so good, so much better than you ever did.”

I moaned riding up and down on Leroy’s cock, his hands firm on my hips, guiding and controlling, while I was working my nipples against Sam’s palms. The sensations were amazing. Why couldn’t we just do stuff like this all the time?

“Thank you,” I groaned, as Leroy sunk me down low and I took him deep, grinding against his body, “thank you so much for telling me to take off my panties that night. I really owe you.”

I let go one of Sam’s wrists to reach between my legs and push against my clitoris as I rocked on Leroy. Oh yeah, that was good. I moaned again.

“If I hadn’t, I’d have never known what I was missing, would have never had a real cock, never known what it was like to have a real man come in me.”

Stopping suddenly, turning cold, my face losing all expression. Eyes narrowing, I fixed Sam with an evil stare.

“I’d have just kept on telling myself that you and your little dick were almost adequate,” I sneered, putting as much venom into my voice as I could muster.

It worked, Sam froze and blinked, uncertain, but his cock leaped. Okay, I decided, he was still into it. Whatever fucked up thing was going on in his male brain, it was grooving on it, that erection wasn’t lying.

“Tell me something,” I said sweetly, mischievously, “when you were watching me ride Leroy’s cock, what were you watching? My pussy taking his cock? Or his big cock, fucking me?”

Sam looked shocked, I ignored it and just kept on. Cutting off any reply he might have made.

“Were you feeling inadequate seeing it? Couldn’t look away?” I smiled. “Watching him do what you’re not man enough to do?”

His hands were no longer moving on my breasts. He’d frozen, too disoriented, too fascinated to act. I reached up and grabbed one of his wrists. That galvanized him, he didn’t resist, I used his free hand to continue to massage my breast. Carefully, I guided his other hand down between my legs, pulling him so he bent forward, his head dipping towards me.

I kissed him, quickly but affectionately, mindful that I was breaking character for an instant. Sam blinked in momentary confusion. Ouch, he’d caught me. I jerked his hand down, pressing the heel of his palm against my clit, feeling his hand against my lips, knowing that his fingers were sliding along Leroy’s hard shaft.

“Feel that?” I giggled, fuck I was getting so wet. I lifted up high, resisting Leroy’s pressure on my hips, until barely the head was in me. “Do you feel it, Sam? Do you feel Leroy’s cock against your hand? Do you feel how much bigger it is than yours? Do you feel how thick he is.”

There was no resistance at all, I thought there might be this weird homophobic thing that guys get twitchy over. But maybe I was wrong. I ground his palm against my clit, I was loving it. In this position, my clitoris wasn’t receiving any stimulation from fucking, and the added pressure as I masturbated myself against Sam’s palm was thrilling. It felt like I was getting away with something.

I kissed him again, carelessly, and then threw my head back, arching my back, sighing as I humped up and down on Leroy’s cock, jamming Sam’s hand between my legs, making sure he was grinding my pussy while also stroking Leroy’s shaft.

“Do you feel that Sam? Do you feel his cock fucking into me, opening me with each thrust. Oh god, Sam, it’s so good. So much better than you, there’s no comparison. Feel him Sam, feel his big cock fucking me. I love it. He just owns me with that cock, it conquers me, it makes me want to be ruled.”

Suddenly, I could feel him pulling away slightly, not real resistance, but just a tension. Oh, I wanted to keep him masturbating me as Leroy thrust up. But if he was feeling his limit, I didn’t want to force him.

I let him withdraw, keeping a hand on his wrist, and reaching out with my other to loosely cradle his cock in my fingers. Fuck, he was still insanely hard! It almost didn’t feel like flesh at all, more like hardwood, with doeskin stretched ridiculously tight over it. I caught his eyes, they were glassy, staring, he seemed almost hypnotized.

Once he was standing in place where I wanted him. I let my hand slip away, as I leaned back. We were barely out of reach of each other. From his position he could see everything. He could see my gorgeous body, my full breasts and hard nipples, my lust filled face, and most importantly, my pussy swallowing Leroy’s cock as I ground and twisted on it.

“Watch, Sam,” I ordered, grinning. “Watch me fuck a real cock. Watch a real man fuck me. This is what you want, isn’t it.”

“A real life porno, all three dimension, in sensurround, so close you could touch it... if I let you. Isn’t this hotter than any porno? Isn’t it hotter because it’s me? Don’t you wish you were doing it, or do you prefer watching, like a little cuck?”

I giggled.

“Don’t bother,” I cut him off as his lips parted. “I know the answer. We all do, isn’t that right, Leroy.”

“Oh yeah,” Leroy said from behind me. “Sam’s all abut watching. He’s a natural cuck.”

“That’s right,” I said, staring at Sam, my body flexing up and down, as he watched Leroy’s shaft slide in and out of me, he was utterly fascinated, transported. “You’re a cuck, aren’t you?”

“Say it,” I snapped, with just enough edge to get his attention. He met my eyes. “Say you’re a cuck. You love watching.”

“Say it,” I repeated.

“I’m a cuck,” he whispered, caught on a crucible of wild arousal and primal horror. He looked lost, as if control was slipping away from him, falling under an erotic spell.

“Good boy,” I sneered. Fuck, I wanted to play with my clit, but that would spoil his view. Would it turn him more to see me masturbate? Should I try? His eyes were like saucers, watching my pussy grind into Leroy's cock. I decided not to risk it.

“Good boy, that’s right, you’re a little cuck. And you like to watch. Say you like to watch.”

“I like to watch,” he said softly, fascinated. He exhaled as he said it, it felt like surrender. He was drifting.

Fuck, I decided to go for it, and slid my hand down, to make circles around my clit with my fingertips. His stare seemed to intensify just a little. Good.

“That’s right,” I told him. “That’s because you’re a cuck. Cucks like to watch because they’re useless. You’re useless. It’s okay, I don’t mind you watching, baby-cuck. I like it when you watch. It gets me off, knowing you’re watching me get fucked by a big hard cock better than you could ever be. You go ahead and watch. I want you to.”

His hand crept towards his erection.

“No!” I snapped. “Hands behind your back. Grab your wrist. You watch! You don’t touch your worthless little dick.”

He straightened, placing his hands behind, shoulders arching with self conscious awareness. I hissed with frustration, the order seemed to lighten the spell he’d been slipping under.

I’d distracted him, fuck. But I didn’t want him jerking off on his own. I needed to guide him back under.

“I want you to watch,” I cooed. “Just watch, baby-cuck. I want to put on a show for you. Just you.”

I slowed the tempo of my grinding, exaggerating the movement of my hips. I leaned away back, letting y belly slide from side to side, my breasts sway. I leaned back far enough for Leroy to reach behind to cup my breasts, seizing my nipples between thumb and forefinger and pulling on them hard. On this position, Leroy’s shaft was fully exposed as it slid into me, the angle almost making up for the lack of pressure on my engorged distended clit, poking out of its stretched hood. My pussy was on complete view, stretched on the cock pushing up into it.

“That’s right, baby-cuck,” I whispered. “Watch me get fucked. Don’t look at anything, don’t think of anything, just watch and see how fucking hot the show is for you.”

He seemed to relax, or perhaps stiffen, his awareness leaching away as he fell back into that fascinated trance.

“You like that?” I asked. “You like watching me get fucked by a real man?”

“Yes,” he whispered. His voice was hollow, I don’t think he even realized he was speaking. It just seemed to come out of him, without awareness.

His cock lifted on its own, pointing directly at me. It was fascinating. I’d never really seen them move on their own, but now it was almost alive. Rigid, throbbing, pulsing, jerking upwards again and again.

“It’s because you’re a cuck, aren’t you?” I asked, keeping the moments slow and sinuous, watching his fascination.

“Yes,” he replied, with that same distracted hollowness.

“Because you’re pathetic.”

“Yes.”

“You like watching me get fucked by a real man.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re not a real man.”

“Yes.”

How far could I push it?

“Leroy’s bigger.”

“Yes.”

“He fucks me better than you ever did.”

“Yes.”

There was no resistance at all, it was like he was in a trance. It was fascinating.

“You want me to fuck real men, don’t you. So you can watch.”

“Yes.”

“You like me fucking real men. Men who can do for me what you can’t.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll let me fuck anyone I want.”

“Yes.”

Except you? Tell him I wouldn’t fuck him ever again, just everyone else.

I couldn’t do it. It was too mean. Try something else.

“Here’s the difference between you and Leroy, Sam. You let me, Leroy tells me. You do what you’re told, Leroy takes what he wants, and I love it when he does. You’re weak, he’s not. I guess that’s why he’s in charge, and you’re pathetic.”

“I do what he tells me. If he ordered me to fuck a stranger, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would do it,” I said.

Ooh, Sam's cock leaped hard at that. I pretended not to notice.

“You know that don’t you. If Leroy wanted me to fuck a stranger, I’d do it. It’s his pussy now, after all. It used to be yours, but you didn’t deserve it, so he took it from you, and you let him. I’d fuck anyone he tells me to. I’d fuck everyone he tells me to. And you know what...”

I paused, letting it drag on.

“They’d all be better than you. Every single one of them would be more of a man than you are. Bigger than you, harder than you, better at fucking me than you. That’s why I’d let them have me. I’d let every one of them cum up inside me.”

He was completely vacant, empty. Except for his cock, wildly rigid and almost jumping. A glistening bead of precum emerged and swelled as I watched. It was hitting him hard, and that made me wild.

“Because they deserve to cum in me,” I said. “They’re real men, with real cocks. Not worthless cucks like you, that watch and jerk off. I’ll never let you come in me again, you can just jerk off and spill it on the floor. But they’ll come inside me, and I’ll love it.”

I sneered.

“Would you like to watch that? You’d like to watch other men fuck me better than you could? I should have let Derek come in me. You’d have loved that. Then you could lick it out.”

I turned around, twisting on Leroy’s cock to look back at him.

“Did you know, when we woke up back at your place, after you finished fucking me and shooting a big load, when you went to shower, he couldn’t wait to lick your cum out of my pussy. He just went right down, he was so eager. He was a cuck all along.”

“Is that right,” Leroy replied, I could hear his satisfaction.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “And at the bar, both times you came in me, he was practically ready to lick me right there in the car. He really loves your cum, almost as much as I do.”

I laughed theatrically, turning to see Sam blushing wildly. But the wild intensity of reaction was fading. Where had I lost it?

“Maybe that’s what you’re good for,” I snarled. “Eating other men’s come out of my pussy after they’ve fucked me better than you ever could. Think about it, my stretched beaten loose pussy, oozing another man’s load, a complete stranger’s load. You could lick it as it oozes out of me. I’ll make you my cleaner after strange men fuck me. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d love it, you worthless cuck.”

There it was again. Fuck, I loved it so much! He was panting, red faced, eyes glassy, his cock so rigid and swollen with blood it was taut and feverish, bobbing steadily as beads of precum steadily emerged.

Fuck, he was so close it was insane. If I just touched him, I knew, that was all it would take, he’d explode. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to see how much further I could push him. I was hungry for it, his tension, his arousal was like a narcotic. I wanted more. He was strung tight as a guitar string, he was practically vibrating.

I wanted to make him snap.

The thought of licking other men’s cum from me after they’d used me had him on the edge of rapture. But still only on the edge. How could I push him over. Swallowing cum? Maybe drinking from the tap, sucking their cocks as I watched? Maybe getting them hard for me? Cleaning them after they fucked me? No wait, that was my fantasy.

What else?

Then I had it!

“Mmm,” I whispered thoughtfully. “All that come in me, in my fertile cunt. Just swirling around, seeping into my womb. I could get pregnant so easy. We’ve talked about kids.”

His whole body went rigid. I laughed maliciously.

“What was I thinking? The thought of having your children... that disgusts me.”

I laughed again.

“I mean, even if you could. Obviously, your little cuck sperm couldn’t do the trick. That’s ridiculous. I mean, how many times did you try and fail, right?”

Oh yeah, I thought, it was working.

“If I’m going to get pregnant, a real man will do it. Not you. I wouldn’t allow that. I’d want a real man, someone with a real cock, that knows what to do. I bet Leroy could get me pregnant. And all you’d do is sit there and watch him knock me up.”

I turned my head.

“Do you want to, Leroy. Did you want to knock me up and make me carry your baby. I’d allow you.”

“Bitch,” Leroy replied. “You wouldn’t allow fuck all. I’d tell you I was going to get you knocked, and you’d do it. I’d tell you to flush your pills and you’d do it right in front of me and Sam. I’d tell you to spread your legs, and I’d knock you up right in front of Sam.”

He laughed.

“Or maybe I’d just have him wait in the next room like a cuck, while I did it.”

“Oh god!” I moaned, shivers running through me. That was so disgusting. So hot, it made my heart race.

“Maybe you’d let someone else breed me,” I suggested, voice low and hungry. “Have a complete stranger fuck me. More than one. One after the other. Gangbangs. Have breeding parties, so many men coming in me that when I’m finally knocked up, I’ll never know who the father is. Hell, you could make it so I’ll have to wait until the baby is born to even know what race it is.”

“Oh fuck yes!” Leroy husked. “I’d do it.”

“Fuck!” I screamed, that was too hot and too evil, I could feel the thrill run through me, the beginnings of an orgasm. It was too distracting, I pushed it back. I didn’t want to come, I wanted to make Sam vibrate. My mind was on fire with thoughts and images. Sam looked terrified, closer and closer to the precipice, no longer in control at all.

“That’s right,” I said. “I’m going to let Leroy breed me like a cow. I’m not even going to let him, he’ll just do it, and I’ll want it. I want him to have strangers impregnate me, while you sit and do nothing. And if you’re a good cuck, maybe he’ll even let you watch.”

“Black,” I said. “I want to be knocked up by black men. Or Asians. Latins. Africans. Arabs. Indians. Sikhs... anyone but white. To take big black and brown cocks, stretching me out, coming deep, making me pregnant. I want you there to watch them do to my body what you never could, what you never deserved. I want you to know how much better they are than you in every possible way.”

A high pitch whine came from Sam, I don't think he even knew he was doing it. His cock was almost shining it was so stiff and swollen. A bead of precum slid down, as another began to form immediately after.

“Would you like that, Sam?” I sneered, voice dripping with contempt. “Would you like watch me get pregnant by some random black man? Or a brown man who doesn't even speak English? Or a filthy homeless man, toothless, drooling, caked with dirt, stinking of booze? Maybe a criminal thug all tattoed up fresh out of prison? I could wait outside prison, with my legs spread, waiting for some fucking rapist or gangster, hard with prison muscles? Do you think he'd fuck me right there, outside the prison? Maybe he'd share me with his gangster friends? As long as none of them were white, I'd do whatever he wanted? Would you like to see that, me fucked and knocked up by strangers. Watch my belly swell up, my breasts get heavy, every day, month after month, watching my body change and knowing someone else did it, think about watching me get fucked by stranger after stranger..."

Fuck, I was so close myself. My words had run away with me. I was sweating, heaving. But Sam's arousal was rolling off him in waves, he was suspended, crucified on his own lust, as I nailed him to it.

"..... while you sit and do nothing, because you’re useless," I finished.

My eyes flashed.

“Maybe Leroy could take me to a motel next to a prison and have criminals, rapists and murderers, gangsters, tattoos and muscles, fuck me one after the other. The minute they’re released, they can just line up on me so their first taste of freedom will be shooting load after load into my tight white pussy.”

An evil thought hit.

“Criminals, thugs, as long as they’re brown or black. Oh yes, gangsters with the guns and bling, owning me, keeping me in their crack house and passing me around.” I licked my lips. “I’d do anything Leroy wanted. I’d fuck homeless men, toothless and filthy, stinking of booze, dressed in rags. They'd line up, one after the other. I’d let them fuck me bare bent over behind dumpsters, dumping their cum in my fertile pussy, so they could knock me up with brown babies.”

I smiled.

“Maybe Leroy would let you watch?” I whispered, looking directly into his eyes. “All those filthy, depraved, dirty, degenerate men, criminals and drug addicts and homeless alcoholics, using me like the cheapest whore, making me come each time, getting me pregnant, doing what you never could. Every single one of them so much better than you!”

“I want that, Sam,” I hissed. “I want that so much, to get knocked up by a filthy awful men. So many men I'd never know who the father was. So many filthy strangers we wouldn't even know the baby's race until it was born. You know why? Do you want to know why?”

A high pitched whining sound was coming out of Sam, like the hiss of steam from a kettle. His face was so red it was dark, his pupils so dilated they were black, his body was rigid, I could almost see electricity crawling on his skin.

“For you, Sam,” I told him. “I want to have a black or brown, an African or Asian baby for you, I don’t care who does it as long as it’s not white, so that everyone, absolutely everyone, the nurse in the delivery room, strangers in a grocery store, teachers, everyone can take one look and know that you’re not the father.”

“I want to have a filthy stranger's brown baby so everyone will know what a pathetic, worthless cuck you are. That I let filthy men knock me up because you weren’t good enough. I want our friends to know, my parents, your parents.”

He was almost there! The excitement was overwhelming. Just a little more...

“And you know what, not one of them is going to be surprised, because they all knew, deep down, that you were just a worthless, useless cuck nobody, They all saw you for who you were, and now they’ll have proof.”

“I’ll get pregnant over and over. And you’ll raise them, because you won't have the guts to leave. Everyone will know I have brown babies, black babies, Asian babies, because you’re useless. That you’re not a real man. That I fuck African and Asian men right in front of you, because you don’t have the guts, you’re not a man. That I’ll fuck anyone but you. Even your parents, they knew all along. Your mother and father that you were just a fucking disappointment. You failed them, like you fail everything.”

“Everyone you love knows you’re a loser. Everyone in your life knows what a worthless failure you are. And every time I get pregnant, everyone will know it’s not yours because they know what a fucking loser you are. That everyone is better than you. That you’ll never have one. That any man will fuck me better.”

His body was rigid. It was happening, I thought wildly, it was going to happen. The energy was pouring off him. I couldn’t stop, the words were tumbling out. I was out of control, running wild, literally surging with unchecked energy.

“I want every man we meet to look at my black baby, and know what a fucking cuck loser you are. It’s what you want, isn’t it? You want any man to look at you, to look at me and know they can fuck me? That I‘ll fuck anyone but you. For strangers to know that they can take me, that they can do whatever they wants, that they can have me and you won’t do a fucking thing except wa—”

My words were cut off by Sam’s sudden unearthly howl. It wasn’t a human sound, it seemed to almost tear physically out of his body. He went up on the balls of his feet, back arching, every muscle straining and visible lit corded bands, his body shook wildly in a way I’d never seen before, a combination of thrusting, flailing and tremors, almost as if he was physically exploding. His cock erupted, as it leaped and lifted frantically between his legs like a salmon forcing its way up a waterfall, just one furious explosion after another.

Ropes of semen flailed into the air, spattering my breasts like forceful raindrops, it was astonishing. I’d never seen, never felt, him come so hard, ejaculate with such force. Vividly, I remembered the restaurant and him jerking off in the bathroom. He’d spattered the door of his stall then. Or how he’d literally erupted on the rooftop. But his was beyond those. I was amazed at how powerfully it affected him, the way it seemed to tear him asunder.

He couldn’t seem to stop, he howled a second time, still ejaculating uncontrollably, seed spewing everywhere, his cock thrusting and waving like a flag in a hurricane. Inside me, I could feel Leroy’s cock swelling up, filling me, semen bursting almost in tandem, triggered by the psychic detonation of Sam’s orgasm.

I was almost coming myself, right on the edge, luminous and numinous. I felt weightless, joyful, even heavenly. I felt this transcendent emotional ecstasy that went beyond sex, like I was a balloon filled with pure ecstasy, beyond ecstasy, this white hot blinding sensation.

I had had to drag him through hell, but it was worth it, I had just given Sam the most powerful, most awesome orgasm of his life, and without even touching him. I saw him transformed, transfixed, wrapped in the grip of such overpowering mind numbing pleasure that it was like God himself had reached down and wrapped Sam in his heavenly fist and was shaking him. In that moment, I had never seen him so pure, so primal, so elemental. I had never loved him more and more completely.

My near orgasm was forgotten. Leroy’s cock in me was forgotten, all that mattered, all that I could fit in the world was the absolute rapture before me, my gift to the man I loved more than life itself.

Sam howled again, this time, trailing off into a weaker note and then he seemed to deflate, all the energy visibly leaking out of him. Sam seemed to literally dissolve before my eyes, his eyes started to roll up into his head, his muscles no longer supported him. He went completely loose, swaying.

Jesus, was he going to pass out? I’d heard of women passing out from intense orgasms, but never men. But if a man could pass out from a mind blowing orgasm, this was it. He leaned forward, not out of any volition, but simply as a consequence of his body giving way. Concerned, I reached out my hands, lifting up partially off of Leroy’s cock, to steady him.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered urgently. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Sam went heavily down on one knee, his expression blank. His eyes weren’t rolled up, but they weren’t focusing at all. Suddenly, I worried about a stroke, that wasn’t possible was it? You couldn’t kill someone with an orgasm? Or stroke them out? I pulled him towards me, wrapping my arms around him. At the same time, Leroy pulled me back down hard onto his cock, but I barely noticed the ripple of sensation.

Sam’s skin was cold and clammy so slick with sweat it felt unnatural, and I could feel his heart pounding through his chest. His breathing was ragged and uneven, as if he’d forgotten how, and was desperately flailing. He had some awareness, some control, but no ability to speak, his muscles were weirdly slack, it was as if, absent some specific command from his body, they’d all given up. I held him close, pressing my skin against his cold flesh, whispering how much I loved him into his ear.

"There there, Sam sweety," I whispered. "You're all right. It's going to be all right. I love you."

He didn't seem to hear me.

I lifted up entirely off of Leroy’s cock, standing to hold Sam tight in my arms. In turn, Leroy pushed off the chair, standing beside me. He looked annoyed, when I glanced up at him.

“He all right?” Leroy asked, sort of annoyed. “I think you broke him there.”

Amber Ascendant - part two of two

“How many men did you flash?”

Amber hesit

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Chapter 30, Crushed Like a Little Cuck Bug

SECOND CUCKOLDING, PART TWO OF FIVE

KAYLE

The Big One Oh Ohhhhhhh!!!!

Wowsers, boys and girls and pervs of all ages, we've passed one hundred paid followers.

Thank you all for hanging out. I know we'll dip below, and hopefully rise above.

It's been fun. I'll do my best to keep writing fun, wicked wild stuff.

Amber Ascendant, part one of two

Amber walked nervously, very aware of passing strangers on the street, and their glances. Every look seemed to bring a blush.

She had every reason to blush. David had given her very explicit instructions for her wardrobe. Today, he had her wear white. A simple white dress with high neck and long sleeves, buttoned down the front, normal enough at first glance.

David had known exactly the dress he wanted her to wear, had sent her a picture, and told her exactly where to buy it, and given her immediate orders to do so.

She’d been forced to leave Steve at dinner and race to the store to purchase it before it closed.

But that wasn’t the end.

He’d required the dress be hemmed. She’d stood on a box in the seamstress dressing room, blushing madly as the seamstress had taken picture after picture on her phone, David continually ordering the hem higher and higher, until in final form, it was barely decent, more a mini-dress than a dress.

She suspected that David had ordered a few other modifications when he’d spoken to the tailor. It seemed to fit differently, around the bust, around the hips.

The dress did not quite reach the tops of her stockings, although thankfully, is at least covered her ass. David had ordered excruciatingly tall white high heels that she teetered in, and white stockings.

A white hair band, dangling earrings with large white ceramic pendants, and sunglasses with plastic white rims, completed the look, supplemented by minimalist make up, and the brightest, wettest looking, red lipstick that David could find. Even her small purse was blinding white.

It was actually impressive, the meticulous care he put into crafting her look. It had taken her time to find all the accessories. Truthfully, it excited her, it made her feel controlled, manipulated. His exacting attention was thrilling, it made her feel like a doll he was dressing up.

Sex is always better when you have to work for it.

It made her feel a little submissive, enjoying and accepting his assiduous control, down to the color of her painted white fingernails and toenails.

It was exciting, but also a little intimidating, a little embarrassing to be dressed so precisely in such a provocative manner.

She was certain, as she walked, that her ass was exposed. She could feel the breeze, and even more, could almost feel the gazes of men and women.

But the worst part of it, was the front of the dress. It buttoned up the front from top to bottom. Except after she’d picked it up from the seamstress, when she was putting it on, she discovered a subtle modification that David had ordered.

The buttons started at the level of her navel. Below that, there was nothing to hold the dress in place.

Every step she took, left the opening of the dress to flap with the motion of her thighs.

The one thing David hadn’t allowed was underwear.

Every step she took potentially flashed her smooth-shaven pussy, exposed her pubic mound and the secrets below, unless she stepped excruciatingly carefully, with measured precise swaying steps, made all the more difficult by the excruciatingly high heels she was unused to.

Each step was an Odyssey, the merest unevenness in a curb stone, the slightest adjustment in pace, the need to step past a fellow pedestrian, increased her risk of exposure. And sometimes, as a passing pedestrian’s eyes glanced down and lit up, she knew they’d seen exactly what she struggled futilely to hide and David intend to display.

The worst part was that he’d ordered her to park over a block away from the bar she was supposed to meet him at.

Needless to say, when she finally arrived, she was dripping.

She was, in fact, so wet that with each step, her lips parted wantonly beneath her, shining with lubrication. It worked its way from her vagina, viscous droplets clinging to her labia, transferring themselves until her inner thighs were slick.

The moisture was creeping down to threatening to stain and ruin the tops of her virginal white stay ups.

&&&

The bar was skeezy and dimly lit. Thirty years ago, it had been refurbished and upscale, but now it just looked tired and tarnished. The brass fixtures were worn, the floor scuffed, neon beer signs still shone bravely through layers of dust. Random artifacts were fixed to the wall, a bicycle, blown up album covers, vinyl LPs and pictures, and everywhere, tacky, peeling old beer posters. There was a slight sour odor, the sort that you find in old bars, legacy of a ten thousand spilled drinks and broken glasses, of alcohol-soaked sweat and breath and lives gone to waste.

Showing up with friends, inured by social support, you’d never notice the seedy despair of the place.

But Amber was alone walking through the door. There were only a handful of men, mostly minding their own business, or playing a desultory game of pool. They all glanced automatically indifferently, at the doorway as Amber came in.

As she walked in, she automatically put a hand down to keep her dress from opening to wide, holding one side to at least conceal her pussy. The gesture only drew attention to the other side of her skirt, and the delightful smooth pink flesh beginning above the band of white stocking, continuing uninterrupted by panty or thong up to where the fabric joined.

Every male gaze sharpened, casual glances focused and hardened, staring.

It was exactly the effect that David wanted, watching from his place at the bar. Amber was pure slutty sex, an exquisite vision in white, teetering on stiletto heels, vagina bare and so barely concealed, that the slightest gesture would expose her smooth vulva.

The bar hosted strippers four times a week. The inhabitants of the bar had watched hundreds of women up on the stage, going through the motions, spreading their legs, parting their lips, and often they could hardly be bothered to look.

But every single man there was riveted, their cocks thickening automatically, licking their lips, swallowing automatically, staring with fixed intensity as if hoping that sheer will might part the hem of her dress in the right way, so that they could witness her shaved glory.

For a long moment, Amber stood there, aware of their stares and the reason for them, embarrassed but excited. She could feel herself blushing brightly, a flush that crept down her neck over her chest, her breasts seeming to tighten or swell, her nipples going rigid. Did her thighs tremble ever so slightly, here vagina clench just a little, without her notice?

David stepped forward. Amber spotted him and focused, allowing her to escape the hard attention. Smiling brilliantly, she awkwardly, she walked towards David, perhaps too hastily, and embraced him, pressing her body against his, practically grinding against him.

Exactly as he’d texted: “When you see me, I want you to give me the biggest, sexiest smile with that glossy red ‘fuck me’ lipstick so that everyone can see, and then walk over and wrap yourself around me like you’re in heat.’

She kissed him, her head moving towards him, both aggressive and submissive, her lips parting as they met his, her tongue already extending before contact. As their lips met, she seemed to almost swoon, going limp in his arms.

As he’d texted: “Kiss me. I’m going to be cool. So it’s you, you kiss me like you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. Kiss me like you need me to fuck you right there.”

It wasn’t quite right, David decided. She was too tall; the platforms and stiletto heels made her taller than he was. He didn’t like that. His mistake, David decided, and not something he would hold against her.

“Shoes off,” he ordered.

Amber nodded obediently, bracing herself against him, stepping back slightly, lifting her calf to remove one, then the other. David nodded with approval, and pulled her gently towards him.

Amber rubbed against him, wriggling with pleasure, the slit in front of her dress forgotten, as he turned her so that her back was to the other bar patrons, and grabbed her ass, running his hands over her perfect mounds, pulling her dress up briefly to expose the bottom of her ass.

It was immediately clear to anyone who was watching, and they were all watching, that Amber was either wearing the tiniest of thongs, or was completely commando.

“Did I follow the script the way you wanted?” she whispered quietly in his ear. She felt slightly weak, slightly trembling, obeying his detailed instructions to the letter had been equal parts humiliating and exhilarating. She found herself deeply aroused and but a little drained. She hadn’t expected the order to remove her shoes, it had been a wild card, but a deliciously submissive gesture. She wondered if it had been some sort of test? Had she passed?

“Good girl,” he whispered back, in a way that almost made her feel like a dog being patted on the head. But deep down, some part of her was thrilled, both with her obedience and the attention and effort she’d given, and with her Master’s approval. Amber’s submissive side spread warmth through her body, the contentment of willing surrender and compliance.

“You just love to follow orders, don’t you? It turns you on.”

The words sent a small flurry of butterflies alight in her stomach, a pulse in her vagina so strong, her hips actually moved as she felt wetness slide between her lips. She gasped involuntarily, and he kissed her hard, forcing her jaws apart with the pressure of his kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue. Inside, she could feel her will melting away.

The script was over. Amber wasn’t sure what came next. Obviously, there was a script, or a plan, in his mind. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

David was absolutely controlling. Amber realized that they were playing out some little fantasy of his. She also realized that she responded to his control, that it brought out this submissive urge in her, and that whatever his fantasy was, she would comply. If some part of her resisted, he would simply overwhelm it, break it, and in the end, she would willingly obey.

The possibilities of what he might want excited and terrified her.

Her knees were like water. She decided to take a chance on improvising.

“Buy a good girl a drink?” she asked breathlessly, after the kiss.

“Sure thing,” David almost laughed, he was so pleased with himself. “Might as well get you lubricated.”

“Oh,” she whispered, careful to smile as she stroked his ego, “you’ve already achieved that.”

David grinned and led her to one of the many empty tables, pulling out a chair for her to sit down. She nodded and smiled, as if appreciating the gentlemanly treatment.

But she knew David had no such gentlemanly instinct. In choosing the table, pulling out the chair she was supposed to sit in, he was positioning her to be facing the bar and the patrons at the pool table.

“Sunglasses off,” he said.

She nodded, taking them off, and placing them in her purse.

“Ease forward a bit,” David ordered, she scooched her hips, leaning backwards in her seat. “Good girl.”

“Knees apart.”

Amber parted her thighs, opening until David nodded her knees were just over shoulder width.

“Very good,” he said intently. He leaned forward, reaching out to take the hem of each side of her dress, turning them back, and sliding them over her thighs, exposing her white stockinged legs. Above the stockings, the dress was to the navel, her pubic mound and vaginal lips framed and on wanton display.

Boldly, David ran a finger between her legs, starting at the bottom of her bare lips, sliding wetly between, until he stroked her clitoris. Amber gasped and shuddered.

David put his fingertip, shining and slick with her wetness to his lips and licked it. He smiled.

Amber blushed deeply from head to toe, shivering just slightly. She was acutely conscious of being put on display, spread and open in the middle of a seedy bar. That there was no one close didn’t matter. Her vagina was exposed to the world, even more profoundly than her embarrassing walk. It was exhilarating and terrifying, and she didn’t even have her sunglasses to protect her. Her stocking clad toes clenched; the bottoms already dirty from walking across the bar floor.

Mouth gone dry, Amber felt her heart pounding against her ribs, she could feel the blood coursing through her veins, almost roaring in her ears. Her stomach felt light, fluttery. Adrenalin and arousal made her feel weightless, almost buoyant.

“What now?” she asked.

David gave her an evil, knowing smile that made her heart skip and her pussy clench.

“I don’t know,” he said casually. She didn’t believe that for a second. He did know, he was just playing with her, and she loved it.

“I guess,” David told her, “we’ll have a drink.”

He grinned.

“Then we’ll see.”

Involuntarily, Amber blushed all over again.

After a few minutes, the waitress wandered over to them.

“Hey folks,” the girl said, she was young, her bare arms laced with tattoos. She was chewing gum. “My name’s Cherry. What can I get–”

Cherry’s gaze had shifted casually from David, to Amber, then down. She froze, even her jaw stilled, the chewing gum forgotten. Cherry was staring, shocked, directly between Amber’s exposed thighs, at her bare smooth pubic mound and the delicate folds parting wetly below. Amber felt an electric thrill go through her, her thighs seemed to quiver, her nipples so rigid they were painful. For a moment, Amber couldn’t breathe.

Cherry recovered. “I’m sorry,” she said smoothly, “just got a bit distracted. What will you be having.”

“I’ll have a beer,” David said, forcing Cherry to reluctantly give him her attention. “And Amber...”

Cherry’s gaze swiveled to Amber’s face, then down, then up. Amber blushed.

“Uh...”

“I think Amber will have a glass of wine, red if you have it.”

Cherry nodded, blushed a little, shifting from foot to foot.

“Coming right up,” she said, and retreated back to the bar.

“So,” David said, “do you think she noticed?”

There was no doubt, Amber remembered Cherry’s glance and the way it had turned into a naked stare at her pussy. Amber had never felt so exposed.

“Oh yes,” Amber said. “I’m pretty sure.”

David looked innocent.

“Are you sure?”

He shrugged and glanced over to the bar, where Cherry was engaged in animated conversation with the Bartender. They both leaned across the bar, so their faces were only inches from each other as they whispered. Amber noted Cherry’s jeans were patched and she wore high top runners.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” David teased.

Amber blushed and looked away.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she said. Involuntarily, she shifted in her chair, her knees moved together.

David cleared his throat, his smile losing wattage. Amber’s knees moved apart. The smile returned and he nodded approval. Amber shivered, feeling a slow pulse between her legs, pushing slick wetness inside her. She felt drenched and clenched and dripping.

“Wait for it,” David said.

The bartender had left his post and was making his way over. Amber quivered in trepidation, would they be told to cover up, would they be kicked out, would he say something. Amber’s heart sped up; she could feel her blush come in pulses.

The urge to close her knees, to cover herself was overwhelming, stopped only by David’s warning glance.

The bartender loomed over them smiling. He was a tall rangy man with curly hair and a handlebar mustache.

“Hey there,” he said, “welcome to our bar. I’m Keith.”

“Hey Keith,” her companion said. “David. Is there a problem?”

Keith glanced at Amber, his gaze starting at her stockinged knees and moving up between them. Amber wanted to hide under the table, but dared not move, not even to narrow the gap between her thighs.

Keith smiled, turning back to David.

“Not at all,” he said. “Cherry’s just busy, so her order wasn’t clear. I just thought it would be easier to come over and nail it down. You were just having beer on tap?”

“That’s right,” David said cheerfully.

Keith glanced over at Amber’s bare mound between her thighs.

“Yeah, and the lady, it was a red wine, right? I we have some good reds on stock, I just wanted to see if you had a preference. Miss?”

Amber stared up, speechless.

“Amber’s a little shy,” David said.

Keith’s glance flickered towards David, and then back to Amber. He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t looking, just stared and smiled.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed absently, “I can see that.”

Amber’s blush pulsed so intensely and brightly she felt like she was lighting up the room, she felt luminous. Her pussy pulsed hard, deep inside, hard enough that she almost felt her whole body shake. She swallowed, trying to catch a breath that seemed to elude her.

“What do you recommend?”

Keith didn’t even bother to look at David, his gaze simply explored Amber, moving from her face, across her dress, down to her exposed sex, along stockinged thighs and back, always returning to her pussy and her wet lips.

Amber’s clitoris was so hard she imagined it protruding visibly, that Keith was staring right at it. She imagined him reaching to touch it, wanting and not wanting it, but knowing that if he did, she would let him.

“Rosette,” Keith said. “We have a really nice rosette. Very light, very sweet.”

For a second, Keith’s gaze met Amber’s, their eyes locked. He licked his lips, and she looked away.

“Very, very sweet,” Keith said. “Very popular.”

“That’s nice,” David said. “Amber likes sweet. Is it dry?”

“Dry?” Keith asked. He almost shook himself. “Oh, the rosette? No, it’s not dry at all. It’s wet, very wet.”

He licked his lips again.

“Sweet and wet,” Keith said.

“That’s just what Amber loves,” David said, “sweet and wet.”

“I bet she is,” Keith said looking down at her.

Amber, trying not to catch his gaze again, looked down, towards Keith’s jeans, the outline of his erection visible against the denim. Amber blushed even harder. Her clit throbbed.

He’s going to touch me, she thought. He’s going to do it. He’s not even pretending. He’s going to reach between my thighs, his fingertip will touch my clit, like that image on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel.

I want him to, she thought. She closed her eyes, waiting.

“Rosette it is,” David said. “A snifter and a glass.”

“Twelve ounce?”

“Sure.”

Amber opened her eyes, looking right into Keith’s.

“Nice,” he told her.

Her voice cracked.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly.

“Well,” Keith said. “Coming right up.”

He grinned at Amber and left.

David turned to Amber, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Well,” he said, “how was that.”

Amber was almost dizzy. Carefully, keeping her knees shoulder length apart, she stretched and twisted, crossing her ankles beneath. She smiled, swallowed, tried to work some saliva into her mouth.

“I’m sitting in a puddle right now,” Amber confessed.

“Good.”

“Wow, that was... That was...” Amber found herself searching for words to describe the experience, even to frame it. She could find none.

“That,” David said, “was the beginning.”

Amber squeaked with nervousness and delight.

They’d gone far past the detailed script that David had given her, she was in free fall, she couldn’t even think of possibilities. But David, he had a script, he was meticulous in his fantasies. Anything could happen, but David was in complete control, the symphony conductor, the ringmaster, the magician ready to astonish and amaze, to leave her breathless. She was his, her body the orchestra he made music of, the rabbit in his hat, both artifact and audience.

“Wait for it,” David smiled.

“Hey Steve!”

Amber gave a little jump. Steve was her husband’s name.

David looked up calmly. One of the bar creeps had ventured from his table, approaching. He wore denim and plaid, needed both a shave and a haircut, and perhaps a bath.

“Excuse me?” David said, looking up at the man, who was looking down between Amber’s parted thighs.

“Oh shit,” the bar creep said, “I thought you were my buddy, Steve. You look just like him from a distance.”

“Oh,” David said. “Okay.”

The man’s eyes lingered over Amber.

“My name’s Tom,” he offered his hand. David took it.

“David.” Nodding. “This is Amber.”

Tom, glad of an excuse, turned directly to Amber, thrusting out his hand.

“Name’s Tom,” he said unnecessarily, to draw things out. “Pleased to meet you... Amber?”

She smiled graciously, well aware of his gaze, and placed her hand gingerly in his.

“Yes,” she said, “Amber.”

As his fingers lingered on her hand, Tom noticed her wedding ring.

“Married?” he said. “Is this your husband?”

Amber smiled up at him again, conscious of David’s eyes on her, a trace of jealously beginning to flicker in them.

“No,” she responded flatly.

“Oh,” Tom said surprised. “I hope your husband isn’t the jealous type,” he joked.

Her smile didn’t change.

“I don’t care if he is or not,” Amber said. From the corner of her eye, David’s developing glower stopped and shifted to interest.

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

“David’s cock so much bigger and better,” she said, “so I don’t care what my husband thinks. And he knows it.”

David couldn’t help an instinctive grin. He preened unconsciously, as feeling himself hardening. She’d pleased him. It gave her a deep shiver of pleasure, the pleasure of an eager dog knowing it’s made its master happy.

“Huh,” Tom said nonplused, glancing at David, despite the urge to stare at her pussy. He was thrown and tried to recover. “Well, if you like them big-”

Amber’s eyes shifted to David. “David’s the biggest I’ve ever had, and he knows what to do with it. When I think of it, I get wet. And when he brings it out...”

She looked up at Tom for a moment, smiling.

“He makes me do anything he wants, and I love it.”

“Okay,” Tom said awkwardly, excruciatingly aware that he now had an unbearable erection, that it had twisted up awkwardly in his boxers, he desperately needed to adjust it, but not in front of the couple. He blinked, speechless, both intimidated, and caught between the urge to go back to his buddies, or go quickly to the men’s room and rub one out.

Amber leaned back, looking from Tom to David, her legs parted wider, exposing her, and then closed. A swivel of only a few inches, but it made Tom’s pulse race.

“Well, that’s something,” he said. “Well... Well, I got to get back. Nice meeting you.”

Tom stumbled away; his pants visibly tented.

Amber almost giggled and relaxed in her chair, enjoying David’s grin. He was definitely pleased. It was all about feeding his ego, serving his narcissism and self-importance, making him bigger, particularly in front of others. She’d have to remember that.

“Was I a good girl?” she asked in a teasing voice, but beneath that, seeking his approval. She barely aware of the contradiction, at the same time that she deliberately played to his ego, she felt a need for his approval.

“You were a very bad girl,” he said, “but in the best way. I loved that.”

She squirmed, only half deliberately, in her chair and deliberated on her next words.

“You inspire me,” she said, turning the compliment back to him, noting the way he preened unconsciously. “You make me want to please you.”

He smiled, nodding.

“Spread your legs,” he told her. There was just an edge of flatness. She was straying out of his fantasy.

Amber’s knees had come together as she’d relaxed with him. Her smile froze, she turned it up just a little, and slouched an inch or two forward and slowly parted her knees till they were the width of her shoulders until she was on display again.

“A little more,” he ordered, but the flatness was gone, her obedience mollified him. The extra command was just to reassure himself.

Her knees opened another couple of inches, she slouched forward another inch. She could feel her lips beginning to part.

“Good,” he said.

Some sarcastic part of her wanted to offer to throw a knee over the arm of her chair and really spread, but she quickly suppressed the urge and swallowed it back down, giving no sign it had ever passed through her mind.

“Good girl,” he told her. She smiled at him. Once again, she felt the warm flush, the pleasure of obedience and the satisfaction of his approval.

“You like obeying,” he said, enjoying his power over her. “It turns you on.”

Turn it back at him, she thought.

“I like obeying you,” she purred. “Like? I love it. You’re so... creative.”

She watched him puff up slightly. So easy, she thought. He was a nasty little boy, but she loved his creativity.

After all, she was here with him, in the bar, spreading her legs on command. Again, she wondered what he planned next and almost shivered with anticipation.

“How you folks doing?” a voice came from behind her. She didn’t turn to look.

A burly man came around. He was heavy set, with slab-like forearms and an old-fashioned tattoo on one. He had the sort of bulk associated with a lifetime of heavy manual labor, now slowly running to seed. His face was just slightly florid, the lower half stubbled, he had thick eyebrows and a pug nose broken too many times, his hair was rapidly thinning, but he kept trying to comb it over.

“I’m Phil,” he told them, delivering David’s beer and her wine glass and a snifter of rosette from a platter with smooth grace. Amber admired his coordination, incongruous in such a heavy man. When he’d placed her glass on the table, he’d glanced directly at her bare pussy without even seeming to. “I run the place. Sorry it took so long, we’re a bit short staffed.”

Amber could see the bartender, lounging behind his bar, pretending not to watch him, and the waitress drifting among the very few patrons in the mostly empty bar.

“Thank you,” David said. “We weren’t waiting long.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Phil stood casually, showing no impulse to move on.

“I’m David, by the way.” David put his hand out to shake, and Phil gripped it. David nodded, “this is Amber.”

Phil nodded to acknowledge her vagina.

“Welcome to my bar. Just dropped in for a drink?”

Phil glanced from David to her, then down between her legs, and back to David, without missing a beat or a changing expression. He was smooth. She was sure he’d noticed her wedding ring. He didn’t seem like a man who missed much.

Amber wondered what it would feel like to be under him, wrapping her arms and legs around his thick, muscular, naked body as he pumped inside of her. Her pussy clenched.

“Yeah,” David said, “we’re just passing through. You know how it is.”

Phil nodded.

“I hear you,” he said. Again, his glance around, friendly acknowledging, and somehow looking directly at her pussy without being obvious. Amber felt an impulse to show off, to spread wider, to try and hook just a little more attention, but restrained the urge.

“It’s a nice bar,” David said, looking around, not acknowledging Amber at all. She’d guessed right in not acting on her impulse. This was David’s show. No distracting, her job was to sit still and let him take the lead.

“I see you’ve got a stage.”

Amber’s heart gave a tiny hiccup. Where was David going?

“Live music?” David asked.

Phil nodded. “Fridays, Saturdays usually. Local bands, but some pretty good ones. Do a lot of 80s and 90s stuff.”

“The old classics,” David said. “I love that stuff.”

“You and your girlfriend should come back for it then,” Phil said. “We got this girl, ringer for Pat Benatar.”

Amber had no idea who that was, but David nodded wisely.

“I love Benatar.”

“She had a voice,” Phil agreed pleasantly, his gaze moving easily back and forth between them.

He must have looked at Amber’s bare pussy a half dozen times now, he could probably draw her vagina from memory, but he’d given no sign he’d even noticed. Smooth.

“You know,” David said with forced casualness, he wasn’t nearly as smooth as Phil, “I hear bars like this have a green room at the back. Just for private occasions, things like.”

“Oh yeah,” Phil said, nodding at Amber’s vagina, without appearing to stare. “We got one of those. It’s really nice. Sometimes we rent it out.”

“Really!” David said. “That’s so cool.”

“How much?”

Phil shrugged.

“A hundred for a few hours, the afternoon.”

“Cash?”

“Exclusively.”

“I’d love to see it,” David said. “Just a peek.”

“I’d be happy to show it to you,” Phil said cheerfully.

“Well let’s go,” David said, and stood up. Phil turned to Amber, offering his hand, once again taking her in without ever seeming to stare. She took his hand, feeling the texture and thickness of his meaty fingers, letting him help her up.

They followed him to the back, where he opened a door next to wall mirror mounted at waste height, reached in and turned on the lights. The room inside was surprisingly clean with bulky leather couches, a refrigerator, pinball machine and a pool table. On wall at the far end of the room was a large mirror.

“Wow,” David said, “this looks great. I have to ask would you mind if we... borrowed it. Just for a....”

“Cash,” Phil said.

“Of course,’ David said. He opened his wallet and fished out the money, counting it out. He added an extra twenty. “For privacy.”

“Sure think,” Phil said. He looked at Amber. “She a squirter?”

He didn’t bother speaking to her. In the few moments of his interaction with them, he’d sorted out their relationship, Amber thought. David did and she obeyed. There was no point in talking to her. David made the decisions.

Their interaction was such a subtle thing, but again her submissive soul quivered and bloomed, expanding within her. It was deliciously erotic. She contemplated it, watching herself in the wall mirror, watching the men ignoring her.

“Mmm sometimes,” David equivocated.

Phil shrugged. “I don’t need the pool table stained, or to have to replace the felt again this year. So here’s the deal, if you want to do it there, no skin off my teeth, but use the blanket, okay. Don’t piss me off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David said false innocence.

Phil nodded and gave Amber a long look, there was nothing smooth or subtle about it this time, it was the look of a man staring at a woman, undressing her mentally, knowing exactly what she would look like nude, with an unvarnished appreciation and a casual unhurried lost. Amber felt herself blushing head to toe, she had to resist an urge to coyly place her hands across her breasts and over her crotch.

“I’m just talking,” Phil replied. “I’ll go get your drinks.”

“A couple of extra, for each of us,” David said. “I think we’d like some privacy.”

“I’ll bring a pitcher and a wine bottle,” Phil said. “It’ll just take a minute.”

He stepped out.

David and Amber were alone. She dropped her purse and heels and strolled sexily toward David, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to him. David smiled as he watched her, but except for his erection, he did not return the kiss or otherwise yield.

Amber squeezed his cock.

“So this was your idea all along,” she said.

He smiled, shrugging.

“For a moment there,” he said, “I thought you might be planning to have me get up on that stage and dance on the pole.”

David’s smile was inscrutable.

“There’s an idea,” he lied, as if he’d never thought about it.

He pretended to think it over.

“Not in a place like this though, not in a grubby dive bar that’s mostly empty.”

“If I was going to make you do that,” and something about the way he said it made her feel like he’d already decide, somewhere along the line, when he felt she was ready, when his domination and her instinctive submission had finally melted the last vestiges of resistance, “I’d want to make sure you did it in front of a crowd.”

She felt a wave of butterflies rising up in her, a tightening of her pussy, a blush of arousal and anticipation as she imagined the wonderful terrible scene. The lights, the crowd, all those men, and being up on stage, naked but alone, simultaneously intimate and yet distant.

David separated from here, not roughly, but coolly. Amber knew she’d overstepped his fantasy. She watched him step back to the big leather couch, sitting in the middle of it, his arms outstretched, his leg parted.

He held up a finger and twirled it.

“Turn around, now that we’re alone, I want a good look at you.”

Amber nodded obediently. She raised her arms up into the air over her head, crossing them at the wrist, bowing her head slightly. David shifted position slightly, he tried to hide it, but his eyes lit up. Amber rolled and swiveled her hip, twisting her body in a slight arc, she did this again and again, slowly turning a complete circle until she was facing him again.

David stared, as if hypnotized. She could hear him swallowing, hear his soft breath. She could practically hear his cock straining against his pants.

“Very nice,” he said finally, struggling to sound calm and controlled. “I notice you kept time to the bar music.”

Amber smiled seductively; she didn’t think he’d even heard the music.

“Show me,” he ordered.

She knew what he meant. Carefully, she reached down and parted the lower folds of her very short white dress like curtains opening, exposing her bare, smooth pubic mound, almost shining, the tops of her stockings and the pink expanse between them all the way up to her navel. It wasn’t nudity, it was more wanton.

“That’s a nice pussy,” David said.

“It’s wet,” Amber said softly she slid one hand down to cup it, “for you.”

David didn’t take the bait.

“I like the music,” he said. “I’d like to see you dance.”

A subtle bit of domination, complementing the music first.

“Lap dance?”

“Not just yet.”

“Should I put on my shoes to dance?” Amber asked. The excruciatingly high heels would emphasize her calves and ass, add sway to her hips as she danced. They were strippers’ heels after all.

David shook his head. “No.” Just slightly flat.

She’d made a mistake.

“Just the way you are.”

A small mistake though.

Amber listened to the music, moved with it, let it flow through her, moving her shoulders and hips for her, she swayed seductively, playing with the dress, using it to flash and conceal her intimate zones. David watched; his eyes practically glowing.

“I’d like to see you strip,” David whispered, he shifted in his seat, trying to unobtrusively stroke his cock. Amber pretended not to notice, concentrating on swaying to the music. But of course, she saw him stroke himself. “Slowly.”

“Isn’t Phil coming back?” she whispered.

“That’s why I said slowly,” David said, there was something mischievous and gloating in his eyes.

Had David set something up with the big slab of a man? She wouldn’t mind that. But no, thinking over the conversation, David had been playing by ear with Phil. He might have arranged the room, but there was none of the familiarity that suggested they might have been playing an arranged scene out there. For all his delicious little fantasies, he wasn’t that good an actor.

Perhaps he was open to something happening with Phil? Possibly. Probably not, David was meticulous, he didn’t like deviations. Still...

Amber danced and decided that she would let things happen. Smiling at David, she undid the lowest remaining button, letting the skirt of the dress sway back and forth, wrapping around her hips, exposing and concealing.

“What does it matter,” David teased. “He’s already seen your pussy. You were on display back there.”

“On your command,” she let her hip sway and body twist slowly until she was facing away from him. She bent forward slightly, arching her back, pulling up the dress by the hem across her ass as she rolled it for him.

“Of course,” he said. “But you liked it, didn’t you. Being on display?”

“Mmm hmm,” she whispered. Rolling her hips into another twist, slowly facing him. Another button came undone, and then another. Her dress was opened to just below her breasts.

“That was quite a walk,” he said. “With your dress like that, and no panties.”

His eyes gleamed with sadistic glee.

Sway, turn, another button. The swell of breasts exposed.

“It would have been hard not to flash anyone walking by.”

“It was,” she agreed.

“You couldn’t help it.”

“No, I tried, I was so careful, but it was too hard.”

“How many men did you flash?”

Amber hesitated, still swaying to the music. Another button, this one above. As the dress gaped open, there was a bare flash of exposed nipple. Teasing, she pressed the sides of the dress back together, closing them. She let her other hand slide down sealing the fabric, covering her down past her ribs.

“At least a half dozen,” she told him.

Her lower hand pulled the dress together at her navel, but the space between was too great, the dress gaped open between her lower hand at her navel, and upper hand below her throat. Below her navel, of course, she was utterly exposed, with only the swaying hem to alternately conceal and expose her.

“Half a dozen,” he said. “That’s not many at all, we’ll have to do better.”

The final button, the dress hung completely open from the inside of her thighs all the way to her throat.

Amber couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I don’t want to get arrested,” she complained, making it light and sexy, as if she was joking.

She slid the dress off her shoulders, leaving them bare, doing her hip roll and twist until she was facing away from him, swaying slow, letting it slide down her back.

“I don’t care,” David said. And he didn’t. “What would they arrest you for? Wardrobe malfunction? Who cares?”

The door opened. Phil stepped in with the pitcher of beer and bottle of wine. Amber froze, her entire front displayed to him, nude from the tops of her stockings to her nipple rings, the dress hanging around her arms like a robe.

Phil gazed without expression, as Amber straightened, turning red, pulling the dress back over her shoulders and closing it.

“Am I interrupting,” he asked blandly, like this happened every day.

SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 29, Restaurant Restraints

SECOND CUCKOLDING, PART ONE OF FIVE

KAYLE

Final Warning

Kayley and Sam, Chapter 29 is uploaded. It will land on Thursday morning.

It's not as bad as Chapter 30 and 31, so ... maybe take your chances.

I'll post something sexy next week.

Kayley and Sam: Warning!!!

Okay, as you know, on Thursday, I'll be uploading the Second Cuckolding Session, a five part series. It's kind of raw and extreme, and I'm a little it worried that it might be too much for some, perhaps many of my readers.

I don't want to traumatize or horrify anyone, or get too disturbing. So it seemed to me that the best thing to do would be to just offer trigger warnings.

Chapters 29 through 33 involve scenes of intense emotional brutality and torture, and horrific humiliation, public humiliation, spiritual emasculation and verbal degradation. It's going to get very extreme, and it's going to be involving characters you may be emotionally invested in.

So I just wanted to warn you, and I don't blame you if you skip some, or part or even all of it.

If you do decide to give it a try, here's a rough guide. Chapter 29, is probably okay, if you're made of sterner stuff. It's restaurant bases, and involves public risk and humiliation, verbal castration, the prospect of exposure, hints of voyeurism and exhibitionism, spoon play and abuse of restaurant staff. But as I said, it's probably all right. It's even got a bit of humour. But you know, pretty rough in spots. I wouldn't blame you for skipping it.

Chapter 30, okay now we're getting into the really dark stuff, and I can't, in good conscience recommend you read it. It's kind of ... I don't have a better word... evil. Really evil. Our trio have made it to the apartment, and the deconstruction of Sam is underway. And when I say deconstruction, think messy random power tools.

Chapter 31. Just... don't. Don't go there. Pretend it's blank. I wrote it, and I'm shocked and horrified. I don't know what I was thinking. For an author to do that to characters. Chapter 29 was maybe tolerable. Chapter 30 was admittedly rough. But Chapter 31. I don't know. I think you want to sleep at night, you want to love puppy dogs and kittens and blue skies. Look, if you don't read Chapter 31, it's fine, no one will ever think less of you.

Chapter 32. Evil, brutal, cruel, ruthless, kind of traumatic. But, on the other hand, it's not Chapter 31. It's kind of a switch up, so there may be some cathartic relief. Say you took my advice and skipped Chapter 30 and 31 and maybe Chapter 29. Well, you probably shouldn't read this one. On the other hand, if you braved Chapter 29, but skipped Chapter 30 and 31, well, consider giving this a pass. If you managed to get through Chapter 30, you'll be okay.

Chapter 33. Okay, if you made it through the previous four, this will be fine. If you had to read one chapter in this sequence, this is it. It's almost gentle. Probably not traumatic as well. You'll be okay.

My point is, you don't have to read it. I mean, maybe I'm exaggerating. There's nothing here that should trigger any patreon guidelines. This isn't American psycho. There's no actual violence. No chain saws, physical mutilation, property destruction, coercion, extortion, gunplay, edged weapons. So... there's that.

But you're warned, my conscience is clear.

You can just wait it out, and catch up when we go back to standard raunch and degradation in various forms and combinations, as everyone finds their kinkiest unacknowledged fantasies landing in their lap.

It'll be fine. Until the next trip to Hardcore City.

Really, I don't even know why I wrote this. I think this proves I am not a good person.

So just remember - the next five Chapters of Kayley and Sam, you read at your own risk.

And in the meantime, I'll keep up with alternate weeks of kinky, naughty, raunch with other engaging characters.