by Willow Sears
Since I was marooned within an all-girl boarding school, my only sexual experiences to that point were a fair bit of kissing and tit fondling, plus one naughty snog with my best friend, Alice, which progressed to a hot missionary groin rubbing session, first with just our knickers on and then with our bare young quims together. Apart from these episodes I had remained chaste, although I fantasised fanatically and my dream-memories had already been occurring for a number of years.
Maybe it was those dreams, just as now, that proved the inspiration for my actions. I was suddenly gripped by a surge of power and desire. I turned on my heel, marched back into the changing room to where the still remorseful Miss Dearlove sat on the floor. I grabbed her by the hair calling her a dirty bitch, pulling her onto her knees to give her naked arse a good hard spanking that made her yelp. I think I almost came just dealing out the punishment. The bliss of it filled me–the noise of her arse and from her mouth, the way she begged me to stop but then thrust her red cheeks out for more, the sight of her cunt bulging for attention between her thighs, her utter helplessness. We ended up kissing because what else is there to do after you have just smacked your teacher on her bare bum until she was sobbing? I put my fingers inside her and she tentatively lifted my skirt and slid my panties down. She lay me down by her side and I can vividly remember us pressed together, our open mouths together, breathing into each other, both trembling as her finger stoked up my slit. She pressed forward into my little pool and then sucked her breath in. And suddenly she was all apologetic and I didn’t know why. She was saying it’s OK, it’s Ok, and darling, you are so tight, but don’t worry...
In truth I wasn’t worried. I never had been worried, or even thought twice about it until precisely that point in time. I had her finger right up me and it felt fine. I was waiting for her to give me a good fast fucking but instead she just froze. I even remember her trying to cast a sneaky look down, presumably to check if somehow she had managed to miss the target and gone up the wrong hole! She just kept kissing me and saying it was OK, and all the while I was feeling progressively anything but. In the end, after some very gentle stirring, she took her finger back out and diddled my clit to make me come. I had a complex about my puss from that moment on.
I think it was two years before I let another finger inside me other than my own, and even then I had to be taken advantage of. That time I was back from university one summer and was guesting on synth in a local all-girl band, who were a rather bad punky/gothy mess of a four-piece riding on the success of early Avril Lavigne and such like. It was a shame, really, because the lead singer was very pretty and had a fabulous voice, with lots of potential to go far if she got herself discovered. No talent spotter was going to sit through more than thirty seconds of the noisy drivel they produced though.
Anyhow, after one gig we all got raucously drunk, with me the worst for it. I remember trying to seduce the lovely blonde lead singer, but getting interrupted by the drummer–a real Goth girl with vampire tats and a nose piercing. I have vague memories of us all ending up in my bed but when I eventually awoke the next day they were gone and all I had was a throbbing dull ache in my pussy to match the one in my head. I felt bruised inside and there were traces of blood on my thighs, although that could have been because my period was nearly due. I also had a drumstick protruding from my bottom and the words Virgin No More written in black lipstick across my tits and belly–the title of one of the band’s shittier tracks. I guess you could call it rape but I went to bed with them willingly and for all I know actually encouraged the kinkiness. I cannot imagine the vocalist wanting to be that rude, since she was basically a sweet girl, but I reckon the drummer was a right dirty bitch.
I bided my time for a week or so then went to the vocalist’s house and seduced her, showing no signs of any animosity. She was so contrite she let me do as I pleased, so I got her naked, had her get on her knees on the bed then pushed her down so that her bottom was stuck out. I then secured her wrists with silk scarves to the headboard, drizzled runny honey down the crack of her open bum and filmed a rather entertaining home video of her dog hungrily lapping at her arse. I made sure there were some nice close-ups of her face and then followed the arch of her spine all the way down until the mucky pup’s buried muzzle came into view. What couldn’t be seen on the film was my hand underneath her, rubbing her clit and making her wail with ecstasy, as if it was the entire dog’s doing! Before I left I told her that if she ever became famous, even moderately so, then copies of the tape would be distributed to whoever I deemed appropriate. Thus ended her brief singing career, poor girl.
The drummer got even worse I think. That same evening I sought her out, finding her and a couple of girlfriends on the swings in the park swigging vodka out of the bottle, just to prove what a classy set of ladies they were. I led her up into the woods and she followed obligingly, believing I wanted to sample more of her rough fucking. We began to make out, hungrily kissing and shedding mainly her clothes under cover of the trees. Then I hit her twice in the face and pulled her down by her hair, slapping, scratching and pinching her all over to gain her submission. I dealt out my first ever tit and pussy spankings, which I absolutely adored. She writhed and gasped but couldn’t break my hold. I stuffed her arse with my fingers, reminding her about her drumstick naughtiness, and then used the same fingers to fill her cunt. Then I felt a renewed surge of righteous anger and pushed my whole hand up inside her, right to the wrist. Obviously this stopped her from moving at all and she just lay there subdued, not even calling me any more names as I tapped on her clit with my other hand or bit her thigh or pinched her nipples.
I got off her and she just lay there naked in a whimpering trance, blood trickling from her mouth, blown away by my whirlwind fuck-attack, presumably trying to fathom out what had just hit her. It was such a shock to her system that I don’t think she came more than once during the whole episode. I remember the glow inside that my power generated. I felt exalted and complete. I nonchalantly gathered her clothes into a pile beside me, poured out the remnants of her vodka from her bottle and set light to it. Even then she didn’t move. It wasn’t just the retribution that made me happy (in fact that was almost irrelevant), it was the doing of my nasty deeds that I loved, the feeling that I could do anything, however rude. I remember lighting a cigarette (it happened during those bad old days), hitching up my skirt and pulling my panties down round my thighs, then stepping over her so that I could look again at her pink-spanked cunt, then squatting down and ever so nonchalantly using her as my toilet while I smoked. I have no idea what she did or how she got herself home once I had left her alone with her burning pile of clothes. I couldn’t have cared less; I went back to uni a day or so later and I have never heard from or seen either of them again.
I’m digressing slightly but you see how the devil in me comes out, and so it was with the brunette up against the wall, giving me the I’ll be so gentle garbage and talking about my cunt like it was the most delicate flower. I just don’t need sycophantic clap-trap and people treating me like a delicate treasure. I do not need to be reminded of my body’s limitations. I pushed that brunette to her knees and pulled my jeans down my thighs. It was too dark to really see but I kept my panties in place anyway, although she quickly moved the lace aside and leant forward to give me some light preparatory licks. I let her do it while I got my muscles ready. She let hunger get the better of her and started feasting first at my clit and then at my little slit, moaning against me with her delight at my tightness. She kept calling me baby between her rapid lapping but I didn’t slap her round her face. I kept my cool for long enough to gather myself, and then I grabbed her under the chin, pushing my fingers into her cheeks to force her mouth open, and then I let go my hot spurt. It wasn’t come, it was piss. It was a whole stream of it that filled her big mouth and flowed out and soaked into her white T-shirt.
She gagged and guzzled but I held her firm, despite her fingernails digging into my rump. I have to
say she did well really, better than some who have been expecting it. She took a lot down and let some splash all over her face. She even tried to lick through the flow to give my clit more pleasure, only adding to the force of my expulsion. She spluttered it’s ok, baby one more time and that’s when I let her go. I don’t know what she was thinking, maybe that because I was so virgin tight that I was nervous or inexperienced. Maybe she took my gasping moan of glee when my muscles forced out my stream as a sign of my climax. One day she might find out who I was and hear of my squirting orgasms and reflect with pride that she once gave me a massive climax. At the moment she was on her haunches, piss-drenched and a little bewildered, looking up at me with expectation and a hint of reverence in her eyes. Whatever, I pulled my jeans back up, feeling the residual wetness and maybe a few last dribbles soaking into the crotch of my panties, then turned on my heels and just left her there without a word.
I went back inside but my mind was still jumbled and kept throwing up the vision of Ariadne’s face, covered with a large Spanish hand except for those insolent eyes, burning into mine. I needed to go before the damp patch spread through to my jeans. I made for the door, watched all the way by a lone girl at a table near the exit. I had noticed her earlier as I scanned the room and briefly thought about making her my target, but the brunette was prettier and more likely to be amenable to my charms. The lone girl was maybe only twenty, perhaps even a little younger. I guessed she was of mixed race. There was definitely some oriental blood in her, Japanese or Korean maybe–I’m no expert. It was in her small but flat nose and dark almond eyes, one of which was a touch turned in. She had the fine, jet-black oriental hair, left long but with frizzy body to it. Her skin was soft-looking and geisha white, far too pale in my opinion for there to be no Western blood in her. I had guessed earlier that this was one of her first times in a gay bar. She undoubtedly had the usual problems of making connections with other lesbian girls in her regular social circle and so had finally plucked up the courage to go to a bar and see if she could find a compatible soul.
The problem for her is that the uninitiated stand out a mile. She was sitting there alone without knowing that she had a big banner over her head with the word VIRGIN written bold upon it. Now, fresh meat can be fun and it is always an ego-boost to take someone’s virginity (although I absolutely do not consider myself a virgin, just think how smug the man who first enters me will feel), but it can also be a frustrating pain in the backside. Most times you just want someone who just knows, and for someone with my particular line in perversions, you definitely need a partner with experience and a sound understanding of their body’s desires. I should have left her well alone, but naughty, spiteful schizo me wasn’t quite ready to calm down for the night. She was obviously sitting near the door in case she got cold feet on the night and needed to make a hasty exit. She should have done.
I almost made it out the door, but then I turned, took the few steps over to her and whispered in her ear, “I want to fuck you.”
It wasn’t so much a proposal as an order. She was bright-eyed and speechless but she didn’t need to talk since I already had her by her hand and was leading her into the warm night air. In the cab she tried to make conversation. I remember her voice was thin and hesitant, her accent perfect English. I don’t remember anything she said to me, or if I made any reply. I was thinking of Ariadne again, bubbling with indignation at her earlier actions. I took my geisha girl down to my basement. It must have been a baptism of fire for her to be with such as me in such a place but I am afraid I didn’t really pay any heed to her state of mind. Why would Ariadne do that to me unless she wanted to hurt me? I let the geisha kiss me and didn’t lose my cool at her clumsy efforts to turn me on by pinching my nipples through my top. She came to my fashion show, so presumably she wanted to show her support. Her not coming would have hurt me a lot. I stripped the geisha of her top clothes and showed her just how to lick a delightful, tiny pink nipple. Unless, of course Ariadne only came to the show to do what she did in a calculated effort to rebuke me.
Once I had kissed the geisha with wet passion she was ready to be used. I stripped her completely and bent her over the long black couch that stood at waist height. She was fretting slightly at her prone position, more so when I eased her cheeks apart to see the secrets between them. Her skin was milk-white and lovely, broken only by the blue, green and pink tattoo of a flowering lotus to the left of her spine, the stem creeping down towards her dark crack. I find many tats vulgar and disfiguring, but this sat on her white body with clarity and perfection, like proper art to study and admire. It made her seem softer still, yet the fact that it was there belied her shy nature and triggered the tingling thought that possibly someone had once made her have it. I used silk ties rather than leather to secure her wrists to the frame of the couch. She let me tie her without question but was breathing hard. I could see the bright spot of excitement and trepidation in her eyes, and the slick gloss of wetness on her plump rose-red bottom lip. She was prettier now that she was naked and vulnerable but I still slipped the sleep-mask over her eyes. Better she not see what she had coming to her.
I raked her back lightly with my nails and then knelt down behind her. I kissed her arse cheeks and gave them both a little, sharp bite. Her buttocks were small and perky, absolutely blemish-free. The quim squeezed out between the slender thighs and was a small, neat mound. I traced my tongue-tip up the slit and heard her gasp. Her bum smelt sweet and delicious. Her anus was a tiny black imploding dimple, much like my own. I wanted as always to taste it, but I had sworn to make Ariadne’s my first. How that oath tore at me now, as strained as the bond with my Goddess seemed.
My lapping was gentle, designed to gradually open her up and mingle my saliva with her fresh juices. Her little whimpers made me wet and just about kept my need to eat her alive in check. I knew that if I kept up my teasing long enough then two unexpected fingers sliding inside her pussy and curling upwards were almost sure to make her come. I waited and waited, picturing her nipples aching against the couch, her open mouth leaching a dribble of viscous clear saliva, her eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold. I pushed my face into her cheeks so that my mouth was open against her soft cunt. I didn’t thrust my tongue inside though, I pressed it flat to her slit and let just the tip wiggle and tease her tiny bud. I could feel her shaking now, feel her pushing back in the hope of deeper entry, feel her anus pressing and spreading against the tip of my nose. Then I swiftly got off my knees, slid my fingers into her and forced them deep, holding them there as she thrashed and bucked and came.
Ariadne is such a cunt, really. Why do I want her? It must be over a year since we first started taking notice of each other and in all that time we have made no progress. I’ve known this geisha just over an hour and already her puss is clenching on my fingers. All Ariadne does is tease me and lead me on. I left the geisha trembling on the couch and went to get the samurai sword from the wall. I put on a pair of my hot pants, choosing one with a long, thin, smooth dildo attachment, one that I usually used on my girl’s bums. So that was that: I would avoid SaMmy’s and avoid Ariadne and just forget all about the cunt-teasing bitch. I got behind the geisha and held her hips. I could feel her shiver beneath me and saw the little pool of saliva by her still open mouth. I moved the dildo to her slick puss and slowly pushed my hips forward, opening her up and driving it home until her little arse was squashed against me. Her cries made the smile spread across my face. I held the dildo there, deep inside her, delighting in the way her body tensed with the wonderful invasion. But I like SaMmy’s, with or without Ariadne. It’s the best club and the best-looking people go there. Why should that bitch rob me of the chance of going?
I love the feel of the sword in my hand. The balance and weight are just perfect. You can brandish it and move it freely without becoming too fatigued, and the blade always gleams silver-white and deadly sharp. The excitement of simply holding it goes to my belly and to my pussy. So, I would go to my c
lubs whenever I wanted and just forget that she exists. I would refuse to play any of her games. I would forget that my first ever sighting of her pussy had me longing to kiss and lick it, and that I still couldn’t get it out of my mind, even though the mental image was marred by that Spanish cock being stuffed inside it. I used my free hand to trace light nail marks down my geisha girl’s back, right down to her bottom and over the outside of her thighs. I saw the goose bumps spring up over the taught skin of her bent-over arse. God, she had wonderful skin. Apart from my own I had never witnessed any so pale and so perfect. I held the sword inches above her back, all along the length of her spine with the tip just above her head. There was a frizzy tuft of hair that could be lopped off with a single flick of the wrist, so perilously sharp was the blade. If I made her jerk upwards it would cleave her skull. Imagine if I pushed a thumb up her little bottom now and her head snapped upwards. Imagine the gleaming claret-red ooze soaking into her jet black hair and trickling onto her white shoulders...
The thing with Ariadne is that I am convinced that she does want me. So how long do I play her games? Why does she go out of her way to hurt me if she carries a torch for me? What if I stopped playing and let her do the chasing? Yes, that’s it, that’s what I should do. But I know she loves cocks more than pussies and if I don’t press home any hold I have over her then I might be too easy to forget. I moved the blade slowly down over her back. The merest touch would have split the skin and seen a gush of blood from the slit. I remembered my dream, remembered how I was yearning for my beloved guardian to drive the sword through the condemned girl’s body and split her. I wonder if I could still fuck the geisha to orgasm before her life ebbed away. It was so odd, hearing her little sighs and gasps as I moved the dildo ever so slowly in and out of her tight body, how blissfully unaware she remained at what hovered just inches above her, how close she was to oblivion. The power felt awesome, barely controllable.