by Marco Vassi
“What . . . ?”‘ I asked.
“A little surprise for you in the basement,”‘ he said.
We went into a large, well-lighted room that had been carpeted and was completely bare except for a collection of what looked like pieces of gym equipment. I wondered whether Jeff’s penchant for athletic metaphor was going to lead to some form of absurd erotic exercise, but I was still tingling from the treatment I had just received at his hands and was ready for anything he might have in mind.
He stood me up in the middle of the room and lifted my arms over my head. I looked up and saw a rope hanging from the ceiling. He wound it round my wrists and over itself until I was tied securely. Then he walked over to the far side of the room and began pulling on the other end of the rope, causing me to be raised several inches. He pulled until I was balanced only on my toes, my body stretched to its fullest length, thighs taut, tits jutting out, ass raised.
“Ever been fucked standing up?”‘ he said, grabbing my bulging breasts in his huge hands and mauling them roughly.
My eyes widened in surprise. “No,”‘ I said.
Jeff walked behind me and went to his knees. He began to lick my legs, and moved his tongue slowly up to my buttocks. The skin was so tight that his licking sent unusually strong tremors through me. He worked toward the center, his mouth kissing the inside of my ass crack. He pulled the cheeks apart with his fingers and dove into the middle, his tongue darting directly into my asshole. I shuddered and tried to dance around, but I could not go far because I held such a precarious balance. He licked the length of the crack and again inserted his probe into the tiny puckered opening. It had the additional effect of shooting thrills of electricity into my pussy and I felt myself lubricating even more strongly than I had been. He had me growing frenzied again, the first drops of cunt juice oozing out from my already battered lips.
Jeff rose slowly, licking up my spine, and as he did his cock slid between my legs. I could feel its approach to my center, and wanted to spread my legs to accommodate it better, but was unable to get my feet any more widely separated. His great organ prodded at the space where my thighs joined, massaging my cunt and ass all at once. I tried to tilt my buttocks to give him better access, but again, I couldn’t move.
Seeing my exertions, Jeff whispered, “That’s the point honey; in the position you’re in you can’t do anything but stand there and take it. And I can go as slow or as fast as I want, and drive you crazy.”‘
“Oh, do it,”‘ I said, “do it to me any way you want.”‘
He bent at the knees and his cock came up at me from under. He pushed upwards and it started to sink slowly into my hole. I had never experienced any penetration as I did that one. Wanting to move, needing to respond, I was as though paralyzed. My muscles ached slightly from the strain, but the extreme posture had the effect of toning my entire body, making me more alert and sensitive to what was being done with it.
Jeff’s enormous cock slid into me with tantalizing ease, an inch at a time. My frame shook with mounting lust, frustrated by my enforced immobility.
“Oh, Jeff, I want to move,”‘ I pleaded. “Untie me so I can fuck you back.”‘
“Not a chance,”‘ he said, his voice showing a touch of cruelty, but the kind of cruelty that is mingled with a desire to provide a greater pleasure than can be found through conventional niceness. He continued to enter me, parting my pained pussy lips wider and wider, reaming out the furrows in my cunt, grinding into my cervix. I was effectively impaled, and could feel his curly bush brushing into the bottom curve of my ass. He was all the way inside me, all iron-hard twelve inches of him, completely buried in my throbbing twat. And still I could do nothing but feel him.
Jeff grabbed my hips for leverage, and began to stroke his cock into me with regular rhythm. He drew all the way out, the flaring crown lodged at the edges of my leafy labia, teasing me, and when I was gasping with anticipation, he slid it into me again, parting the inner lips, forcing the tiny central opening to stretch to its fullest capacity, and then ravaging the inner walls of my womb. At each end of his arc I cried out, a wordless yelp that was connected to my most primitive sexual core. I longed desperately to hurl myself on him when he plunged into my box, and when he slid out I tried to grab at him with my pussy, holding him tightly, and clutch him with my ass, making his cock a prisoner between the round, lush globes.
But my position allowed none of this, and as he said, I had to stand there and take it. Soon his movement grew faster, harder. He came up at me like a volcano erupting, thunderously and with great force. My sounds multiplied in volume, growing shrill and desperate, until I was emitting a single sustained shriek. I thrashed my head from side to side, the only movement I was capable of. My tongue found a life of its own and licked my lips and then lapped the air. It was as though I had to squeeze the entire expressiveness of my body into what I could do with my face.
Jeff was now fucking me in earnest, building toward his orgasm. I had never felt so used before, and while my body thrilled to the sensations, and part of me appreciated his inventiveness, I realized that our first sexual encounter after our separation had been laced with violence, both with the belt and degradation upstairs and now with the assistance of this mechanical device.
“Jeff,”‘ I called out, not knowing what to say.
But he took my cry for an indication that I was cumming. He held my hips more tightly and fucked me furiously, slamming in and out of my pussy, his cock rubbing the skin of my inner thighs raw.
“Yeah, baby,”‘ he yelled, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming now. Let’s make it together.”‘
I had been used to Jeff’s riding off into his own explosion to the point of being utterly insensitive of me, but usually I was able to get off on his energy. But this time I was perhaps too clearheaded. The separation, the plane flight, the disorientation of a new place, the disappointment at seeing the house Jeff had found for us, the uncertainty as to whether I had done the right thing, and our sudden rushing into fucking without even taking time to re-acquaint ourselves, all combined to make me a little cranky. And now, tied to a rope in a basement while Jeff humped me furiously from behind, I was in no mood for dispensing largesse.
“This is creepy,”‘ said my mind even as my cunt was vibrating around his cock and bathing the shaft with love juices.
“Now!”‘ Jeff shouted, and his body burst inside me, a series of sharp spasms, his cock hopping, his sperm spraying the inside of my pussy.
He stayed glued to me until his climax ebbed, and then he reached up and undid my ties.
“That was something, wasn’t it?”‘ he said, over my head, and not really listening for my response.
We fucked once more before going to sleep and after a depressing meal of t.v. dinners. The next day he had to be at practice, and except for glimpses of one another on the field, I wouldn’t see him for another week. I slept fitfully and rose early to see him off.
“Well,”‘ I thought after he left, leaving me with the name of the man I was supposed to see about my new job, “here I am, living in a dumb suburb, with a dumb football player.”‘ I bit my lip when I thought of Jeff in those terms, and immediately tears of regret and self-pity came to my eyes. Perhaps I wasn’t being fair. After all, he was terribly tied up in making a good start in his career, and he hadn’t seen me long enough to make him very horny and thus a little insensitive. And, what the hell, I had enjoyed it well enough.
By the time I reached the office of the vice president who was to show me the ropes and get me started, I had decided to put my ambivalence on the shelf and pay attention to business. But a part of me had seen a nasty truth, and it would not be put easily to rest. I took a tranquilizer and tried to put all thoughts out of my mind as I entered the office of Roger Edwards, executive director of public relations for the team.
“He’s a pretty cold fish,”‘ Jeff had told me,
“but you won’t have to spend too much time with him.”‘
I gave my name to the receptionist and sat to wait, impressed by the richness of the decor. I leafed through a magazine and was lost in an article when I heard my name called. It was Mr. Edwards’ secretary, a tall, elegant blonde in a simple black shift. I was slightly awed by her elegance, and when she said, “Mr. Edwards will see you now,”‘ I was struck by her British accent.
As I followed her subtly swaying walk, I began to feel a little nervous and foolish, I saw myself as a college dropout with hot pants for a football hero following him to his training camp and becoming a cheerleader just so I could get a taste of his cock once a week. It all seemed, from a certain point of view, horribly gauche, and once again the suspicion that Jeff, for all his prowess and surface intelligence was basically a clod started to gnaw at my mind. Shamefully, I felt embarrassed about being identified with him.
“Ah, Miss DeWitt,”‘ said a deep and cultured voice as I stepped into what at first glance seemed to be a suite of rooms. I looked in the direction of the voice, and took a small step back as a tall, slim, dark man of about forty-five, with perfectly barbered silver hair, and wearing an immaculately tailored suit came toward me. He wore a thin mustache and goatee, giving him a distinctly diabolical look.
“I’m so happy to meet you,”‘ he said, dismissing his secretary with a wave of his hand. He looked into my eyes, at my tits, at my crotch, down my legs, and then back into my eyes, letting me know that he had completely undressed me, and also telling me that he wanted me to know he had done it. The entire transaction took no more than two seconds, but it gave me a sense of how sharp he was. It was an extremely suave come-on, and I couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, although I knew he had no interest in anything but my body. His approach also gave me a feeling I had been missing: it made me think of myself as a woman of the world and not a scatter-brained schoolgirl.
“I’m sure you could do with a drink,”‘ he said. “Why don’t you have a seat while I make us a couple of martinis.”‘
I had never had a martini in my life, but I wasn’t about to mention that. “A martini will be fine,”‘ I said, feeling like an idiot.
He motioned me to a long low couch, and I sat on the edge of the cushion, my nervousness mixed with an anticipation that had to do with more than the job. He turned his back to me and took a good deal of time making the drinks. Finally, he spun around and started toward me, a glass in each hand. And when he looked at me his gaze went directly up my dress which was now above my knees. I pulled it down out of reflex habit. He saw that, saw me looking at him, and then he smiled. He was playing me like a fish, and I knew it, and was a bit miffed, but for some reason the anger seemed to be directed at myself.
He sat down next to me, handed me a glass, held his own up in indication of a toast, and said, “Well, here’s to a new relationship. May it be profitable, educational, and entertaining.”‘
I wanted desperately to say something clever, but all I could do was lift my glass in reply, and sip at my drink. Unhappily, I was distracted by the unaccustomed taste and the liquid went down the wrong opening in my throat. I sputtered and started coughing, and on top of that began to blush furiously.
Mr. Edwards lifted the glass gingerly out of my hand, put it on the table in front of us, and gently patted my back.
“My dear girl,”‘ he said, “do be careful.”‘
I coughed for what seemed an eternity until the spasm subsided, but when I finished, his hand did not leave my back, but began stroking my spine between the shoulder blades, softly, easily, as though we were old friends and he was just exercising a gesture of warmth. I was less surprised by the rapidity with which he moved in on me than the acquiescence I exhibited. I suppose it was a relief to be with a man in total control of himself after experiencing Jeff’s blitzkrieg tactics, but more than that, my decision to quit school and swing out on this larking adventure had started a process in me which did not end with Jeff. He started a process which he might not be great enough to encompass.
Finally, when I was calm again, he took his hand away, trailing his fingers over the back of my dress and momentarily caressing my neck, sending sharp thrills down to my crotch. He regarded me for a long moment and then said, “I understand that you’re Jeff Arnheiser’s girl.”‘ He put an intonation on the last word which made me feel as though I had been described as someone’s pet poodle. I wanted to protest but there was nothing in his words to protest against. I was indeed Jeff’s girl.
“Jeff is a very nice boy,”‘ he continued, again pitching his voice so that “boy”‘ was emphasized and contrasted against its implied opposite: there was no doubt that Mr. Edwards was letting me know that he didn’t consider Jeff a man. “He has a great career ahead of him, and we are hoping he will become one of our star ends.”‘
That was the third time he had underlined a word and this time I had to react. “Who is we?”‘ I asked, trying to sound nettled.
“Why . . . us”‘ he said, waving his hand to indicate the luxurious offices, the building, and the entire multi-million dollar empire. “The owners, of course.”‘ I got a whiff of the wealth he represented and suddenly Jeff’s forty-thousand-dollar-a-year salary shrank into insignificance. He leaned toward me confidentially and added, “You’ve made a major decision in following him here. A girl with your background would probably have done better to finish college. Perhaps when this fling is over you will see the wisdom of doing just that.”‘
My face grew red, not only because he had put his finger on my secret doubt, but because he spoke in the same cool, impersonal tones my father would have used. “I don’t see what my private life has to do with my coming here for a job,”‘ I shot out at him.
“Well, we’ve made a fairly substantial investment in Jeff,”‘ he told me, “and of course we made it a point to investigate the woman he suddenly took it upon himself to bring with him. He’s a very impetuous youth, but we would prefer that he channeled his energy into playing ball instead of attaining cosmic orgasms.”‘
“How do you know what kind of orgasms Jeff and I have?”‘ I said, my voice almost cracking.
“He’s been quite voluble in the locker room,”‘ Mr. Edwards said quietly. “There is probably not a person on the team who doesn’t know your cunt with thorough vicarious pleasure.”‘
I could feel my pulse pounding, and I was torn between an intense desire to run out of the room and to stay and hear exactly what else this man knew about me. And not only this man, but at least sixty-five others. Just how explicit had Jeff been?
“Above all else,”‘ he went on as he leaned back against the couch, “we are all committed to the concept of the team. We have specialized jobs and we have our star performers, but if we are to remain successful, we must all pull . . . or if you prefer, push . . . together. We can’t afford to have any element among us which is too headstrong and individualistic. I am saying this not to demean you, but to disabuse you right away of any notions you may have concerning standards of privacy which do not apply in this context.”‘
He reached over and patted my knee, and his hand rested there as he continued, “But I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much too quickly. After you’ve been with us a while, you’ll understand these things for yourself.”‘
“Just what are you implying, Mr. Edwards?”‘ I asked, aware that his hand was quite cool on my thigh.
“Call me Roger, please,”‘ he said. And then went on, “I’m not really implying anything you probably haven’t thought about yourself. But for now, I really think we don’t need to do anything but have you try on your uniform and tell you where and when to report for practice.”‘
He went to the other side of the room, reached into a desk drawer, and took out a small package. “There’s a bathroom over there,”‘ he said. “Put this on and let’s see how you look in it.”‘
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nbsp; “Here?”‘ I asked, “Is that necessary?”‘
“Judging from what I have seen of your body, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. But one of my prerogatives is to check out how our cheerleaders will look in uniform. You’ll forgive me if I pull rank a bit and insist on it.”‘
There seemed to be little else I could do, so I took the package and went into the bathroom to change. It was a stunning room, over fifteen feet long and almost as wide, with a sunken tile and black tile halfway up to the ceiling, with red velvet wallpaper above that. I took off my clothes and took stock of my situation. It was obvious that Mr. Edwards . . . Roger . . . was leading me rapidly and easily to bed. Something in me felt I should resist, but I couldn’t find a peg to hang any resistance on. He was intelligent, good looking in a diabolic way, very affluent, and extraordinarily smooth, even more so than Manfred, the man who had relieved me of my virginity in so sophisticated a fashion.
I pulled on the bright red shirt with the team’s name on it, wondering if I should be wearing a bra. My tits were seized by the clingy material and bulged boldly out, the nipples sharply outlined, even down to the small ridges in the aureole. Underneath went a pair of brief silk panties, and over that a small flare skirt that barely covered the bottom of my ass and cunt. I decided to leave my shoes off and walked out like that into the office, breasts swaying and feet bare.
He watched me closely as I walked across the space to him. He was smoking a long cigarette rolled in black paper, and holding his martini glass. His eyes registered one long process of evaluation. He exuded a dry eroticism which made me feel as though I were dripping wet. I had never felt so naked in front of a man.
“You give promise of being very interesting,”‘ he said in an even voice.