Freedom is Slavery (11 page)

A few minutes later, we were lying next to one another. She was smoking a cigarette and I was nuzzled against her shoulder. "Thank you," she said. "That really meant a lot to me. I’d like to have you do that to me again sometime soon."

I smiled.

I played it very slow with Sally Strumpet. I relished the process of learning about her passions and her limits. Rather than being one of those Masters who walks around with his dick out, commanding anything and everything around him to get down on their knees and suck him. No. I didn’t even allow her to touch me over my clothes for the first dozen times we were together.

For me, it was about exploring her and "exploiting" her. I was more concerned about learning how to spank her and call her names. I wanted to make her orgasm more than me. It was a sign that she wasn’t in control; that I was touching and manipulating her body. Also, I have a huge penchant for cunnilingus that I hadn’t been able to gratify for the five years before.

When it came to sex I told her that good girls were fucked in the pussy while bad girls were fucked in the ass and that she was definitely a bad girl. I told her this for a while and made her earn the privilege to be fucked. Finally the time was right. Rather than meeting at her apartment, we met at a cheesy cheap hotel in order to get the atmosphere I wanted. I wanted her off balance and in a strange place.

I arrived first and set the scene. Candles lit the room and my bag of tricks was empty with all of the implements spread across the top of the low dresser at the ready. Wooden spoons, nipple clamps, lubrication, condoms, blindfold, crop, paddle, padded cuffs, rope, and other toys to tease and torture.

When she arrived I had her get down on her knees to accept her collar. There was no small talk tonight. She was there for one purpose. Once the collar was on, she belonged to me. She lost her name and identity. She was now just "slut," "cunt," or any other name I chose to call her. I still remembered the day I had written "SLUT" large across her chest in indelible marker to remind her what she was. She slept with a bra on the following week to keep this from her husband.

I had her crawl to the side of the bed before standing and removing her clothes, putting them on the chair behind her. I had her turn around and prop herself up on the bed so that only her toes were touching the floor, her legs over the edge. This gave me a great view of the butt plug that she had been wearing all day for me, opening her up and keeping her distracted by thoughts of me. I pushed the bottom of the plug in and she moaned with a mix of pleasure and pressure. I ran my hand over her pale bottom, feeling her soft skin before pulling my arm back and smacking her across both cheeks, pressing the plug in hard enough to make her gasp. I started spanking her, two slaps on each cheek before moving to the other. After nearly a minute of this, I paused and leaned back to see my hand prints rising on her flesh. Two red splotches with the outlines of my fingers clearly visible.

I reached down and slid my finger inside of her pussy, feeling how wet she was. I took this finger out and move it to her mouth where she hungrily sucked it clean for me.

Normally I blindfolded her while administering punishment as it blocked out one sense and made the pain even more intense. Instead, today was all about looking. Across from her was a large mirror. I took her hair in my hands and moved her head to make her face the mirror.

"There. Take a look. Watch your face as I paddle your ass. Watch the look of ecstasy that washes over your face."

Now armed with a small paddle, I started working on her bottom again and down to her upper thighs. She was enraptured by the sight of herself being beaten. Her ass was now so red that it looked purple. Yet, I knew she could take (and wanted) more. To "cool her down," I took a few cubes of ice from the ice bucket and rubbed them over her heated flesh. More than relief, this simply brought another intense sensation that caused her eyes to roll back into her head; after a few minutes of this (and a few more handfuls of ice), she was whining and begging me to stop.

"You can beg all you want," I said evilly, "but you know this is for your own good... and my pleasure. You know I like to hurt you."

"Yes, Sir," she said meekly and stuck out her rump to show that she would take more. This made me smile and made me smack her behind firmly, so much so that she screamed into the blankets of the bed. She caught her breath and weakly thanked me.

I knew she could take more and wanted to give her more. I got the wooden spoon and tapped it against the palm of my hand.

"Are you willing to take more pain for me?" I asked her mockingly.

"Oh, yes, Sir!" she said, her eyes getting as wide as saucers. More than taking it, I knew she wanted it. She loved to suffer.

I had her count out and thank me after each blow, making sure that she was looking into my eyes in the reflection in front of her. After ten on each cheek I asked her if she could take another ten. Not only did she say she could, she asked for them. I was more than happy to comply.

I had her get down onto her knees and lean back, her cheeks on her heels. I sat down on the bed and undid my pants. This was one of the few times I took advantage of her warm, willing mouth. I took her by her hair and led her down onto my hard cock.

I fucked her mouth gently and told her, "Get it nice and wet... that’s all the lubrication you’re going to get when I fuck your ass."

She gasped a bit and started licking the underside of my cock to wet it even more.

I let her get me close a few times before I slowed her down. Finally, I stood up and told her to get onto the bed, facing the mirror. While she got situated, I put on a rubber and lubed my cock with some of the KY jelly I had with me (out of her sight). With my lubed fingers, I had trouble grabbing the plug to remove it. I finally got a good hold and pulled it out much too fast for her comfort. Again, she cried out. I watched her asshole spasm as it tried to "come to terms" with the sensation.

Reassuring her, I put my hand on the middle of her back and said in a sotto voice, "That’s right, look at yourself in the mirror." I got up behind her. "Watch how a bad girl looks when she gets her ass fucked."

I watched her face as I put the head of my cock against her rosebud. "Push back into me...I want you to show me how much you want this. How much you need it."

She pushed back, the head of my cock opening her and going inside. I moved my gaze from that to her face as she let out a gasp and shuddered. She set her chin with determination and I felt her pushing more of me into her. I smiled as I watched her pushing, pushing, pushing until I was all the way in. Then she practically panted.

I gave her a few seconds to adjust to my presence before I moved my hands to her hips and pushed her forward and pulled her back. I started off slow, enjoying the waves of sensations that washed over her face. I started moving her faster now with a better rhythm. I felt the soft cushion of her behind on me, my hand prints still vivid on her. In and out I went.

"You see her? See that bad girl getting her ass fucked?" I asked her. "That’s you... you are that girl... you’re my bad girl... you deserve all that I give you."

She nodded, her eyes not leaving her own. She was grunting like an animal as my cock drove deep into her. I could smell her sex in the air, mingled with the distinctive scent of KY. I reached out and grabbed her shoulders to thrust even deeper now. She cried out again and hissed, "Yesssss." I’m not even sure if she was conscious of this. She might have gone into her own space by then. I was going to take her out of it before filling her.

I reached beneath her and grabbed one of her nipples and pinched it unmercifully. Able to cum simply from nipple manipulation at times, this put her over the edge and as she screamed and came I unleashed my load inside of her, filling her as her ass gripped and spasmed around my cock while her hips rocked and shook.

Spent, she lay herself down on the blanket, her ass still in the air. I stayed inside of her as I felt my cock shudder and spit a few more times. I remained in her as I softened before finally pulling out. I told her to go clean up and bring back a cloth to clean me. Like the obedient girl she was, she wiped me nicely and used her warm breath to dry me.

That was my first time using her bottom, but it certainly wasn’t the last.

One of the strangest nights I’ve ever had was one of the last times I saw Sally. It was a chilly spring evening which was quickly turning into night. We took a rather sordid selection of wine, cheese, meat and crackers and headed to the nearby college town where we secreted our way into the university’s arboretum.

We crept through the foliage, avoiding other couples and untold numbers of folks enjoying a joint in the fresh dark, and spread our blanket on a hillside. We indulged in some finger foods and wine (drinking from plastic cups) before settling back and making out for a while.

Sally had long expressed a fantasy that I was determined to fulfill that night. It was one that scared me half to death: Sally wanted to be taken by force. "I want to be raped," she had whispered to me as I made her divulge her deepest secrets.

Even in play, this kind of fantasy took a lot of trust on both of our parts but really, it took me a lot more time and trust than it did her. She knew I wouldn’t hurt her too badly and that it was all in fun. For me though, I had always been taught to respect ladies. Even calling her names was difficult for me when we first got together.

But tonight, as we were kissing there in the dark woods, I grabbed her arms at the wrist and held her down. She looked at me questioningly and tried to move her arms. My one hand held both of her wrists tight. I kissed her again, hard, and she tried to move her head away. I grabbed her head with my other hand and pulled her mouth to mine. I could tell by her breathing that she was getting excited. I could barely see her eyes by the moonlight but would have seen them wide if I could.

I kept one hand on her wrists. With the other I reached between us and undid her pants, pulling them down roughly. Her underwear came next. My knee went between her legs and pulled the jeans and panties down farther; far enough so that I could enter her. Had it not been for her reactions and knowing that I was finally fulfilling one of her fantasies, I would have had a limp dick once I exposed myself to the chill night air. But, I felt between her legs and felt her pussy wetter than it had ever been in our time together.

After donning a condom I had brought with me just for this purpose, I rammed into her hard and fast. She orgasmed with the first thrust. Knowing how her body worked, I kept fucking her and held her wrists tighter. She started to struggle again. The more she struggled, the more I "fought" back and the harder I thrusted. My mouth was by her ear and I grunted unpleasantries like, "I’m gonna fuck this cunt all night, you whore. You can fight but you’re not going to get away, bitch." This sent her over the edge again and she came loud, her cry echoing around us in the underbrush.

As I grunted louder, getting more excited by her orgasms, she built up yet again. I could feel her pussy grasping at my cock and I knew when she would cum again. I managed to orgasm just as she was soaring over the edge.

It took a lot for me to not apologize to her and make sure that she was doing well, coddling her afterwards. Instead, I rolled over and pulled her close to me. She was panting hard. Our sweat felt twice as cold in the chilly night air. I held her and brushed the sweat from her forehead as she slowly regained her normal heartbeat. When she had calmed down she thanked me for helping to make another one of her fantasies come true. I kissed her and helped her pull back on her clothes before we rolled up the blanket and took our leave of the forest.

I had always been a little afraid of Tony Fox. He was a mountain of a kid—as big and as quiet but not nearly as dumb. Though he was in my advanced algebra class, he didn’t look the type. A football player of some sort, Tony had a look about him that said: "My mom let me dress myself today." He would have been an easy target to pick on if he didn’t stand well over six feet tall and have arms the size of my thighs. All things considered, I tried to stay clear of him.

Despite my typical stance of avoidance, Tony sought me out on a late May afternoon in C Hall.

"Hey, Louis," he said. Even in these words I found a slight bit of malice. "We need to talk...but not here. Come over to my house after school today. Be there by four." He shoved a slip of paper into my hand with his paw.

I hadn’t said a peep. Having seen some of his hallway violence against a freshman the year before, I expected him to punch me as much as talk to me.

Surprisingly, the handwriting on the paper was anything but a Neanderthal cave scratching. It was in loopy, almost feminine cursive. I checked the address again before going up to the stately manner in the good side of town to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. It was 3:55 PM and my heart was racing. What Tony Fox had to talk to me about and not in school or with his fists had me positively perplexed.

When he opened the door he didn’t say a word. He just left the door open and walked back inside. I followed. I half expected him to turn around and be surprised that I was there. But he didn’t turn. He just continued to walk with complete confidence that I was behind him. We went through a series of doors, down some stairs, and into what could only be described as a rec room. Brown paneling, a pool and dart tables, beer lights and other accoutrement that just screamed 70’s Americana!

Tony pointed to a chair and I went over to sit. He turned and walked close to me, staring down at me, keeping me completely off guard.

Here it comes
, I thought, expecting a sock to the nose for discretions unknown.

"I know about the hardware store," he said plainly.

For as calm as he was I was suddenly flushed with fear. I had been working at a hardware store for the last few months and in a fit of anger over the owner’s distant relative being promoted over me, I liberated a rather expensive pocket calculator from the premises.