Freedom is Slavery (4 page)

She pushed farther into me. It felt like we were the only two people in the world as we stood in the tight quarters of my apartment. In our limited space, only the inches that moved in and out of me felt important.

Kitty maneuvered her hips as she slid in and out of me, "Oh, right there," she said. "It’s pushing right against my clit now. Oh, yes."

She began fucking me, now. Each thrust count; giving her pleasure and taking her closer. She slapped my ass, reflexively making me clench down tighter on her cock and increasing the resistance she felt. She groaned lower, almost growling.

She began bucking against me, fucking me, making me cry out. We began grunting in tandem. My cries seemed to spur her on. We both got louder and louder. Me from pain mixed with a modicum of pleasure, she from pure unadulterated lust and gratification.

Finally, she grasped onto my shoulders and jammed her cock into me as deep as she could get it. I heard her crescendo; her cries became staccato yelps as she orgasmed. She threw herself against my back, allowing her arms to hang down by my side as she caught her breath. I felt my ass spasm, continuing to clutch at Kitty’s cock. She wiped her sweaty brow against my back and slapped my ass again before she slid out of me.

One of the strangest relationships I’ve had over the years was with a woman named Laura. She saw my profile on Yahoo and dropped me a note. It was like manna from heaven. She was very into the idea of fucking a man in the ass with a strap-on dildo. She’d not done it before but had fantasized about it for years.

Would I be willing to help?

You bet!

We chatted for a long time before we finally agreed to meet. Her trailer park wasn’t too far from where I was staying at the time and I went to see her one Saturday afternoon.

She was quite a hefty gal with few taboos. She had me strip down and gave me a pair of crotchless panties to put on. Back in her living room she had me bend over an ottoman and tied me to it so that I wouldn’t squirm away as she paddled my ass.

Luckily, I had built up a good deal of trust with her via our chats and was able to take all of the abuse she wanted to give me.

There was no ass fucking that night, but rather she wanted to be eaten out for a good long while. She was one of those ladies who unleashed a good deal of vaginal secretions when she came. She had me rub my face in her pussy, coating every inch and lapping up what I could. Afterwards, she had me masturbate onto her bountiful breasts and clean up my cum with my tongue.

The next time we met she had a surprise for me: Laura had invited over "Suzy Cocksucker," an older transvestite.

I was put into a pair of white panties (and nothing else) and bent over her couch with Suzy next to me. Suzy and I looked at each other, smiled, and turned to look forward and steel ourselves to what was to come. The only warning was the whistling through the air of the strands from the cat-o-nine tails. The question was: Will it be her or I that get it first?

"WHACK!"

It was Suzy’s turn but soon it was mine.

Laura went from ass to ass, her flogger singing a sound of pain as it whipped across our pantied bottoms. Back and forth she went, whipping each of us. At times, she would stand between us and caress the pantied cock of one as she concentrated her whip on the other. When she was satisfied, she bound Suzy and left her kneeling on her living room floor while she took me into her spare room down the hall.

I felt like I was the prize slave and this made me smile inside.

In privacy she produced a double-headed dildo which she slid into herself. She had me kneel on the room’s bed and got behind me, trying to slide the other end of the dildo into me. It just wasn’t stiff enough to do a good job of penetration. I suppose it felt like being fucked with a semi-hard cock. She tried valiantly to get it in and fuck me but it just wasn’t the right equipment for the job. She soon gave up and fucked me by hand with a dildo.

We went back to her living room and she bound me over her ottoman as before. Then she gave me a treat that I will never forget and shall always be thankful for—she had Suzy get behind me and perform analingus on me. It was amazing. I’ve never felt anything quite so nice. Of course, I was very self-conscious. I knew that I was clean but felt awful for being hairy and tasting like KY Jelly. So, even while I enjoyed it immensely I was too self-conscious to just let myself go and enjoy it fully.

Laura released me and had me get down on the floor next to Suzy. We were face-to-cock and performed sixty-nine on each other while Laura watched and enjoyed. She wished aloud that she had a digital camera to capture the moment forever but, alas...

When she had had enough, she allowed Suzy to lick her to orgasm while I sat (bound) and watched. She had Suzy get her face wet with her juices and my job was to lick Suzy’s face clean. With the taste of makeup, this wasn’t a pleasant task.

She was done with us after that. We cleaned up and I said my goodbyes to Laura and Suzy.

Little did I know that would be my last time seeing Laura. She had just started dating a guy and he wasn’t into BDSM at all. She felt guilty keeping submissives while dating so she dismissed everyone who saw her and cut herself off from this part of her life.

The real shame is that this kind of thing happens all the time to both men and women. They find that special someone and find themselves having to make a choice between D & S or a vanilla life. As vanilla is seen as "normal" that’s usually the one that wins out. A shame, as I really hoped for another day with Suzie Cocksucker.

I felt like a total chump. I was standing alone while the
thump thump
of the dance beat assaulted my years. Apparently I had been stood up. I had driven down from university to meet some of my old high school cronies. Per their typical style, they were either extremely late or weren’t showing up at all. This wasn’t my idea of a good time. I’m not a dancer, and was only coming down for a few drinks and to find a corner where we might have a bit of conversation.

However, I
was
enjoying the scenery. Though the music wasn’t really my style, the girls on the dance floor were extremely attractive to me. One in particular, in a short skirt that showed a bit of creamy thigh between her hem and the top of her stockings, really had my blood moving. She looked like she might have just as easily fit in at a "fetish fashion show" as she did here at City Club. If it weren’t for the trick of the lights, I’d have sworn she had caught my glance a few times.

It was later, as I stood by the bar waiting to get the bartender’s attention, that I learned I was correct. I felt her even before I saw her standing next to me. She was burning a hole in the back of my head with her deeply radiant eyes. They were oddly indigo colored, perhaps enhanced with contact lenses, or perhaps natural. Regardless, they were eyes into which I could have fallen into right there.

I knew that I should wait for her to talk first when I turned to look at her.

"I saw you looking at me," she said matter-of-factly. "You enjoyed looking at me."

Even though she didn’t phrase it as a question, I still felt obligated to nod. There was a moment of silence between us. I felt that she was looking inside of me with those piercing eyes and seeing things I didn’t want seen. After what seemed like hours, she snapped her fingers and the bartender materialized. She ordered for us, not asking me what I wanted.

She stood about half a foot shorter than me—she would have been only about chest-high, had it not been for the extremely precarious heels she wore. Her intense eyes were made brighter by the fact that her face was starkly pale except for the carefully glossed blood-red lips. Other men might have described her as "plump" while I found her simply voluptuous, even more so by the way her corset cinched her waist and made her breasts even more pronounced.

I had taken in every inch of her that I could as she danced earlier. I didn’t dare look at any part of her now though, as we stayed locked in our own little world.

She watched me pay for our drinks and, as she sipped hers daintily, she said with a wry grin, "I know all about you." She saw my puzzled look. "No, we’ve never met. But I can read you like a book."

"I hope I’m a good read," I said, trying to be cute.

"Oh, it’s one of my favorite stories. Even though I know how it ends, I go back and re-read it as often as I can. I’m constantly finding new twists in the tale."

I don’t know what it was, but the way she said "twists" sent a visible shiver down my spine.

"Would you like to see me again?" she asked, taking me by surprise.

"You’re leaving?"

"Yes, but I’m hoping to see you again tonight. You can, if you do something for me."

"Whatever you’d like," I blurted out, sounding a bit desperate.

"Oooh, goodie. Those are words that I like to hear. You’re going to regret saying them though. Let me tell you exactly what you need to do to prove that you’re worthy of seeing me again...."

An hour later I was knocking on her door. She lived just a few blocks away from the club and I stood on her stoop, shifting my weight nervously from foot to foot. My face was still flush and my heart still racing. I couldn’t believe the predicament I had gotten myself into with this woman.

Was I being at all smart? Had my hormones taken over? Or was she actually fulfilling some kind of need I never knew I had?

When she opened the door, I realized that it was the latter. A flood of emotions welled up and before I even knew what I was doing, I fell to my knees and kissed the tops of her boots. She didn’t say a word, as if this were a daily occurrence. After I planted kisses on both of her patent leather boots, she merely said, "Enter," and I walked into her abode.

As I got up and walked behind her, I thought of the instructions she had whispered to me in the club. Her mouth nearly pressed against my ear to push back the noise, her words had set my mind reeling. It was like looking at the solution to the toughest crossword puzzle you ever faced. Here she was, filling in all of the words I didn’t know, answering all of the questions, and unlocking the secret to the puzzle. In this case, the puzzle was me. She seemed to know me better than I knew myself, telling me things about me that I never thought anyone knew.

She told me that she could tell that I was sexually submissive. A "subbie," she called me. She recalled my entire sexual history without me having to say a word to correct her. She said a few words, knowing that they would turn me on completely. It was if I was an instrument and she were playing me flawlessly.

She gave me a condom and told me that it was the key to make it past her threshold. "I need you to go into the bathroom and find someone to make a deposit. You can’t fill this with your own cum, because I’ll know. I want you to go to the third stall and wait. Pretty soon you’ll find someone who will let you suck them off."

She just about lost me right there. Though I had bisexual fantasies, I never acted on them. And I had never done anything so lascivious as she was suggesting...commanding.

As she got up she said, "You know what you have to do."

I sat there, stunned, for a long while. I knew that this was a turning point in my life. I also knew that it was something I had to do. Resolved, I walked into the bathroom.

"Did it take you long to find a volunteer?" she asked as she sat down on her divan and motioned for me to kneel before her.

"Surprisingly, no," I said.

"Surprising to you, maybe," she said with a grin. "Stall three has a bit of a reputation. And you might soon, too." She laughed. "Now, show me my prize."

I took the soiled condom out of my shirt pocket, tied neatly at the end.

Without knowing where it came from, she took a large, serrated knife and cut the end off of the condom. "Now, open your mouth wide," she said. "Stick your tongue out far."

As I did, she took the condom and squeezed out its still-warm contents onto my tongue. When she was satisfied with the amount, she leaned over and brought her face close to mine. I loved her scent. She touched her tongue to mine, tasting the cum.

"Swallow," she said, her hand gently touching my throat, feeling my muscles work to down the load of cum on my tongue.

Her touch made it all worthwhile, as I tasted the salty load, struggling to keep from gagging as I felt it slide down my throat.

‘You can’t fill it with your own cum, because I’ll know,’ she had said. Those words wrapped themselves around the base of my brain, choking off all other thought. Of course, this was the first idea that crossed my mind—I had never done what she had proposed. I hadn’t seen another man’s cock since gym class in high school and I had certainly never touched one, much less put one in my mouth. But, the idea that this act would gain me admission into her world, it certainly seemed like an extremely costly but easy price to pay.

Easy? What was I thinking?

My mind was reeling as I sat in the third stall of the men’s room. This had to be the most dimly lit restroom I had ever been in over the course of my life. The place reeked of marijuana and poppers. Before I had the chance to get up and run, the door to the stall opened. The twenty-something Goth male who came in didn’t speak a word. He merely looked down and nodded at me, reaching into his pants and taking out his cock. It looked as if it had already begun to grow. I knew that the condom was useless at this state; I had to get him harder. I got down on my knees, self-conscious that my pants were touching the surely filthy floor. I hesitantly touched his cock with my hand and it reacted to my fingers as if I had shocked it to life. It began growing madly, getting bigger at an astounding rate.

I took it in my hand fully now, feeling the heat under my palm. I began stroking it like I liked to be stroked. The man moaned and it turned me on that I was giving him pleasure. I took the condom out of my shirt pocket and ripped it open with my teeth, using my left hand to roll it down the length of him while I did my best to keep touching him with my right. Fully covered in latex, I knew what I had to do next.