by Ruby Forrest
And then he stopped. Everything stopped. He climbed off the bed and it all went silent. I tried to ignore my own breathing, which was heavy, and I could barely pick out his. Then he left the room. What was I supposed to be doing? I was enjoying that and then suddenly he wanted to stop. Did he cum? Was that it? Why hasn’t he tried to untie me? I tried to see if I could get loose from the restraints, I was getting paranoid and worried, then all of a sudden the whip cracked against my unexpectant ass.
You bastard! I thought—I wouldn’t dare say it out loud, even if I could. He must have been there the whole time, playing with me. Out of all the things he was doing to me, him not doing anything to me was the worst part, which made that whip all the more pleasurable.
He climbed back in his position and repeated the process, though this time he was rougher, and had a whip in his hand. He grabbed the back of my hair with one hand and had the other resting on the small of my back. Pushing off in order to whip the top of my ass before placing his hand down again. All I was thinking was "harder, harder... I can take it" and it was unbridled joy.
He stopped grabbing my hair to grab my blindfold. He reached over and tore it away from my head. I was desperately frustrated, I wanted to see that vision of him fucking me, but the wait was painful. My eyes were taking a while to adjust to the light and it wasn’t happening quickly enough. Eventually I gained focus. There I was, gag in mouth, being whipped behind me. I didn’t know whether I should be ashamed or ecstatic, was this normal? Surely I shouldn’t be enjoying this—all I knew is that I was.
He stopped again, and this time I watched in the reflection as he undid the restraints on my legs. He grabbed me on either side of my hips and flipped me over. Pulling my still tied arms into the centre of the bed as my wrists crossed each other, he reached around the back of my head and undid the gag.
He ran his fingers over my latex stockings before moving in to massage my clit. He placed his hand by the side of my face and kissed me. I smiled, broadly. I don’t think he was expecting it and smiled back, but immediately tried to hide it. He guided his cock into my pussy and moved his hand from the side of my head and onto my throat. I could breathe, but it was a lot harder.
It was a rush, and I felt my whole body shake with pleasure. As he was fucking me harder and harder, having less control of the pressure on my throat, but I loved the domination. I loved being submissive. My regard for my own safety had gone and my life felt like it was in this man’s hands, and for some crazy reason, I trusted him.
I looked him in the eyes. My moans were heavy and I was looking at him with lust. It was coming to a climax and he took his hand from my throat and placed it underneath my neck, and he leant in. Face-to-face, lips touching until he gave one last thrust and I felt my pussy fill up with his warm cum. He stayed there, looking at me, not saying a word.
He leant in for a kiss, and I kissed back. He undid the restraints from my hands and I was finally free, not that I cared. I could have done that all night. It was over, I thought I was sharing a moment with him, and I thought he was feeling the same thing. But without warning he climbed off the bed and went to grab his clothes that had been thrown across the floor.
“Feel free to have a quick shower, but be no longer than 20 minutes,” were his only words.
I wanted to just lay there forever, but the thought of travelling back hot, sweaty and covered in lube and cum wasn’t going to be the best look. I had one last look at myself in the mirror before taking my bra off, taking off my heels and gloves and rolling down my garter and stockings.
I had a quick shower and got myself changed back into my regular clothes, a lot nicer than the old ones I had to get back into last time, I thought to myself. I had enjoyed it. I still didn’t like the idea of being used for sex, but the sex we had was amazing. I thought that when I get a settled life somewhere down the line, that it might be nice to do things on my own terms.
George
After about 20 minutes Sophie exited the room just as she’d entered it, in her own clothes and with a smile on her face. It was just now her hair was a little less perfect than it was before. She seemed to have enjoyed the experience, or at least, not disliked it, which was the main thing.
I’d loved it, it was exactly what I was looking for out of this situation, and I was looking forward to being able to do it again. Sophie played the role perfectly.
“You can stay here if you didn’t want to travel in the dark,” I said, “as long as you leave first thing tomorrow.”
“No, I’m fine getting back,” she said with that sweet smile on her face.
She went to leave the apartment and stood momentarily by the door, almost as if I was meant to lean in for the kiss. I had enjoyed the evening, but I was determined that this wasn’t going to be any relationship. The exit was far less brutal than on the previous occasion, and this time Sophie had left happy, and not distraught. She had some place to go to and that pleased me.
Things were different now. I had twice enjoyed her company in two completely separate circumstances. It had left me with a very odd feeling. I was starting to care for this girl, but we had a strict arrangement in place whereby I could call on her services at any time. I’d had a much better time with her than I did with the prostitute and was looking forward to doing it again. Not every night though, just when I needed that domination fix.
The next day came and I woke up with a smile on my face, but still with an empty bed, as always. The previous night had gone exactly like I’d planned it. I had been nervous about her hating it or me not getting what I desired, but I think we were both happy. I received a message about lunchtime from Sophie.
“Will it be around the same time tonight? X.” If she was purposefully trying her best to please me, she was doing a very good job. I kept having to remind myself of how this relationship worked and how I wanted to be as cold as possible.
“You’re not required tonight,” I said. Then came a response that I was not expecting.
“That’s a shame. X.”
A shame? What, she wanted to come round? I was almost tempted right there to message back and suggest that she come around immediately, as I found it such a turn on. The truth was that I thought that it’d be unfair on her to ask her to do it on consecutive nights. I was feeling guilt, I was feeling compassion, I was feeling... no, I can’t be feeling anything. She was meant to be my pretty little sex doll, no emotion, no feeling, just sex when I wanted it.
Sophie
How do you make the best of a bad situation? I was determined to try and enjoy myself during the sex as much as possible, almost as if to try and trick my mind into thinking I was having a good time. There weren’t any tricks needed however, it was one of the most fun nights I’ve ever had and I felt things I’d never felt before. Forget having to do it again—I kind of wanted to.
I was fully expecting George to get bored of me very quickly; he didn’t seem like the type of man who cared much for people and I imagined I was only of use to him while it was something new. I was going to spend my day of freedom just like I did when I was homeless. No shoe shopping today. I needed to build for that day where I’d be back out on the streets.
George had said that I was to use the money however I liked, so I took out around £500 and put it into my own bank account. I may put a little more if I have any left-over, I thought. I was able to go to the job centre and go about my day not paranoid about what I looked like. In fact, it was nice to get men looking at me for the right reasons again. It felt good to feel good again.
It was a productive day and in the early evening I headed back to the hotel, my new home. I had started to familiarise myself with the people there. Who worked the night shift? Who seemed happy in their job, and who didn’t? I had quickly got to love the place in the few nights that I’d spent there, and thought it’d be sad when the week was up.
I got up to my room, however, and soon realised my stay would be a lot shorter than I thou
ght. I opened the door, and there was once again something placed on the bed, a brown box with a note placed on the top of it. It was from George, and it read:
“I have cancelled the remaining nights on the hotel. I have paid for six months’ rent for an apartment and have got you an office job with one of my affiliates. All the details are enclosed in the box. If you want, you never have to see me or have sex with me again. Or you can open the box and meet me outside the hotel at 8pm. The decision is yours. George. X.”
I was in shock. I thought with some of the eye contact we’d made that we had made some sort of a connection, but I presumed that was just wishful thinking. My head was in a spin and wasn’t sure what I was going to do except open this box. What was in it and what plans did he have for 8pm?
I opened up the box to find of the most beautiful black dress I’d ever seen. There was also a gold necklace and matching earrings—I was in love. It all looked extremely expensive and only added to the surreal few days I was having. The apartment and job details were there. I felt like I had just been given my golden ticket to the rest of my life. Maybe it was all a sick joke? I felt like at any moment it was all going to crash down.
George
I’d given in, I’d crumbled. I was desperate not to let my emotions get involved, but it was too strong. Throughout all my commands and cold nature, she’d remained sweet and happy. I had woke up in the morning wishing that she was in the bed beside me, and at that moment I knew I couldn’t do this again. I could either try and make this work, or set her free.
I’d sent out one of my assistants to purchase the gifts, which was pretty much half of what she did. Gift giving was a large part of what I did, it helped to build business relationships and gain contracts. Then it also helped personally when I could send her out to get items for family and friends—she never asked questions.
I’d given the instructions to get the dress and jewellery. I had booked a table for two in a boutique restaurant just outside the city—I was actually going to try and have a date. The nerves were killing me, partly due to the fact that I had never really dated and partly due to the fact that I didn’t think she was going to turn up.
Maybe I should have made her come on a date with me? I thought, had I been too cold? I had spent so much energy trying to portray that I had no emotion towards her that maybe she believed it, and maybe it’d mean that she’d take the opportunity to never see me again and take it.
I’d left work and gave a quick phone call to find out some information. She was in the hotel and had gone back into her room. I probably would have to do less of the tracking and controlling if this thing actually worked out, I thought. In short, I knew she’d got the message. I hated rejection, and couldn’t stand the thought having that conversation face-to-face. She’d either turn up, or she wouldn’t. I thought I’d be able to move on with my life either way.
I got dressed in a smarter suit than my work one and went to the basement to collect my car. It was a yellow Lamborghini, the type I’d always dreamed of owning as a child. If she didn’t turn up, at least I could enjoy a nice drive. I was full of doubt and confliction.
There was a drop-off area just outside the hotel and I parked up with 10 minutes to spare, staring into the hotel lobby trying to get a glimpse of her. It was frustrating. My heart skipped a beat at any blonde woman who was wearing black. Trying to look through the shimmering doors of the hotel was maddening. Then all of a sudden, it couldn’t have been clearer.
I looked through as she walked by the reception and had a brief conversation with the receptionist. Waved to one of the hotel porters and held the door open for one of the other guests. She’s too good for me, I thought. I had an overwhelming urge to drive away and save her from myself. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She left the building and scanned around looking for a sign, the windows of the car were dark and you couldn’t see in from that distance. I turned the ignition on the Lamborghini, and it came quickly apparent where she should be.
As she approached, I felt so lucky that it was my car this beautiful lady was getting into. No more Mr. Cold, I thought. She climbed in, swinging those perfect legs into the car. She smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“How are you, Sophie?” I asked in a friendly tone.
“I’ve never been better,” she said.
She meant it.
THE END
Grunt & Grind - Sneak Peak
Chapter One
I parked my car and took a deep breath. “What the fuck am I doing here?”
I looked ahead and gazed at the neon signboard. Of all the damn bars in town, this one had to be the one closest to my dormitory. Even then it was still a few miles away. Maybe that was intentional, to keep college students away from the drinking and bullshit that takes place in this sort of joint.
“The Drunken Stallion,” I read the name out loud. Wow, they really weren’t being subtle about this. In my head, I imagined tall, lanky male strippers wearing cowboy boots with spurs and blonde girls wearing tight jeans, large cowboy hats and going topless.
Well, that kind of scene sort of fit my current situation. I just wanted to get wasted, spend time with good-looking strangers and forget all my troubles.
I looked into the mirror one last time and made sure I was confident about getting drunk all by myself. At least I think I looked pretty. I was pretty petite, had straight blonde hair that went down to my shoulders and bright green eyes that people said pierced their souls. I had no idea what the fuck that meant but it did sound pretty cool. For tonight’s adventure, I went with glossy pink lipstick, large looped earrings, a hanging white shirt to show-off my belly piercing and a pair of high denim shorts with a few tears in it. I wanted to look as far away from a “college nice girl” as possible and to be honest this kind of attire made me feel more comfortable, more at ease and free.
“Fuck it,” I told myself and got out of the car. I liked how I look and I wanted a drink.
As soon as I did I could hear the blasting sound of rowdy country music and people hollering and I knew I was walking into the right place – a fun place.
There wasn’t a line to get inside but there were a few bouncers standing guard by the entrance. One stopped me with a quick raise of his hands.
“ID please,” he requested. He had this really big, deep voice. It kind of sounded sexy, like the way Vin Diesel sounds. I like that in a guy.
I dug into my pockets, pulled out my wallet and showed him my driver’s license. He took a second to look at it, checked my age and then looked at me one more time.
“You’re all right,” he then told me when he was done double checking. He let me slide my wallet back in my shorts and then opened the door for me.
“Holy fucking wow,” I mumbled to myself when I got to step in.
The whole place was like a dream come true for me. It was nice and dark with lots of tables and a long bar with nice, leather stools. There were four bartenders working that station and off to one side there were a couple of pool tables and dart boards. At the center of the bar was a large, square stage and I happened to walk in right in the middle of a show.
On the stage was a tall, blonde man completely naked except for a white cowboy hat and a guitar that covered his nether regions. He sat on a really tiny stool and was playing an upbeat song that really got the crowd riled up. I saw some of the waitresses were topless and wore nothing but these short skirts or really high and tight denim shorts. I wondered if someone would mistake me as a waitress if I took off my shirt here.
It was then I noticed a lot of guys were staring at me. Some of them were sitting by the bar and others on the tables close to the entrance. I even heard someone whistle.
“Hell yeah,” I whispered to myself. This is exactly why I came here. I wanted to feel good.
I strutted past the guys and headed straight for the bar. Fortunately, there were a few available stools and I just plopped onto one and gest
ured for a bartender. One saw me and headed over.
“Hey there newcomer, what can I get you this fine evenin’?” he asked. I looked up at him and smiled. He was kind of cute but was probably a few years younger than I was. He probably just turned twenty-one.
I looked around and then gave him a shrug. “Give me something hard.”
He laughed and pointed at the singer on the stage. “He’s probably got a hard boner with all these girls hollering for him.”
That got me to chuckle and the bartender grinned.
“There you go, you looked so dour when you walked through the door,” he told me. “You look cuter with a big smile. How ‘bout I get you something special, like a shot of our home-brewed rum?”
I felt my cheeks flush red and I nodded at him. “You’re really sweet. Sure, I’ll have a shot. If I like it I’ll make sure to reflect it on your tip.”
The bartender winked and then walked away to prepare my drink. I didn’t want to discover what kind of concoction it was so I could stay surprised and turned around to watch the nude singer. The guy was struggling to cover his groin with that guitar as there were a lot of girls now at the edge of the stage reaching out and handing him cash.
“That’s a man’s dream come true right there,” a male voice suddenly said beside me.
I turned around and nearly yelped when I saw a smoking hot man seated on the stool beside me. Unlike the pale-skinned blonde singer, this one was literally the embodiment of the “tall, dark and handsome” sentiment. He was probably a foot taller than I was, had gigantic muscles that made his already small shirt seem even tighter on him and jet black hair that went well with his tanned skin, five o’clock grizzled beard and deep brown eyes.