by JJ Argus
Crack! He slapped my face again!
“Beg me to shove my cock down your whore throat.”
“Please shove... your cock down my whore throat!”
And then he did, pumping in and out as he held my head up and back by one fist in the hair.
He buried every inch inside me and stopped, holding still. A moment later something flashed, and I looked up to see him holding his phone. I blinked, moaning helplessly around his cock, and he pulled back a little, then took another picture.
A moment later I heard the little signal phones give when they get a message. He looked at it, pressed it, then said “The door is unlocked. Come up to the attic and see what I've got.”
Then he put the phone away and resumed fucking my throat.
I could usually cope with cocks in my throat but he was actually pumping in and out so fast and hard I was having a hard time breathing. Black dots danced before my eyes as I strained against the ropes. Then he pulled out, letting my head drop and all I could do was gulp in deep, ragged breaths of air as he moved around behind me.
I gasped as he drove himself into my pussy again, pulling back on my hair and slapping my ass while his hips hammered against my buttocks.
Again, I sagged, gasping, moaning, grunting as his cock thrust into me, my mind fuzzy. I heard the sound of feet on the stairs, then I saw movement before me as another man came in.
“Whoa, where'd you find her?” he asked.
“Here. She was poking around in things, the nosy little slut.”
Crack! He slapped my ass!
“I'm teaching her what happens to bad blondes.”
“And good blondes!” the guy said with a leer.
He unzipped his pants and pulled his erection out, then drove it into my open mouth before I could even think about whether I should maybe say something! I gurgled around it, embarrassment at being seen naked really not entering into things as I struggled for breath.
They switched around repeatedly, so that, dazed as I was, I didn't even know which one was fucking me, nor did I care. I felt the heat returning to my body and floated on this dark cloud of sexual masochism, wallowing in my own cruel abuse as the two men rutted into me from both directions.
Chapter Nine
So what I'd learned in the attic was that being treated like someone's bitch was deliciously hot! But that alone wasn't enough. Those two guys had been nothing special, not that good with their cocks, and one of them was just a bastard.
It had been hot, in a way, but nothing like my time with Teagan and Kenzie, or Raven and Jason. I needed to find someone scary, but hot, who knew what to do with his cock, and who was... safe. I mean, sane, a pervert, okay, but not a crazed pervert.
I wanted to really explore this dark, kinky thing before I went to college. I started poking around on the internet, including looking at stores that sold bondage stuff. Some of that stuff looked so wild! The thought of wearing it turned me on! But it also cost money which I couldn't really afford.
I decided to go down to a local adult place, though, just to look at the things. I'd never been in there before because I figured it would be embarrassing. But the thing I'd gone through the last week had made me considerably harder to embarrass on the subject of sex and nudity!
It was still a little weird, though. I wore sweats, including a hoodie, mostly to just appear casual. I guess I was still kind of self-conscious, so what I figured was I'd just make it look like I was wandering by and was curious.
It was a big place, and it had aisle after aisle of stuff; everything from anal beads and butt-plugs to dildos and vibrators of every size and color. Not to mention thigh-high leather stiletto-heeled boots, kinky body harnesses, and sex toys for men which almost made me laugh out loud (like the silicone shape of a woman's ass and pussy they could put on a table).
I acted the part of the casual browser, unimpressed, smirking dismissively at the things I was seeing. And so I wandered into the section filled with restraints and bondage equipment. I did my best to not let my eyes go wide at some of the things there, but I felt an excited little flutter in my stomach looking at and touching the stuff and imagining it was on me!
I made sure no one was near and picked up a leather collar and put it on. It had a big stainless steel ring dangling from the front, and I turned and stared at myself in the mirror, kind of gulping in air. I looked so hot in this!
Slave girl!
Someone rounded the corner of the aisle and I hurriedly turned away, reaching behind me to undo the collar. Because I was rushing my fingers fumbled, and it took longer than I had expected to get it off before they were nearby.
“Why take it off?” a voice asked.
It was a guy, a man! And he was fucking hot looking! He had this square-jawed face with a very short, tightly trimmed beard and mustache, curly dark hair, and these incredible piercing blue eyes! And he was wearing a suit, an expensive suit.
“It looks good on you,” he said with a smile
I flushed. “Uh, I was uhm, just – .”
“I see you've been using ropes,” he said, suddenly taking my hand.
I gulped as he drew it towards him and then ran his fingers along the back of my wrists, which showed red marks from the ropes the other day.
“Rope burns can be nasty,” he said.
I jerked my hand back, flushing.
“You're smart to think about leather,” he said. “Especially padded leather.”
He took the collar from my hand, examined it, then placed it back around my throat and did it up behind me, brushing my hair out again.
“There. That looks quite natural on you,” he said, stepping back.
“You don't have a master, do you.”
I felt a jolt of shock, then a rush of embarrassment mixed with anxiety. Holy fuck!
“Just exploring things and seeing where they go?” he asked.
“I uh...”
I reached up behind me to remove the collar.
“Not going to buy it?”
“It... costs a lot of money,” I gulped. “I'm going to college soon and – .”
My voice trailed off as I undid the collar.
He reached up and halted me.
“How about I buy it for you.”
“Oh no, no, no, that's okay!” I exclaimed, my voice squeaking.
“If you're going to experiment in how to be a little slave girl, you're going to have to learn to obey,” he said, calmly doing up the collar again.
Oh wow!
I knew I was blushing despite myself, with my mind fumbling for how to respond to him. I mean, he was a complete stranger! He could be a crazy psycho! On the other hand he seemed sophisticated, calm, and super hot! He was also way older than me, which meant he might actually know stuff!
“You have soft skin,” he said. “You shouldn't hurt it with harsh ropes.”
He took my wrist and pulled me unwillingly further down the aisle, then selected a pair of leather restraints that were a lot like the collar! I felt my heart beating faster and faster as I froze, letting him put them around my wrists!
“There. Now you can experiment as you wish.”
He looked at me, then slid his fingers lightly along my cheek.
“Don't know what you want, do you?” he asked sympathetically.
He chuckled softly, then drew me back up the aisle to the front, right up to the cash. I blushed furiously as the cashier blandly swept his little laser thing across the label on the wrist restrain and the collar. The man paid, and then led me outside.
This was just too … too too! I pulled my hands free and stumbled back.
“Look... mister,” I gulped.
He smiled and handed me something. It was like a business card.
“Give me a call when you're ready,” he said.
Then he just turned and walked away. Holy fuck!
I looked at the card. It said Joshua Morgan Investments. It had a phone number, and nothing more. I looked up to see him still wal
king. He didn't even look back.
Fuck me!
I blushed as a lady walked by, then pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down over the restraints. I took off the collar, stuffed it under my hoodie, and went home, heart thumping wildly!
That guy... that guy was like... he had seemed... I don't know! Like the people I'd had sex with were amateurs while he was a pro! Or... he was just nuts.
It didn't take long on the computer to find him, though. All I had to do was call up Joshua Morgan Investments to see his picture. Mind you, anyone can create a web site. So I Googled his name and found all kinds of pictures of him on business-related sites. None mentioned a wife, but one of them said he was forty! Yikes! That was old! He sure didn't look old!
He didn't look like a crazed serial killer, either!
I debated myself for a few days, though really what I was trying to do was work up the courage to call that number. Finally I did. And he answered himself!
“Morgan,” he said.
I gulped, suddenly speechless.
“Hello?” he asked impatiently.
He was going to hang up! I had to say something!
“Uhm... I uhm – .”
“The little girl with the rope burns? Healed up yet?”
I flushed. “Yes.”
“And perhaps looking to experiment further.”
“I... maybe,” I said. “I mean... uhm – .”
“Why don't you let me pick you up and take you somewhere we can experiment.”
“I... I don't know,” I said anxiously.
“We won't do anything you don't want. And I'll explain everything in advance and as we progress. Think of it as taking a class.”
“In what!?”
“In... submissiveness.”
“I'm not submissive!” I said.
“One can be submissive in sex without being submissive in life,” he replied.
“How do I know you're not like... Uh –.”
“A crazed killer? Well, you don't. But I'm sure you'll be leaving notes about where you're going, so if I was to be so crass as to make you disappear the police would soon be on my doorstep. That would be very bad for my reputation, not to mention business.”
I was silent, though my heart pounded wildly.
“You're not likely to find a better opportunity to explore that side of you before you go off to college.”
I bit my lip.
“Be at the corner of Brook and Cooper at Four. Wear the collar and restraints.”
And then he hung up, leaving me staring at the phone.
Fuck!
I did a lot of pacing and arguing and hand wringing, but in the end I went, heart in my throat. I had these wild, dark fantasies about what it would be like to be a 'sex slave' to a man like him! I couldn't bear the thought of missing out! At the same time I was wildly anxious about what he would do to me!
He picked me up in a sleek looking Mercedes. I was wearing just a T-shirt and jeans, but also had a jacket over them so I could close it up high to hide the collar. He smiled at me through the window and I nervously got in and sat next to him.
“My name is – .”
“I don't want to know your name,” he said. “We'll exchange names at some later point if I approve of you and vice versa. For now, this is just a training session.”
“Uh... what are you gonna do?” I asked.
“Introduce you to a few concepts and see how you react to them. That will tell both of us where your head is at. We'll see where your boundaries are, and how responsive you are to various things I say and do.”
This sure didn't sound very romantic! But on the other hand, I guess it wasn't!
“Where are we going?”
“My place.”
I gulped.
“What college are you going to?”
I almost felt like I shouldn't tell him to remain, well, anonymous, but what difference did it make?
“Uhm, Texas A&M.”
“Really?”
“It's a good school!” I said.
“Yes, but not the usual selection for a blonde California girl. Are you a lover of westerns? Very conservative?”
“I was just looking for something different,” I said.
“You'll get that today. Tell me about what experiences you have?”
Yikes! I couldn't talk about that to a man twice my age I barely knew!
“I uhm, have been... doing some... stuff that kind of worked out to have some... kinky parts,” I gulped.
He snorted. “A shy girl. This should be interesting.”
“I'm not shy!” I exclaimed. “But... I mean, telling some man all about your sexual experiences is a bit much!”
“You'll confess all later.”
His place was a large home in a ritzy neighborhood. We drove into a three-car garage and stopped, and I got out, feeling awkward and nervous.
He walked calmly across the garage and into the house and I followed, feeling kind of freaked out. I mean, I was here to have sex! With a man twice my age who didn't even know my name! Mind you, I'd done that the other night at the babysitting gig – twice over.
Fuck! What a slut I was!
He waited for me just inside the door. He let it close behind me, then stood in front of me, those blue eyes boring into me as I shifted nervously.
“To start with, the essence of being a submissive is giving up control. Do you understand what that means? It means you make no decisions. Someone else does that, and you simply do as you're told.”
I shrugged nervously.
“Say you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Say you understand, sir.”
I flushed.
“I understand, sir.”
“Take off your top.”
I gulped and felt a shock run through me. Talk about cutting to the chase!
“Now.”
I unzipped my jacket and took it off, blushing furiously, then, as I began to feel a dark rush of excitement, I reached down and peeled my T-shirt up and over my head. I was wearing my sexiest black bra, but he didn't seem to be impressed.
Still nervous and self-conscious, I reached behind me and Undid the bra, then shrugged it off.
He reached for me, not for my breasts but my throat. His big hand went around my throat, completely enveloping it and shoving me back against the door. I gasped, grabbing his wrist, my chin raised as I looked up at him.
“Drop your hands to your sides,” he ordered.
I obeyed. My hands weren't doing anything against his powerful wrist anyway.
“This is what it means to surrender control,” he said.
He squeezed and I felt my eyes bulge. My hands kind of trembled at my sides, wanting to shoot up and grab his wrist, even though I knew it would be useless.
He loosened his hand, then let go of my throat. He gripped one of my arms and spun me around to face the door, then jerked my hands up and slapped them against the door above me!
“Push your butt back at me,” he ordered. “I'm sure you've seen the pose on TV in cops shows.”
I obeyed, bending forward, heart thumping, pulse racing. I felt his hands land on my shoulders, then slide down and slowly caress my back before disappearing.
“Take off your pants.”
I gasped, but moved upright. I was feeling more dark heat than embarrassment now as I undid my jeans and pushed them down. I had to kick off my shoes to step out of them, but then he pushed me against the door again and I threw my hands out.
“Butt back.”
I bent forward, pushing my butt back, a wild rush of energy crackling through my body.
“Very nice ass,” he said. “Spread your legs wider and lean forward more.”
I obeyed, my mind squirming, heat flushing my skin.
I felt his fingers trace slowly down my spine. Then he gripped my little thong and tore it off me!
I felt a flood of embarrassment and gasped aloud, straightening up, only to get a sharp slap to my bo
ttom that made me cry out.
“Did I tell you to move, slave?”
I jerked back into position, heart pounding.
“Spread those lovely legs.”
I obeyed, moaning low in my throat.
“Bend forward further.”
I did, closing my eyes, trying to control my ragged breathing. He moved in behind me, then ran his hands slowly down my back, down over my buttocks, and then over my hips. They slid up in front and cupped my breasts, squeezing them softly, then more firmly.
I felt his fingertips finding my erect nipples and rolling them between thumbs and forefingers, and heat flooded through my breasts as my nipples tingled and burned!
“Turn around.”
I stood straight and turned, feeling awkward, embarrassed in my nakedness before this strange man. I also felt intimidated and anxious and wary. But despite that, a breathless heat filled me.
He reached out and grasped a thick handful of hair behind my neck, then jerked back sharply.
I cried out, my hands jerking up and back to grab at his wrists as my back arched.
“Do not resist. Submit. Lower your arms to your sides.”
Heart pounding, I obeyed, and he turned me to face a mirror.
“What does this look like?” he asked.
The mirror showed me, of course. And him. Except he was tall and broad shouldered and stern and older, and wearing a suit. I, meanwhile, was utterly naked wearing a collar and leather restraints, my head pulled back and back arched as he gripped my hair.
“Does this look like a submissive girl?”
“I-I... guess,” I gulped.
“You guess.”
He brought his other hand around my body, and I watched and felt it cupping my breast, squeezing it gently, then harder before abandoning it and sliding down my body. I gasped at the sight and feel of his long, warm male fingers against my sex, my pulse racing as they began to rub me there.
He pulled them back and dipped them into the mouth of my sex, spreading my lips apart, then drew them back to rub again, this time slick with my own juices.
“Spread your legs, Slave.”
Slave! Yikes! The word hit me with a jolt and I obeyed, staring at myself in the mirror. I stared at his arm and hand and fingers. I stared at him looking at the mirror from behind and above me, and my eyes dropped from meeting his.