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2005-11-27
It Was Only a Story John J. Jones Well, I HAD written the story about her, but I didn't think it wouldcome to this. . . Well, maybe I dreamed it would, but I never had an idea of what the reality of it would be like. . . intense, passionate, and fearful. . . I guess I knew the word all along. . . submission. But as often as I'd written about it; as often as I experienced it in my own imagination, it was nowhere near the reality of it. But wait.
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. . I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. I write stories, erotic stories. Obviously you know, that's why you'rereading this. I've written a variety of stories, from the normal to the bizarre. I've even put a few on the net. Anyway, I had this fantasy about a woman at work: Corey. She's a college girl. I'm in my 40's. She's beautiful, has curly, shoulder-length, strawberry blonde, almost red hair. She has a smile that would melt steel. But her eyes. .
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. those are what get me the most. I usually have a knack for determining a person's personality and thoughts by their eyes. In a way she's different, in a way, I suppose she's not. At first, it seemed I could tell some things about her. She seemedsweet, friendly. Then one day when I helped her with a computer problem at work, I turned to ask her a question and there it was. . . that look. It sent a shiver down my spine. I went weak and helpless. That was the first time I realized that my ability to read people was being turned on me. She was looking right through me. It was as if she knew my innermost fantasies and thoughts.
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It was in her eyes and the sly smile. I instantly grew nervous and forgot what I was doing. In a panic, I fumbled with the keys trying to get a grip again as I looked away. I was almost in a cold sweat. This had never happened to me before. It was scary, but deep inside, itturned me on. All the feelings I've had when I was writing about being dominated by a woman (or women) came sneaking to the surface right then and there, and I was embarrassed. As I regained control, I told myself I should relax. She couldn't know about any of this. I had just met her. I was just over-reacting, miss-interpreting her look. When I finished fixing the problem on her computer and looked back once more, she had that friendly nice-to- know-you smile on her face again. I drew a sigh of relief and talked with her a few moments before I left her cubicle. Still a bit flustered, but a little more relaxed. Corey is taller than me, but extremely well endowed.
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So I thought abouther a lot after that first meeting. I would go and talk to her once in a while. There were a couple of times I thought I saw that look in her eyes but I would glance away. I was nervous. When I'd look back, it was gone. If she was doing this on purpose, she was good. Very good. Then one day I stopped by when she was wearing a skirt. She turned around in her chair, with that look on her face. I swear, I almost dropped my cup of coffee. If she could have seen into the cup, she would have thought there was an earthquake. My hand was shaking. Her legs were fantastic. Again, I looked away and struggled to make idle conversation. It was after that visit that I had to write a story.
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I had to vent. Thefeelings I got from her were driving me crazy. I wrote a domination/submission story that was probably the most passionate I ever wrote. Passionate in the sense of sex and the sensation of raw submission. I understand how some may find it difficult to understand how this could be defined as passion, but trust me. . . it's just as much a passion of taking the woman you fantasize about into your arms and making love at the time you're most ready, then putting it into words. Even after completing the story, I would reread it and get excited again. I put the story onto my private site where only a few friends knew aboutit. I received a few comments about how silly the idea of male submission was, but everyone said the story was exceptionally hot. After writing the story, I got more relaxed with Corey and decided I would ask her to lunch. I'm kind of a talker, and I think I express myself well; it's necessaryfor my job. But I found myself at a loss for words during lunch. I talked about anything.
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I was like a nervous kid. I was afraid I was making a fool of myself. She never looked that way at me during lunch, I was just nervous. The topic of my story writing came up and I mentioned the public site where some of my stories were posted, http://www. eroticstories. com. I thought she might like a couple of them. They may even turn her on! Of course, I didn't say that. As we walked back, I summoned up the nerve to ask some questions abouther. She made it plain she would answer straightforwardly if I asked her anything. The only real question I remember was what kind of guy she liked, and the only real portion of her response that rang in my ears was "I like a guy who can take orders". She made that statement with a smile and a giggle. Inside, I freaked. The words rang in my head like a gong. Not merely for the fact that itimplied she was a dominant, but something else.
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It was in my story. The exact words. This happened on a Friday, just before we went our separate ways for lunch. The rest of the afternoon went right down the toilet as far as work was concerned. I was distracted, confused and excited all wrapped up in one overwhelming emotion. Had she seen the story about her? I had changed her name, but there were a lot of beginning circumstances that would have left no doubt about who the characters were. The rest of the weekend was just the same kind of blur. I couldn'tconcentrate, I found myself pacing at times. I tried to watch movies to divert my feelings, but nothing worked. Friday night, I sent her an email with a link to the public site, just for something to do. I struggled with the thought that she couldn't have seen my private site and I had not physically shown the story to anyone else. Saturday was no better. I woke up at my usual time, but didn't get outof bed. I lay there thinking about her and the situation. Or was there a situation? Was I imagining things? If I wasn't, what was I going to do? If she knew about the story, how could I face her again at work? What if she wasn't really dominant and just thought I was some kind of weirdo? Saturday and Sunday both found me pacing and looking for things to do.
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Simple things, concentration was at a minimum. I even canceled a computer consultation appointment with a client because I didn't want to deal with the effort it was going to take to keep my mind on the job. What was I going to do on Monday when I went back to work? Where shesat, I could probably avoid her. I had taken vacation for the rest of the week, so I'd just have to avoid her Monday and Tuesday. But did I want to? Did she want me to? By now, you can see how confused and tortured I was. I use the wordtortured to describe the lack of direction to take. Well. . . then came Monday. I tried to keep my mind on work, keep myself busy. I thought that wouldbe the key to getting through this. But every hour or so, one thought would shoot through my mind. Should I go over by Corey? The confused thoughts that raced through my mind every time the question came up, once again, distracted me from whatever I was doing. Just before noon, the question had been answered for me.
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"Paul, Cory called. She said her PC wouldn't start". Panic. I lookedaround. There were no other technicians to take the call. "She said everything looked like it was plugged in ok. You know how that goes. " The receptionist said, grinning. Cindy was in her area! I grabbed the walkie-talkie. "She asked for you. " The receptionist said as I picked it up. Well, that was it. One way or another I had to see her. Thoughts again flooded my mind as I hooked up my walkie-talkie andheaded out of the office door. She didn't seem the kind that would embarrass me in front of everyone, so I didn't have to worry about that.
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But what suggestions or comments would she make? I could easily be embarrassed without anyone else knowing what was going on. I was careful enough to use a "writers" name on my stories, so I couldn't be connected with them. I always used other names and places IN my stories, so I was safe there. What was going to happen? Had I done something stupid? Was I overreacting? My palms were sweaty and my hands were shaking as I neared her cubicle. My heart was racing and I felt flush. I stopped just short of her cube to calm down. "Paul! Whassup, guy?" a friend chirped up as he walked by. Oh, no! No time to calm down. She had to know I was there now. "S. S. D. D. !" I muttered as I continued my mission. I walked around into her cube with my usual smile, and I was in luck!She wasn't there! I set down my tool kit and started checking cables.
The PC monitor was hooked to the machine in a manner that didn't allow the machine to be pulled out very far, so I had to get under the desk to check the connections on the back of the machine. Then I felt her. Her foot brushed my leg as she sat down in her chair. I froze. "There he is!" she chirped. "How was your weekend?" I went flush. Was itmy imagination again, or did her tone reflect knowledge of what I went through? I looked down. She was sitting with her legs slightly parted, wearing the same skirt she had worn before. I could see into the skirt, that she was wearing pantyhose, but no panties. Everything above the waist was above the desk. "Paul?". I jumped at her voice again. I took a deep breath and realized I better say something. "Sorry didn't know you were talking to me! Too short, as usual! How about you?" I responded as I regained my concentration and noticed the power cord was halfway out of the machine. It could have been kicked.
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. . or something. I avoided looking at her legs again as I crawled out from under her desk and stood up. She wasn't looking at me, but she had a smile on her face. I clicked on the machine and it came to life. "There ya go!" I said, a bit anxious to leave at the moment. . . yet. . . not. "Sent you an email about another problem I'm having. " She continued.
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"Ihad a file attached to it that I couldn't open. Did you get it?" I hadn't checked my email all morning. It's one of the things I forgot. "Not yet, sorry! I'll look as soon I get back downstairs. " I replied. "Good. Thank you for getting here so quick!" she said and turned to look up at me. The look was half there. She wasn't upset with me obviously, but I didn't know what to make of it. My heart slowed down as I went back to the office. It may be ok, I toldmyself. Let's see what's in this email. I sat down at my desk and fired up email. Her message was there. Itexplained the problem she had opening the file.
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I checked the file. It was a WordPerfect 4 file. We used MS Word at our office. This was going to be an easy one. I called her and told her that Word would not open this version of a WordPerfect file. Her voice, although it was soft and sweet, crackled like lightning over the phone. "I know. I have WordPerfect 4 at home, and it's not opening there, either. You consult on the side, right?" I went numb. I thought I swallowed my tongue. There was dead silence for what seemed like an eternity. "Sure!" I finally managed to almost squeak out. Confusion about what tosay set in again, but it didn't matter. "Good. Here's my address.
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" It obviously wasn't a question as to whether or not I would come out there. She gave me her address. "Tonight or tomorrow night?" she asked. There was no time to think about it. "Tomorrow night will be fine!" I blurted out. I looked around and was relieved that no one was nearby to hear it. "See you around 6? I'll have something for dinner!" She had an early shift, since she went to college on Wednesday and Friday, but for me, 6 o'clock was pushing it. I had to get home and get the car and get to where she lived in less than 2 hours, but it was possible. And I was excited and yet apprehensive as a school kid. "I'll be there!" I said, looking around before I said it this time. Another afternoon at work shot to hell. So was half of Tuesday. I wasexcited, passing off the harder problems, whipping out the easier ones; not telling a soul about anything. On the way home on the train Tuesday Evening, it hit me. .
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. my story. . . I had my first encounter with her in my story at her place! And I had gone over to fix a problem with her PC! I became oblivious to everyone else on the train as I felt myself go flush. It couldn't be. . . it was just coincidence. . . I mean, I work on computers. She knows that. She just needed help or she was just using it as an excuse to get me over. It couldn't have anything to do with the story.
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It was a hardware error in the story anyway. . . I almost blew my stop on the train. I walked into the house, washed up and changed. All the while thoughts running through my head about what the night would hold. I picked up my jacket and car keys and walked to the car. Traffic was pretty bad, but I made it to her front door at about 5:55. "On time! I like that!" she said coolly as she opened the door. I stood in shock. She was wearing a one- piece midi skirt, red, bright red, and tight. Just like in my story. My thoughts raced as I instinctively turned and looked at the door, then downward. Oh, geeez, is this all coincidence? Or does she know? "Are you coming in? Or are you going to stand out there all night?" shesmiled. I was startled slightly and apologized as I stepped into her townhouse.
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It was attractive and you could tell it was a woman's place; clean, orderly and kinda "homey". "Let's eat first. " She quipped as she took off my jacket. Well, that was different. In my story, I fixed her computer first. "This way. " She said after she hung up my coat. I followed her down a short hall checking out her beautiful legs and ass as she walked. Her hair was beautiful against her neck and shoulders. I froze one again as we entered the small dining room. Two red candlesplaced at the sides of the table, not in the middle. Brass candleholders, red tablecloth, glasses of red wine. But the kicker was the napkins. They were black. This was all exactly as I wrote in my story.
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The odds were now too high for my comfort. Cory continued into the dining room and looked back at me where I stopped. "Something wrong?" she asked with a sly tone in her voice. I swallowedhard. Do I say something, or do I go along with this? I could feel that my face was flushed and my palms were getting sweaty again. If she knew the whole story, this could be the best night of my life. . . or the worst. I regained my composure somewhat. "Nice arrangement. " I managed to say. "Thank you!" she replied. "I especially like the idea of black napkins against a red tablecloth. Your idea?" I asked.
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She smiled and practically glared at me. "No, probably saw it in a catalog. . . " I proceeded into the dining room. "Or read it somewhere. " She continued. I stopped by a chair, took a deep breath, tilted my head back and caughtmyself closing my eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked slyly. "You ok?" I opened my eyes, stared at the curtains on the dining room wall across from me. "Ok, look, I'm sorry. " I muttered. She walked around behind me, as I stood there frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. She stepped up against me, he breasts against my shoulders. She had toturn her head down slightly to whisper in my ear.
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Her perfume filled my nostrils. "You're sorry? Why? Did you do something wrong?" Again, a different location in my story, but the exact words she had said. If I had been any more nervous, my teeth would have been chattering. I couldn't answer. She stepped away and into the kitchen. "I don't see where you've done anything wrong, so why don't you sit down?" I moved to a chair and sat down. I sat there quietly as she moved aroundin the kitchen. Oh, no. . . the food, I thought. In my story, the meat was filet minion, with corn and mashed potatoes. Since she couldn't see me, I closed my eyes. I'm not sure if it was a prayer or a general statement. Please.
. . let this go well, I thought to myself. I knew this evening could go either way from this point on. She brought dinner out. It was pork chops. She set two more bowls downon the table, then moved to the other side and sat down.
"Help yourself," she said smiling. First I took a pork chop from the plate and set it on mine. Then took a bowl. I removed the lid. Mashed potatoes. I spooned some slowly onto the plate, trying not to look at her. I replaced the lid and took the next bowl. Corn.
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I stared at it for a moment. "Don't like corn?" she asked. I jumped slightly at her question. "Oh, it's fine. . . " I replied. I spooned some onto my plate and then started cutting a pork chop. "Like pork chops?" She asked. She piped up again before I had a chance to answer. "Not a real beef person myself. . . steaks are usually too tough". I dropped my fork on the plate.
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The sound echoed in my ears like a plate glass window shattered by a brick. "It seems like you're nervous," she said. "Are you sure something's notwrong?" I wiped my hands on the napkin. "I said I was sorry. " I muttered. She smiled, picked up her fork and started eating. She swallowed, took a sip of her wine and smiled at me again. "Oh, you must mean the story. It was about me, wasn't it?" It was final. All the torture was over. I was busted. But how did she. . . it didn't matter now.
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I sat for what seemed to be an eternity staring at my plate. "Wasn't it?" This time it was more of a demand for an answer than a question. So much so, that I jumped. "Yes, yes it was. " I replied. Again, I couldn't move while she continued to eat. I felt like a trapped animal. Her voice was soft again. "You really should eat something. " I stillcouldn't move. "You may need the energy tonight. " Her words shot excitement and fear through me as I sat there staring at my plate. "Paul. " There was the command in her voice again. I picked up my knife and fork and began eating.
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"You know, you're one hell of a writer, Paul" she said between bites. "But has it ever happened to you for real?" The fear and excitement started a stir of sexual tension that I'd only nearly felt before in writing my stories, but this was more intense. I felt an erection coming on. "No, it hasn't" I muttered. "Hmmm. . . I really don't get into the word "mistress". . . But I like to becalled by my name. You wouldn't mind calling me Miss Corey, would you Paul?" I hesitated. "No. " "No?" she piped back. I almost choked on my food.
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"I'm sorry. No, Miss Cory. " "Good" she replied. I felt toes move their way up my leg to my crotch and stop to rub against what was soon becoming a raging hard-on. "This is going to be a very interesting night for you, Paul. Very interesting. Interesting for me, too. " It was a short. . . but long dinner. The few times I looked up at Corey,she was watching me intently while she ate. One time, she clamped her teeth on her fork and drew it out slowly. I was literally shaking with fear, anticipation and lust. When we were done eating, she stood up and walked toward my side of the table.
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"Come with me. " She said. I followed her down another hall to the bathroom. She leaned against awall. "Shower is right there" she said. My mind flashed back to the story. "Unless you're going to shower with your clothes on, I suggest you strip" she said without moving. Now my erection was dwindling. . . I began to undress. I had my back to her as I finally took off my underwear. "Turn around. " She ordered. My pecker by now was all reduced to about an inch and a half in length.
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I turned around. "Funny, felt a lot bigger than that under the table!" she smiled. She was twirling a toothpick in her mouth. She stepped past me and pushed the shower curtain aside. My heart fellinto the pit of my stomach. In my story, there was a chain and handcuffs attached to the showerhead. Corey had two pair of handcuffs on a bar positioned at each end just under the showerhead. "Look, I. . . " I started. I didn't even know what I was going to say. "Get in, Paul. " She interrupted firmly. I got in.
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She took my left hand and brought it up to the handcuff on the left side of the bar. I was standing there naked and confused. She took my other hand and locked it to the other side. Corey stepped back from the shower and started stripping. "Yes, Paul,it's going to be an interesting night. " She said as she peeled her red bra, stockings, garter and panties off. As she stepped into the shower behind me, she said, "You see, Paul, I don't trust my men to clean themselves. They never do a good enough job for me. I have to do it myself. " I shuddered as I recognized it as another line from my story. I was in for a cleaning I was not going to soon forget, and if I didn't stand and take it, it was going to be worse. In my story, John was threatened with nipple and ball clamps if he pulled off the showerhead, so he had to hold his arms up and hang on. She pulled the shower curtain closed and as she snapped on the water, Imuttered, "please don't hurt me. " "What?" she replied. "Please don't hurt me, Miss Corey," I repeated more loudly through the water.
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"Remember, Paul. . . I read the story. I know you're not into pain. But I also know the ways you make a man hurt without using steel and pointy objects. Yes, Paul. . . you're going to hurt. But if you're a good boy, you'll be rewarded. " "But if you're a good boy. . . ", yet another line from my story.
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She remembered quite a bit. I was positioned so the warm water was running directly down my head andbody. Corey reached over to the liquid soap dispenser and dispensed a large amount of soap on her hand. Then she reached over to the window and grabbed a small brush with a strap. She started rubbing the soap on my back, then washing it with the brush. The first few seconds felt good, but the brush was stiff and it became more like scrubbing than rubbing. My skin was beginning to hurt. She proceeded to scrub my neck and shoulders. Then she reached around to scrub my chest and stomach. Next were my legs and feet. I looked down at myself and saw that I was all pink from the scrubbing and my skin stung all over. Just like John in my story. The first test was coming. She washed my hair and face with a rag, andthen lathered up again. "Let's see.
. . this was a "test" wasn't it Paul?" she said as she kicked my feet apart, one at a time. At the thought, I was already getting an erection. "And. . . if you failed, you'd get a really long, cold, rinse, right? Isn't that the way it went?" she continued. Oh, geez. . . that was the agreement. She was to thoroughly wash Johns' crotch and he was not to climax. At all. John managed it, but in reality, I didn't believe there was a way in hell I could undergo that type of treatment from Corey, from any woman for that matter without climaxing.
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She pulled open the shower curtain a small amount, revealing a small clock on the sink. "Let's see. . . 5 minutes, right?" she hissed, as though she knew Iwouldn't hold out. Both hands filled with lather, she reached around and took my now half-erect cock in one hand and brought the other between my ass cheeks. She started massaging my cock firmly with the lather and shoving the fingers of her other hand down across my asshole and into my crotch. My cock rose in an instant as she pumped slowly on my prick. Slowly, methodically she probed and pumped. I knew I wasn't going to make it. Her lips came close to my ear. "John may have," she said softly as she pumped and played with my ass. "But I don't think," she hesitated and stuck her tongue into my ear. "You're going to MAKE it!" As she emphasized the work MAKE, she rammed a finger deep into my asshole. She pumped my cock harder and faster.
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It was only 3 minutes and it was as good as over. My knees buckled and Icaught my breath, clenched my teeth, trying to hold it back, but it was senseless. She won, as she knew she was going to. I exploded into the shower wall as she kept her finger in my ass and kept milking my cock until I couldn't spend any more. "Aw, too bad. . . not as good as "John" at this, are you?" she said. I was almost hanging by the handcuffs as she rinsed my cock and ass. She pulled the shower curtain back enough to step out. "Pardon me while I dry off. Oh yes. . . the deal.
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" She reached back into the shower and snapped the faucet all the way to the left. I was instantly accosted by an onrush of ice-cold water. From my position, the most I could do was pull my face back, but thecold water still cascaded over my chest, shoulders and down my whole body. No matter where I moved I was still pummeled with cold water. After having climaxed and been scrubbed until I was pink, the water seemed even much more cold. I turned to look out of the shower to see Corey seated on the closed toilet applying shaving cream to the already small hairs on her pussy. As she picked up her razor, she looked in at me. Probably expecting I wouldn't hear her through the running water, she mouthed, "You're next", pointing at me. That wasn't in the story, either. I was starting to shiver now as I changed positions, trying to get thewater to change direction on me. I glanced out at Corey every couple of minutes hoping she would uncuff me, but she was taking her time, shaving her pussy clean. Finally, she wiped herself clean and stood up. Now I was quivering in the shower. "Are we cooled off yet"? She asked coyly. She reached in and turned off the shower.
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"Oh. . . I'll be right back. " She said as she stooped to pick up my clothes. It was quiet now, except for the water dripping off me. Even the warmth of the bathroom felt better now. Corey came back into the bathroom wearing a red silk robe. She had a keyand started unlocking the cuffs. "Your clothes are in the washer now, but that's ok, you won't be needing them for the rest of the night. " Another line from the story. I remembered that John had complained about walking around naked and for his complaint his mistress made him wear a pair of her panties around the house. I wasn't saying a word. I was sore and shivering as I stepped from the shower. She handed me a towel.
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"When you're done drying off, meet me in the living room" she said as she turned away. Then she stopped. "Oh, and leave the towel here, Paul. " I dried off quickly as I could. The heater kicked on and I aimed thevent up at me to warm up. I sat for about 5 minutes under the warm heat. It was apparently taking too long. "Paul?" I heard from the living room. I hung the towel on the rod and slowly made my way to the living room. My pecker looked like it was half an inch long. . . "Come here. . .
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" Corey said as I walked into the room. She was on thecouch in her red nylons, garter, panties and bra once more, with the red silk robe on over it. The shades were drawn and the room was only lit by one lamp next to her. There was a pan of water by the coffee table. This wasn't in the story. "Sit down on the edge of the coffee table" she said. I sat down. "Lean back on your hands. " I did. "Spread your legs wide". I obeyed. She picked up a pair of scissors and leaned over from the couch. She began trimming the hair from my crotch. "Please don't do this, Miss Corey" I asked softly. She just smiled andkept trimming.
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"What, might look bad to the guys at the club?" She knew I was the member of the health club near work. I didn't answer. She finished trimming and took a washrag out of the pan of water. She placed the pan on the floor at the edge of the coffee table and started squeezing the water from the washrag onto my crotch so that it ran off the edge of the table into the water. Then she reached into the cushion and pulled out a can of shaving cream. She applied it to my crotch. It was cooling. Then she reached for the razor. "I also like my men hairless here, like me. Now. . . if you sit realstill, you'll be okay through this. If not, well, I hate to think what could get cut off," she said smiling. She began to shave me.
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I sat still. REAL still. When she was done, she rinsed me off. And told me to stand up. My whole crotch was bald. As she dried me off, she asked, "Have you ever REALLY eaten a pussyPaul?" I gave her a matter-of-fact look and looked away. "You haven't answered my question. " "Yes, Miss Corey" I replied. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked. I hesitated. "Sometimes" I answered. "Sometimes? Right. How many times have you made a woman come with your tongue Paul? Don't lie. You know by now I can tell if you lie. " I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
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Somehow, I knew she was right. She'd know. I opened my eyes. "Twice" I admitted. "So "sometimes" you enjoyed it? Does that mean once? Or both times? Or neither?" I couldn't answer. "You know, I've found that most guys who want to be dominated are afraidof pussy, Paul. . . is that you? Are you afraid of a woman because of her pussy, Paul?" I was sitting there naked in front of a tall beautiful woman and my secrets were being pulled out of me as if a cop was grilling me. She was determined to have me bare everything, inside and out. "I don't know," I muttered. "You don't know? Paul, Paul, Paul. . . " she said as she stood up and walked around behind me to the other side of the coffee table.
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"You're a grown man! Don't answer like a cornered child! You are, or you aren't. Are you afraid of a woman's pussy? Answer me!" Now I was confused. I knew I wasn't AFRAID of a woman's pussy, but I didn't know what I WAS afraid of. "I don't think so, Miss Corey" I said. "Another childish answer. " She said. Corey leaned on the table behind me and gently licked the base of myneck by my shoulder. "Or are you just afraid of women, Paul?" she whispered hotly in my ear. One of my hands slid off the coffee table. On one side of the living room wall were mirrors. I heard her step away and looked over into the mirrors to see what she was doing. She picked up a small footrest by an easy chair and set it next to the coffee table behind me. It was even with the height of the coffee table. She saw me looking and looked over at me in the mirror and smiled. "Lay down, Paul.
" I laid back on the coffee table. "Now, move up. " Islid up until my head was resting on the footstool. She went to the couch and brought two small pillows back with her. We were back to the story again. I knew what was going to happen, as she placed a pillow on each side of the stool. "I liked your story, Paul. And I think it's a great way to REALLY introduce you to pussy! Obviously, it hasn't happened, because it was just a fantasy, right, Paul?" I took a deep breath. "Please Miss Corey. . . " I begged. "Oh, yes, Paul. Beg. I love to hear a man beg.
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Especially a man who's afraid of a woman. . . " Corey reached under the coffee table and brought out two ropes withleather cuffs on one end and metal and rubber clamps on the other. She fastened the metal and rubber ends to the legs of the coffee table and when she reached for my arm, I instinctively pulled it away. "Please don't. " I begged. She stopped. She gently stroked my hair, the suddenly grabbed a handful and pulled. I yelped. "Now Paul, you said you're not into pain. Let's not find out, shall we?" I relaxed. She attached my wrists to the ropes then adjusted them so they were tight. She turned around and stood over me, so I was looking right up the frontof her. Her nylons, garter, red silk panties and large breasts, tightly restrained by the red silk bra.
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Then she slid her hand into her crotch beneath her panties and started playing with herself as she spoke. "So, our mistress in your story got her panties real wet first, right? That won't be hard. I'll just think about what I'll be doing to you in a little while, and what you'll be doing FOR me" she smiled. "I know you remember what happened in your story, right?" I wasconfused. I was genuinely questioning my situation now. "Yes, Miss Corey" I mumbled. Corey pressed her silk panties into her crotch as she continued to play with herself through them. Even in the dim light of the lamp behind her, I could see a wet spot forming on them. She pressed even harder, and I could hear her moistness beneath her fingers. She took a deep breath. "Oh, yes, Paul!" she gasped and bit her lower lip. "You're going to LOVEpussy by the time we're done here. " Her fingers were moving around her clit and it was almost visible now as the sounds of her moisture became more prevalent. My cock starting responding to what I was seeing. She gasped once again and stopped.
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"It's time, Paul," she said, panting. She brought her legs together close to my head and started taking her panties off. Then she sat down on my stomach, knocking some of the wind out of me. She stared at me, folding her panties so the wet crotch was forward. "Please. . . " I mumbled, but she put her thumb on my chin and opened my mouth. She stuffed the wet crotch of her panties in and closed my mouth on them. I could taste her. It was sweet, and yet tart. "I like this part next, Paul. Are you ready?" I took a deep breath andclosed my eyes. I knew what was next. When she moved, I opened my eyes again, just in time to see her fingers had her lips spread wide as she pushed her shaven pussy down onto my face and nose.
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She was hot, wet. . . very wet, and at the moment, suffocating. She moved her hips around in circles as she let her weight down slowly on my face. Only the width of the footstool kept her from blocking my view upward. She looked down past her breasts at me, smiling, squirming, and then biting her lip as she moved slowly forward and back against my nose. I, on the other hand, could not breathe and was starting to panic. Like the story, but this was too real. I twisted my head, trying to escape her thighs, then moaned loudlyagainst her, panicking, struggling uselessly against the ropes. She lifted herself, panting. "Is it just like your story, Paul? Do you feel like John?" I sensed this was not to be a long reprieve and grabbed a deep breath before she planted her pussy over my nose again, this time leaning forward as she moved back and forth against my nose. She was using it to get off, just like in my story. "I love this, Paul. Don't you? I love my pussy on your face! You know, Ithink I'll cum on your face a few times before make you eat my pussy.
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What do think. . . 3 times each before you get a break? I mean, I'll come on your face 3 times, then I'll teach you to eat my pussy until I cum 3 more times. Yeah, that sounds good! How come you're not answering me Paul?" She looked down at me, smiling, her breasts bouncing from her movement. "Oh, that's right! You're not breathing! And besides, my panties are in your mouth!" She laughed, panting. I could tell she was getting close to cumming. I grunted again to beg for air, but she didn't stop until I once again started twisting and moaning loudly, on the verge of passing out. She got up. "Ooop! What's wrong, Paul? Don't want you passing out on me! You have togo through this awake!" I struggled for breaths of air, and on my second breath, she pushed her wet, dripping pussy back onto my face and nose. She proceeded to buck against my face again, wilder this time. She was going to cum. Her pussy was hot and sopping wet against my face, as she started moaning and bucking. She grabbed my hair and forced my face harder into her pussy as she came. It was trickling up my nostrils and down my throat.
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I couldn't choke, because I couldn't breathe. I pulled harder against the ropes. Her cum soaked her panties that were in my mouth and now I had the stronger, bittersweet taste in my nose and mouth. She was panting and bucking against my face like a wild animal now. I was running out of breath again. She stopped and moved back onto my chest. When I tried to breathe in air, I inhaled her cum. That wasn't in thestory either. I choked and tried breathing what I could around and through her panties in my mouth, which were now soaking wet with her cum. My face was wet and cold, and I felt her cum dripping down the sides of my face as well. Eventually, my nose and throat were clear, and she was still sitting on my chest, preventing any deep breaths on my part. "Well, Paul! That was nice!", she said panting, still playing withherself. "Aren't pussies fun? Oh, sorry, you can't talk yet. I'll tell you what, when I cum two more times, we'll talk a little then before you start learning to eat pussy. " She watched as I breathed normally.
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She continued to play with herself. After a few minutes, she was panting again. She said "Uh-Oh, Paul, I'm getting hot again. Are you ready? Well, if you're not, too bad!" And she jumped forward, planting her still hot pussy back on my face. I grabbed as much air as I could before she started again. Immediately, she started with circular motions, pushing my nose and facedeep into her hot, wet pussy. It was different this time, even if for a moment. I felt myself getting hard again. Maybe because I had time to take a breath; maybe because to have a woman's pussy on my face really was a turn on. But it didn't take long before survival began to kick in once more. I tried to turn my head, I moaned and she kept going. I moaned again and again. I was getting light-headed, scared. She jumped off. "Oh, Yes, Paul! Almost there! Breathe little boy! That's all you get!" I had managed to grab a couple of short breaths before she startedriding my face again.
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Her lips were swollen now, and her clit passed on either side of my nose as she went wild, more so this time than the last. She bucked against my face and let her weight down, so I thought my head would be crushed. She was so far down on my face, my nose was so far inside her that her lower belly was touching my eyebrows. Just as I was about to panic again, she began to cum. Again, running down my nostrils and into my mouth, around the panties. This time there was hardly any room for the cum to escape down the sides of my face. She hopped of once again, this time, turning to sit on the coffee table beside me, huffing and puffing. "Oh, GOD, Paul, YES! We have to do that one more time!" I choked oncemore on the cum in my nostrils and turned my head to the side, trying to get them to drain out, swallowing what I had to. When they cleared, I looked over at her. She gently pushed her fingers into her pussy, flinching, more slowly this time. She took them out and put two fingers into her mouth licking them off, watching me the whole time, panting, catching her own breath. She bit her lip, as she began to rub herself more intensely again. I was having mixed emotions now. At times I was turned on beyondexplanation, other times, I was truly afraid. Then there times I was both.
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I felt like crying. I wanted it to stop, but I didn't. I pulled helplessly at the ropes as I saw her fingers working faster in her pussy. Could I take another session of this? Much less four more? I was weak now. I could hardly pull on the ropes any more. "Yes! Yes!" I heard her again as she started to move. There was no choice. I was going to take it again. She jumped back onto my face and began the same motions as the last twotimes. Panting heavier now, looking down at me as she did. "Last time this way, Paul! Next time, you're going to make me cum with your tongue!" She panted. She began riding my face again, forward and back, her clit rubbing against my nose harder and harder. Side to side, then again in a circular motion. This time, just as I started to worry, she let me breathe. I found out why.
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"Breathe, little boy!" she said. I'm about to come again and I'm not giving you another one until I do!" I took breaths while she was panting out the order. I got one deep one before she took over again. I knew she wasn't far off; she was quivering as she drove down on myface and continued circular motions this time, around and around, but still not enough for me to get air. But she wasn't coming fast enough. I started to struggle again and began moaning. She looked down at me and smiled. "Uh-Uh. . . not yet. . . " she said panting. She kept going.
. . watching me as I stared up at her, trying to plead with my eyes. She looked up finally, moaning loudly, but kept going. I got light-headed again and everything went black, just for a second. I hadn't quite passed out, and I came to my senses choking cum out of mynose and throat once more, but I couldn't see anything yet. My eyes were blurry as I struggled for consciousness. I felt the panties removed from my mouth and grabbed all the air I could. As I grabbed air, I came around again, my vision started clearing. After a few seconds, I lifted my head and looked around. Corey was back on the couch, twirling her wet panties on her finger, panting and smiling. "Love your face, Paul! Is that how you felt when you wrote about it inyour story? Or was it a little different?" I squirmed against the ropes. It was different. . .
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quite a bit different. "Please. . . " I gasped, still recovering. "Please what? What do you want?" she said slyly. "Please let me go. . . " She stood up and giggled. "Let you go? Let you go? Paul, we haven't even reached page 6! She opened a drawer on the stand table where the lamp was sitting and took out a small stack of paper. Oh, God. . . it was my story.
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"Not to mention, before we can cover the rest, you have to learn to eatpussy. . . the right way. . . remember? You know. . . you picked the perfect night for this. I'm off tomorrow and you're off tomorrow! We can take all night!" She started leafing through the pages of the story. "Whew! And this COULD take all night, especially if you have to learn to do it right, first. And page 15. . .
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I can't wait. . . " I thought back to the story. She couldn't. . . could she? She glanced at my shriveled cock. "You know, I LOVED cumming on your face. I'm going to love doing it more. But you know what else sounds like fun?" The things in the story were zooming through my head. It was easy in my imagination, but this was too hard. I wondered if someone could really stand everything I had written. "No, Miss Corey" I replied. "This.
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" She said. She moved down the couch and reached under the coffee table again topull out two more ropes. She proceeded to tie my feet to the ends of the coffee table. I knew what was coming as she positioned herself between my spread legs. It was great in the story, but I didn't know if I could really take it. If she was going by the book, this was only the beginning of a very long pleasure/pain process. Writing the story, I could stop and masturbate to relieve myself. But in the story. . . "I love to make a man hard. . . " my thoughts were interrupted. "But I never refused to let a man cum.
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. . well, for so long that is. " I closed my eyes as I felt her tongue brush gently against my naked balls and up my cock. The sensation was nothing like I ever felt before. My groin begged for more immediately. But I was aware that if she knew what she was doing, it would not last. It wouldn't last until I came, anyway. She would stop. In the story, John wasn't allowed to come for a long time, but he was teased to aching. He begged to be released and she wouldn't let him. This went through my mind as she starting licking all over my balls and cock. Teasing the sensitive area, licking mercilessly at the head, then down, slowly. The sensations of her tongue on my bald skin were driving me crazy. I was hard in moments, but she kept moving slowly, to keep me from cumming.
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After what seemed an eternity of sensation, she finally put my cock in her mouth and starting riding it, slowly at first, teasing, then faster. I felt it starting. For a fleeting moment I was sure she was going to make me cum. Then I felt it throb. So did she. She stopped and squeezed the base of my cock as it throbbed against her fingers. "Gaaaaaaa!" I moaned as the throbbing slowed down and the climax wasstopped. "Oh, PLEASE", I begged. But she giggled. "That's not the way the story goes, Paul, you know that!" She let go, and my cock bobbed around momentarily before it began getting soft again. She sat down and picked up the story once more flipping through the pages. She smiled and put down the story. "Well, since you've only eaten pussy a couple of times, I think youshould have a couple lessons first, before we continue. Don't you?" She stood up and headed around the coffee table for the footstool once more. I whimpered.
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I couldn't believe the sound came from me. She stood over me, poised to start the lessons. "Poor little Paul. . . " she said. "He gets his fantasy come true, and he's questioning his ability to handle it, aren't you, Paul?" I looked up past her nylon-clad legs. She was unhooking her bra as she talked and she tossed the bra away. "You're not answering me Paul. " "Yes. " I said weakly. "Say it Paul, saythat you're not sure if you can handle it. Say it. " "Yes, Miss Corey, I'm not sure if I can handle it. " I whimpered.
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She smiled down at me. "But you will, Paul, you will. Believe me. You'll have your fantasy if it takes all night. " Then she licked her fingers and put them in her pussy. The lessons were about to start, and there was nothing I was going to do about it. Opinions welcome! mrjjones@mail2chicago. com----------------- This story may NOT be posted to any other web site orprinted in any hardcopy publication without the author's permission. Copyright (c) 2002 John J. Jones.
