It Was Only a Story              John J. Jones
Well, I HAD written the story about her, but I didn't think it would
come to this... Well, maybe I dreamed it would, but I never had an
idea of what the reality of it would be like... intense,
passionate, and fearful... I guess I knew the word all along...
submission. But as often as I'd written about it; as often as I
 experienced it in my own imagination, it was nowhere near the
reality of it. But wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start
from the beginning.
I write stories, erotic stories. Obviously you know, that's why you'r
e
reading this. I've written a variety of stories, from the normal to
the bizarre. I've even put a few on the net. Anyway, I had this
fantasy about a woman at work: Corey. She's a college girl. I'm in
my 40's. She's beautiful, has curly, shoulder-length, strawberry
blonde, almost red hair. She has a smile that would melt steel. But
her eyes... those are what get me the most. I usually have a
knack for determining a person's personality and thoughts by their
eyes. In a way she's different, in a way, I suppose she's not.
At first, it seemed I could tell some things about her. She seemed
sweet, friendly. Then one day when I helped her with a computer
problem at work, I turned to ask her a question and there it was...
that look. It sent a shiver down my spine. I went weak and helpless.
That was the first time I realized that my ability to read people was
being turned on me. She was looking right through me. It was as if she
knew my innermost fantasies and thoughts. It was in her eyes ÂÂ
and the sly smile. I instantly grew nervous and forgot what I ÂÂ
was doing. In a panic, I fumbled with the keys trying to get a grip
again as I looked away. I was almost in a cold sweat.
This had never happened to me before. It was scary, but deep inside, it
turned me on. All the feelings I've had when I was writing about
being dominated by a woman (or women) came sneaking to the surface
right then and there, and I was embarrassed. As I regained control, I
told myself I should relax. She couldn't know about any of this. I had
just met her. I was just over-reacting, miss-interpreting her ÂÂ
look. When I finished fixing the problem on her computer and looked
back once more, she had that friendly nice-to- know-you smile on her
face again. I drew a sigh of relief and talked with her a few moments
before I left her cubicle. Still a bit flustered, but a little more
relaxed.
Corey is taller than me, but extremely well endowed. So I thought about
her a lot after that first meeting. I would go and talk to her once in
a while. There were a couple of times I thought I saw that look in
her eyes but I would glance away. I was nervous. When I'd look back,
it was gone. If she was doing this on purpose, she was good. Very
good. Then one day I stopped by when she was wearing a skirt. She
turned around in her chair, with that look on her face. I swear, I
almost dropped my cup of coffee. If she could have seen into the cup,
she would have thought there was an earthquake. My hand was shaking.
Her legs were fantastic. Again, I looked away and struggled to make
idle conversation.
It was after that visit that I had to write a story. I had to vent. The
feelings  I  got  from  her  were driving me crazy. I wrote ÂÂ
a domination/submission story that was probably the most passionate I
ever wrote. Passionate in the sense of sex and the sensation ÂÂ
of raw submission. I understand how some may find it difficult to
understand how this could be defined as passion, but trust me... it's
just as much a passion of taking the woman you fantasize about into
your arms and making love at the time you're most ready, then putting
it into words. Even after completing the story, I would reread it
and get excited again.
I put the story onto my private site where only a few friends knew about
it. I received a few comments about how silly the idea of
male submission was, but everyone said the story was exceptionally hot.
After writing the story, I got more relaxed with Corey and decided I
would ask her to lunch.
I'm kind of a talker, and I think I express myself well; it's necessary
for my job. But I found myself at a loss for words during lunch.
I talked about anything. I was like a nervous kid. I was afraid I
was making a fool of myself. She never looked that way at me during
lunch, I was just nervous. The topic of my story writing came up and I
mentioned the   public  site  where  some  of  my  stories ÂÂ
were  posted,
http://www.eroticstories.com. I thought she might like a
couple of them. They may even turn her on! Of course, I didn't say
that.
As we walked back, I summoned up the nerve to ask some questions about
her. She made it plain she would answer straightforwardly if I asked
her anything. The only real question I remember was what kind of
guy she liked, and the only real portion of her response that rang
in my ears was "I like a guy who can take orders". She made that
statement with a smile and a giggle. Inside, I freaked.
The words rang in my head like a gong. Not merely for the fact that it
implied she was a dominant, but something else. It was in my story.
The exact words. This happened on a Friday, just before we went our
separate ways for lunch. The rest of the afternoon went right down the
toilet as far as work was concerned. I was distracted, confused and
excited all wrapped up in one overwhelming emotion. Had she seen
the story about her? I had changed her name, but there were a ÂÂ
lot of beginning circumstances that would have left no doubt about
who the characters were.
The rest of the weekend was just the same kind of blur. I couldn't
concentrate, I found myself pacing at times. I tried to watch movies
to divert my feelings, but nothing worked. Friday night, I sent
her an email with a link to the public site, just for something
to do. I struggled with the thought that she couldn't have seen my
private site and I had not physically shown the story to anyone else.
Saturday was no better. I woke up at my usual time, but didn't get out
of bed. I lay there thinking about her and the situation. Or was there
a situation? Was I imagining things? If I wasn't, what was I going to
do? If she knew about the story, how could I face her again at work?
What if she wasn't really dominant and just thought I was some kind
of weirdo? Saturday and Sunday both found me pacing and looking for
things to do. Simple things, concentration was at a minimum. I ÂÂ
even canceled a computer consultation appointment with a client because
I didn't want to deal with the effort it was going to take to keep my
mind on the job.
What was I going to do on Monday when I went back to work? Where she
sat, I could probably avoid her. I had taken vacation for the rest
of the week, so I'd just have to avoid her Monday and Tuesday. But
did I want to? Did she want me to?
By now, you can see how confused and tortured I was. I use the word
tortured to describe the lack of direction to take. Well... then
came Monday.
I tried to keep my mind on work, keep myself busy. I thought that would
be the key to getting through this. But every hour or so, one
thought would shoot through my mind. Should I go over by Corey? The
confused thoughts that raced through my mind every time the
question came up, once again, distracted me from whatever I was
doing. Just before noon, the question had been answered for me.
"Paul, Cory called. She said her PC wouldn't start". Panic. I looked
around. There were no other technicians to take the call. "She
said everything looked like it was plugged in ok. You know how that
goes." The receptionist said, grinning. Cindy was in her area! I
grabbed the walkie-talkie. "She asked for you." The receptionist said
as I picked it up. Well, that was it. One way or another I had to see
her.
Thoughts again flooded my mind as I hooked up my walkie-talkie and
headed out of the office door. She didn't seem the kind that
would embarrass me in front of everyone, so I didn't have to worry
about that. But what suggestions or comments would she make? I
could easily be embarrassed without anyone else knowing what was going
on. I was careful enough to use a "writers" name on my stories, so I
couldn't be connected with them. I always used other names and places
IN my stories, so I was safe there. What was going to happen? Had I
done something stupid? Was I overreacting?
My palms were sweaty and my hands were shaking as I neared her cubicle.
My heart was racing and I felt flush. I stopped just short of her
cube to calm down. "Paul! Whassup, guy?" a friend chirped up as he
walked by. Oh, no! No time to calm down. She had to know I
was there now. "S.S.D.D.!" I muttered as I continued my mission.
I walked around into her cube with my usual smile, and I was in luck!
She wasn't there! I set down my tool kit and started checking
cables. The PC monitor was hooked to the machine in a manner that
didn't allow the machine to be pulled out very far, so I had to get
under the desk to check the connections on the back of the machine.
Then I felt her. Her foot brushed my leg as she sat down in her chair.
I froze.
"There he is!" she chirped. "How was your weekend?" I went flush. Was it
my imagination again, or did her tone reflect knowledge of what I
went through? I looked down. She was sitting with her legs slightly
parted, wearing the same skirt she had worn before. I could see into
the skirt, that she was wearing pantyhose, but no panties.
Everything above the waist was above the desk. "Paul?". I jumped at her
voice again. I took a deep breath and realized I better say something.
"Sorry didn't know you were talking to me! Too short, as usual! How
about you?" I responded as I regained my concentration and noticed
the power cord was halfway out of the machine. It could have been
kicked... or something. I avoided looking at her legs again as I
crawled out from under her desk and stood up. She wasn't looking at me,
but she had a smile on her face. I clicked on the machine and it came
to life. "There ya go!" I said, a bit anxious to leave at the moment...
yet... not.
"Sent you an email about another problem I'm having." She continued. "I
had a file attached to it that I couldn't open. Did you get it?"
I hadn't checked my email all morning. It's one of the things I
forgot. "Not yet, sorry! I'll look as soon I get back downstairs." I
replied. "Good. Thank you for getting here so quick!" she said and
turned to look up at me. The look was half there. She wasn't upset
with me obviously, but I didn't know what to make of it.
My heart slowed down as I went back to the office. It may be ok, I told
myself. Let's see what's in this email.
I sat down at my desk and fired up email. Her message was there. It
explained the problem she had opening the file. I checked the file.
It was a WordPerfect 4 file. We used MS Word at our office. This was
going to be an easy one. I called her and told her that Word would
not open this version of a WordPerfect file. Her voice, although it
was soft and sweet, crackled like lightning over the phone. "I ÂÂ
know. I have WordPerfect 4 at home, and it's not opening there,
either. You consult on the side, right?" I went numb. I thought I
swallowed my tongue. There was dead silence for what seemed like an
eternity.
"Sure!" I finally managed to almost squeak out. Confusion about what to
say set in again, but it didn't matter. "Good. Here's my address."
It obviously wasn't a question as to whether or not I would come out
there. She gave me her address. "Tonight or tomorrow night?" she
asked. There was no time to think about it. "Tomorrow night will be
fine!" I blurted out. I looked around and was relieved that no one was
nearby to hear it. "See you around 6? I'll have something for
dinner!" She had an early shift, since she went to college on
Wednesday and Friday, but for me, 6 o'clock was pushing it. I had
to get home and get the car and get to where she lived in less than
2 hours, but it was possible. And I was excited and yet apprehensive
as a school kid. "I'll be there!" I said, looking around before I said
it this time.
Another afternoon at work shot to hell. So was half of Tuesday. I was
excited, passing off the harder problems, whipping out the easier
ones; not telling a soul about anything. On the way home on the train
Tuesday Evening, it hit me... my story... I had my first encounter
with her in my story at her place! And I had gone over to fix a problem
with her PC! I became oblivious to everyone else on the train as I
felt myself go flush. It couldn't be... it was just coincidence... I
mean, I work on computers. She knows that. She just needed help or she
was just using it as an excuse to get me over. It couldn't have
anything to do with the story. It was a hardware error in the story
anyway... I almost blew my stop on the train. I walked into the
house, washed up and changed. All the while thoughts running through
my head about what the night would hold. I picked up my jacket and car
keys and walked to the car.
Traffic was pretty bad, but I made it to her front door at about 5:55.
"On time! I like that!" she said coolly as she opened the door. I
stood in shock. She was wearing a one- piece midi skirt, red, bright
red, and tight. Just like in my story. My thoughts raced as I
instinctively turned and looked at the door, then downward. Oh,
geeez, is this all coincidence? Or does she know?
"Are you coming in? Or are you going to stand out there all night?" she
smiled. I was startled slightly and apologized as I stepped into
her townhouse. It was attractive and you could tell it was a woman's
place; clean, orderly and kinda "homey". "Let's eat first." She
quipped as she took off my jacket. Well, that was different. In my
story, I fixed her computer first. "This way." She said after ÂÂ
she hung up my coat. I followed her down a short hall checking out
her beautiful legs and ass as she walked. Her hair was beautiful
against her neck and shoulders.
I froze one again as we entered the small dining room. Two red candles
placed  at  the  sides of the table, not in the middle. ÂÂ
Brass candleholders, red tablecloth, glasses of red wine. But the
kicker was the napkins. They were black. This was all exactly as I
wrote in my story. The odds were now too high for my comfort. Cory
continued into the dining room and looked back at me where I stopped.
"Something wrong?" she asked with a sly tone in her voice. I swallowed
hard. Do I say something, or do I go along with this? I could feel
that my face was flushed and my palms were getting sweaty again. If
she knew the whole story, this could be the best night of my
life... or the worst. I regained my composure somewhat. "Nice
arrangement." I managed to say. "Thank you!" she replied. "I
especially like the idea of black napkins against a red tablecloth.
Your idea?" I asked. She smiled and practically glared at me. "No, ÂÂ
probably saw it in a catalog..." I proceeded into the dining room.
"Or read it somewhere." She continued.
I stopped by a chair, took a deep breath, tilted my head back and caught
myself closing my eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked slyly. "You ok?"
I opened my eyes, stared at the curtains on the dining room wall
across from me. "Ok, look, I'm sorry." I muttered. She walked around
behind me, as I stood there frozen, like a deer caught in the
headlights of a speeding car.
She stepped up against me, he breasts against my shoulders. She had to
turn her head down slightly to whisper in my ear. Her perfume filled
my nostrils. "You're sorry? Why? Did you do something wrong?"
Again, a different location in my story, but the exact words she had
said. If I had been any more nervous, my teeth would have been
chattering. I couldn't answer. She stepped away and into the
kitchen. "I don't see where you've done anything wrong, so why don't
you sit down?"
I moved to a chair and sat down. I sat there quietly as she moved around
in the kitchen. Oh, no... the food, I thought. In my story, the meat
was filet minion, with corn and mashed potatoes. Since she couldn't
see me, I closed my eyes. I'm not sure if it was a prayer or
a general statement. Please... let this go well, I thought to myself.
I knew this evening could go either way from this point on.
She brought dinner out. It was pork chops. She set two more bowls down
on the table, then moved to the other side and sat down.
"Help yourself," she said smiling. First I took a pork chop from the
plate and set it on mine. Then took a bowl. I removed the lid. Mashed
potatoes. I spooned some slowly onto the plate, trying not to
look at her. I replaced the lid and took the next bowl. Corn. I
stared at it for a moment. "Don't like corn?" she asked. I jumped
slightly at her question. "Oh, it's fine..." I replied. I spooned
some onto my plate and then started cutting a pork chop. "Like pork
chops?" She asked. She piped up again before I had a chance to answer.
"Not a real beef person myself... steaks are usually too tough". I
dropped my fork on the plate. The sound echoed in my ears like a plate
glass window shattered by a brick.
"It seems like you're nervous," she said. "Are you sure something's not
wrong?" I wiped my hands on the napkin. "I said I was sorry."
I muttered. She smiled, picked up her fork and started eating.
She swallowed, took a sip of her wine and smiled at me again. "Oh, you
must mean the story. It was about me, wasn't it?" It was final.
All the torture was over. I was busted. But how did she... it didn't
matter now. I sat for what seemed to be an eternity staring at my
plate. "Wasn't it?" This time it was more of a demand for an answer
than a question. So much so, that I jumped. "Yes, yes it was." I
replied. Again, I couldn't move while she continued to eat. I felt like
a trapped animal.
Her voice was soft again. "You really should eat something." I still
couldn't move. "You may need the energy tonight." Her words
shot excitement and fear through me as I sat there staring at my
plate. "Paul." There was the command in her voice again. I picked up
my knife and fork and began eating.
"You know, you're one hell of a writer, Paul" she said between bites.
"But has it ever happened to you for real?" The fear and
excitement started a stir of sexual tension that I'd only nearly
felt before in writing my stories, but this was more intense. I felt an
erection coming on. "No, it hasn't" I muttered.
"Hmmm... I really don't get into the word "mistress"... But I like to be
called by my name. You wouldn't mind calling me Miss Corey, would
you Paul?" I hesitated. "No." "No?" she piped back. I almost choked
on my food. "I'm sorry. No, Miss Cory." "Good" she replied. I felt
toes move their way up my leg to my crotch and stop to rub against
what was soon becoming a raging hard-on. "This is going to be a very
interesting night for you, Paul. Very interesting. Interesting for me,
too."
It was a short... but long dinner. The few times I looked up at Corey,
she was watching me intently while she ate. One time, she clamped
her teeth on her fork and drew it out slowly. I was literally shaking
with fear, anticipation and lust. When we were done eating, she stood
up and walked toward my side of the table. "Come with me." She said.
I followed her down another hall to the bathroom. She leaned against a
wall. "Shower is right there" she said. My mind flashed back to
the story. "Unless you're going to shower with your clothes on, I
suggest you strip" she said without moving. Now my erection was
dwindling... I began to undress. I had my back to her as I
finally took off my underwear. "Turn around." She ordered. My pecker
by now was all reduced to about an inch and a half in length. I
turned around. "Funny, felt a lot bigger than that under the table!"
she smiled. She was twirling a toothpick in her mouth.
She stepped past me and pushed the shower curtain aside. My heart fell
into the pit of my stomach. In my story, there was a chain and
handcuffs attached to the showerhead. Corey had two pair of
handcuffs on a bar positioned at each end just under the ÂÂ
showerhead. "Look, I..." I started. I didn't even know what I was
going to say. "Get in, Paul." She interrupted firmly. I got in. She
took my left hand and brought it up to the handcuff on the left side of
the bar. I was standing there naked and confused. She took my other
hand and locked it to the other side.
Corey stepped back from the shower and started stripping. "Yes, Paul,
it's going to be an interesting night." She said as she peeled her
red bra, stockings, garter and panties off. As she stepped into the
shower behind me, she said, "You see, Paul, I don't trust my men
to clean themselves. They never do a good enough job for me. I
have to do it myself." I shuddered as I recognized it as another line
from my story. I was in for a cleaning I was not going to soon
forget, and if I didn't stand and take it, it was going to be
worse. In my story, John was threatened with nipple and ball clamps if
he pulled off the showerhead, so he had to hold his arms up and hang
on.
She pulled the shower curtain closed and as she snapped on the water, I
muttered, "please don't hurt me." "What?" she replied. "Please
don't hurt me, Miss Corey," I repeated more loudly through the
water. "Remember, Paul... I read the story. I know you're not into
pain. But I also know the ways you make a man hurt without using
steel and pointy objects. Yes, Paul... you're going to hurt. But if
you're a good boy, you'll be rewarded." "But if you're a good
boy...", yet another line from my story. She remembered quite a bit.
I was positioned so the warm water was running directly down my head and
body. Corey reached over to the liquid soap dispenser and dispensed
a large amount of soap on her hand. Then she reached over to the
window and grabbed a small brush with a strap. She started rubbing the
soap on my back, then washing it with the brush. The first few
seconds felt good, but the brush was stiff and it became more like
scrubbing than rubbing. My skin was beginning to hurt. She proceeded
to scrub my neck and shoulders. Then she reached around to scrub my
chest and stomach. Next were my legs and feet. I looked down at
myself and saw that I was all pink from the scrubbing and my skin
stung all over. Just like John in my story.
The first test was coming. She washed my hair and face with a rag, and
then lathered up again. "Let's see... this was a "test" wasn't it
Paul?" she said as she kicked my feet apart, one at a time. At the
thought, I was already getting an erection. "And... if you failed,
you'd get a really long, cold, rinse, right? Isn't that the way
it went?" she continued. Oh, geez... that was the agreement. She
was to thoroughly wash Johns' crotch and he was not to climax. At
all. John managed it, but in reality, I didn't believe there was a way
in hell I could undergo that type of treatment from Corey, from ÂÂ
any woman for that matter without climaxing. She pulled open the
shower curtain a small amount, revealing a small clock on the sink.
"Let's see... 5 minutes, right?" she hissed, as though she knew I
wouldn't hold out. Both hands filled with lather, she reached around
and took my now half-erect cock in one hand and brought the other
between my ass cheeks. She started massaging my cock firmly with
the lather and shoving the fingers of her other hand down across my
asshole and into my crotch. My cock rose in an instant as she
pumped slowly on my prick. Slowly, methodically she probed and
pumped. I knew I wasn't going to make it. Her lips came close to my
ear. "John may have," she said softly as she pumped and played with my
ass. "But I don't think," she hesitated and stuck her tongue into ÂÂ
my ear. "You're going to MAKE it!" As she emphasized the work MAKE,
she rammed a finger deep into my asshole. She pumped my cock harder and
faster.
It was only 3 minutes and it was as good as over. My knees buckled and I
caught my breath, clenched my teeth, trying to hold it back, but it
was senseless. She won, as she knew she was going to. I exploded
into the shower wall as she kept her finger in my ass and kept
milking my cock until I couldn't spend any more. "Aw, too bad... not
as good as "John" at this, are you?" she said. I was almost hanging
by the handcuffs as she rinsed my cock and ass. She pulled the shower
curtain back enough to step out. "Pardon me while I dry off. Oh
yes... the deal." She reached back into the shower and snapped the
faucet all the way to the left. I was instantly accosted by an onrush
of ice-cold water.
From my position, the most I could do was pull my face back, but the
cold water still cascaded over my chest, shoulders and down my
whole body. No matter where I moved I was still pummeled with cold
water. After having climaxed and been scrubbed until I was pink,
the water seemed even much more cold. I turned to look out of the
shower to see Corey seated on the closed toilet applying shaving cream
to the already small hairs on her pussy. As she picked up her razor,
she looked in at me. Probably expecting I wouldn't hear her through
the running water, she mouthed, "You're next", pointing at me. That
wasn't in the story, either.
I was starting to shiver now as I changed positions, trying to get the
water to change direction on me. I glanced out at Corey every couple
of minutes hoping she would uncuff me, but she was taking her time,
shaving her pussy clean. Finally, she wiped herself clean and stood
up. Now I was quivering in the shower. "Are we cooled off yet"? She
asked coyly. She reached in and turned off the shower. "Oh... I'll
be right back." She said as she stooped to pick up my clothes. It was
quiet now, except for the water dripping off me. Even the warmth
of the bathroom felt better now.
Corey came back into the bathroom wearing a red silk robe. She had a key
and started unlocking the cuffs. "Your clothes are in the washer
now, but that's ok, you won't be needing them for the rest of the
night." Another line from the story. I remembered that John had
complained about walking around naked and for his complaint his
mistress made him wear a pair of her panties around the house. I wasn't
saying a word. I was sore and shivering as I stepped from the shower.
She handed me a towel. "When you're done drying off, meet me in
the living room" she said as she turned away. Then she stopped. "Oh,
and leave the towel here, Paul."
I dried off quickly as I could. The heater kicked on and I aimed the
vent up at me to warm up. I sat for about 5 minutes under the warm
heat. It was apparently taking too long. "Paul?" I heard from the
living room. I hung the towel on the rod and slowly made my way to
the living room. My pecker looked like it was half an inch long...
"Come here..." Corey said as I walked into the room. She was on the
couch in her red nylons, garter, panties and bra once more, with the
red silk robe on over it. The shades were drawn and the room was only
lit by one lamp next to her. There was a pan of water by the coffee
table. This wasn't in the story. "Sit down on the edge of the
coffee table" she said. I sat down. "Lean back on your hands." I
did. "Spread your legs wide". I obeyed. She picked up a pair of
scissors and leaned over from the couch. She began trimming the hair
from my crotch.
"Please don't do this, Miss Corey" I asked softly. She just smiled and
kept trimming. "What, might look bad to the guys at the club?" She
knew I was the member of the health club near work. I didn't
answer. She finished trimming and took a washrag out of the pan of
water. She placed the pan on the floor at the edge of the
coffee table and started squeezing the water from the washrag onto my
crotch so that it ran off the edge of the table into the water. Then
she reached into the cushion and pulled out a can of shaving cream.
She applied it to my crotch. It was cooling. Then she reached for the
razor.
"I also like my men hairless here, like me. Now... if you sit real
still, you'll be okay through this. If not, well, I hate to think
what could get cut off," she said smiling. She began to shave me.
I sat still. REAL still. When she was done, she rinsed me off. And
told me to stand up. My whole crotch was bald.
As she dried me off, she asked, "Have you ever REALLY eaten a pussy
Paul?" I gave her a matter-of-fact look and looked away. "You
haven't answered my question." "Yes, Miss Corey" I replied. "Did you
enjoy it?" she asked. I hesitated. "Sometimes" I answered.
"Sometimes? Right. How many times have you made a woman come with your
tongue Paul? Don't lie. You know by now I can tell if you lie." I
closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Somehow, I knew she was
right. She'd know. I opened my eyes. "Twice" I admitted. "So
"sometimes" you enjoyed it? Does that mean once? Or both times? Or
neither?" I couldn't answer.
"You know, I've found that most guys who want to be dominated are afraid
of pussy, Paul... is that you? Are you afraid of a woman because of
her pussy, Paul?" I was sitting there naked in front of a tall
beautiful woman and my secrets were being pulled out of me as
if a cop was grilling me. She was determined to have me bare
everything, inside and out. "I don't know," I muttered. "You don't
know? Paul, Paul, Paul..." she said as she stood up and walked around
behind me to the other side of the coffee table. "You're a grown man!
Don't answer like a cornered child! You are, or you aren't. Are you
afraid of a woman's pussy? Answer me!" Now I was confused. I knew I
wasn't AFRAID of a woman's pussy, but I didn't know what I WAS
afraid of. "I don't think so, Miss Corey" I said. "Another childish
answer." She said.
Corey leaned on the table behind me and gently licked the base of my
neck by my shoulder. "Or are you just afraid of women, Paul?"
she whispered hotly in my ear. One of my hands slid off the coffee
table. On one side of the living room wall were mirrors. I heard her
step away and looked over into the mirrors to see what she was doing.
She picked up a small footrest by an easy chair and set it next to
the coffee table behind me. It was even with the height of the coffee
table. She saw me looking and looked over at me in the mirror and
smiled.
"Lay down, Paul." I laid back on the coffee table. "Now, move up." I
slid up until my head was resting on the footstool. She went to
the couch and brought two small pillows back with her. We were back
to the story again. I knew what was going to happen, as she placed a
pillow on each side of the stool. "I liked your story, Paul. And I
think it's a great way to REALLY introduce you to pussy! ÂÂ
Obviously, it hasn't happened, because it was just a fantasy,
right, Paul?" I took a deep breath. "Please Miss Corey..." I begged.
"Oh, yes, Paul. Beg. I love to hear a man beg. Especially a man who's
afraid of a woman..."
Corey reached under the coffee table and brought out two ropes with
leather cuffs on one end and metal and rubber clamps on the other.
She fastened the metal and rubber ends to the legs of the coffee
table and when she reached for my arm, I instinctively pulled it
away. "Please don't." I begged. She stopped. She gently stroked my
hair, the suddenly grabbed a handful and pulled. I yelped. "Now Paul,
you said you're not into pain. Let's not find out, shall we?" I
relaxed. She attached my wrists to the ropes then adjusted them so they
were tight.
She turned around and stood over me, so I was looking right up the front
of her. Her nylons, garter, red silk panties and large breasts,
tightly restrained by the red silk bra. Then she slid her hand into
her crotch beneath her panties and started playing with herself as she
spoke. "So, our mistress in your story got her panties real wet
first, right? That won't be hard. I'll just think about what I'll
be doing to you in a little while, and what you'll be doing FOR me" she
smiled.
"I know you remember what happened in your story, right?" I was
confused. I was genuinely questioning my situation now. "Yes,
Miss Corey" I mumbled. Corey pressed her silk panties into her crotch
as she continued to play with herself through them. Even in the dim
light of the lamp behind her, I could see a wet spot forming on them.
She pressed even harder, and I could hear her moistness beneath her
fingers. She took a deep breath.
"Oh, yes, Paul!" she gasped and bit her lower lip. "You're going to LOVE
pussy by the time we're done here." Her fingers were moving around
her clit and it was almost visible now as the sounds of her moisture
became more prevalent. My cock starting responding to what I was
seeing. She gasped once again and stopped. "It's time, Paul," she said,
panting. She brought her legs together close to my head and
started taking her panties off. Then she sat down on my stomach,
knocking some of the wind out of me. She stared at me, folding her
panties so the wet crotch was forward. "Please..." I mumbled, but
she put her thumb on my chin and opened my mouth. She stuffed the wet
crotch of her panties in and closed my mouth on them. I could taste
her. It was sweet, and yet tart.
"I like this part next, Paul. Are you ready?" I took a deep breath and
closed my eyes. I knew what was next. When she moved, I opened my
eyes again, just in time to see her fingers had her lips spread wide
as she pushed her shaven pussy down onto my face and nose. She was
hot, wet... very wet, and at the moment, suffocating. She moved her
hips around in circles as she let her weight down slowly on my face.
Only the width of the footstool kept her from blocking my view
upward. She looked down past her breasts at me, smiling, squirming,
and then biting her lip as she moved slowly forward and back against my
nose. I, on the other hand, could not breathe and was starting to
panic. Like the story, but this was too real.
I twisted my head, trying to escape her thighs, then moaned loudly
against her, panicking, struggling uselessly against the ropes.
She lifted herself, panting. "Is it just like your story, Paul? Do you
feel like John?" I sensed this was not to be a long reprieve and
grabbed a deep breath before she planted her pussy over my nose
again, this time leaning forward as she moved back and forth
against my nose. She was using it to get off, just like in my story.
"I love this, Paul. Don't you? I love my pussy on your face! You know, I
think I'll cum on your face a few times before make you eat my
pussy. What do think... 3 times each before you get a break? I mean,
I'll come on your face 3 times, then I'll teach you to eat my pussy
until I cum 3 more times. Yeah, that sounds good! How come you're
not answering me Paul?" She looked down at me, smiling, her breasts
bouncing from her movement. "Oh, that's right! You're not ÂÂ
breathing! And besides, my panties are in your mouth!" She laughed,
panting. I could tell she was getting close to cumming. I grunted again
to beg for air, but she didn't stop until I once again started
twisting and moaning loudly, on the verge of passing out. She got up.
"Ooop! What's wrong, Paul? Don't want you passing out on me! You have to
go through this awake!" I struggled for breaths of air, and on my
second breath, she pushed her wet, dripping pussy back onto my face
and nose. She proceeded to buck against my face again, wilder this
time. She was going to cum. Her pussy was hot and sopping wet against
my face, as she started moaning and bucking. She grabbed my hair
and forced my face harder into her pussy as she came. It was
trickling up my nostrils and down my throat. I couldn't choke,
because I couldn't breathe. I pulled harder against the ropes. Her
cum soaked her panties that were in my mouth and now I had the ÂÂ
stronger, bittersweet taste in my nose and mouth. She was panting
and bucking against my face like a wild animal now. I was running out
of breath again. She stopped and moved back onto my chest.
When I tried to breathe in air, I inhaled her cum. That wasn't in the
story either. I choked and tried breathing what I could around
and through her panties in my mouth, which were now soaking wet
with her cum. My face was wet and cold, and I felt her cum
dripping down the sides of my face as well. Eventually, my nose and
throat were clear, and she was still sitting on my chest,
preventing any deep breaths on my part.
"Well, Paul! That was nice!", she said panting, still playing with
herself. "Aren't pussies fun? Oh, sorry, you can't talk yet. I'll
tell you what, when I cum two more times, we'll talk a little then
before you start learning to eat pussy." She watched as I breathed
normally. She continued to play with herself. After a few minutes,
she was panting again. She said "Uh-Oh, Paul, I'm getting hot
again. Are you ready? Well, if you're not, too bad!" And she
jumped forward, planting her still hot pussy back on my face. I grabbed
as much air as I could before she started again.
Immediately, she started with circular motions, pushing my nose and face
deep into her hot, wet pussy. It was different this time, even if for
a moment. I felt myself getting hard again. Maybe because I had time
to take a breath; maybe because to have a woman's pussy on my face
really was a turn on. But it didn't take long before survival began to
kick in once more. I tried to turn my head, I moaned and she kept
going. I moaned again and again. I was getting light-headed, scared.
She jumped off. "Oh, Yes, Paul! Almost there! Breathe little boy!
That's all you get!"
I had managed to grab a couple of short breaths before she started
riding my face again. Her lips were swollen now, and her clit passed
on either side of my nose as she went wild, more so this time than
the last. She bucked against my face and let her weight down, so I
thought my head would be crushed. She was so far down on my face, my
nose was so far inside her that her lower belly was touching my
eyebrows. Just as I was about to panic again, she began to cum.
Again, running down my nostrils and into my mouth, around the
panties. This time there was hardly any room for the cum to escape
down the sides of my face. She hopped of once again, this time,
turning to sit on the coffee table beside me, huffing and puffing.
"Oh, GOD, Paul, YES! We have to do that one more time!" I choked once
more on the cum in my nostrils and turned my head to the side, trying
to get them to drain out, swallowing what I had to. When they
cleared, I looked over at her. She gently pushed her fingers
into her pussy, flinching, more slowly this time. She took them out
and put two fingers into her mouth licking them off, watching me the
whole time, panting, catching her own breath. She bit her lip, as
she began to rub herself more intensely again.
I was having mixed emotions now. At times I was turned on beyond
explanation, other times, I was truly afraid. Then there times I
was both. I felt like crying. I wanted it to stop, but I didn't. I
pulled helplessly at the ropes as I saw her fingers working
faster in her pussy. Could I take another session of this? Much less
four more? I was weak now. I could hardly pull on the ropes any more.
"Yes! Yes!" I heard her again as she started to move. There was no
choice. I was going to take it again.
She jumped back onto my face and began the same motions as the last two
times. Panting heavier now, looking down at me as she did. "Last
time this way, Paul! Next time, you're going to make me cum
with your tongue!" She panted. She began riding my face again,
forward and back, her clit rubbing against my nose harder and harder.
Side to side, then again in a circular motion. This time, just as I
started to worry, she let me breathe. I found out why. "Breathe,
little boy!" she said. I'm about to come again and I'm not giving
you another one until I do!" I took breaths while she was panting
out the order. I got one deep one before she took over again.
I knew she wasn't far off; she was quivering as she drove down on my
face and continued circular motions this time, around and around,
but still not enough for me to get air. But she wasn't coming fast
enough. I started to struggle again and began moaning. She looked
down at me and smiled. "Uh-Uh... not yet..." she said panting. ÂÂ
She kept going... watching me as I stared up at her, trying to
plead with my eyes. She looked up finally, moaning loudly, but kept
going. I got light-headed again and everything went black, just for a
second.
I hadn't quite passed out, and I came to my senses choking cum out of my
nose and throat once more, but I couldn't see anything yet. My eyes
were blurry as I struggled for consciousness. I felt the panties
removed from my mouth and grabbed all the air I could. As I
grabbed air, I came around again, my vision started clearing. After a
few seconds, I lifted my head and looked around. Corey was back on the
couch, twirling her wet panties on her finger, panting and smiling.
"Love your face, Paul! Is that how you felt when you wrote about it in
your story? Or was it a little different?" I squirmed against the
ropes. It was different... quite a bit different. "Please..." I
gasped, still recovering. "Please what? What do you want?" she said
slyly. "Please let me go..." She stood up and giggled. "Let you go?
Let you go? Paul, we haven't even reached page 6! She opened a
drawer on the stand table where the lamp was sitting and took out
a small stack of paper. Oh, God... it was my story.
"Not to mention, before we can cover the rest, you have to learn to eat
pussy... the right way... remember? You know... you picked the
perfect night for this. I'm off tomorrow and you're off tomorrow! We
can take all night!" She started leafing through the pages of the
story. "Whew! And this COULD take all night, especially if you have to
learn to do it right, first. And page 15... I can't wait..." I
thought back to the story. She couldn't... could she? She glanced at my
shriveled cock. "You know, I LOVED cumming on your face. I'm going to
love doing it more. But you know what else sounds like fun?" The
things in the story were zooming through my head. It was easy in my
imagination, but this was too hard. I wondered if someone could really
stand everything I had written. "No, Miss Corey" I replied. "This." She
said.
She moved down the couch and reached under the coffee table again to
pull out two more ropes. She proceeded to tie my feet to the ends of
the coffee table. I knew what was coming as she positioned herself
between my spread legs. It was great in the story, but I didn't know
if I could really take it. If she was going by the book, this
was only the beginning of a very long pleasure/pain process.
Writing the story, I could stop and masturbate to relieve myself. But
in the story... "I love to make a man hard..." my thoughts were
interrupted. "But I never refused to let a man cum... well, for so long
that is." I closed my eyes as I felt her tongue brush gently against my
naked balls and up my cock. The sensation was nothing like I ever
felt before. My groin begged for more immediately.
But I was aware that if she knew what she was doing, it would not last.
It wouldn't last until I came, anyway. She would stop. In the
story, John wasn't allowed to come for a long time, but he was
teased to aching. He begged to be released and she wouldn't let
him. This went through my mind as she starting licking all over my
balls and cock. Teasing the sensitive area, licking mercilessly at the
head, then down, slowly. The sensations of her tongue on my bald
skin were driving me crazy. I was hard in moments, but she kept
moving slowly, to keep me from cumming. After what seemed an
eternity of sensation, she finally put my cock in her mouth and ÂÂ
starting riding it, slowly at first, teasing, then faster. I felt it
starting. For a fleeting moment I was sure she was going to make me
cum. Then I felt it throb. So did she. She stopped and squeezed the ÂÂ
base of my cock as it throbbed against her fingers.
"Gaaaaaaa!" I moaned as the throbbing slowed down and the climax was
stopped. "Oh, PLEASE", I begged. But she giggled. "That's not the
way the story goes, Paul, you know that!" She let go, and my cock
bobbed around momentarily before it began getting soft again. She sat
down and picked up the story once more flipping through the pages. She
smiled and put down the story.
"Well, since you've only eaten pussy a couple of times, I think you
should have a couple lessons first, before we continue. Don't you?"
She stood up and headed around the coffee table for the footstool once
more. I whimpered. I couldn't believe the sound came from me. She
stood over me, poised to start the lessons. "Poor little Paul..."
she said. "He gets his fantasy come true, and he's questioning his
ability to handle it, aren't you, Paul?" I looked up past her
nylon-clad legs. She was unhooking her bra as she talked and she tossed
the bra away.
"You're not answering me Paul." "Yes." I said weakly. "Say it Paul, say
that you're not sure if you can handle it. Say it." "Yes, Miss
Corey, I'm not sure if I can handle it." I whimpered. She smiled
down at me. "But you will, Paul, you will. Believe me. You'll have
your fantasy if it takes all night." Then she licked her fingers
and put them in her pussy. The lessons were about to start, and
there was nothing I was going to do about it.
======================================================
Opinions welcome! mrjjones@mail2chicago.com
----------------- This story may NOT be posted to any other web site or
printed in any hardcopy publication without the author's permission.
Copyright (c) 2002 John J. Jones
