6 comments/ 62254 views/ 8 favorites College Coquette By: Bedtime Storyteller COPYRIGHT – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PERMISSION IS GIVEN TO POST OR USE FOR ANY OTHER PURPOSE. ======== She was silhouetted in the open window, brushing her long blonde hair; her bare breasts thrust forward and up as she reached up to pull the brush down the butterscotch waterfall that cascaded down her back. This was her nightly ritual, and in a few moments she would pull a night-shirt over her head, carefully pull her hair out from underneath the shirt, and run her hands down her sides, smoothing the cotton over her curves. Then she'd turn out the light, and the show would be over for another night. It was a show she put on just for him, and she knew he was watching from the car parked below, his cock jutting through his fly, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Who would have guessed that her seemingly ordinary bedtime routine was actually a carefully orchestrated exhibition? Who would have guessed that this Homecoming Queen, this sorority vice president, was at the beck and call of a nerd, a loner, whose nameless face faded into the crowd of college students? It was the biggest secret, and yet so openly flaunted he was amazed that no one had discovered it yet. And in a few moments, she would be slipping into his car, her warm lips would surround his cock, and she would suck him from behind a golden curtain of hair. He would encourage her with phrases like "oh, yeah, suck me" and "that's it, take it deep, wench, just like I taught you." And before long, he would feel his cum begin to rise, his cock swelling and stretching her lips even more as she strained to keep him in her lovely little mouth. And as his balls tightened and the hot jets of semen coated her throat, he would groan and push her head down, forcing his cock past her tonsils as her eyes watered and she forced herself to relax and accept him. Oh yes, this was quite the little secret they had. No one would look at her, five feet six of Southern charm, and have any idea that she spent her nights on her knees, sucking the cock of student number 443578, sometimes referred to as "that guy." As in, "you know that guy who works in the computer lab?" or "remember that guy in my Shakespeare class who knew, like, everything?" He was That Guy. He had no close friends, and paid extra to have a single room in the upper class dorm. Privacy was important to him. He kept to himself, attended class regularly, and turned in his papers on time. He worked twenty hours a week in the computer lab, helping students with printing problems and formatting issues, and now he spent his nights off biding his time until campus stilled and the nightly show began. So how does That Guy meet and enslave the hottest girl on campus? Quite by accident, really. She arrived at the computer lab on a Tuesday evening and chose a seat near the back of the room, away from other students. She turned her monitor sideways, as though to hide what she was working on, and as she typed, a blush rose in her cheeks. He watched her as he loaded paper in the printer. He'd seen her around, had a few classes with her in the past, and he knew she lived on The Hill, what was known on other college campuses as Sorority Row. The sororities generally had their own computer labs, which begged the question, "What was she doing here?" When the printer began humming and she dashed to retrieve the output, he couldn't help himself. He slipped the first page off the printer and scanned it, his eye catching on phrases like "slave collar" and "tied, spread-eagled" and "cock thrusting hard, biting her lips to keep from crying out." He could tell she was embarrassed as she clutched the rest of her pages, bouncing on the balls of her Ked-clad feet, wanting to take the page away from him but not quite brave enough. He caught her eye and smiled. "This your homework?" "Um, no, well, yeah, kinda." Her voice was soft, and she stared at the page in his hands rather than looking him in the eye. "An assignment of some sort?" The blush in her cheeks deepened. "No, not exactly. It's a story. That's all." "I see. And do you write from experience?" He enjoyed watching her squirm, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "I, uh… No. Could I have that back now, please?" "You can, on one condition." "And that would be?" "That you let me read the rest of it." "I couldn't do that, I mean…this is kind of personal." "But you're using school property to write and print what could be considered porn. As an employee of the university, it's my responsibility to report unacceptable use of school property, which includes any viewing, printing, or distribution of pornography. These kinds of reports are taken very, very seriously, and can be grounds for expulsion, you know." He deliberately kept his voice low and firm. "Are you trying to blackmail me?" she hissed, her eyes finally meeting his. They were pale, watery blue, fringed with pale brown eyelashes. "Do you want me to report you to the Dean?" he countered. "Fine. Read it. I don't care." She thrust the rest of the pages at him, spun on her heel, and returned to her seat. He followed and sat beside her, neatly stacking the pages she had given him. "I'll have to read this after my shift, which ends at 8. You can pick these up tomorrow night at 9. I'm in room 024-E, which is in the basement of Camden Hall." "You're not going to show it to anyone, are you?" She was horrified at the thought. "Of course not. But I will read it, critique it, and provide you my feedback tomorrow night. You might want to bring a notebook and a pen. I'm sure you'll want to take notes." "But it's not for class. I don't need your feedback." "Oh, but I think you do, and I think you want my feedback. Otherwise, you wouldn't have printed it when I was standing there by the printer." "But I, I don't even know your name," she stammered. "That's alright, Brooke. I know yours, and that's enough for now. I'll see you tomorrow night, 9 o'clock sharp. Don't be late." He stood up, papers in hand, and returned to his desk, where he slid the pages inside his backpack. He was dying to read them, but there was no way he'd give her the satisfaction of doing so now. He'd much rather she lay awake tonight in her bed on The Hill, wondering if he was reading, and if so, what he was thinking. The timid knock came at one minute before 9. At least she was punctual. He opened the door, amused by her reaction to his attire. He was only wearing black silk boxers. His chest was hard and hairless. Underneath his somewhat ordinary clothes was a body finely sculpted by hours on his Bow-Flex. Another well-kept secret. "Good evening, Brooke." His eyes traveled her body, assessing the young woman who stood before him in the dimly lit hallway. She was wearing what appeared to be grey yoga pants and a pink tank top, her breasts molded and accentuated by the stretchy material, and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. From her shoulder dangled a small purple duffle bag monogrammed with her initials. She was the epitome of sorority girl, right down to her flowered flip-flops. "Hi. I just finished with my Pilates class, and I've got a test tomorrow, so if you don't mind, I'd like my story so I can get home to study." The words tumbled out of her in a rush. She was obviously nervous and wanted to appear in a hurry. He wasn't concerned. Before long, she'd forget about everything else except him. "Please come in, Brooke. I've been expecting you." He stepped aside to allow her to enter his room, and quietly shut the door behind her as she surveyed his den. It was not what anyone would expect to find in the basement of a college dorm. He had painted the walls a deep wine red and removed all the standard-issue dorm furniture. In its place, he had a long low futon that doubled as a bed, covered with deep purple satin and a paisley velvet blanket, and topped with velvet and satin pillows. A heavy wood coffee table held several chunky candles and a large armoire was open to reveal a flat screen TV and other media equipment. In a corner, a closed laptop rested on an old library table, and books were stacked underneath. The only chair in the room was a big, overstuffed leather chair, the kind you'd expect to find in the study of an Old World Manor house. An old Oriental rug in shades of navy, wine, and cream covered the tile floor. In a few places, heavy satin draperies stretched from ceiling to floor, where they created rich puddles of shimmering fabric. The room was more than just a place to sleep and study. It was his sanctuary. And it was also where he had worked with two other "students." There was only one other university student living in the basement, and he was deaf. Directly above this room was a storage room. It was highly unlikely that anyone would hear what happened down here. He had lived here for three semesters so far and had never aroused the slightest suspicion. A fire exit afforded his students privacy coming and going, and because he preferred to entertain in the evenings, there were few, if any, witnesses. She turned around, her duffle bag still hanging from her shoulder. "Can we please just hurry this up? I've really got to study." She had to study, alright. She was going to be a student of the ancient arts, and he would be her Tutor. And that was how he ended up here, sitting in a car outside a three story Georgian-style sorority house, watching her undress and brush her hair through her bedroom window. Over the past three months, she had progressed from a self-assured, slightly snotty, southern sorority princess to a well-mannered, obedient, eager-to-please wench. She had been easier to teach than he thought, which was a pleasant surprise. But then again, the story she had been writing when they first met had been a clear indication of her hidden desires. It had been full of stereotypical Master/slave garbage, but it clearly got her hot and gave him some insight into what it might take to convince her that she could learn to please a man. That first night in his room, he had approached her from behind, pressed her up against the wall, her hands braced near her head, cheek to the wall. His breath on her neck had caused her to shiver, her goosebumps magnified by his whisper in her ear. "I know what you want. I know what turns you on. And I'm prepared to give you what you want, provided you are willing to give me what I want." "What do you want?" she had asked, trembling with a combination of fear and desire. "You. Body and soul." "Are you going to...to...rape me?" She could barely choke out the words. "Of course not, Brooke. Why would I rape you when you will willingly give yourself to me?" "But I don't even know you." Her eyes were closed now, and she was fighting to stay calm. "You will get to know me. In time. And you will choose to be with me, when you see what I have to offer you." "You're… You're not my type." "Your type, sweet babbling Brooke? I most certainly am your type. Until now, the boys you've dated have been anything but your type." He ran his tongue along the edge of her ear while his pelvis pressed her more firmly into the wall. Without warning, he spun her around to face him, lacing his fingers with hers, her hands still up by her ears. Her blue eyes were pools of liquid blue, the tears welling up and threatening to spill over as she bit her lower lip. "Your story was quite entertaining. It lacked clear direction, the plot was thin, and it certainly included more than its fair share of trite phrases and gratuitous sex. But there was one part I rather enjoyed. Do you know what part that was?" "No…" Her voice was barely a whisper, more like an exhalation, tickling his lips, her breathing labored. "The Master chains his slave to the wall, naked, and makes her beg to be touched. And for every touch, she must first endure his whip. Did you enjoy writing that part as much as I enjoyed reading it?" Her response was silence, punctuated by her heaving breasts. "Are you wet, Brooke? Are your juices running like a little stream, soaking your panties with the evidence of your arousal?" Still she was silent. "Do I need to check, or will you tell me yourself?" "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, what?" He countered. "Yes, I'm wet." Her voice was still a whisper. "I can't hear you, Brooke." "Yes, I'm wet," she stated, louder this time. "Look me in the eyes and tell me why you're wet, Brooke." She forced her eyes to meet his. "I'm wet because … because … that part of the story turns me on." "And are you attracted to me, Brooke?" "Yes." "That's good to hear." His hands loosened and he allowed her to drop her hands to her sides as he stepped back. "Now, have a seat," he said, gesturing toward the futon. "I have a few questions to ask you." She perched on the edge of the futon, still poised to run, given the opportunity. He opened a small cabinet she hadn't noticed before and brought over two wine glasses and a bottle of wine. "Shiraz?" He poured two glasses and passed her one before sinking back into the leather chair. "I've never had it," she said, gingerly accepting the glass he offered. "It's quite nice. An Australian Shiraz, of which I've grown particularly fond. Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll not bite." He swirled the garnet liquid in the glass and inhaled its bouquet before taking a sip. "So, Brooke, tell me…Do you enjoy being fucked in the ass by a total stranger, or is that still just a fantasy?" She nearly choked on the wine she was swallowing. He enjoyed throwing her off guard. "Ok, so perhaps it's a little early for that question. Let's start with something a little simpler. How many partners have you been with?" "Why?" It was apparent she was struggling with the idea of giving him an answer. "Because I need to know." "Um…just three." "Three?" He raised an eyebrow. Was she lying? Hmm…perhaps. Three seemed a little low for someone of her social status. "What, you think that's too many?" "No, I wonder if you're being completely honest with me. Name them. Tell me about them." She sighed and fidgeted with her pant leg for a moment. "My first was Tommy. He was my boyfriend all through high school. Freshman and sophomore year, I was dating Drew. And this summer, I met a boy on a cruise. Chad. But we were never really dating." She took a long drink of wine. "And since then, there's been no one?" "I'm not a slut and I don't sleep around, if that's what you're implying," she said with disdain. "I wasn't implying anything. I just find it hard to believe that you haven't had sex in…let's see…four months?" "Like I said, I'm not a slut. I don't sleep with just anyone." She studied her fingernails, probably making a mental note to schedule a manicure. "I'm sure that's true. So do you usually climax during intercourse?" "And that's your business because…?" She had turned her attention from her nails to the fringe on the paisley throw beside her, combing out the tangles. "Just answer the question, please." "I don't know, I guess so." "You don't know?" This was rather amusing. "I do. Sometimes. Not always." She was showing signs of embarrassment. "What about during oral sex?" "I don't care for it." "And why is that?" "It doesn't do anything for me." He found this hard to believe, but if it were true, she'd learn otherwise soon enough. "Do you enjoy rough sex?" "Do you?" "I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind. Just answer the question." "What do you mean by rough?" "A little pushing, biting, scratching, a little light slap now and then, that sort of thing." "Sure, sometimes." "What about anal sex?" "Never done it, not interested." Again, hard to believe, but that would change. "Are you an exhibitionist? Do you enjoy showing off your body, particularly in public?" "No. Absolutely not." He nearly laughed out loud, given the attire she had arrived in. Her nipples were clearly erect and poking through the cotton tank and her yoga pants hugged her hips like a second skin. "Any other fetishes?" "Like…?" "Toe sucking, feet, infantilism, scat play or water sports, cross-dressing, that sort of thing." "Ugh. No." "Are you bi? Attracted to other women even if you've never acted on it?" She shook her head and stared at the floor. "Why do I suspect you aren't being completely honest with me, Brooke?" "I'm not a lesbian," she said defensively. "I never asked if you were a lesbian. I asked if you were attracted to other women, even just once. That doesn't make you a lesbian. It doesn't even make you bi." She sighed. "I guess was attracted to a woman, once. The summer before I came to college. I never really met her. Never knew her name. She used to come into the bar where I worked as a waitress. She tipped well, and she was… Well, there was just something about her. I guess I sort of had a crush on her. But that's it. I never did anything, never would even dream of doing anything with a woman." "So let's get back to your story. I'd like you to read it to me." "You want me to what?" Her voice was low and disbelieving as she stared at him, her arms folded across her chest. "I'd like you to read your story to me." "I don't think so." "Are you embarrassed?" "You've already read it, so why should I read it to you?" "Because I'd like you to." "And I'd like to get home to study for my test." "Then I suggest you read it." She sighed dramatically. "Fine. Hand it over." He listened, his eyes closed, as she read the story. At first, she read in near-monotone, but as the story progressed, she grew more animated. It was almost as if she forgot he was there, and got caught up in it. When she finished, he was standing over her, and slipped the papers from her hand. "That was quite lovely, Brooke. Thank you." He took her hand and helped her up, which put her face just inches below his. She had to look up to see him. "I should go now." "Yes, you should," he said softly, as his lips covered hers. A heartbeat's hesitation and she was returning the kiss, her tongue dancing with his, her arm wrapped around his waist. And at that moment, he knew he had her. But he didn't bed her then. Not yet. He wanted to make sure she was past the point of refusal before he bedded her. So over the next few weeks, he had her write down other fantasies, which she would bring to his room and read to him. And each night, he would kiss her, just once, before telling her the next assignment and sending her back to The Hill. Her fantasies were all along the same lines, being controlled by her partner, being made to do things she didn't want to do. Undressing in front of the window while he watched from his car was one of those things. She claimed to be very modest and didn't even let her roommate see her naked. However, once he convinced her that just her silhouette was visible, she was willing to try it. Just once, she said. But that "just once" had apparently turned her on so badly that she came to his room unannounced later that evening, and when he opened the door she kissed him fiercely, groping him through his robe before dropping to her knees and sucking him like a lollipop. While her technique could use some refining, her enthusiasm was remarkable, and it took a great amount of self-control to keep himself from climaxing. But to climax would be to turn over control, and that would defeat the purpose. So he disengaged his cock from her eager mouth and sent her home with the promise of Saturday evening. When Saturday evening arrived, he asked her if she would be willing to commit herself to him for the semester. No more, no less. But by doing so, she would be required to do as he asked, even if it made her uncomfortable or embarrassed. And if she did, she would be rewarded as he saw fit. She did commit, and as a reward he took her to bed that night, where he tested her for the first time. She endured her first spanking, which excited her more than he had anticipated. He sprayed his creamy white cum all over her rosy cheeks that night. The following morning, he ate her for an hour until she thought she might pass out from the intensity of her climaxes. She was so sweet, so succulent… There was nothing quite like fresh, juicy pussy for breakfast. College Coquette Ch. 02 COPYRIGHT – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PERMISSION IS GIVEN TO POST OR USE FOR ANY OTHER PURPOSE. ======== Candlelight flickered and danced on the merlot-colored walls. It played over velvet draperies and heavy furniture, casting ominous shadows she couldn't see. For tonight, he had pulled back one of the curtains, revealing a series of large rings he had drilled into the wall. Against her better judgment, Brooke had been blindfolded and was tied to the rings, spread-eagle more or less, with sturdy clothesline. Clothesline, you might wonder? Yes, ordinary cotton clothesline. It fit his college student budget, was easily available, and strong enough to withstand any resistance from a reluctant protégé. It also cut easily in case of an emergency. How had she ended up here, tied to his wall? He smiled at the thought. It was so unbelievably easy. She was a Southern sorority girl, born and raised to please. Granted, he didn't think her daddy would be pleased if he saw his baby girl right now, but being a good old boy from Alabama, he had to know that eventually his daughter would be pleasing a man in private. And young Brooke here was learning quite well how to please a man, even if she was somewhat reluctant to try new things. She whimpered, only able to imagine what he was doing as he opened drawers and laid out the toys he planned to play with over the course of the evening. A fine sheen of sweat glistened in the low light, giving her body a watercolor painting effect. She was quite a sight to behold, and he was glad he had a digital camera. Technology had certainly done wonders for his hobby. Gone were the days of having to set up a makeshift darkroom in his tiny bathroom or using the school's darkroom at 3 a.m. to develop pictures of his students and their lessons. He crossed the room in a few strides and whispered in her ear. "Brooke, darling, tonight you are in for quite a treat. Remember that story you wrote, the one you printed in the computer lab the evening we met? The Master – that would be me – chains his slave to the wall – that would be you – and makes her beg to be touched. Do you remember that, my sweet?" She strained against the ropes, but knew it was wasted effort. She wasn't going anywhere. He had grown up on the shore, and while other kids spent their summers at the country club playing tennis and lounging by the pool, he sailed. And an important part of sailing was learning to tie complicated and beautiful knots, knots which came in quite handy these days. "Answer me, Brooke. Do you remember?" "Yes, I remember," she whispered. "And what happened to the slave in your story? When she begged to be touched?" He slowly ran his finger along the sensitive underside of her arm, which was stretched from her body. Her face was turned to the side, one cheek pressed against the cold cement wall. "She...had to...she had to..." "She had to what?" "She had to endure ...the...the whip." "And why did she have to be whipped? What was her reward?" "For each touch from her Master, she had to be whipped first." "Why do you think that was, Brooke?" "I, I don't know..." "Yes, you do know, Brooke. Tell me." "The whip...brings....pain. But pain brings...pleasure." She choked the words out in a whisper. "Are you afraid of the whip, Brooke?" "Yes," she cried. "I don't want to be whipped. Please don't do this to me. I'll do anything else you ask, anything. Just please don't hurt me." The desperation in her voice was amusing to him. Of course she didn't want to be whipped. She didn't want to wear the stripes, to bear the evidence of her time spent with him in secret. She was mortified at the thought that anyone might find out about her dark little secret. And that was part of the hold he had on her. He never threatened her. Never said he'd use this against her. But she had to know it was a possibility. And she would rather die than have her sorority sisters find out that she was being taught to please That Guy in ways that would make them speechless. Not that he ever would. Tell, that is. Why would he? What would it accomplish? He never wanted to draw attention to himself. He didn't want to be stared at when he was on campus, didn't want people talking about him at parties. He'd experienced that at his previous school, and he transferred out as soon as the semester ended. But Brooke, well... He wasn't too worried about that happening with her. She wasn't about to tell anyone about their little secret. Her lessons were not something she wanted on the university grapevine. It would ruin her chances of wearing the Homecoming crown. He picked up his whip, caressing the leather handle with his hand, feeling the carefully balanced weight of it in his palm. It had been custom-made for him by a friend in Italy, during the three months he spent abroad last year. With a practiced flick of his wrist, the whip cracked the silence next to her ear. She screamed at the sudden noise and the awareness of how close the whip had been to her pretty face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in her ear. "Did I scare you?" She bit her lip, and he could see she was fighting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. "I really don't recommend screaming. It's unlikely anyone would hear you, and if they did, how would you explain that you wanted to be tied up like this?" She twisted against the ropes again, bending her knees and stretching up on her toes, testing how much play the ropes allowed her. "It's really quite useless, to struggle, you know. I know how to tie knots quite well, and I can assure you that you have been tied quite securely. Safety is of the utmost importance when playing, and if I were to allow you too much freedom, you might get hurt." As he finished speaking, the whip cracked and she felt a sharp sting on her side, right where her breast swelled away from her body. "Ow!" she cried. "That HURT!" "Hmm....why so it did. What would you like instead, Brooke?" "Please, I don't want to do this. What I wrote wasn't really my fantasy. Please... Just untie me and we can do something else, whatever you want. Just please let me go-o-o-o..." A tear squeezed out from beneath the blindfold and left a wet trail on her flushed cheek. "That tear is quite a nice touch, my dear. Hold that pose for me, will you?" He grabbed his camera and snapped a few photos, appreciating the contrast between shadows and the glistening tear trail which reflected the candlelight so well. These would be nice printed as black and whites, he thought. Very artistic. "Are you photographing me?" She was scared, obviously. "What are you planning to do with those pictures?" He laughed, enjoying her anxiety. "I'd like to remember this moment, Brooke. Long after you're gone. You look so beautiful, your body taught against the ropes, the tear on your cheek. But don't worry, my dear. I'll be the only one looking at these pictures. You can count on that. You see, I don't really like to share. That's why I live alone, down here in the bowels of the dorm. I don't have to share anything unless I choose to. And tonight, I'm going to enjoy not having to share you." Another sharp crack of the whip caught the soft skin where her ass met her thighs. "Please," she begged. "Please stop." "What do you want me to do, Brooke? This is your fantasy, not mine." He cracked the whip again on her ass. "Please stop whipping me. I need you to touch me, with your hands, your mouth, anything but the whip. Please..." A river of tears flowed down her exposed cheek, and she was close to sobbing. Was she really frightened? Did the whip really cause her pain bad enough to make her cry? No, the whip wasn't that bad – he'd made sure of that. He'd entertain the thought of fright, though. Having a fantasy was much different than actually experiencing the fantasy. But that didn't mean she wasn't turned on. He stood beside her and turned the whip around in his hand. There was only one way to find out, wasn't there? Very, very slowly, and very, very carefully, he slid the handle of the whip inside her, and she gasped. Of course she would – it was heavily carved and quite thick. And even spread open the way she was, it would still fill her and stretch her, just like he planned to later. But he was getting ahead of himself. "It's okay, Brooke," he said softly in her ear. "I'm just doing a little investigation to see what effect this has had on you so far. Don't worry. I'll be gentle." He slowly slid the carved handle back out and held it up to the candlelight. It was shiny with her juices. She may be frightened, but she was definitely turned on in spite of her fright. "Would you like a little more?" He had a hard time keeping the amusement out of his voice. It wasn't as though her answer really mattered, and she knew that. He would stop when he felt ready, and not a moment before. But it was time to up the ante. He reached over to the side and picked up a vibrator, about 7" long with a realistic circumference, and switched it on before sliding it inside her. He continued to hold it as she first pulled away from the buzzing invader and then slowly sank back down on the pink plastic penis tickling her insides. "That's it, sweet Brooke. Don't try to resist. Now I want you to hold on to this. I'm going to let go, and you need to keep it inside you. Do you understand?" "But I can't...my hands..." "You don't need your hands. You're a strong girl – you need to use your internal muscles to hold it. Pretend it's my cock inside you, that you want to keep me inside you no matter what. Now grip it. Hold it tight. Got it? I'm letting go now." She tried really hard to hold on to it, but the vibrator clattered to the floor almost immediately. Either she was darn aroused and overly wet, or perhaps he had overestimated her muscle tone? It was certainly possible. And while he wasn't pleased, it was only her first attempt. He picked it up, wiped it off, and slid it back in. It certainly wasn't too heavy – others had been successful before her – so he knew he wasn't asking too much. "I'm not going to tell you again. Hold it. Tight. And if you can manage to hold it until I remove it, I just might fuck that hot little cunt of yours tonight." He let go, and this time, she kept it in. He picked up a hairbrush this time, and began to spank her. With each swat, she wailed. It was music to his ears. After a dozen swats, he stopped. His cock was aching, and he was sure her ass was aching too. He grabbed his camera and began to shoot, marveling at the way the candlelight reflected off her now-red cheeks. My God, she was beautiful like this, tied up and aroused, all for his enjoyment. There was just nothing quite like having a woman at your disposal. He tried to capture the flush of arousal he knew was lurking beneath the tear-streaked cheeks, the humming vibrator clearly wanting to slip out from between her swollen pussy lips, dripping with desire. "How are you feeling, my pet?" His voice in her ear startled her, and nearly made her lose the concentration she needed to keep the toy firmly inside her. "Please, please...I need you." "But it's not about what you need, Brooke. It's about what I need." "What do you need?" "You should know that by now, Brooke. I need you. And I have you. I have all I need." "Do you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but the question was hard, and it made him think. Did he really have all he needed? Well, yes and no. He had her, and she was willingly participating in his games. But he still hadn't fucked her. And he needed to fuck her. Fucking her would complete his possession of her. A woman never forgot being fucked by him. Sure, his cum would stop dripping from her cunt after awhile, but the mark left on her soul would be there forever. She would dream about him at night, she would fantasize about him while she shoved a big fat dildo in that tight little twat, trying to recreate what he felt like, spreading her and filling her as he used her for his pleasure. She looked so...so...helpless, tied there this wall. Her ass cheeks were still rosy from the spanking, and tears had dried on her face. Her hips were bucking against the vibrator as she struggled to keep it inside her yet tried to get herself off at the same time. God, she was hot. He could just imagine what her little sorority sisters would say if they saw her now, looking like the little fuck slave she was. Well, becoming. She wasn't quite there yet. Close, but not yet. His cock was jutting out of his satin robe now, his balls heavy and aching. He needed to fuck her, and soon. He began stroking himself, wanting to be even harder and bigger so that his entry into her would be something she'd remember for a long time. "You've been a very good girl, Brooke. I'm going to take your blindfold off now. I want you to see how hard I am, how much you've turned me on by your participation in this little performance." He slipped the blindfold down around her neck and stood back so she could see his erection, the head of his cock almost purple in the low light. "And now I'm going to slip that vibrator out and untie you." He eased the plastic phallus out of her dripping hole and set it aside. He'd clean it later, and have her take it home as a souvenir. She could fuck herself with it later, thinking of him and this evening. Maybe even while her roommates were sleeping, when she'd have to keep her moans locked inside her. Another little secret they'd share. The knots were untied and her arms dropped like little anchors, her body sagging against the wall. He knelt to untie her feet and then buried his nose in her slit, enjoying a quick slurp of her juices and making her yelp. She was so ripe, so ready to cum that he didn't dare linger there, even though he'd certainly enjoy it. He wanted her to cum on his dick, wanted to feel her slippery insides milking him, squeezing the cum from his cock as he bathed her velvety tunnel with his liquid love. He grabbed her hand and led her over to the futon, where she lay on her back, her hair fanned out behind her head like a halo. He grabbed her calves and pushed her legs back and out, spreading her wide open. Picture perfect. He grabbed the camera. "Stay just like that, for just a moment." He snapped half a dozen shots, fiddling with zoom, but capturing this blissful moment, right before she was stuffed with his throbbing meat. He leaned over, guiding his cock into her cunt, and she groaned, a deep guttural sound, as he pushed his way into her tight little hole. The vibrator hadn't stretched her out too much, and the combination of the pain and pleasure had made her slick with arousal. This was perfect, absolutely perfect. Inch by glorious inch, he slid deeper and deeper into her, moving as slowly as he could to draw out this first entry as long as possible. She was too exhausted to do anything but lay there, her arms numb and her legs under his control as he held them open, using them for balance as he watched his steel erection impale her soft pink pussy. As he reached bottom, her mouth fell open in a perfect little O as she felt the thick root of his cock spread her open even more. Yes, she would remember this for a very long time. She would yearn for this, would always be searching for one who could fill her like this, and she would never find him. But enough being gentle and slow. She felt too damn good for that. He withdrew quickly and slammed himself home even faster. "Oh, yeah, fuck yeah," he moaned, as her cunt sucked him in and grudgingly released him again, only to suck him back in. He pounded her hard, her perky little breasts bouncing to the beat of his balls against her sore ass. This was unbelievably good pussy. Best he'd had in awhile. And in spite of her tiredness, she was thrusting up to meet him, spreading her legs even wider for him, taking him in deeper. Her hands grabbed at the pillow behind her head, clutching and twisting the material as she got closer and closer to cumming. "I bet you like it hard, don't you, Brooke. I bet you like me fucking your pussy like a freight train." She moaned what sounded like a yes, but he didn't really care. She was so into it, so fucking hot for him, so wet she was squishing with each thrust, and he was so close to cumming in that wet heat...so close... He pulled out and turned her over, helping her balance on her knees and forearms, her upper body pressed against the mattress. Quickly he shoved his cock back into her cunt, thrusting once, twice, three times, pulling her ass cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear and reappear in that delicious pink of hers. Her little asshole looked so enticing, though, that for a moment, he considered pulling out and finishing there, in the place he knew no one had ever been before. She was in no condition to fight him, he was certain of that. But part of the fun of ass-fucking was preparing her for it for weeks ahead of time, first telling her in detail about how much she'd be begging for him to fill her ass, listening to her protest and watching the fear and uncertainty on her face, the disbelief in her eyes. And then later, he'd get her good and turned on, and then slide his finger into her asshole while he licked and sucked her clit to orgasm. She would be so surprised that something like that could feel so good yet so dirty. The next day, he would lube up a skinny little butt plug and slide it into her while she masturbated herself to orgasm. He had several other things to do to her over the course of several days, getting her ready for that final moment, culminating in his cock taking her final virginity as she begged for him to fuck her in the ass. Oh yes, that would be one hell of a weekend... Thinking of fucking her tight little virgin asshole was just what he needed to send him over the edge. He gripped her hips hard, and slapped her ass, making her squeal. "I'm cumming, Brooke. Take it, bitch. Take my cum, here it comes...Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck..." He slammed into her and sprayed his seed, filling her pussy until it oozed out around his still-engorged cock and dripped down his balls onto the mattress below. College Coquette That afternoon, he administered her first lesson in the art of cocksucking. On her knees, ass resting on her heels, hands resting on her thighs, she was quite a sight to behold. He instructed her to slowly lick the head, wetting it thoroughly before enveloping the entire shaft in her warm wet mouth. "Slowly, now. The goal is to tease but still work towards a spectacular finish." She worked his cock in and out of her mouth with a nice amount of suction. "Now take your tongue and slide it up the underside, and flick your tongue right before the ridge." She complied, and his cock jumped as her tongue scraped that sensitive spot. "Very nice, Brooke. Again, please, but more slowly this time. Then I want you to take me in your mouth and suck, firmly but gently, as you move me in and out of your mouth. Fuck me with your lovely little mouth, Brooke." She wrapped her lips around the head and slowly slid him into her mouth until he felt her tonsils. She was only able to take him in about three quarters of the way, but he knew that would change soon enough. With a little practice and patience, she'd soon be swallowing his cock, her nose smashed against his groin. When her next stroke was complete, he thrust his cock into her mouth and down her throat, holding her head as she gagged and sputtered. "Don't fight me, Brooke. Breathe through your nose. And if you bite me, well, you'll find out sooner rather than later what the kiss of the whip does to your fair skin." He held her there, throat spasming against his intruding cock, until he felt her shoulders relax. "That's it, wench. Relax and accept my cock. Before long you'll be begging me to let you swallow my cock like this. You'll learn to crave it. I'm going to let you go now. I want you to go back to sucking me, but this time I want you to use your tongue to stroke the underside while you suck." She was bringing him close to the edge, and he really enjoyed watching his hard dick pistoning in and out of her pink-rimmed mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled from sleep, and her pert breasts were capped with pale pink nipples. She was quite a sight to behold. "Brooke, I'm going to cum soon. A good wench always looks at her Tutor while servicing his cock. Look at me, Brooke." Her eyes drifted upward to meet his, and she continued to lick and suck his cock with enthusiasm. "Moan for me, Brooke. Let me know you enjoy my cock in your mouth." Her moans had the added benefit of providing a low vibration as she worked him in and out. "Now gently cup my balls in your hand. Play with them, very gently. Roll them around like beads in your palm, and carefully pull down a little. Oh yes, Brooke, very nice. That's it, wench. Make me cum. Suck me harder, Brooke. Suck my gift out. Work for it." He pushed her head down hard, burying himself in her tonsils as his juice sprayed the back of her throat. "Oh yes, you little bitch. Take it all, swallow it, yeah, oh yeah…" As he caught his breath, he instructed her to clean off his cock slowly and gently, making sure there was no trace of semen remaining. "That was very nice, Brooke. You did well." She smiled, not meeting his gaze. "Did that turn you on? Are you wet?" He slid a finger between her legs and quickly determined she was not only wet, she was dripping. He had yet to fuck her, and he knew she was wondering when she would finally get to feel him inside her. "I'm going to fuck you, Brooke. I'm going to fill this little sweet cunt of yours. But you're going to have to wait for it. Right now, you are going to put your clothes on. You're going to go home, take a hot bath, and come back at 5 smelling sweet and fresh for me. And the entire time, you are going to be imagining what I might ask you to do to be allowed the pleasure of feeling my cock inside you. You're going to wonder if I'm going to recreate any of the fantasies you wrote about. You're going to wonder if I'm going to make you swallow my cock first, or if I'm going to just bend you over the back of a chair and shove it in you with no warning." And with that ringing in her ears, he had sent her off, back to The Hill, with their rituals and secret handshakes and silly songs, knowing that when she returned, he would teach her the first of many rituals she would come to love, a ritual that started with a paddle and ended with his cock exploding in her wet, juicy cunt. This was one of those rituals, this nightly undressing in front of her window, followed by her now expert delivery of cocksucking in his car. And soon, very soon, she would be schooled in yet another ritual in a long list of rituals, this one ending with his cock in her virgin ass. But now she was slipping into the front seat of his car and wrapping her lips around his erection, and he lost himself in the feel of her warm wet mouth wrapped around his velvety hard cock hidden behind a golden curtain of silky smooth hair.