Cute Girls

Light My Fire Ch. 01

“This is a story that explores the dark side of one woman”s desperate search for a lover who could* light her fire*. To skip directly to her eventual submission to her dominant lover would not to do justice to the depth of that desperation. Accordingly, much of this lengthy first chapter is devoted to an understanding of the frustrations that gripped Rose Anne”s life. Please stay with her as she tells us who she is and why. It is my belief, and certainly my hope, that your patience will be rewarded. For those who cannot wait for the “down and dirty”, however, I am simultaneously posting chapters 2 and 3 along with this one. Whether you prefer the complete story, or only the raw sex…, enjoy…, and don”t forget to vote. Jigs “

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“SPINSTER!!” What a terrifying word to a female pushing thirty five without prospects. My name is Rose Anne Lombardi. I”m a damn good legal secretary, and I make a decent living for myself. I own a duplex in a good neighborhood that I live in one half of, and rent out the other half as extra income. I own a nice car all paid for. All in all I have a good life, but the years are slipping by and I have no mate. Am I worried about that? You can bet I am. Panicked is a better word.

Why can”t I find “THE” man and make him a permanent resident in my bed? I”m not bad looking. I”m even sexy in a healthy Italian sort of way, and altho I may die an old maid, I won”t go into the great beyond as an innocent virgin. The first penis visited in my pussy fifteen years ago, and in the years since others have occasionally dropped in to say hello.

I haven”t spread my legs for just anybody, but I admit I”ve lost count of exactly how many men have fucked me. Anybody can lose track of such details, and after all, a good Italian Catholic girl doesn”t carve notches on her bed post. My best guess is that I must have shared my bed with about ten to twelve men over the past fourteen years. With all but a couple of those, I have had a continuing relationship of one kind or another, but I was never close to marrying any.

As the days, months and years slip away without a husband, I can hear my biological clock ticking, and I am becoming ever more fearful that I may miss having a home and family. Well, O.K., I”ll admit a husband, a little white cottage, and a brood of rug rats, are not my only concern about what I am missing as time passes me by. To be totally honest about it, as much as I need a man who will marry me and give me his children, even more desperately I need a man who can “light my fire.

A MAN TO LIGHT MY FIRE!!” That”s really what I have wanted since I was thirteen, but I”ve never been able to let go, get laid, and enjoy the occasion. You see, I was raised in a devoutly Catholic home of first generation Italian Americans, and I was educated by the Sisters of Charity in a parochial girl”s school. My conservative parents and the good Sisters filled my head with a Christian morality imported directly from the old country.

“Sex is dirty.”

“Men are not to be trusted, they only want one thing from a girl.”

“A good Italian Catholic girl keeps her knees together and her blouse buttoned.”

“A good Italian Catholic girl is a virgin on her wedding night.”

“A good Italian Catholic girl does the dirty deed only with her husband, and then only because it is her duty to him and the Pope.”

Well, I was barely out of puberty before I began to suspect all that was so much crap. My early experiments with my own fingers suggested that a girl chaste and pure was missing something…, something important and very enjoyable. I was backsliding fast, and willing to go faster yet, but a lifetime of cultural brainwashing is not that easy to ignore.

My body blossomed early. I”m no classic beauty, my Italian nose and mouth are too big for that, but my face is passably attractive in an old-fashioned sultry sort of way. I”ve been told that I have a great body. I am tall and full bodied without being fat. I have big boobs with minimum sag, long sexy muscular legs, and a nice ass. Those are feminine assets that attract men as quickly as a beautiful face, maybe even quicker.

From the time I was thirteen I had lots of young (and some not so young) studs buzzing around me. I enjoyed all that masculine attention, and damnit, I tried hard to act sophisticated and send all the right sexy signals. I fogged up car windows with passionate foreplay in every lover”s lane on the Jersey shore, but I just couldn”t muster the nerve “to-go-all-the-way.”

All my effort at being a hot chick earned me nothing but a well deserved reputation as a prick tease. Whatever my problem was, however, it was not anything physical. After my date brought me home all frustrated and doubting myself, I would masturbate, and I never failed to orgasm on my own finger.

What the hell was my problem then? The other girls at the Sister”s of Charity School were able to shrug off the sterile Catholic morality the Nuns handed out. All my friends were growing up quite normally, and one by one they were managing to get themselves married, fucked, and pregnant, not always necessarily in that order.

Why couldn”t I? Too choosy perhaps? Maybe, but not really. I just couldn”t seem to get over my hang up about having a man lay between my legs and actually stick his “thing” in me. I had been warned about men, and what they wanted from me, until I was a semi-frigid basket case. Still, even as screwed up as I was, I wanted to get laid in the worst way. As tempting as the thought was, however, I just couldn”t bring myself to spread my legs, lay back, and let some stud give me the delicious dirty business.

As it happened then, I was out of high school a full year before I finally lost my cherry. I was going on 20 years old, earning my own living, and still a reluctant virgin when Mr. Larry Kelly popped my hymen. He was maybe 45, married, prominent in the local society pages, and a wealthy client of the law office where I worked.

I had never met anyone as smooth and confident as Larry. He wined me, dined me, flattered me, and within two weeks, he had my panties off and was fucking me. Yeah, I was as easy as that for him, but don”t let that mislead you about how it actually happened. It wasn”t altogether Larry”s skill and considerable experience as a cocksman that convinced me to let him stick me. I”m sure he thought of my deflowering as a seduction, and from his perspective, maybe it was. For me, however, it was more of an experiment.

It turned out to be an experiment that was less than successful. Eager as I was to try some real sex, the whole thing was disappointing, Not unpleasantly so…, just not all that I expected it to be. I liked what he did to me, and altho the world didn”t shake, some of it felt pretty good. Certainly, I was encouraged enough to keep trying for a better result.

“Damn,” I thought, “maybe I”m just off to a slow start. Larry has a well shaped, experienced, and suitably functional penis. Surely I can learn to get off on it.”

And so, I went back for more…, repeatedly. I had nothing to lose by trying. I was on the pill, and my reputation was safe. Larry was not only discrete by nature, he was very careful not to let anyone know he was fucking me lest the jealous bitch he was married to find out. Anyway, to be Larry”s latest mistress was a kick. He was handsome, rich enough to give me expensive trinkets, and he screwed me only at the best hotels.

Just as important, in my own semi-frigid way, I enjoyed having Larry make love to me. Sometimes he would bring me right up to the edge. I just never fell off the mountain screaming the way I was told a woman was supposed to. Larry was an accomplished lover and he did his best, but every time he put his cock in me I could hear the Sisters of Charity whispering in my ear, “no, no, naughty girl, dirty, dirty.”

With a young girl carrying that kind of Catholic guilt as baggage, the poor guy never had a chance. Hard as Larry tried…, and he tried damned hard…, he just couldn”t give me the orgasm I wanted so badly. I understood where the problem was, and I never blamed him for my failure. Hell, I thought I loved the guy, and even tho not fully satisfied, I was inexperienced enough to be proud of being the secret lover-on-the-side of a big shot in the social and financial worlds.

I thought I was the whole problem, and surely an older lover with Larry”s experience should be able to teach me how to be a real woman. The truth was, however, for all his previous history as a cocksman, Larry didn”t really understand sex much better than I did. There were a couple of times I think I could have made it with him if only he had used his tongue and fingers just a bit longer. I was far too shy and hung up to ask, but I needed him to put his mouth over my sex, his hands on my tits, and just stay there until I could build a climax.

He never did that for me tho. Always way sooner than I could get off he would take his mouth and fingers away, and crawl between my legs and fuck my cunt with his cock. Larry”s eagerness to have his cock in my pussy may have been just selfishness on his part, but probably not. He was otherwise a man too conscientious and considerate for that to be likely. Looking back on it, I think he simply believed it was a reflection on his masculinity to bring a woman off by manual and oral manipulation rather than with his penis. Its a shame, but a lot of men believe that.

Anyway, Larry kept on banging me as best he knew how for about a year, and he never gave me “the big O”. Finally he quit trying and traded me in for a skinny little blond twit of a fashion model with a factory installed automatic orgasm. It”s hard on a girl”s morale to lose her first love, but I had known all along that being a married man”s secret mistress does not promise any thing very permanent.

Once the ice had been broken along with my hymen, I found it easier to taste test the buffet of masculinity that is out there waiting for a single girl. Unfortunately, It was pretty much the same story with all the others who I let fuck me.

Nor did it seem to matter whether I was involved in an affair, or legitimate courtship. Even Eddie Jerrit couldn”t pull my trigger even tho he sincerely thought he wanted to marry me. I was thirty by the time Eddie came along. He was barely twenty, and I suspect I was his first piece of ass. Certainly, I was his first regular one, and he had no idea that I was faking my orgasms.

Eddie was sure he was in love with me. He wasn”t. He was in love with having a warm place to put his dick as a regular thing. Truth was, poor dumb Eddie didn”t have a clue about much of anything. He kept proposing, and I kept refusing. As bad as I needed a husband, I knew, even if Eddie didn”t, that I was only a young man”s fling with an older woman. The time finally came when dear sweet dumb Eddie began to suspect that my passion wasn”t for real. That he wasn”t actually a natural born, prime, A-Number-One-Cocksman, was more than his young ego could take, and he gave up on me, just like all my lovers have.

Now, don”t go getting the wrong idea. I may not orgasm very readily, but I”m not a cold fish either. My sexual responses have improved some with experience, and I surely do enjoy having a man in my bed. I get goose bumps when a male finger or tongue probes my pussy, and strokes at my clit. I love to have my nipples sucked, the longer the better, and it sure feels good to have a man on top of me with his weight between my legs holding me down.

If the guy is really good, willing to take his time with lots of foreplay, and a dick that last and lasts, chances are I can grab an occasional weak orgasm. It just that I have never had one of those panting, screaming, earth shaking, mind shattering big O”s that my girl friends have told me about.

God, what I wouldn”t have given for just one of those. Indeed, what this little story is about is just what I “WAS” willing to give.

Until just lately my most recent my sexual dalliance was with Alan Seeger. When Alan began fucking me, he was a senior partner in a local law firm, and I was his secretary. Like my very first lover, Alan was older, and damn near a professional Don Juan. All the time he was dipping his prick in me, he had a wife and at least one other mistress. I knew from the day I met him that Alan was a pussy hound with the morals of a Arab pimp. There was nothing permanent possible here, and safe from both scandal and commitment, I could accept our affair for what it was to Alan…, just a little meaningless nookie on the sly in some sleazy motel.

Somehow as the years went by, sex had became easier for me when I could get it down and dirty like that, thumbing my nose as it were at the Sisters of Charity. Alan was a great lover, at least that was the consensus by a whole army of women whose opinion was based on personal experience. I too enjoyed his bedroom technique, and occasionally he even got me off. Like the others, however, he never gave me that overwhelming shattering erotic climax that I have heard so much about.

Unlike Larry Kelly, however, Alan was neither conscientious nor considerate. He was a cheap bastard, notorious for screwing his secretaries in more ways than just with his dick. Not only did he always take his women to the cheapest, most tawdry, disgustingly dirty, hotels and motels for his hanky-panky, he also wouldn”t pay a decent salary to his secretaries, even one that was sleeping with him.

Eventually, just as did all the other secretaries he had fucked before me, I left him for a job that paid a living wage. Once I was gone, I was out of sight, out of mind, and quickly off Alan”s busy cocksman”s schedule. That was about six months ago, and I haven”t had a man in my bed since. I must admit that I have missed Alan”s hard working penis. Poor pay or not, maybe I wouldn”t have left if I had known how horny I would be without him.

I was on the third set of new batteries for my vibrator when out of the blue, Alan called me for a date. I was momentarily all aflutter, but it turned out that Alan wasn”t calling because he hungered for my body. No, some young buck right out of Law School had joined his firm, and Alan, the natural born pimp that he is, was trying to keep the young guy around with sex instead of money. He needed me to get his kid lawyer a date with a cute young blond thing in the office where I now worked.

That wasn”t a very flattering reason for renewing old acquaintances, but I thought, “”what the hell?”" So what if Alan Seeger is a worthless piece of shit! I knew that after the children went home, he would take me straight to bed where he would play with my tits, and fill my pussy with his cock. I had been sleeping alone for too long, and I really needed somebody to do that for me. So, in my desperation I agreed to pimp for Alan”s young stud.

Except when I met the young stud, Clyde Horner, I couldn”t help but drool a little. He was younger than I, but not by as much as Eddie Jerrit had been. A twice decorated Marine platoon leader in Viet Nam, this Clyde was certainly no green kid.

At almost six feet five inches tall, and 250 pounds, he was too much like a big amiable bear to be called handsome. His appearance tho, was as misleading as his unlikely name. Handsome is one thing, and masculine sex appeal is another. Hidden behind that hick name, his “aw shucks ma”am, I”m just a country boy” act, and delightful southern accent, was just about the sexiest man I had ever met.

Alan took the four of us to the best and most expensive local bistro for a four star meal and a great floor show (all on some client”s expense account I”m sure). We all ate, drank, laughed, and danced. It was the very best kind of fun evening. All the while, however, my mind was on what would happen later. Clyde would probably wet his cock in the pussy of the blond bimbo I had provided for him, and I was green with envy. I could only hope she wasn”t as smitten with Clyde as I was. Maybe she would be stupid enough not to let him fuck her on the first date.

Eventually my evening went just as I had known it would. After the floor show we split up, and my old boss took me straight back to my place, and fucked the bejabbers out of me. With my legs wrapped around Alan”s waist, I tried to pretend that it was Clyde Horner”s dick I had in my cunt. With the help of that fantasy, I had a small orgasm, but I couldn”t help but wonder what my dreamboat was doing at that very moment. Was his head between the legs of that snippy bitch licking her blond pussy? That picture in my mind”s eye was enough to ruin my evening.

The next Monday the slut was non-committal about that part of her blind date, but she had a smug satisfied smile on her face that I didn”t like. Three weeks went by, and Clyde hadn”t called me. Damn! Damn! I thought the way I had gushed over him in front of Allen would have given him a hint about how hot I was for his body. Maybe he was too busy fucking that little blond whore. Well, if he wouldn”t call, there was only one thing left to do. I would throw myself at him shamelessly. Faint heart never got fair lady laid.

And so, one Friday morning at work, too horny to care what he might think of me, I put my pride on hold and called him. I was so coy on the phone it was sickening. I suggested that if he was free after work I could meet him at Doc”s Place for a drink. This was a pretty outrageous thing for a good Italian Catholic girl to be doing, and I held my breath when my offer was met with a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then to my huge relief, he said he would meet me there at five thirty.

Doc”s Place is home base for the swinging singles set of our town, particularly right after work on a Friday night. For a couple of hours Clyde and I were a part of the swirling crowd, exchanging sexy pick up lines and bawdy talk with the horny Friday night regulars at the bar. We had an number of good belts of Jack Black, and properly loosened up, the two of us walked romantically hand in hand down the street to a steak house. After more drinks with dinner, we wound up back at my duplex where I opened a fresh fifth. Like they say, “candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker”!

Sure enough, before long he had me laid out on the couch with my blouse off, and my bra down around my waist. He took his shirt off too, and it did feel so good when his strong arms hugged my breasts against his hairy chest. Soon thereafter he had his hand up my dress and into my panties. I tried hard to put on a proper front. Even when he stripped off my panties and stroked my bare pussy, I was still struggling, and saying “no-no-no,” the way a good Catholic virgin should.

The moment of truth came, however, when he opened his fly and pulled out a sizable hard-on that he obviously wanted me to suck. I was impressed. It was as big as any cock I had ever seen in the flesh, but I don”t do blow jobs, certainly not on a first date. Rather than suck him, I quickly gave up on preserving my fictional reputation, and suggested we adjourn to my bedroom.

By then he was fully erect and his hard-on was sticking straight out his fly like the jib of a big four masted schooner. He didn”t resist a bit when I took a firm grip on that thing and used it to pull him up from the couch and toward my bed. In our drunken stagger down the hall, his fingers found the zipper on my skirt and the last of my clothing dropped away before we ever reached the bedroom door.

Naked as a jay bird, I took a seat on the edge of my bed trying hard to be sophisticated but not very experienced and knowledgeable about what we were getting ready to do. Flustered as I was by my nudity and the huge penis that was bobbing up and down right at my eye level, I doubt I was very successful. Moreover my little act was complicated by Clyde”s insistence on that blow job I had avoided back on the couch.

I still wasn”t going to do that, and I dodged the bullet by busying myself taking off his shoes. Before he could again make an issue of sucking him, I once more grabbed his cock, and pulled him to me. As I fell backwards on the bed I spread my legs, and he fell quite naturally in the saddle between my raised knees…, right where I wanted him.

As much as I liked where he was, I went through the motions of protesting my innocence one last time. He put a quick stop to that by grabbing my wrists and forcing my arms back over my head and holding them there. On my back with this big strong man on top of me, I felt like I had been captured by some sexy barbarian who would soon fuck me as his prize of war.

I would not have admitted it at the time, even to myself, but as things later turned out, this was exactly what I had wanted all along…, a barbarian who would pin me to the bed, spread my legs and use me, not by my consent as a woman, but by his right as a man.

Clyde was every bit as delightful a lover as I imagined he would be. Even tho a little drunk, he was still careful and conscientious about his foreplay. He sucked my nipples for the longest time, something that I enjoy very much, before turning my arms loose and moving his head down into my crotch where he spent equal time with his mouth on my pussy.

God, but he felt good! Any normal woman would have gotten off on that talented tongue, but I couldn”t quite make it even tho I pretended I had. Of course before we fucked, he wanted me to reciprocate in kind. He pinned my upper arms with his knees, lifted his hips over my face and pushed his big hard-on against my lips, pressing me to take him down my throat.

I just couldn”t do it. Thanks to the good Sisters, blow jobs just haven”t ever been my thing. I have occasionally sucked on the dick of a steady lover, but only reluctantly, tentatively, and usually very briefly. Once, when Allan absolutely insisted, I sucked him to completion, but when he finished in my mouth, I couldn”t bring myself to swallow his jism. All that salty goo turned my stomach, and I gagged, then spit it out. That, I quickly discovered, is a turn off to a man.

“Oh, damn men all to hell anyway! Who cares what they want!” I certainly wasn”t going to give this guy a blow job on our first date, sexy barbarian or not. I turned my head away, and despite Clyde”s insistence, I refused to take him in my mouth.

If he was disappointed, he didn”t let it show. He acted as if he understood, and if he couldn”t have my mouth, he damn sure meant to have full use of my pussy. His hips were soon back between my legs and that monster member of his was prodding and poking at my slit. I was pretty wet by then, but I knew something that big shoved up my twat was going to hurt me if I didn”t help.

I reached down between us with one hand to guide the big plum head of his hard-on into my cunt, and I spread my legs as wide as I could, trying to make it easy for him. It took a minute or two, but he was persistent, and with a constant pressure, his great rod gradually split me open.

My God, but he was HUGE. Never before has my poor pussy been so stretched. He just kept pushing, prying my cunt apart. Deeper and deeper he went until he reached a place inside me where none of my other lovers have ever been. His hips began to move, driving his shaft in, then pulling it away, but never quite out. With each stroke I could feel the silky skin of that great male piston rub against my clit. It hurt me some at first to be so stretched, but I felt so erotically female that my pain soon disappeared replaced by an ache for more…, “altho for more what…”, I couldn”t exactly tell you.

Sometime, just when I don”t remember, his big hands once more seized my wrists and stretched my arms to the top of the bed. None of my previous lovers had ever made me feel so helpless…, so vulnerable…, so completely female. My arms pinned over my head, my pussy hung on his cock, I was his captive, his female to use as he wished. Why did this man make me feel so…, so…, taken. Somewhere deep in my ovaries I could feel an orgasm alive and growing, but as always, except for a small quiver or two, it remained hidden back there, never quite coming out.

None the less, Clyde worked long and hard (if you will excuse the pun) to pleasure me, and although I never did have anything more than my usual weak little cum, I put on what I thought was an academy award performance of a woman in a continuous climax. After his ejaculation in my cunt, he continued to lay on top of me for the longest time, his softening cock still inside me, soaking in our juices. He kissed my lips, eyes, throat, and breasts, as if to thank me for what I had given him. It all felt so good that right then I didn”t even care that I hadn”t had “the big O” I had been waiting a lifetime for.

At long last, however, he rolled off me, and we lay there in the dark enjoying our after sex “joints”. After a while, however, he raised himself on his elbow, looked into my eyes, and said, “you didn”t get off did you?”

Well what could I say. I started to lie and claim that I had, but one look into those deep blue eyes of his, and I could tell he would know I was lying.

“No I didn”t, I never do,” I admitted.

I have never discussed my sexual problem with any of my former lovers, or anyone else for that matter. I certainly didn”t have any intention of baring my soul to this semi-stranger the first time he banged me, but somehow I couldn”t keep my distress bottled up inside me anymore. It all came flooding out, all about my parents, the watchful Nuns, how guilty I was about wanting and enjoying sex, and how ashamed I was to jump into bed with him like this on our first date.

I could see a little smile break across his face as I went on with my story, and finally he said, “Things don”t have to be this way. If you will trust me, I can change all that for you.”

“How?” I asked. “In God”s name, how?”

“Easy enough, if you will go along with it” he answered. “You were taught by the Sisters of Charity that sex is dirty. You were taught that sex was for procreation only, never something to enjoy. You were taught to feel guilty about your most normal and natural urges. You were warned repeatedly to never allow a man to be in control because he would take advantage of those urges.

All that, every bit of it, contradicts every instinct mother nature gave you at birth. Your recovery from those crippling lies and brainwashing is simple enough. You must be reprogrammed to give yourself up totally to your male lover. With that new mental attitude your body will respond the way mother nature meant it to.”

“But, how will you reprogram me?” I asked. “What”s the catch…, and what do you mean “If I will go along with it?” If its so easy, why wouldn”t I go along with it?”

“Well,” he began, “undoing a lifetime of training will require a change in the way you look at men, and your acceptance of some things you might find unpleasant at first. It will be much like learning to eat broccoli after a lifetime of hating it. Specifically, the essence of your reprogramming will be to deny you any choice about when, where, and how, you have sex. You must turn over all control of your body to a lover firm enough to make you his sex toy, his to fuck anywhere and anytime he wants.”

“That is the key, you must not have any option, or any choice, about the sex your lover might demand of you. In the bedroom your lover can not be your partner in the politically correct modern way. He can only be your master according to nature”s ancient rules. You must submit! You must become his slut! You must relearn the natural kind sex males and females primeval have enjoyed for thousands of years. Only by giving yourself up to your lover to be taken by his cock, will you be able to unlock those orgasms you haven”t been able to reach.”

“”Nature”s ancient rules…, submission…., taken by his cock…, you are flat crazy,”" I told him. “That isn”t making love! That is rape! That is medieval slavery, pure and simple.”

I waited a moment before I added, “Anyway, I don”t think I would like being raped.”

“No, it won”t be rape exactly…, Oh, in the beginning some physical restraint may be necessary, although to be bound and helpless may not be as bad as you think. Have your ever been stripped and tied to the bed unable to prevent your lover from doing whatever he wanted with your body?”

I was shaking my head, incredulous at the idea, but truthfully, just a bit titillated by the picture that popped into my head.

“No, you haven”t? You don”t know what you have missed. A woman is by her nature her lover”s sexual plaything. Tied like that, the rope is an aphrodisiac perhaps, but nothing else. You see, it is not the rope that holds the woman”s legs apart…, It is her natural sensual desire and submissive nature that binds her to the bed. It is being helpless and taken, hard fucked by a male warrior, the way male and female have cohabited for thousands of years, that makes resistance impossible. The feminists will tell you that is the way animals do it. Well, we are animals, and we make ourselves unhappy when we try to be something else.”

I asked, “Suppose I don”t like being “taken and hard fucked by a male warrior?” Can I change my mind? What if I want to be turned loose?”

“There is no agreement upon the details,” he replied, “but if I am the one who reprograms you, yes anytime you want to quit, you can. I will give you only the one chance, however. If you do quit on me, I”m out of your life forever. You must not even think about quitting. Think about how great it will be if I am right, and sexual submission is your chance to escape your hang ups. Give it a fair test. Believe me, one taste of what real sex can be like, and you won”t care that your sex life is no longer in your control nor politically correct.”

“Well…,” I said doubtfully, “Lets say this reprogramming of yours does turn me on. Do you mean to tell me that an orgasm or two will overcome what I have struggled with for a lifetime?

“Oh no,” he answered, “There will certainly be intermittent pangs of shame and regret. For a while the good Nuns will live on in the back of your head telling you that anything that feels so good must be sinful. For a while you may feel that you are a traitor to the progress that women have made in social equality. You will get past those doubts, however. You will get past them because it is a good thing to be a woman in bed with a man using her body outragessly.”

Anyway, I will not allow you to slip back into your guilt. At the first sign it is returning, I will wash it away your sin with prompt punishment that will be both corporeal and sensual. With punishment comes penitence! With penitence comes redemption! The Pope knows. It has been Christian dogma for two thousand years that regression and failure are inevitable but completely acceptable if the sinner is properly punished for his or her transgressions. You know the bit. You grew up with it…, confessional, penitence, purgatory, all that stuff.”

“Punishment?” I mused. It had never occurred to me before that I might ever let myself be punished by a man. But this guy is talking about slavery. Slaves are chattels. They are expected to obey and please their owners, and they are punished when they do not. I had read a good many trashy novels that had been very explicit about how harem girls were whipped if they failed to sexually service their masters or resisted their bondage.

“No way,” I answered. “We are back to rape again.”

“Not at all,” he responded quietly. “Rape is by definition forcing a woman to have sex. The submission I am talking about may not always be entirely voluntary, but it is never actually forced. There is a sensual pleasure in sexual submission that easily overwhelms the woman and makes the force imposed upon her both reasonable and irrelevant.”

“A woman in a harem may have no choice but to have sex with her Sultan, but that doesn”t mean she is being constantly raped. To the contrary, as time goes on, her feminine libido is heightened by her erotic bondage. She can not help but dwell on the way she is used, just as you will, and those mental images set fire to her cunt, just as they will yours. In the end, she will beg for her Sultan”s cock just as you will surely beg for mine. A woman who begs to be fucked is not being raped.”

“True,” he continued, “if you do not submit, then I must see to it that you do, but that is the natural order of things between male and female. A woman is a receptacle for the male penis. She can not truly “make love” to a man without giving herself to him unconditionally for at least those critical moments of copulation and orgasm. Her own sensuality, and her own pleasure, is too entwined with his, and too dependent upon the surrender of her body. Indeed that is the essence of their union. If, therefore, you fail to surrender of your own volition, I will enforce it.”

“The erotic signals between male and female are very ancient and deeply engraved on our genes. Every woman who has ever felt the weight of a real man on top of her knows that. Rudolph Valintino couldn”t act a lick and his plots were absurd. What made him a movie star were the erotic day dreams of his female audience about a lusty, if unlikely, nomad who captures them, carries them off, and fucks them, even it the movies couldn”t make the last part explicit.”

“Don”t you shake your head at me. Do you remember how you felt when I held your wrists over your head as I fucked you?”

“Well, not me,” I protested, “and the way I felt had nothing to do with your holding my arms.” I had to stretch the truth some there for the sake of my argument. “I for one, don”t day dream about lusty nomads, and I”m not going to let myself be abused for some man”s pleasure.”

“Oh don”t tell me that,” he fired back at me. “I know better. I saw something quite different in your eyes as I held you down under me. Unless you surrender yourself to your man”s pleasure, you can never really have any of your own. There is no other way.”

“If you are to rediscover your natural, but seriously repressed, instincts, someone must make you do all sorts of shockingly sexy things the good nuns said were dirty and demeaning. True, you are likely to be embarrassed, shamed, and humiliated, but the one thing you won”t feel is guilt. How could you be guilty? Your lusty Valintino will simply be enforcing his passion on you, and you have no choice but respond in kind. You are, therefore, free to enjoy the eroticism of what he makes you do. Give it a chance. I promise this is an idea that will grow on you.”

“But,” I continued to argue, “This is Twentieth Century America. You are not a lusty nomad, and I am not a harem girl. Nor do I think I want to become one either.”

“Oh but you do,” he continued. “Tonight you turned away and refused to blow me. To have serviced my prick with me straddling your throat would have been too servile, too humbling, too politically incorrect. You can”t handle that now, but you will learn. Sucking a man”s cock is a damned erotic thing for the woman as well as the man. Why? Because a woman with a mouthful of cock is the very symbol and essence of surrender and submission. Because humbling herself that way makes sex better for the both of them, that is why!”

“I have just never liked to suck a man, that”s all,” I interjected defensively.

“I”ll bet you don”t,” Clyde went on, “but that dislike isn”t in your nature, it is in your head, put there by the good Sisters. The real truth is that a woman is never so sensual and sexily female as when her lips are stretched around a penis. Until now, foolish social convention and prudish Christian doctrine have caused you to deny your natural instincts to do the things necessary for successful sex. The price of that denial has been your inability to orgasm. Your first step toward freedom and orgasms is to get on your knees and beg me for the privilege of sucking me off and swallowing my cum.”

“Why you male chauvinist pig,” I called him, interrupting his arrogance. “I will never do any such thing. No woman should have to degrade herself like that, not in this day and time.”

“No,” he argued, “now you are talking politics. I am not advocating female submission generally, but only in bed. Politics, social culture, and economics have nothing to do with sex necessarily. If women want to be lawyers and doctors, even fighter pilots, well and good. Ambition and advancement are good things, and should be encouraged.”

“At the same time, however, the sexual relationship between male and female is another thing entirely. Political slogans and agendas about equality between the sexes simply shouldn”t be applied to the bedroom. Some feminists will not admit that because they are every bit as screwed up sexually as you are, while those who aren”t are afraid that such an admission might be misunderstood as a retreat from “the cause”.”

“It is sad that for most professional feminists, the classic image of a woman on her back with her legs spread wide begging her man to fuck her is too servile to accept even if limited to that one and singular application. There is no point in even commenting on what Gloria Steinhem thinks of a woman who would kneel before her man to give him a slutty blow job.”

“Yet, isn”t it on her back or on her knees, where the woman almost always ends up when having good sex? Can good sex really be immoral or socially unacceptable? Isn”t the submission of a woman to a cock nothing more than nature at work? Sex is a very old game, and it has its own rules that do not change with the fads of the society we live in. Gloria has a point about equal pay for equal work, but what does that have to do with penises inside vaginas?”

I couldn”t bring myself to say so aloud, but he had made a compelling point. Without any real rebuttal, I didn”t know quite what to say next. The silent tension in the room was so thick I could almost stir it. Finally, I asked, “and if I do agree to all this, what will I be letting myself in for? Tell me, exactly what you will do to me?”

“Simple enough,” was his quick answer. “At first I will tie you to your bed. Once you are helpless, I will play with you until you orgasm. You will find that the submission I have compelled has made easy what you have always found to be difficult. Without any reason for guilt, you will want more. Like a horse gradually broken to saddle, before I am done, your obedience will be voluntary. Soon thereafter you will do all manner of sexy, erotic, dirty things beyond the imagination of those Nuns who haunt your conscience.”

“Indeed, there is a danger here that I ought to warn you about. Sex is addictive. Your servitude that began as a charade, only a pleasant game, may become a reality. Being unfamiliar with real sexual pleasure you may confuse desire with romance. If so, at the end of your retraining you may indeed become my concubine, my love slave, bound to me not by ropes and chains, but by your desire for my cock that you have mistaken for love.”

I said nothing, and Clyde continued, “Therein lies the catch. When I take away your hang ups, I take away your ability to control your own sexual persona as well. You would not be the first woman to find herself hooked on cock. Indeed, few women return to the icy world of full independence after they have been well fucked. One must be careful about addiction of any kind.”

“I don”t know about all this,” I stammered. “I don”t like to be abused and I”m not going to be anyone”s slave, not even in a game.”

“Well,” Clyde responded, “its entirely up to you. That is a caution to which I certainly concur. You should consider the matter carefully. Perhaps I am wrong and submission really isn”t for you, or perhaps I am just not the right man to see to it, but I sincerely believe it is the only solution to your Catholic guilt. If you are willing, my guess is that you can quite easily, probably on the first night, have one of those big time orgasms you want so badly, but it is up to you.”

“And, if I refuse, what then?” I interrupted to ask.

“Well, perhaps you will change your mind later. I am certainly in no hurry, and I really don”t care one way or the other. Until you decide, we will continue to have friendly dates. You know the usual things, dinner, the movies, then a little heavy petting on the couch. I will not fuck you again, however, until you have sincerely begged me to do so. It would only reinforce the hang ups you already have if I let you use my cock without submitting to it.”

“Well,” I broke in again, angrily accusing, “Well! You”re certainly an arrogant S.O.B.”

“Not at all,” Clyde answered. “Please forgive me if I come off that way. Its just that to be successful, these things must be done in a certain way. Even your agreement to be reprogrammed must be choreographed just so.”

“And how is that, Clyde? How should I signify my consent to your snake oil psychiatry?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“If and when you decide to submit, you will have ready the training tools I will need…, a big dildo, a couple of vibrators, a limber switch I will use to punish any disobedience, a scarf for a blindfold, and a half dozen or so four to six foot lengths of soft cotton rope…, a good quality indoor clothes line will do fine. You will also need a wide leather dog collar to mark you as a sex slave.”

“Also, as my harem concubine, you must be nude and collared when you greet me at the door. Free access to your body is essential if I am to teach you that no matter what the Nuns told you, nothing about sex is really shameful. You must grant me the privilege to use your body however I may wish. As we have our before dinner drinks, and after dinner coffee, and even during our meal, I will take full advantage of that privilege by playing with your boobs and pussy.”

“Good God no, I won”t do that. I won”t. I can”t let a man treat me like that. Its too degrading and humiliating.” I was almost breathless in my denial.

“Ah, but I think you will!” Clyde went on as if I had said nothing. “Every woman has wondered what it would be like to be the abused prisoner of some commanding stud. It is such a sexy thought. A naked woman, all ablush, her legs trembling as she permits an arrogant fully dressed man to play with her nipples and finger her clit. Submission like that can be so terribly exotic. How could you resist trying it? What better introduction into an evening of raw satisfying sex might I offer you? Think about it! Anyway, there are good reasons for what I demand:”

“First of all, my terms for your surrender are humbling enough that I can be certain your decision to accept them is meaningful and sincere.”

“Second, your humiliation is the shock treatment that will loosen the grip of the Sisters of Charity. You have been theirs up to now. If I am to take over, you must accept that I am the one who owns you. When you are serving my dinner naked even tho I am fully dressed; when you spread your legs in order that I might run my finger up and down your slit as you pour my coffee; then there will be no doubt that it is I, not Mother Superior, who is in control.”

“Third, you will need something to think about as you decide what to do. Right now you are positive that you will never do any such thing, but you are intrigued at the possibility. There is something so damn tantalizingly sexy about the picture. Tomorrow and the days after you will dwell on that scene in your mind”s eye. You will wonder what it might be like to be naked and trying to put my plate down before me while I caress your thighs and breasts, or perhaps run a hand between your legs?”

“Perhaps, however, I am not giving you the complete story. Do you know what will happen when I am finished with my meal? Well, let me fill in the dots for you to think about! I will tie you to your bed. While you lay there on your back spread-eagled and helpless, I will manually stimulate you to orgasms. These may not be as shattering as the ones that will come later, but I assure you they will be intense.”

“How will I do that? I will tease you with my hands and mouth. I will French kiss you, suck your nipples, lick your neck, and nibble on your thighs. I will plunge my tongue into your every hole, your mouth, your ears, your pussy, your ass. I will bite your clit and put hickeys on your boobs. I will finger fuck you, dildo fuck you, and vibrator fuck you, until your pussy is in spasms. I will play with your body and your mind until you are racked by an orgasm the like of which you have always wanted but never had before.”

“But a single orgasm will not be enough. I will be pitiless. I will keep those orgasms coming, one after the other, until having my cock becomes your obsession. You will not refuse to suck me then. Indeed, you will beg to do so, and you will willingly swallow my ejaculation.”

“Can you imagine what it might be like Rose Anne? Can you see yourself on the bed? You are tied, arms and legs spread eagled. You are naked and I am sitting astride your breasts. As my fingers tickle the pits under your arms, my hips are thrusting my dick forward toward your raised head. By straining your neck with all your might, your lips just barely capture the tip. Your neck muscles ache from exertion. Never the less you nibble and suck eagerly upon the tiny taste of my penis I allow you.”

“Finally I offer you a larger portion of male meat, and you can suck on the full head, locking your lips behind the glans. No! No!! You are too greedy. I pull my hips away. My still soft member slips from your lips. The salty acrid taste of my pre-cum stays in your mouth reminding you of your loss. You whimper in distress and protest at losing me.”

“You beg me to fuck you. I may or may not do so. After all, this is only the beginning. Your training will go on for many nights. Always, I will be he one who decides when and how and by whom you get fucked. I am confident, however, that in the end you will free yourself from your Catholic guilt, and that it will be my pleasure to fuck you often…, and very much to your pleasure also I might add.”

“And, when the time comes that you have totally surrendered, I will shame you regularly so that you do not relapse into old habits. It will not be easy for you. I will insist that you use your sexiest female wiles to earn my meat. I will make you crawl naked to me, begging to be fucked in your cunt, in your mouth, and in your ass. I will strip you bare and make you dance for me, masturbating, and flopping your big tits in time with the music. You will be my sex slave, my toy, I will do with your body as I please…, “AND YOU WILL ENJOY IT ALL IMMENSELY.”"

“”My God! You ARE crazy,”" I interrupted. I couldn”t think of any other response to such an outrageous proposal.

“No, I”m not crazy at all. How can you know what real sex is like if nobody shows you? You must think on these things.”

“Consider what sweet tortures I will subject your helpless and naked body to.”

“Consider what it will be like to sit astride my thighs with my penis buried in your cunt as I reach for and squeeze those big sensitive jugs of yours in my two hands.”

“Consider how good it will feel to bounce up and down on my rod until a great orgasm washes over you.”

“Consider being on your hands and knees, your full breasts dangling beneath you, jerking and swaying with every stroke of my dick as I dog fuck you.”

“Submission to a man is serious and humbling, sometimes even humiliating, but think on it, the rewards are considerable.”

I just sat there, my mouth open, wondering what to tell this madman. Of course I wouldn”t do those things. I just couldn”t. But Clyde”s description had been so vivid. From somewhere deep in my imagination the first incomplete pictures of sweet little Rose Anne in a sexual frenzy began to flicker in my mind”s eye. A quiet voice in the back of my head was whispering to me how good it might be.

Somewhere in the back of my head a little voice whispered, “Try it Rose Anne, what do you have to lose? Nothing else has worked.”

As Clyde dressed to go home, we hardly spoke. I was struggling with the images of being tied and teased to an endless orgasm, and he was content to allow me to do so. Clyde kissed me hard at the door as we said good night. His tongue probing my mouth made me hungry to have it licking my pussy again. He said he would be back on Friday evening a week from now. We would go to the movies he said…, unless of course I wanted to do something different.

“”SOMETHING DIFFERENT!”" Those words hung in the air, pregnant with possibilities. In that moment I could see myself so clearly. I am naked and tied face down in my bed, a running vibrator shoved into my wet pussy, and a dildo up my ass. Clyde is preparing me for the butt fucking he has promised when the football game he is watching on TV is over.

I was so engrossed in wondering what it might be like to be a love slave, I could hardly do my work as the days slowly passed until the next Friday. All those dirty pictures that Clyde had planted in my mind came flooding back, along with others equally sexy that were created by my own imagination. Every evening, as soon as I got home, I masturbated in the shower.

I left work early Wednesday afternoon and dropped by a hardware store and a sex shop to buy the equipment Clyde said I was to have. By no means had I decided to give in to his extraordinary experiment with my body, but I thought I ought to be prepared if the last minute should catch me still on the fence.

By Thursday, my nerves were shot and I was beside myself. Friday morning was no better, and my nervous exhaustion became worse as the day wore on. The appointed time was almost here. Clyde would be at my door at seven this evening. How would I greet him?

*********************

Clyde returned Friday evening just as he said he would. I did not greet him at the door in the nude. Clyde showed no reaction to at my refusal to play his game, and he never asked why I had not consented to be “retrained.”

We went to the movies. I was so on edge, I couldn’t tell you the name of the picture or anything about it. I sat there in the darkened theater while my own movie ran through my head.

In my imagination I was the star. I was on my knees on the floor at the foot of my bed. Each knee was tied to a leg of the bed spreading my thighs. Each of my arms was pulled to an edge of the headboard stretching the upper half of my body taught across the bed. My pussy and ass hole were open and defenseless. Clyde was fucking my butt hole. When he was through he whipped my ass and the back of my thighs with the limber switch I had ready for him. I was sobbing, but he refused to stop until I offered to suck him off and swallow his cum. My daydream raced on like that uninterrupted by the action on the screen.

Driving home we hardly spoke. I’m sure Clyde could guess what was going through my mind. Once back in my living room with the lights and music low, we lay together on the couch. He removed my blouse and bra, and stroked and petted my breasts. His hands felt so good, but not as good as when he again opened his own shirt and pressed my breast against his bare chest.

Still, he was cool, even a little distant. Distant or not, however, he was pushing all the right buttons. My cunt was on fire, and I even had a small climax as we lay there. That did it! On my own initiative I pulled down the zipper on his fly, reached into his shorts, and pulled out his cock. I could hardly believe what I was doing, but I was so horny. Totally out of character, I slipped off the couch onto the floor, ready to take that big slab of male meat in my mouth.

“No, no,” Clyde said as he pulled my head away. “You forget my terms of surrender…, when you open the door you must be naked, a girl from the seraglio ready to submit to her fate…, it is the only way.” He stood up abruptly, put his penis back in his pants, buttoned his shirt, and walked to the front door.

“I will be back at seven next Friday evening,” he told me. “It is up to you, another movie, a little petting…, or something different.”

‘SOMETHING DIFFERENT!’ There were those words again. Something to light my fire perhaps? After he left I broke down and cried.

At work the next week, I was even more distraught than before. I was such a mess that several of the girls, and even my boss who never notices anything, asked me if there was something wrong. By early afternoon on Friday, I had decided to do what I must.

When the door bell rang that night I was naked and wearing my dog collar as he demanded. I opened the door cautiously, careful to stand well back, safely out of sight of neighbors and passers by. Clyde would have none of it. He sternly demanded that I step forward in the open doorway with the light behind me. My blush of embarrassment ran from by toes to my hair line. Clyde made me stand there for what seemed an eternity before he came in and took a seat in an easy chair.

I closed the door quickly and turned to face him. “Well now,” he said, “Do I have to teach you how a harem girl greets her Sultan! On your knees…, and where are the things I asked you to have ready?”

Oh yes, the dildos, rope and stuff. I had left them in the bedroom.

Clyde frowned and growled at me. “This will not do Rose Anne my darling. You are ashamed of these things and how they will be used so you have hidden them away. You must face up to your perception that a woman submitting to have sex with a man is something shameful. That perception is what I am trying to teach you to overcome.”

He paused then, before continuing in the sharp demanding tone of an unhappy first sergeant. “Speaking of shame, I’m not going to tell you again! Get the hell on your hands and knees. Crawl over here between my legs. Take my cock out, kiss it and apologize for being such a sorry excuse for a woman who wants to be fucked.”

This wasn’t much fun! I considered telling him to get the hell out of my house. I didn’t, however, and for some reason I can’t explain, I dutifully crawled on my knees to where he stood, unzipped his fly and took out a flaccid cock that was just beginning to harden. As I said before, I don’t care for oral sex, but I shut my eyes and kissed the big plum head of his penis.

Swallowing what pride I had left, I apologized in a pitiful whine, “Clyde, I’m sorry. I’m new to this business. Please forgive me. I will do better.”

“All right, put it back in my pants and zip me.” There was that demanding tone of voice again. “In the future you will call me Sir.”

I apologized again, calling him ‘Kind Sir’ this time.

With his pants re-zipped Clyde took a seat at the table and announced, “I’ll have my dinner now.”

He was quite right when he told me that this was going to be embarrassing. I must have been beet red all over as I brought out the meal I had so carefully prepared.

“Tonight Rose Anne, I’m afraid you are going to bed hungry. I have been thinking all day about that lovely body of yours, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. Come over here and stand by my side.”

As he began to eat I stood by his chair, in the humiliating pose he demanded. My legs were spread to shoulder width. My fingers were interlocked on the back of my head as if I was a prisoner of war. With my hands behind my head my breasts were forced up and out, provocative and vulnerable. I was mortified but silent.

Clyde was equally silent, but every so often he would stop eating long enough to fondle a tit or run a finger along the slit of my pussy. This is just too horrible I thought, but as he continued to play with me, I could feel myself becoming aroused and moist. He felt this change also, and he pushed his index finger as deep as it would go into my vagina. He kept it there, leaving me hung on it like a side of beef on a butcher shop hook.

“What is this?” he asked. “I barely touch you and your pussy runs like a mountain spring? You must be a slut! Are you a slut?”

His question was insulting and the way it came snarling at me, my every instinct was to snarl back and tell him to go to hell. For some reason, however, when my mouth opened, the words that came out were not those at all.

“Yes sir, I am a slut sir,” I admitted for some reason beyond my understanding

“And whose slut are you Rose Anne?”

As if to remind me of the answer, he flexed his arm, lifting the finger I was pegged on upward, raising me to my tip toes. I teetered there unsteadily.

“Your slut Sir. I am your slut!” I wondered again why I was doing this. Why would I tell this strange man that I was his slut?

Suddenly his finger was out of my cunt, and my feet were back flat on the floor. He brought his hand up to my face.

“Clean it! I can’t eat with a hand sopping wet with your pussy juice.” He shoved the wet finger into my mouth, and repeated his command. “Suck on it! Suck hard! Think of it as a small cock.”

“Why am I doing this?” I asked myself once more, but suck on his finger I did, cleaning it with my mouth. Once finished with his finger, his hand was next. Using my tongue, I licked off the wet that had run down into the palm.

All the time I am demeaning myself this way, I am also debating whether to go on or end this right now. How I must look, stripped to the buff, letting this man play with me like I was his toy…, yet…, my God…, I did feel ever so sexy…, and aroused. Maybe, just maybe, there is something after all to this submission stuff.

I could feel pussy juice running down my thigh. Damn this man anyway! I should have told the arrogant bastard where he could put his “reprogramming,” except that having come this far, I was so hot and horny. God help me, with or without ‘the big O’ I was seeking, I needed the S.O.B. to take me to bed and fuck me.

Abruptly, Clyde stood up from the table and kissed me hard on the lips. Smiling at me for the first time this evening, he took off his belt, looped it around my neck, and led me off to my bedroom. He didn’t need to drag me. I was ready. No force was required, but the symbolism of a naked woman being led off by the neck to be fucked and used was overwhelming.

He stood by the bed while I knelt to help take off his shoes and pants. I must have been the very picture of a naked concubine in her master’s service. I was still on by knees, when he pulled me between his bare legs, and ordered me caress his cock and balls. I must have been into my role more than I realized because without any hesitation I tenderly rolled his testicles in my fingers, and lovingly kissed the glans of his prick.

“Lie down face up and spread-eagled across the bed,” was his next command.

Using the lengths of rope I had provided, he tied each of my arms and legs snugly to the nearest corner of the bed. Next he tied the scarf across my eyes. Once I was blindfolded and tautly strung across the bed, he laid down on top of me, and began massaging my boobs with his hands while he teased my nipples with my vibrator and his tongue.

Long minutes ticked by as he worked his way under each breast and into the cleavage between. Gradually that talented tongue licked its way up the side of one boob and then the other, a journey that he finished at the crest of each tit by trapping the nipple between his tongue and that damned buzzing vibrator.

Next he began a marvelous trip down the length of my torso from tits, to underarms, then to ribs, from ribs on to my belly button, from belly button to thighs, from thighs to behind my knees, and finally all the way to my ticklish feet and toes. God how I wanted him to eat me, and I told him so, but he hushed me, saying I must learn patience. He said I would get a tongue in my pussy when he decided I was ready, and not before.

I screamed at him, protesting that I was ready and needed it NOW, but instead of my aching pussy he licked the inside of my thighs once more, taking little love nips as he went. Time slipped by! Minutes or hours, I could not tell. I begged him. I pleaded with him. “I can’t take it. Eat me! I’m about to cum if only you will eat me. Please God! Eat me! Damn you!”

indfolded and tautly strung across the bed, he laid down on top of me, and began massaging my boobs with his hands while he teased my nipples with my vibrator and his tongue.

Long minutes ticked by as he worked his way under each breast and into the cleavage between. Gradually that talented tongue licked its way up the side of one boob and then the other, a journey that he finished at the crest of each tit by trapping the nipple between his tongue and that damned buzzing vibrator.

Next he began a marvelous trip down the length of my torso from tits, to underarms, then to ribs, from ribs on to my belly button, from belly button to thighs, from thighs to behind my knees, and finally all the way to my ticklish feet and toes. God how I wanted him to eat me, and I told him so, but he hushed me, saying I must learn patience. He said I would get a tongue in my pussy when he decided I was ready, and not before.

I screamed at him, protesting that I was ready and needed it NOW, but instead of my aching pussy he licked the inside of my thighs once more, taking little love nips as he went. Time slipped by! Minutes or hours, I could not tell. I begged him. I pleaded with him. “I can’t take it. Eat me! I’m about to cum if only you will eat me. Please God! Eat me! Damn you!”

“What is it you want Rose Anne?” he teased. “Tell me! Tell me loud so the Nuns can hear. What dirty sexy thing do you want me to do to you?”

“Your tongue, damn you,” I answered. “Please put your tongue in my pussy, and lick me. Suck on my clit. EAT ME!”

He had promised that he would be pitiless, and that much was certainly the truth. I began to buck my hips, trying to force my slit into his mouth. He laughed at me. “Eat you? What would the good Sisters say?” he asks taunting me.

“God, Please God I don’t care, Please, Please, just eat me, suck my cunt. I beg you. Just eat me please.”

“Oh, All right,” he responded laughing at me again. “How about this?” he asked as he began to run his tongue up and down my labia. With his fingers he spread the folds of my pussy apart exposing my clit. His tongue flicked at that poor nub, whipping it until it became as erect as a little cock.

Deep in my ovaries I could feel my orgasm beginning to build…, and build. He too felt me stiffen, and with that he nipped at my erect clit with his teeth. I shuddered from the small climax that racked my body. But that was only the beginning…, God help me…, now his tongue was deep in my cunt…, he had the vibrator whirring on my clit. I couldn’t stand any more! I cried out, “”I’m going to cum. I’M CUMMINNGG!

I came…, and came again…and again…”, but Clyde refused to stop…, and I could not tell you whether I wanted him to or not. Despite my bonds, I bucked and struggled, sometime trying to pry his mouth away from that tender hole between my legs, sometimes trying to keep it there.

One orgasm was not enough, but then ten or twenty were not enough either. Even when he finally raised his head from between my legs, he was not through. Into my now wet and wide open cunt he slid the largest of my dildos. The walls of my vagina spasmed, grabbing at the plastic like a vise, as he expertly he trapped my erect clit between his tongue and the vibrating artificial cock.

I thought my heart would surely stop. My body became one long agitated nerve cell that this bastard picked at like a guitar string. I have masturbated myself to climaxes many times, but in my wildest dreams, I have never imagined anything like this was even possible. To have a man play with my body, that made all the difference in the world.

Finally, I thought, I have found a man who would manipulate me with his hands and mouth and bring me off. At last, a man who doesn”t believe his love tool is the only thing that will unlock the woman”s satisfaction. Could he really teach me how to do this while I rode his cock?

Just as I reached the peak of my biggest orgasm yet, Clyde pulled the dildo out of my super sensitive cunt. I groaned in protest, but the ropes that bound me were as tight as ever, and I could only lay there, sweating and panting from my exertion and passion. Even blindfolded, I knew that there must be a gaping distended hole between my legs where a tight slit had once been. I blushed as I thought of the way I have acted, and how I must look. What Clyde must think of me? Whore! Slut! At least those I’m sure, but I just didn’t care.

“And now my little harem slave, are you ready to suck me? he asked.

“Oh God yessss,” I panted.

Was this really me talking? It must be. I am sure I recognized that begging pleading voice. “Give me your cock, please Sir. I want to suck your cock.”

It was true! I did want to suck him, to taste him, to have him cum in my mouth. How could I have changed so quickly from semi-frigid prim ‘good Catholic girl’ into a cocksucking slut?. I have always been too shy and too guilty to tell a man what I wanted, and I certainly had never before asked one if I could please suck him off. Such a thing had never even occurred to me before. What is happening here?

“And when I cum, will you swallow my seed, all of it?” he asked.

There was no hesitation to my answer. Just as he had said I would, I begged him, “Yes, Please Sir! Yes Sir…, Please fuck my mouth…, let me swallow you!” Had I really said that? Was that me begging to have a man’s dick in my mouth, begging to eat his jism?

I felt that big dildo go back into my stretched pussy in a single cruel thrust. No sooner had it hit my cervix than another orgasm rolled over me. While my body was still trembling from the after shocks, Clyde seated himself astride my throat with his crotch over my face, just has he had the night of our first date. He ripped off my blindfold that I might see and admire his huge hard-on bobbing just above my nose. It was so big, and so close, it seemed that the whole world had suddenly turned into one giant prick with a fiery red head.

I remembered vividly how I had turned away and refuse to suck this man only two weeks ago. How could I have done that then, and now be begging him to “fuck my mouth.” Well, I thought, “Then was then, and now is now. Like the song says, ‘What a Difference a Day Makes’.”

“Please Clyde,” I heard myself again repeat aloud, “Fuck my mouth.”

Clyde grabbed a fistful of my hair with one hand, and his cock in the other. Yanking my head upward he shoved his hard-on into my mouth and down my throat. I gagged a little with its size, but he keeps pulling my head onto his fleshy pole until I can take no more. I am choking but I suck him with all I have, so grateful to have him in my mouth that I don’t care that he is hurting me.

He yanks my head back a little. Ah, yes! Now I know what he wants, and I concentrate my lips and tongue on the big ridge behind the head of his penis. He must have liked what I was doing because I heard him gasp before he yanked me up and forward again, this time driving his full length deep into my throat. For a moment I could not breathe, but as I choked for air, his hips begin to rock back and forth in a fucking motion, pushing and pulling the full length of his love pole in and out of my mouth.

Clyde was quite literally “fucking my mouth” when still another of those shattering orgasms overwhelmed me. I couldn’t believe it. ‘Rose Anne the prick tease,’ who won’t suck a cock, ‘Rose Anne the frigid’ who couldn’t cum, was having a super climax while a man she hardly knew was using her mouth to jack himself off.

When Clyde’s ejaculation finally came, he was on the down stroke, and the first jets of jism shot straight down my throat. The rest, however, flooded my already stuffed mouth. This stream of warm salty cream was simply more than I could handle. I swallowed as fast as I can, but dribbles of spilled male sperm run out of the corners of my mouth and onto my neck. My mouth had been used like a cunt. I had been demeaned and violated, forced to suck a penis like a common whore. It was all so wonderful!

I lay quietly beside my lover now, exhausted almost to the point of paralysis from orgasms I have never before even imagined.

“Will you fuck me now?” I asked.

The pleading tone in my voice was accentuated when I added, “please, Sir!”

“No I don’t think so,” came the disappointing reply.

“You are a little too eager. All you have ever wanted from a man was to be stroked and masturbated. Until now, having his cock in your pussy just wasn’t important was it? Well, I will give you tomorrow to dwell on how things have changed. In every spare moment I want you to remember how you look and feel right now…, tied and helpless, but exhausted from your passion, your pussy all open, swollen, and stretched, my cum running down your face.”

“I want you to remember how you begged to suck my cock, and to please fuck you. I want you to think about the orgasms you have had tonight, and imagine how much better they will be when my dick is finally rubbing over your clit.”.

“No,” I protested. “I submitted to you. I did everything you wanted. I have been a good girl, and I am ready, I swear I’m ready. Please fuck me now.”

Clyde frowned and shook his head in disapproval. “A harem concubine does not argue with her Sultan, nor does she decide when or how she will be fucked. Tomorrow I will take the switch to your ass and thighs for forgetting your place. Be stripped and ready when I get here tomorrow night. Until then, think about what I may do to you. I may even fuck you.”

With that Clyde dressed and left

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“To be continued. VOTE, and feedback please”

Tags: Fetish, Story