Masochism of M: A Sexual Mémoir

by Janice Collins

  “Mmmmm,” I murmured. “Mmmmmmmm!”

  I loved sucking him. I loved feeling his smooth head against my lips, loved feeling him grow in my mouth as his rigid shaft got firmer and firmer with every flick of my tongue. There, face buried contentedly in his lap in the front seat of my car, I had no fears whatsoever from the world outside. In full confidence and surrender to this man, this god who watched over us now, I knew nobody would interrupt our reverie. He was in charge. I needed only to concentrate on pleasing him.

  Oh I did.

  It didn’t take long. Sir came in my hungry mouth, quenching a raging fire that burned deep inside me. As always, Sir tasted so good. Other times tasting cum accidentally, it was never like this. I craved Sir’s ejaculate. Sir’s magic extended to all my senses: sight, scent, hearing, touch, taste, and more. There was so much more. There was another plane on which he reached me but I couldn’t describe where or what or how. He just satisfied a longing deep inside that had been there my entire life. Before…

  Forever.

  He came, gloriously. God, it was delicious. As usual, I licked, sucked, and slurped it, gently milking every last drop onto my tongue. I shivered with the commanding way in which Sir sat back, relaxed and allowed me to service him completely, never lifting a finger except to stroke my head like his good pet when I was done.

  Tranquil and satisfied, he reassembled himself as I retreated into my submission to wait. With a heavy, contented sigh, he turned, opened the door and swung his long legs onto the concrete. For the moment his back was to me as he sat leaning over the door frame.

  “I can’t wait till you’re mine,” he droned softly, still facing away.

  The statement hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes flashed open.

  “But I am yours,” I piped in protest.

  That was not his meaning.

  “Not yet,” he quietly, yet ominously returned.

  Suddenly I knew exactly what he meant. I ducked my flushing face, unable to breathe.

  He slowly turned to face me, those seductive, piercing green eyes pulling me in. “I’ll call you,” he murmured.

  I smiled shyly, nodding my bowed head. I knew he would.

  He exited my car and got into his. He sat motionless in his Camaro watching me leave, making sure I was safe. Whenever he was near I was safe, and soon I would be his.

  Completely.

  12—The House

  “What’re you doin’ here?”

  He met me this time in a pickup truck, a weathered and war-worn old machine that looked like hell, but ran well and was neat to haul around in anyway. Tonight was frustrating. After Johnny’s, there just seemed to be no suitable place to go. Sucking Sir off in parking lots was too risky, and fucking in the back seat posed all kinds of problems aside from the risks. There had to be a spot for us. Such magic had exploded at Johnny’s that, once lit that bonfire had to blaze.

  There was a spot all right, but, oh my...

  Sir was particularly reticent tonight. I chalked it up to his intense hunt for nirvana and relaxed, just happy to be with him.

  After driving around, and me supposing he was searching for an elusive love-nest—anything but a seedy motel, totally unacceptable for Master and slave—Sir suddenly took a sharp left at a light. Fish out of water in this part of town, the turn meant nothing to me, save that we were heading away from the bright lights of the city and into the rapidly darkening countryside. Around a circular bend, which narrowed immediately, we abruptly descended onto—of all things—a dark rural road. Aside from the odds against this (the busy intersection was only blocks away) I couldn’t for the life of me fathom where on this brambles and brush edged road Sir intended to lite. I was wired to find out.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  We coasted a bit as Sir peered out his window...at what? It was pitch black out there. I couldn’t see a thing except deciduous jungle. The only illumination between us and Dante’s Inferno was one sickly green street lamp, losing its battle with (dum-da-dum-dum) the Murk. Just what Sir was looking for in that morass I hadn’t a clue. Not good, not good at all. QueueThe Tingler up the spine.

  I tried not to let it show, but whatever was out there torturing local dogs just to hear them howl, coupled with the screeching katydids was giving me a good case of the willies.

  We cruised another few yards along this Appalachian trail wannabe when we slowed to a crawl. I glanced around nervously, craning my neck for any signs of life, but I could barely make out the thick wilderness lining the road, forget civilization. The briers and brambles and screeches were doing nothing for my dread. I can’t help being a coward, Sir simply has much more testosterone than me.

  Suddenly, to my dismay we jerked to a halt. Oh, no I gulped. This can’t be good.

  “There it is!” Sir muttered under his breath, spinning around and shoving into reverse. My heart jumped.

  “There what is?” I squeaked to no one. Protests were usually fruitless, why should now be any different? I flashed a quick look around. Time to panic yet?

  I assure you, there was nothing there. Not that I could see anyway. No houses, no driveways, not even so much as a break in the thick, impassable brush which we were now approaching...really, really fast…and backwards!

  So there was nothing there? Ha! Since when did that matter to Sir?

  It’s a 'Sir' thing. You wouldn’t understand.

  I guess when you’re trying to duck into a spot unnoticed you do it just as fast as you possibly can, and of course, backwards. I think that’s in the Commando handbook.

  “Oh lord!” I piped, squeezing my eyes tight.

  Yes, right over the bank we sailed, through the tangle, through the black, through the nothing—at top speed, like an eagle falling on its prey. I was sure my Magic Man had lost it and we were finally done. The headline flashed before my eyes:

  Couple Found Dead in Pickup Truck at Bottom of Gorge. Film at 11.

  I wasn’t prepared for death, but I planned to meet it with some semblance of dignity.

  HAHAHAHA, fat chance!

  I freaked!

  All this bloody coward could do was grab the dash and clamp my mouth to seal the squeaks. Yeah, some dignity.

  In my defense, it felt like we were tumbling from Mars, only in slooow motion, ‘cause it seemed to take forever! But at last—THUMP!—we hit bottom like smacking a brick wall. I didn’t know which was banging harder, my heart, or the shuddering old truck.’

  I knew we had stopped, but I was afraid to open my eyes—what if we were dead? I mean, who knows what death is like, really? I drew a breath and waited. Since neither a bright white light nor a long tunnel appeared I figured we were likely alive.

  I’d never gone in for roller-coasters, but even if I had, sailing into pitch-blackness backwards on one would not have been my idea of fun. I pried one eye open for a peek at my claws which were literally denting the dash. Even in the dim light I could see there was no color in my knuckles, but I was certain it would return if only I could let go, which I didn’t seem to be able to do...kind of like being co-joined to a live wire.

  Squinting through that one eye I hazarded a look around. I was shocked! Where did this place come from?

  First of all, I could see we’d landed at the bottom of some impossibly steep—no, I mean IMPOSSIBLY steep—debris-covered, long-abandoned excuse for a driveway, and as the observable path of destruction showed, we’d plowed through a five-foot-thick wall of brambles, flattened young trees, thumped over various-sized chunks of concrete and still by some miracle managed to land upright and breathing. Somehow we’d come to rest on a sort of plateau, a ledge, waiting, I supposed, to finish toppling the rest of the way into hell. All I could do was shake... and wait. That’s all you could ever do with Sir.

  Suddenly I realized it was quiet. Too quiet. Drawing a breath I shakily glanced at Sir.

  Oh, how can I describe it? There was the Commando, frozen in his seat, eyes wide as saucers, eyebrows raised, staring at me
like I was crazy. Good grief, what he must think of loony me! We’d only driven down a hill, not rappelled mid flight from a Lynx.

  “Where are we?” I cheeped in embarrassment, hoping to distract from my foolishness. I sat up in feigned dignity, smoothing my dress with shaky hands.

  He completely ignored my question. I guess you don’t acknowledge the courage-impaired; they might hurt themselves.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this place before,” he piped, beaming with obvious pride, chin gesturing. I had no idea what “place” he was talking about. All I could see was this cruddy driveway.

  I swiveled my head all around. I strained my eyes.

  Wow, there...

  What...?

  ...Yes, there!

  Suddenly like a specter loomed his 'place'.

  As if by magic, a little cottage appeared out of the blackness just to our left. Where in the world had that come from? It seemed to have just sprung out of thin air, hidden in the tangle of trees and vines, and completely untouched by the puny green glow of the streetlight. But now that I focused my eyes, yes, yes indeed, there was a house beside us at the bottom of this savage ravine; a barely-visible, ghost-house bathed in the eerie mists.

  The decades-old, story-and-a-half clapboard building looked positively malevolent in the grungy shadows. Like a scene out of every horror movie we saw as a kid, it sent shivers up my spine when a passing cloud allowed a glimpse of it in the moonlight. This 'place' certainly was bogeyman material all right. I could tell it was patiently awaiting the right couple. And I just knew who that 'right couple' was gonna be...

  OH LORD! Watch the movie, Sir! It’s going to suck us inside and then—and THEN—we’ll be trapped forever. It won’t let us leave! Bwah-ha-ha!

  And it wasn’t even Halloween.

  This had to be a nightmare.

  Sir started the truck again. What now? Just when I thought it was safe to get back in the water were we rolling further over the hill? You never knew with Sir! I held my breath. No, thank god, Sir was only nudging us up closer to the weathered basement shed door out of sight. OK, this I could handle.

  We stopped again. Sir shut off the engine once more.

  I had to know. “Who lives here?” I whispered reverently, as one speaks of the dead. I surveyed the scruffy landscape, unattended for years; decades even. Whoever had lived here had to be related to the Addams Family. I loved the Addams family.

  “Nobody,” he answered flatly, disregarding me as he readied things in the seat. “My uncle used to, but he’s dead now.”

  Dead. A dead man’s house. O-O-Of course. Comforting!

  “Humph,” I muttered, with a flick of my eyebrows and a purse of my lips. I settled into the seat, still craning my neck. “Are we… going… in?” God,Ihopednot, godIhopednot, godIhopednot.

  “No,” Sir laughed openly. “You don’t want to go in there. There might be rats!”

  I stared up at the forbidding structure and shivered. Rats and bears and ghosts... (and lions and tigers and bears, OH MY!).

  Sir opened his door and climbed out. I could hear him taking a leak. It gave me the creeps to be in the truck alone here, even for a moment; I was waiting for that hook claw to come tapping at my window. I gladly slid out of the way as Sir, finished, opened my passenger door and climbed in.

  Once there, Sir reared back in his seat. I didn’t wait to be prompted this time, I reached to wrestle with his jeans and free his dick for my eager mouth. As usual, his compelling scent, clean and woodsy filled my nostrils. His warm scrotum was as soft as silk and the head of his already erect penis, smooth and hot. I gladly enveloped the thick staff of flesh with my lips, murmuring a contented sigh as I did. This was my heaven.

  Sir enjoyed the moment, arms relaxed and stretched on the top of the seat, head tilted back, eyes closed, assuming his usual position of servicing meditation.

  He allowed me to suck him till my saliva threatened to dampen the seat between his legs. I could get messy.

  “You’d better not get this seat wet,” he growled, “this is my brother’s truck and I don’t want any tell-tale signs left in it.” He reached into the glove box and pulled out a small square of a blanket. “Here.”

  I tucked the covering under his testicles to catch the drips from my pleasuring him. But my mouth wasn’t on him for long.

  “Turn around,” Sir intoned, darkly. My hackles rose.

  Obediently, though too slowly, I turned and faced the driver’s side. It was all very O-like. I felt his hand in the center of my back, pushing me over, and I gave in. It was erotic, feeling my skirt being raised over my hips as I knelt on all fours like his bitch. His warm hands touched my tights at the waistband, then with several fingers he grasped their nylon crotch. I heard a rip start, but it refused to give. Sir paused. I was unsure of what to do next, so I just waited and held my doggie-style position.

  “Hold still,” Sir stated in that gravelly yet poignant voice I knew all too well. I shuddered and held my breath.

  The cold, steel blade slithered between my legs; I could feel its whisper against my wet clit. I gasped, not daring to twitch a single muscle. As quick as a hot iron on ice, my recalcitrant tights were rent by the razor-sharp blade. He’d split them wide open, rendering me as accessible as if I were wearing nothing at all.

  Roughly, Sir parted my ass cheeks, I knew what was coming next. I braced. His words: I can’t wait till you’re mine pulsed through my head; I’m going to make you mine.

  I gasped and held my breath; first mistake: strike one.

  The head of his hard penis was pressing at the opening of my tiny asshole. I stiffened like a statue; strike two. A huge one. As the pressure of his big dick increased, so did my resistance. I started to fight it, involuntarily.

  Strike three and I was out.

  “There’s not enough room!” I squealed, stalling for time and trying to raise.

  “There’s room,” he growled, and plopped a firm hand onto the center of my back. “Stay down.”

  He was losing patience. But Sir’s huge knife-blade penis again stabbed like it would split me apart.

  “No!” I cried out. “No! No! Stop” I clawed the door frame and managed to pull away.

  I whimpered like a puppy as I fell into a heap.

  “I’m sorry,” I whined, feeling so guilty, but it hurt too much, I couldn’t possibly stand it. “I’m sorry,” I choked softly and whispered, “It cuts like a knife.”

  Sir pushed open his door and got straight out. I was so scared he was finished with me. I hung my head and the tears welled. How was I ever going to become his? I wasn’t O. Not even close. Shame covered me head to toe. A full minute of silence passed while I sat in the truck alone, face burning, biting my lip.

  At last Sir got back in. He was all zipped up. He sat down in the seat with a frustrated plop. He looked at me with, was it disgust or disbelief? Or both? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. No way could I meet his eyes full on. Everything I wanted was wrapped up in this night. Everything I wanted Sir to do to me started with this. To give myself to him totally to do with as he wished began here. And I had thrown a bucket of cold ice water on our passion before it had even begun.

  I finally got the courage to touch him again and reached for his zipper. He actually let me! I couldn’t believe it. He was giving me a second chance. I took him once more into my eager mouth and tried my best to give him the blowjob of his life. It probably wasn’t, because a man that looks like Sir has probably had the best of the best of it all. Any time he wanted it. But still, I tried.

  At last he came. I swallowed his hot sperm down like the elixir that it was. I was ecstatic that he had allowed me to touch him again. The blanket that was meant to protect the upholstery became a drying cloth. I’d licked his shaft as clean as I could but my mouth was soaked with his cum. Every bit of his sperm in my mouth, the only moisture was from my saliva.

  He heaved a semi-satisfied, shuddered breath. He raised his head and looked ov
er at me, but I was so ashamed all I could do was steal a glance. I felt so defeated and useless. All my braggadocio that I wanted to be like O. Yeah, where was it now? But still, O had help; she’d wimped out, too. She’d cried and fought...at first anyway.

  But as I timidly braved a search of his eyes, disgust was not what I saw reflected back. Sir’s eyes were twinkling! He was wearing a tiny smile. He acted like a man who had actually just had a decent blowjob! Nonetheless, I told myself, he had wanted so much more. He had wanted to take his pleasure with me and fuck my ass with abandon. He had wanted to make me his.

  Again I ducked my head, but this time beaming with happiness. He wasn’t condemning me? Could it be true? My heart sang!

  As much as the idea of sodomy excited me—and it did totally excite me—I had wimped out at the first sign of pain. Even if it did ‘cut like a knife’ there was nothing I could say in my defense. I had asked for this, had literally begged for it, and the plans were never anything but for him to do this to me so I could truly belong to him. Brother. I had royally fucked up. Period.

  Sir climbed out and came around to the driver’s seat while I smoothed my skirt and tousled hair. He was typically reticent, but he seemed a little more so than usual… Sir was hard to read at best; a true Mystery Man par excellence. I settled back, pensive.

  Then the horror struck: oh no!

  No, no, no! It occurred to me! What goes down, must go up!

  We had to do the hill all over again… in reverse! Only this time we’d have to defy gravity to pull that steep incline. Oh, no. Oh, no. My heart began to race anew. He started the truck, and, without a word, we began to roll.

  These little things were so minor to him, this brave, combat-seasoned Commando, but to me? Ha!