4 comments/ 28705 views/ 6 favorites The Contract By: spankableBelle "It is a merry chase you've led Me, My baby." I spun around at the voice I knew so well. Much to my disbelief, there He stood; tall, dark, and wicked. My throat closed up and all thought process came to a halt, save for one; what was He doing here? "Have you nothing to say? Not even a hello?" I swallowed hard, watching Him come closer. "Hello," I managed. My voice was tight and unfamiliar to me. By the look on His face, it was unfamiliar to Him as well. Obviously not the welcome He was expecting. "Feeling awkward, My little one?" He nodded curtly, all knowing, all supreme. "It is understandable. We will require a period of adjustment after so long an absence, but it will all come back." I could do nothing but stand there while He circled me, His voice steady and sure as always. There was small comfort in that. "Are you well?" He asked this from directly behind me, His large hand stroking through my hair in a caress so familiar, it was all I could do to remain standing upright and not sink back against Him. I nodded in answer. There was a brief moment of silence. I could smell Him. Man; strong and determined. His confidence knew no bounds. He had at one time been everything to me. And His love had been everything I had ever wished for. Then the cold came and He was gone. The winter wind chilled me to the bone and with each breath I took a piece of my heart would break and crumble. He wasn't there to keep me warm. "Do you still paint decadent pictures with words?" I blushed. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. I nodded again, in answer. He loved my stories. He would read them and devour me. He was my muse, my inspiration. He took me to heights that fueled my creativity and I wrote into the late hours of the night. They were dark tales of decadence and erotic adventure. His hunger was raw and vicious, His cravings of the taboo and forbidden. I soared in His arms. I took flight to places of pleasure that I had never known existed. And always, always, always, He was there to catch me. He laughed. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" His hand slipped down my neck softly and continued until He came to a barrier in the center of my back. "What's this?" He asked, knowing full well, as He pulled the strap and let it pop against my skin. I flinched at the unexpected pain of the metal clasp hitting me. His voice changed. Even with just those two little words, 'what's this' I noticed it, the slight hardening, and the minute chill. "You know better, pet, than to wear undergarments here in this place." There it was, that possession, that ownership. I would know it a million miles away. It was always there in His voice, or His touch, or His eyes, but many times, it was present in all three. "You do still belong to Me." It was not phrased as a question only offered as statement of fact. I shook my head. His hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back. "What was that?" His voice was getting colder. "No," I said as loud and as strong as I could, which really wasn't very, much to my dismay. "No? Hmmm. That's interesting, baby, since I never released you." Ironic how in that moment, His grip on my hair let up and He let go. He walked around to face me. I had no choice but to find my voice. "We didn't have a contract for You to release me from." His smirk was just that, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes showed barely a hint of warmth. I shivered in smite of myself. "Didn't we? Yes, I do believe we did," He said, taking my hand and pulling me behind Him to the stone bench at the center of the garden. He sat down and parted His knees allowing me to stand between them. His hands rested on my hips and His eyes beckoned my attention. "We had a contract, My dear one. It was a contract written in sweat, in your woman's blood, in our mingled bodily juices. It was a contract signed and imprinted in the sheets on My bed. It was a contract when you called Me Master. And it was a contract when I called you Mine." His rough hands slid up my dress and ripped the soft satin panties from my body. "These will be burned." His hands reached around my back, unhooked my bra, and with a hard yank, He had my full breasts free. He tossed the bra to the side with my panties. "That will be burned as well." Silent tears streaked down my face until I could no longer keep my heartache quiet. "Why are You doing this? After all these months, why are You doing this? Why did You come back?" "Because you belong to Me, little one. You know as well as I that there is nothing more true than that." His hands, only moments before rough, were now gentle as His fingers caught my tears. "But You left me," I cried. "I sent you letters and You kept silent. I tried to find You, but You were nowhere to be found." "Letters? I never received any letters from you. And there were times when I could be here, that I was, waiting for you, and you never came." My tears kept falling, my mind trying desperately to make some sense out of His words. His hands cupped my face and held my head steady. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to deny Him. "I never got your letters, baby. I did not leave you. And I did not release you." "Will you release me now?" The words were no more than a whisper, but His reaction was louder than thunder. His hands tightened against my head and He pulled me forward until I fell against Him. He positioned me in His lap, turned toward Him. One hand dropped to hold my hips, the other around the back of my head so that I could not look away. "I will not release you. Ever." "Please, I beg You. Please release me." "How many have been fucking between your thighs?" His question shocked me and it took a moment before I could register what He meant. "I won't…" His hand cracked down hard on my ass. Had He not been holding the back of my head, my face would have smacked into His. "How many?" I tried to shake my head but couldn't. It didn't matter. He saw the defiance in my eyes. His hand cracked again. "Is there one now?" My refusal to answer seemed to fuel more than His anger. He pulled the skirt of my dress up and slapped His hand down on my bare skin. I whimpered in pain. It had been months and my flesh was no more accustomed to the fire of a spanking. But other parts of my body didn't seem to have any trouble remembering. Neither did His. I slumped against Him in frustration. He knew I was defeated. "How many, pet?" "Three." "My sweet little slut," He chuckled. "All male or were there any females?" I couldn't help but laugh a little. He had adored my interest in women. Better that than any interest in men, though He had moments where He loved for me to tease and flirt. "Only men." "Poor baby. No pussy, huh?" He crooned. "No." His fingers began making lazy circles on my warmed ass cheeks. With each pass over the crack, His fingers would slip lower. I knew what He was up to. I knew it and I couldn't stop it. He held me hard against His upper body. "Please don't." "Why not? Afraid I'll find out that you still want Me? Afraid I'll find your sweet sex dripping with honey?" I couldn't help but squirm. His dark English accented voice did more for me than anything. And when He whispered, using sweet endearments and crude sex talk, I became His whore. He knew this. I knew this. His fingers slipped between my lower lips. The telltale wetness, the reaction of my body that I couldn't deny greeted Him. His fondling was devilish, leaving no fold of skin untouched. I was soaked. Juices slid down the inside of my thighs. I was at once embarrassed and furious. "Damn You!" I whispered heatedly. His smile was cruel and unforgiving. "No, My baby, damn you." His fingers slid up inside of me and twisted, curling and fucking my cunt without mercy. The whimpers that emerged from my throat were animalistic and lustful. "Damn you for making me use this – His fingers thrust up hard, all the way to their bases and screwed me- to force your admission. You are Mine." He growled the last against my lips as His mouth took mine in a savage kiss. Our tongues twined and I got my arms free to wrap around His neck. I had missed Him so. I pressed my chest against His and fell into His possession. His fingers worked their evil magic between my legs, one slipping up inside my ass cheeks to burrow deeply. My hips met every thrust of His fingers. He pulled His mouth away. "Say it," He whispered. "I can't," I whispered back. His fingers twisted and turned, clawing at me. "I swear I'll fuck you day and night until you can't walk. You trusted Me once. You'll do it again." He would do it too. He would use everything He knew from our past. He would break me, break down all my resistance. And for what? I knew better than to think that I could fight Him. He had power over me, power that I had given Him, power that He wasn't willing to give back. "I'll whip the memory of those men out of you. You won't remember having anyone in that pretty little puss but Me." He slid his finger up my ass a little further and flicked a fingernail over my clit. The fingers He had inside me tickled and tortured until I wept all over His hand. My body shuddered in orgasm and I clung to Him. He pressed my head to His chest and rubbed His cheek against my hair. He cooed sweet love words to me, soothing my tormented soul. "Say it, My baby." Tears again slipped down my face. "Master." © 2001 All Rights Reserved The Contract = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A woman uses her recent lottery winnings to take a out a revenge contract on "The Target." = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = *********************** Mary Madeleine Morrison sat at her new computer carefully typing instructions into a word processor file that would eventually be an attachment to an email. The computer was brand new, top of the line, state of the art. It was one of the things she had purchased with her recent lottery winnings. She had won big. Not "Take this job and shove it!" big, but big enough to pay off her car, buy a bunch of new things like a really good computer, arrange for a month-long fantasy vacation, and most importantly for her, to put out a revenge contract on "The Target." Finding someone to do something underhanded and illegal on the internet is easy. Finding someone to do something underhanded and illegal who is not a cop or a member of some vigilante watch group is a little more difficult. Making sure that the person is reliable and will do exactly what they have been paid to do - no more, no less - is yet more difficult. And being sure that nothing could be traced back to you as you arranged for all of this is almost impossible. Mary did the impossible, however, and guaranteed that her computer could not be traced by the simple expedient of donating multiple computers and internet access to four different mission schools in India. She paid to have the computers slightly modified before sending them on to the mission schools. The hard disks were virus free, but the onboard RAM had been modified so that a specific command received from the internet would turn on a relay system on the motherboard that would forward Mary's computer connection. The program always connected through at least two other of the computers before making it's final on-line connection, so anyone trying to trace something back to Mary would have to loop in and out of at least three mission schools in India to find her. And each of those computers would look as though the transmission actually originated there. With the problem of anonymity solved, all Mary needed to do was to find the right "operative" to do what she wanted. When Mary first started searching for the right person, she began by trolling the BDSM chat rooms. What she wanted done, after all, most closely came under that general category. She soon learned, however, that asking "Are you a police officer, an officer of the court in any fashion, or a member of any volunteer internet watch group?" caused many of the people who were chatting with her to immediately sign off. She was never sure whether that meant they were cops, or just scared off, but in any case, pickings were fairly slim. It was obvious it would take time to find just the right person. After several months of effort, however, and after rejecting several initial prospects, she thought she had a good candidate in BigMomma73. There were several things which made her think this might be the right person. To begin with "BigMomma" is not a handle that most petite young women would use, so it probably wasn't a cop trolling for pedophiles. Secondly, she had Googled "BigMomma73" and found other posts from her and even some stories on various sites. It was apparent that BigMomma was a severe domme who didn't mind inflicting pain if it was needed, but at the same time, she never spoke of going overboard - even in her fantasy stories. BigMomma73 definitely seemed like the right one, but Mary still had to make sure she wasn't a cop of some sort. She had read about the "show me your tit," dodge that potential Johns used to make sure a prostitute on the corner wasn't a decoy. Asking someone to show you their breast was technically not even illegal, but an undercover cop couldn't do it because indecent exposure would be an unnecessary undercover crime, meaning that it wasn't necessary to save her or another's life. The test was simple. No tit equals cop. Tit equals prostitute. Mary needed a similar test to be sure that Big Momma was not a decoy of some sort. She had thought of and discarded many possible solutions, when suddenly it came to her. She would use a variation of the tit test. She wasn't going to ask BigMomma to flop out a tit, but she knew that The Target liked to sunbath naked on her balcony every Saturday afternoon when the weather was good. She would offer Big Momma a thousand dollars plus expenses for her to get a video of The Target sunbathing nude on her balcony. Since there would be no audio, it wouldn't be illegal under the current laws, but a cop wouldn't be able to do it because it violated a person's privacy, etc., etc., etc. Mary also knew that The Target would often masturbate herself as she lay in the sun, but that was a bit of information she would not share with Big Momma. Intentionally filming a sex act was illegal, so if it happened, it had to be "accidental." Two weeks after mailing a money order to the storefront "mailbox" specified by Big Momma, Mary received an email with a link to an online file transfer box. Mary had been impressed that Big Momma had evidently rented one of those hard to trace mail boxes at one of the shipping stores downtown for transactions with her. She was further impressed that the file transfer box was also untraceable. Both were signs that Big Momma might be just the right one for the job. When Mary downloaded the file, it was a crystal clear video of The Target walking out onto her balcony in her robe, setting up her lawn chair, and then taking off the robe and rubbing down her entire body with baby oil before lying in the sun. The video zoomed in for explicit details of each breast and of the neatly trimmed bush between The Target's legs. The video faded to gray and when it returned, The Target was rubbing a large vibrator over her breasts and labia. After several minutes, she began to squirm on her chair and started thrusting the vibrator in and out of her cunt. This went on for several minutes until The Target's body suddenly went rigid in climax. Big Momma zoomed in on her face to capture the "O" moment. The video was everything Mary wanted, and more. Not only did Big Momma do everything that Mary asked, she was also a damned good videographer or had access to one. It was time to move to step two of the plan, the revenge attack on The Target. Mary emailed Big Momma and congratulated her on a job well done. She then asked if Big Momma would like to take it up a step or two. Big Momma's only question was "How much?" Mary had her operative. "This will be a weekend kidnapping and punishment," emailed Mary. "I want this woman punished and humiliated exactly as I specify. I will pay $5,000 in advance and an additional $5,000 on completion. There will be up to another $10,000 for expenses and additional people." The email ended with, "Are you still interested?" "I want at least $2,000 of the expense money up front," was Big Momma's only reply. Mary was now preparing carefully detailed instructions of exactly what she wanted done and when. She had arranged for a month off work to go on her fantasy vacation and, so that no one suspected anything, this was to occur while she was gone. The instructions began, "You have one week to prepare everything. You already know The Target. You have taken videos of her on her balcony. One week from Saturday, you are to capture her as she is waiting for a bus in front of her apartment. Every Saturday morning at ten, she takes the bus to the mall where spends the morning walking through the shops and then eats lunch alone in the food court before returning home in the afternoon. She is always late getting down to the bus stop, however, and misses the first bus. Since almost no one takes the bus from there on Saturday, she will be standing alone at the bus stop for quite a while. You are to be ready with a van and at least one helper. When she steps up to the curb to look down the street for the next bus, drive up and pull her into the van through the open side door. There are no security cameras that pick up the area of the bus stop." The instructions then continued with a detailed list of exactly what Mary wanted done to The Target and the fact that Mary wanted full, detailed videos of everything, including the initial capture. The following Saturday, The Target, stood at the bus stop in front of her apartment building. As Mary had predicted, she was late and just missed the ten o'clock bus. After standing for several minutes, she stepped up to the curb and looked down the road to see if the next bus was arriving yet. It wasn't. What arrived instead was an older, white, extremely dirty van with mud smeared over the license plates. It stopped for only a few seconds while the side door slid open and two figures dressed entirely in black, with black masks totally covering their faces, grabbed The Target and pulled her into the van. She opened her mouth to scream, but a knife pressed against her throat and a hoarsely whispered warning to stay quiet or die caused her to immediately close her mouth. Tape of some sort was slapped across her mouth. A bag was pulled over her head and tied around her neck. Then her hands were pulled roughly behind her and taped together. She was pushed to the floor of the van and her ankles were also taped. The Target tried to keep track of where they were going, but the van turned repeatedly and soon she was totally disoriented. Then a loud drumming, pounding sound hit the side of the van. It sounded like a very heavy rainstorm, but had a rhythmic pulsation to it. She finally recognized the sound and decided that, for some reason, they were going through a car wash. If she had been able to see what was going on from outside the van, she would have seen an old, very weathered, very dirty, white van enter the car wash, and a bright, shiny, medium blue van exit at the other end. The weathered white coloring and the mud had been merely an expertly applied disguise. If there were any witnesses to the abduction, the only accurate description they could give was that it was that it was an old, white van - that didn't exist. After the van pulled out of the car wash, one of the figures in black said, "Now we can start." He reached down and began to cut The Target's clothing from her body. After she was totally naked, he slapped her on the ass and said with a laugh, "You must have really pissed somebody off." He slapped her ass softly several more times and continued, "Someone you know as 'the bookkeeper' sends her regards. She told me to tell you that she has been wanting to do this for a long time. If you behave yourself and cooperate, you will be released on Sunday night. If you don't cooperate, you will never be found. If you understand, nod your head enough so we can see it move through the bag." The naked figure lying bound on the floor of the van slowly nodded her head up and down. "Now you just relax and enjoy the ride. We have a ways to drive before we get to the club." At first Target cringed in fear that they might rape her in the van, but as the minutes turned to hours, she began to wonder why they did not. Strangely, she began to ask herself, "Don't they find me attractive?" After all, there was nothing that she could do to keep them from violating her, and yet they did not. The thought then entered her mind that perhaps there was something worse than rape awaiting her at this "club." It was well after nightfall when the van finally stopped. Rough hands slid her out of the van and pulled her to her feet. She could tell that she stood on gravel of some sort by the feel of the stones against her feet. She could feel hands fumbling with the heavy string that held the bag in place. Suddenly it was gone. Target blinked her eyes in what, to her, was bright light. In reality, it was a relatively dim parking lot. A somewhat run down looking building was the only structure visible. Turning her head she could see only darkness beyond the lights of the parking lot. They were obviously way out in the country somewhere. A neon sign flickered on the side of the building. It said, "The Wicked Whip." The neon formed a coiled whip that made three circles around the handle. As she watched, the whip uncurled in neon steps to extend across the side of the building to strike exactly on the ass of a painting of a large naked woman that stood next to the entrance. Target had read about this club once when she was slumming on the internet. It was a BDSM Club with a bad reputation even among BDSM clubs. They ran a monthly "Ultimate Winners and Losers" contest that was streamed live on their website. It was rumored that some of the contestants were not willing participants. That may or may not have been true, but it helped justify their high membership rates and added to the enjoyment of those who watched the shows. The contest was a series of competitions, primarily between subs and slaves, the purpose of which was to ascertain the Ultimate Winner and The Ultimate Loser. Like many contests or tournaments, there was a Winner's Bracket and a Loser's Bracket. The Winner's Bracket functioned as did most tournament winner's brackets. If you won, you continued on toward being the Ultimate Winner. If you lost, you were out. The Loser's Bracket was exactly opposite. If you won, you were out. If you lost, you continued on toward being The Ultimate Loser. The Ultimate Winner received a cash prize of $1,000 plus some perks at the club. The Ultimate Loser was the primary entertainment for the overnight party following the show. There were smaller prizes - and punishments - given at each level. Everyone who made it into the semi-final eight in the winner's bracket received $100. Everyone who made it into the semi-final eight in the losers bracket received ten lashes with a belt. The semi-final four winners received $200. The semi-final four losers received 20 swats with a wooden paddle that had one inch holes across its surface. Target had watched those contests and punishments several times as they were streamed live on the guest portion of the club's website. She did not know exactly what happened with the semi-final and final competitions because those matches and their aftermaths were available only in the member's area of the club's website. It was rumored that in some of the contests the winners in the semi-finals received $500, and the losers had to sexually satisfy - orally, anally, or vaginally - three different members of the audience chosen by random lot. Tickets for that drawing were supposedly part of what supplied the prize money. "Are you going to behave yourself?" asked the man standing in front of her. His voice identified him as one of her abductors from the van. A somewhat heavyset, but very muscular woman standing next to him said curtly, "I'll take it from here." The woman led Target into the building and into a huge open room with a large stage area and audience seating. It appeared that there were around 300 people present. The stage had a large open area directly in front of the audience and behind that were three set of risers like choirs would stand on for a performance. On each of the four levels of the center riser, evenly spaced across its width, were eight platforms of some sort. Each platform had a heavy railing on the front of it at approximately waist high. On each railing was what looked more or less like handcuffs, but the bottom of the loop was firmly attached to the railing. In each of the first three rows, there were eight naked people standing on a platform with their hands cuffed in place on the rail in front of them. Target was taken to the fourth row and cuffed in place. Soon all 32 stands were filled. Three others, besides Target, had tape over their mouths. She was surprised to see, on the stand to her left, the heavyset woman who had led her into the arena. With no clothing on, it was obvious that most of her large body mass was muscle, not fat. Two burly men in black T-shirts with the word "Security" in big white letters on the front and back walked among the rows checking the tightness of the cuffs. As they passed Target, one of them reached up and ripped the tape from her mouth. She started to call out and tell him that she had been kidnapped, but as soon as she began to speak, he slapped her soundly and said, "You will be told when to talk, bitch. Unless you are told to talk, you stay quiet. Got that?" Target nodded. Her eyes began to fill with tears and her legs began to tremble, but she remained quiet as the security men finished their inspection. One of the other women began screaming as soon as the tape was removed from her mouth. When she refused to quiet down after the security man slapped her, he pulled something from his pocket and pressed it against her breast. She screamed even louder and slumped against the rail. When she pulled herself back up, the guard said, "You will be told when to talk, bitch. Unless you are told to talk, you stay quiet. Got that?" The woman nodded weakly. Target was now crying softly to herself. A slightly seedy-looking man in a cheap tuxedo walked to the center of the stage area and took a microphone from his pocket. "Ladies and Gentlemen of The Wicked Whip, and all our guests and paying customers watching over the internet, we have 32 entries in this month's competition. That means it will take five contests to determine The Ultimate Winner and The Ultimate Loser. The first competition is a simple pain endurance test to place our contestants in the winners or losers bracket. But before I begin, I need to announce our rules." Turning to the 32 naked men and women cuffed to the platforms, he said, "Your safewords are all recorded on your entry forms. However, once we have progressed to the second contest, safewords will not be accepted. If you want to remove yourself from the contest, yell out your safeword now." Several of the bound women began yelling loudly that they were not there of their own free will, but no one yelled out a safeword. Target was yelling, "I don't have a safeword. I was kidnapped and brought here. The woman on her right was yelling the same thing, but then turned to her and said, "It makes this so much more exciting to imagine that I was kidnapped and forced to be here." Target stopped yelling and began to just cry softly, "No... no... no... no... no." The MC continued, "Remember, your last chance to use your safeword is after the first contest. Once you are returned to a winner's or loser's platform, you are committed for the whole contest. Is that clear?" When there was no response, the MC yelled out, "I said, 'IS THAT CLEAR?'" There was a loud shout of "Yes!" from almost all of the contestants on the platforms. Target merely whispered softly, "Yes." "Then we shall begin," announced the MC. A huge platform was rolled into the center of the open space. There was a large, black box in the center of it that had several wires hanging from its sides and top. There were also what looked like two short pieces of belt sticking straight up out of the top of the box. Four heavily muscled men in black T-shirts walked out into the lights. Two of them were rolling what looked like the carts that are used to move things around in a grocery store. A pair of them went behind the first platform and slid the front of their cart under it from the back. They then lifted the platform and the naked woman on it and rolled her over to one side of the platform where they pushed her forward so that the railing was against the black box. The other two men did the same with the next contestant and placed her on the opposite side of the box. The Contract After both contestants were in place, three women, also in black T-shirts, came out into the arena and began attaching the wires to the contestant's nipples using stick-on electrodes. They next connected a metal dildo to one of the wires and inserted it in the contestant's ass. Finally they used a clip to attach a fourth electrode to both women's clit. The burly security people came out and pressed both contestants over at the waist so that their heads were directly over the short belt pieces. "Open wide," one of them said, and one of the crew women pulled upward on the belt and held it in the contestant's mouth. "Bite down," ordered the security man. "Once the contest begins," said the MC, "the level of the shocks will be automatically increased until one of the contestants lets go of the mouthpiece." Turning to the two contestants he continued, "Remember, you don't have to beat the machine. You only have to beat your opponent. The first one to release the mouthpiece loses and goes into the losers bracket." Looking up into the darkness beyond the audience, he said, "Ready. ... Begin!" A large display lowered from the ceiling. There was a digital meter that currently said "0.0" and large clock with a single hand set to 0. The clock began turning and the digital meter moved to "0.5." Each click of the clock hand took it forward one mark on its face, and with each click of the clock, the meter went up by 0.5. When the meter read 1.5, both women began to squirm and grunt. At 3.0 the feet of both were dancing on their platforms. At 4.0 their grunts became wails through their clenched teeth. And at 5.5 one of the women screamed out loudly and pulled herself up straight, the belt snapping from her mouth and back to its original position on the top of the black box. "We have a winner!" yelled the MC. "...and a loser." The security men came and released the winner from her cuffs. She went to the risers on the left and stood on the first row. The stage hands used their oversized cart to move the loser to the first position on the riser to the right. They returned with the next two contestants. The procedure was the same except that since one of the contestants was a man, a cock ring was snapped in place behind his scrotum rather than an electrode clipped over the clit. Target thought that put the woman at a disadvantage, but the man still lost. She watched this repeated a dozen times before she was finally rolled down into the arena and pushed over the black box. The metal dildo hurt slightly going into her anus, but that was nothing compared to the pain when the clamp closed on her clit. She kept thinking to herself, "If I can win this, I am safe. I can lose the next one and be out of this horrid competition." But the meter was at only 2.0 when she screamed loudly and lost her grip on the mouthpiece. She was crying heavily as she was rolled over to her place in the losers section. After what seemed like just a few moments, the MC announced, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have our winners and we have our losers for the night. The question is, 'Who will be The Ultimate Winner?" He paused dramatically and added in a much lower tone of voice, "And who will be The Ultimate Loser?'" He then reverted to an almost normal voice to announce, "There will be a short break for our waiters and waitresses to take your drink and food orders and then we will continue with Round Two." = = = = = = While the wait staff was filling drink orders, the crew removed the black box and began setting up a large, shallow square that looked somewhat like a kiddy swimming pool, except that it was about twelve feet square and had a rather heavy steel frame. When it was set up, and after the MC had carefully inspected it and nodded his approval, it was filled to a depth of about four inches with a fluid that looked a lot like thick baby oil. When all was prepared, the MC returned to the center of the arena and intoned, "Ladies and gentlemen, our second round will be Greco-Roman Wrestling. In Greek wrestling, the winner of the match is the first one to throw their opponent to the ground. The Greeks wrestled naked and would oil themselves up with grease to make it harder for their opponent to get hold of them. We are using an industrial lubricant in our slime pit, but it has the same effect. So just like the great citizens of ancient Greece, you get to watch a bunch of glistening bodies dancing around naked, trying to throw each other to the ground. We will begin with our winner's bracket and then move to our losers." Target watched from her platform as the twelve women and four men were brought over to the slime pit two by two. Some of the contestants scooped up large handfuls of the lubricant and rubbed it into their bodies. Others just stepped into the pit. Most of the matches were over fairly quickly. The secret seemed to be to rapidly get hold of the other person around the waist. If you were the first to securely grab the other, most likely you could throw them down. The slippery gel, however, made it difficult to hold on to anything. The match that got the most reaction from the crowd was when the large, heavyset woman who had brought Target to the club grabbed her opponent at arms length, lifted her up off the ground and slammed her down into the gooey pit. "Another classic 'Big Momma' body slam," yelled the MC. "Big Momma has been our Ultimate Winner here at Wicked Whip eleven times. If she wins tonight, she will join only two others in our All Time Winners Hall of Fame." Target had carefully watched the fourteen matches that preceded hers. She was trying to figure out what she had to do to win. She thought she had it. She had to keep her hands close to her sides so her opponent couldn't grab her waist, but not too close so her arms couldn't get pinned. She had to stay slightly crouched to hold her waist back, but not so far crouched that she could be pulled over. "I can do this," she thought to herself as her wrists were uncuffed and she was led to the slime pit. "I can do this," she assured herself as she looked at her opponent, a frail-looking girl about two-thirds her size. "I can do this," she said out loud as she scooped up double handfuls of the lubricant gel and smeared it over her arms and breasts and legs and between her legs. "I can do this," she said firmly as she looked into the small face of her opponent. Target moved slowly around the pit waiting for the girl to attempt to grab her. She knew that was your most vulnerable point and where several of the previous fighters had been defeated. As they lunged forward to grab their opponent, they themselves were grabbed and thrown to the slimy floor of the pit. Target waited, but the frail, little girl didn't lunge. She didn't even try to grab Target's waist. Instead, after several circles of the pit by both fighters, she suddenly dropped to her left knee and just as suddenly brought her right hand upward between Target's legs. The fingers of the tiny hand were held together to form a pointed wedge that drove directly into Targets pussy lips. The hand was full of slime which squished out between the fingers as the hand drove rapidly and painfully inside Target's cunt. Then the girl stood up and lifted upward with her right hand while holding onto her right wrist with her left hand. Target screamed louder than she had ever remembered screaming before. She bucked against the intrusion, but the hand was deep inside her. The girl pulled Target towards her and then shoved her with her shoulder so that Target fell backwards into the slime. The smaller girl then pumped her hand rapidly in and out of Target several times while smearing more slime across Target's face and hair. Target tried to yell, but it just came out a guttural moan. The winner then pulled her hand free and patted Target on the belly while saying to her, "I'll see you later honey when I get a crack at The Ultimate Loser... because that is going to be you tonight." She then stood up, held her hands in a victory pose, and walked out of the stage area. A few moments later the final pair entered the slime pit. It was over almost immediately as one of the fighters reached over with her leg and pulled the foot of her opponent forward. "You almost had to want to lose to fall for that," thought Target as she watched the girl splash into the slime. Looking at the other seven still in the losers bracket she asked herself, "How many of these girls entered in hopes that they would be The Ultimate Loser?" "It is time for our first reward and punishment. Our eight winners to this point will each receive $100. Our losers receive ten with the belt. You each received an entry ticket into the belt lottery for tonight. The winning numbers are displayed on the screen. If you hold a winning ticket, come forward, get one of the belts and get in position." Soon five men and three women were standing behind the loser's platforms. "I want to hear those belts snap when they hit ass flesh," instructed the MC. Then he asked the crowd, "Are you ready to count?" "Yes!" screamed the crowd. Then they yelled out "One!" Target screamed as the belt slammed into her ass. "Two!" Target screamed again. By the time the crowd yelled "Ten!" Target was unable to scream anymore. She was crying incoherently and nearly falling over the railing to which her hands were cuffed. "After another short break to refill drinks and reset the stage," announced the MC. "We will continue with round three." = = = = = = It was almost a half-hour later before the slime pit was drained, disassembled and removed from the stage area. In its place a large plexiglass room had been erected that took up the entire open area at the front of the building. The crew was setting up large boxes and barrels throughout the room. After everything was set, the MC returned to his microphone. "Our next contest will be a group contest rather than one on one. The eight winners will compete together, and then the eight losers. This is a paintball competition. The winner is the one who has hit the greatest number of their opponents while not being hit themselves. Two points for every time you hit an opponent. Minus one point for every paintball spot on you. We will provide protection for your eyes, but the rest of your body will be open to strikes and a paintball makes a rather painful pop when it hits open skin." Target had never played paintball before and was unsure even of how the equipment worked. Each person had a rifle-looking gun with a large hopper on top of it. Evidently the paintballs were in the hopper and fired out the end of the barrel. Actually that was all she needed to know. She watched the first match to see if she could get some pointers, but except for the fact that you needed to hide from your opponent but still needed to be able to see them to shoot them, she learned nothing. She did note that Big Mamma seemed to be able to pop up from behind a box or barrel, fire four or five shots and then disappear before anyone could get a bead on her. She also seemed to be able to move around the room almost like a ninja, suddenly being behind an opponent who thought she was in front of them. When the round was finished, Big Momma, two other women, and a man were the final four winners. Target and the other seven were led into the plexiglass room. There were colored splotches on the walls and on the various boxes and barrels. "If you shoot before the command to begin, you are an automatic loser," instructed the MC. "But other than that, anything is fair." The MC stepped back out of the enclosure and yelled, "Begin!" Target wasn't sure what she planned to do, but she definitely had not planned on a group attack. Four of the girls must have conspired together. As soon as the MC had yelled "Begin!" they ran together to form a tight group that could protect each other while at the same time hunting down the others. Had it been real guns, it would have been called a massacre. The four conspirators had only one or two hits on their bodies while the other four - especially Target - were covered with colored bruises. "I understand this one's name is 'Target,'" laughed the MC pointing at Target's splattered body. "We might have to put something in the rules against working together like that, but since it isn't there yet, we have four clear losers. The non-losers may leave. The semi-finalist losers take your positions on the punishment benches." Four spanking benches were pushed into the center of the battle room. Target was unsure what to do, but one of the burly security people dragged her over to a bench and forced her to kneel on the raised pad. He strapped her legs in place, and then pulling her body over the higher padded area, he strapped her wrists to a bracket low on the other side. Her ass was in the perfect position for striking. There was a muffled pffft sound and Target screamed. "I really shouldn't have done that," snickered the MC as he handed the paintball gun back to one of the crew members, "but with a name like 'Target' and pussy lips that look like a bull's eye, I just couldn't resist." The audience all laughed as they looked carefully at Target's ass. The MC had indeed hit the bulls eye. The inner fold of Target's labia was stained a deep green. "At this level, the four winners, as part of their reward, get to help with the punishment of the losers." The MC handed large, wooden paddles to the four semi-finalist winners. Target noticed that Big Momma was taking a position behind her. "Hit in sequence," instructed the MC. "At the end of the sequence, the audience will count the swat. The audience will also keep track of which hit they thought was the strongest and will vote at the end to see which winner gets an additional $100 for the strongest arm." "Ready," the MC asked. In response the paddles began swinging. Splat, splat, splat, splat, "One!" Splat, splat, splat, splat, "Two!" Splat, splat, splat, splat, "Three!" And so it continued. All four of the losers were screaming themselves horse by the time the count got up to twenty. It wasn't until after the paddling has stopped that Target realized that she had pissed herself. "Let's get some cream on those asses," said the MC, "They have two more rounds to go." Stage hands wearing disposable rubber gloves hurried in and smeared some sort of ointment on the bruised and bleeding behinds of the four losers. All four renewed their screaming as soon as the cream was applied. "I didn't say it would stop the pain," said the MC with a shrug. "I said it would enable them to finish the contest." He laughed and added, "Actually it hurts like hell, but it stops the bleeding and prevents infection. Save the painkiller buzz for the winners, right everybody?" The audience responded with shouts of affirmation. Someone yelled, "Right! Let 'em suffer. They're LOSERS!" The stage crew had disassembled the plexiglass room in a remarkably short time and had set up what appeared to be a raised wrestling ring in its place. "This is a relatively simple contest," began the MC. "To win," he explained, "you just have to shove this ass-spear" - holding up a rather large butt plug shaped dildo with an overly long handle on it - "up your opponent's ass." He held the unit up higher and said, "Do you see those little bands of metal near the base of the dildo above the protector bar on the handle? They will sense the skin contact of an asshole closing down over it and the handle will light up. Judges will know for sure that it is in place and we will have a definite winner and a definite non-winner." Target noticed for the first time that in the winner's bracket you had winner's and non-winners, but in her bracket, you only had losers and non-losers. There were no winners in the losers bracket. The first two contestants from the winners bracket climbed into the ring. Both were holding one of the ass-spears. After a considerable amount of grappling and wrestling, the male contestant finally succeeded in pinning the female to the mat face down. Then sitting on top of her, he pushed the ass-spear into her rectum until the handle lit. "A winner!" shouted the MC. As the "non-winner" started to pull the spear from her ass, he added, "Do that back stage... in case anything comes out with it." She waddled off with the handle still sticking out of her ass and blinking. The second match was over almost as soon as it had begun. Big Momma launched herself at her opponent and took her down with a scissor lock around the abdomen. As soon as they both hit the mat, Big Momma rolled so that her opponent's shoulders were slammed into the mat and then reached up with one hand and pushed the hapless woman's legs down over her face. With the same motion she plunged the ass-spear home. There was several seconds of absolute silence before the audience erupted into wild cheers and applause. "And that's why you don't want to mess with Big Momma," yelled the MC. "I don't think we will see anything like that from our losers, but you never know." Then directly addressing the four losers, he added, "And just to give you losers some added encouragement to at least TRY to win, the ass-spears used in the losers bracket don't just blink. They give off a high voltage pulse with every flash of the light." Target cringed at the thought. The audience, however, cheered and stomped their feet. The first round in the losers bracket was between a slightly balding man and a young woman with extremely short hair. Neither had hair in their crotch. The match went very much like the first round in the winner's bracket with both fighters grappling and tugging until finally one of them pinned the other to the mat and pushed the ass-spear home. The light began blinking and the girl pinned to the mat began howling, "Take it out! Take it out! Please, take it out!" "You heard me before," said the MC. "You have to go backstage before that comes out." The girl struggled to her feet and, crying in pain, stumbled across the stage, her body pulsing and quivering in time to the flashing light in her ass. "I have to win," thought Target to herself. "I can win," she said aloud. "I will win!" she said forcefully. But less than a minute later, she, too, was wailing in pain and struggling to waddle across the arena to the backstage area where she thought her painful intruder would be removed. A few moments later, however, two of the more muscular stage hands pushed a large platform back out into the center of the stage. In the center of the platform were two poles that held a crossbeam about seven feet in the air. Hanging from that crossbeam, facing each other and strapped together at the waist were Target and the loser from the first semi-final match. Both were screaming and moaning in time to the pulsing lights in their asses. "I guess I forgot to mention that the loser's spears cannot be removed until they have timed out." The audience laughed. "So why don't we give the servers a chance to take more drink and food orders and we will get set up for the final challenges." = = = = = = About fifteen minutes later the ass-spears quit blinking and Target and the other loser, sweaty and exhausted from screaming in pain, hung limply from the straps that held their wrists to the cross bar. Meanwhile, a set of low stocks had been set up in one of the corners of the ring. "Take them back stage and hose them off," instructed the MC and the two female stage hands pushed the platform into the back area. "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen," yelled the MC in his announcer cadence, "we come to our final contests of the evening. In a few moments we will know who is The Ultimate Winner and who is The Ultimate Loser." Lasers and strobe lights flashed throughout the building and the crowd stomped their approval. The Contract "This is an all-out no-holds-barred old fashioned wrasslin' match." growled the MC. "In order to win, you must totally defeat your opponent. That means that your opponent must submit to you and surrender... or you have to overpower your opponent and lock them into the stocks. If any contestant wishes to submit and surrender they must say 'I submit' or 'I surrender' and then voluntarily put themselves into the stocks or allow themselves to be put into the stocks. The non-winner in the winners match will be released from the stocks as soon as the winner is declared. The loser in the losers match will remain in the stocks until we start the party because they are THE ULTIMATE LOSER." The two finalists in the winners bracket were a tall, well muscled man, and Big Momma. They were evenly matched and both were down on the mat at one time or another with the other trying hard to drag them over to the stocks. Neither, however, was able to completely overwhelm the other until the man suddenly grabbed Big Momma between the legs. It was obvious that his thumb had penetrated her cunt and he was trying hard to push at least one of his fingers up her ass so that he could hold onto her like a bowling ball. Big Momma just smiled at him and said, "Big Mistake." Then she pulled her legs together and squeezed tight while she dropped to the ground and rolled. There was a loud snap and the man screamed in pain. Big Momma rolled off him, and his arm dropped limp from her crotch. She grabbed him with her hands locked beneath his stomach. One of her arms was over his shoulder and the other was between his legs as she picked him up and deposited him in front of the stocks. She put his head and his good arm in the openings and closed the upper board. A loud bell indicated that the judges agreed with her decision not to put the broken arm in the stocks. "That is a twelfth Ultimate Winner victory of Big Momma!" yelled the MC. Two crewmen in black shirts and another in a white shirt with a medical emblem on it came into the ring to tend to the "non-winner." Target and her opponent had been brought back into the arena in time to see the end of the winners match. Both were trembling. The other girl leaned close to Target and said, "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't lose again. I've already got two brands. If I get branded a third time, I will be sold as a slave to the highest bidder. I have to win. If you don't submit, I will break you worse than Big Momma broke David." Target just stared at her. First, there was no way that she would intentionally lose. And secondly, what did this girl mean about being branded? Before Target had a chance to ask any questions, however, they were pushed into the ring and the announcer cried out, "Begin!" Neither girl was overly large or powerful, but both were fighting as if their lives depended on it. Target head butted the girl and drove her to the mat, but was not able to hold her down. A few moments later, the girl jumped on Target's back and began pounding her head into the back of Target's. After trying a spin to throw the girl off her back, Target was able to break free simply by falling onto her back and rolling clear. They were both tiring and Target knew that she had to act soon while she still the strength to act. She formed her hand into a wedge like the smaller girl had used to defeat her in the slime pit. She knew that if she could drive her hand into the girl's cunt like had been done to her, she could control her and win. But what she hadn't counted on was this girl grabbing for her tits at the same time that she was going for her cunt. The force of two hands slamming into her breasts killed any momentum Target had for driving her hand into the girl's pussy. She ended up with her hand flailing uselessly between the girl's legs as she, herself, was driven backwards onto the mat. The girl had her hands almost flat against Target's chest at the base of her tits while squeezing as hard as she could to bring her thumbs and fingers into a tight circle. Target felt as if her breasts were going to be torn from her body. "Say it," said the girl in horse whisper. "Say, 'I submit.'" Target shook her head no. "Say it," said the girl again. This time squeezing even tighter with her hands. Target broke. "I submit... I submit... I submit..." she screamed, thinking only of ending the pain. The girl relaxed her grip but did not let go. Instead she partly dragged Target and partly forced her to her crawl across the mat until her head was in the stocks. Then, after placing Target's hands in the cutouts, the girl slammed the upper brace down locking Target in place. "We have a submission. We have a Ultimate Loser." Yelled the MC. "Oh, the shame," he continued in a mocking voice, ".... not only to be The Ultimate Loser, but she didn't even go down fighting." What she had done finally sank in, and Target began to cry loudly and struggle against the restraint of the stocks, but it was too late. "Thank you to all our contestants this evening," cried out the MC. "All of you non-winners in the winners bracket and non-losers in the losers bracket can enter again next month. Who knows, maybe next month you will be our Ultimate Winner!" He dropped his voice to a much lower level and stage whispered. "...or our Ultimate Loser." "Our Ultimate Loser tonight is Target, but since The Ultimate Loser loses EVERYTHING, including her name, for the rest of the night, she is just LOSER." The audience began chanting, "Loo-ser!... Loo-ser!... Loo-ser!... Loo-ser!." The MC turned to some of the stage hands gathered just outside the lights and ordered, "String her up between the posts and we will properly prepare her for the evening." Target was now almost in shock. She was not sure what lay in store for her, but she was sure it was bad. Four security men grabbed her, one on each arm and one on each leg and pulled her across the ring. They then lifted her over the ropes, hoisted her to her feet, and stood her between two poles that had been brought out to the center of the stage area. Her hands were stretched high above her and her legs were widely spread as she was bound between the poles. She was barely able to stand on tiptoe, so most of her weight was supported by her arms. "Loser," began the MC. "As a symbol of the fact that you have lost everything, you will also lose all of the hair on your body." He put his hand against his chest and smiled at her. "As an act of mercy from my kind heart, we will allow you to keep your eyelashes, but everything else must go." He turned to the audience and added with a laugh, "She must not have considered that she might lose or she would have already trimmed the bush. We don't use clippers down there... do we?" The crowd roared "No!" and started laughing. Target, now Loser, tried to pull against her bonds as a man in a white coat approached with a set of hair clippers. He started at the top of her forehead and buzzed a path straight through to the back of her neck. The clippers buzzed again and again as Loser watched her hair cascade down across her body. "She kept crying softly, 'No, no, no, no, no.." Finally the barber was finished with her head. He took a smaller clipper out of his pocket and turned it on. It made a much higher pitched sound as he buzzed off her eyebrows. Then he left the stage. A scantily clad woman with a large blond wig came on stage. She was dressed in a caricature of a beautician's smock, and was carrying what looked like a small crockpot which she set down between loser's legs. "Oooh," she said in a high falsetto voice, "We need to trim the grass a little before we pull the weeds." Everyone laughed as she pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket and clipped loser's neatly trimmed bush down to almost skin level. Then she took a flat stick from her pocket and dipped out something from the pot. Loser screamed as the hot wax touched her skin. It wasn't that it was that hot, but she wasn't prepared for the sensation. Loser then felt the pressure of a cloth being pressed against the wax as it was cooling. She screamed again because she knew what was coming next. There was a strong tug and a ripping sound and pain like a wire cleaning brush being slammed against her skin. Target / Loser had once had her legs waxed and vowed to never do it again because of the pain. She would never have thought to wax her sex, and yet that is what was being done against her will. More hot wax was applied, this time in the crack of her ass cheeks. Another cloth was pressed into the wax before it cooled, and then another tug, another ripping sound, and another scream. This repeated again and again without change except for the fact that the screams became continuous as the waxing proceeded to Target's arms and legs. After all traces of hair were gone from her entire body, the beautician looked off stage and said, "She's ready." The MC returned carrying something that looked like an oversized flashlight. It was totally black and had a large button on the side. He held it up to the audience to show them a name on the side. It said "Laser Tat" in bright red letters. The MC then pointed it at the back wall and pressed a button. The coiled Wicked Whip logo appeared on the wall in bright green light. "Fifteen seconds," he said, "and tonight's Ultimate Loser is branded a loser forever." Target did not quite comprehend what he meant, but then he came over and pressed the open end of the device against her pubic bone just above the opening to her cunt. "Hold her," he said and two security men pushed Target forward against her bonds so that she was held taut. The MC checked that the device was properly placed and pressed the button. Target screamed as a thousand tiny fires raced across her skin. When he removed the device, the coiled Wicked Whip was expertly branded into her skin. The detail created by the laser was precise. It looked very much like a tattoo, but was branded totally into the skin rather than just being pigment in the upper layer. Target continued to cry and whimper but at least the preparation was finally over. The "beautician" took a bottle of lotion from her pocket and began to rub it into the now smooth area between Target's legs. At first the lotion felt soothing, but then Loser began to squirm as the hand rubbing her began to be more than soothing and the beautician's fingers began to slide deeper and deeper into her cleft. Target / Loser felt the beautician's other hand now on her backside, full of more lotion. Fingers began to slide between her ass cheeks and into her slit, tantalizing her clit and prodding and poking into her inner places. Fingers slid in and out of her ass and her cunt and loser again began to moan - now not in pain, but in arousal. She could feel herself turning red as the shame and embarrassment of what her body was doing began to become real to her. Everything that had preceded this was beyond her control, there was no shame in that. But this was her own doing. She was allowing herself to become turned on by a stranger's hands while she was hanging naked on stage. And even more shameful was the fact that the thought of what her body was doing in front of strangers made the fires within her burn even brighter. Loser's hips began to buck and her body began to writhe in her bonds. "Tell us what you are," ordered the beautician. "I don't know what you mean," gasped Loser. "Yes you do. You know exactly what I mean. Tell us what you are or I will stop." "No!" yelled Loser. Then she continued in a pleading voice, "Don't stop! Please..., don't stop." "Then tell us what you are and what you want," taunted the woman. She pinched Loser's clit and twisted it slightly with her fingers. "What are you? What kind of woman would enter a contest knowing that she had no chance to win and could become The Ultimate Loser? What kind of woman would be turned on by hanging naked in front of a paying audience? What kind of woman would enjoy having her cunt played with in public. What is that kind of woman are you? What are you?" She once again pinched Loser's clit hard between the tips of her fingers. Loser cried out in an almost scream and yelled, "She's a slut!" She started crying and continued, "I'm a slut! I'm a slut who wanted to be degraded in public! I'm a slut who will do anything to cum! Please, make me cum! Please, please, please, please, please..., make me cum!" The audience was screaming "No! NO! Make her suffer!" The MC came back onto the stage and asked, "Loser, do you want to cum?" Loser hung her head and answered in a hoarse whisper, "Yes!" The audience laughed and she cried out, "Please let me cum!" Turning to the audience the MC announced, "Big Momma, as Ultimate Winner, has claimed first rights. But Loser will be available for any and all of you who have purchased special tickets. When your ticket number comes up on the screen, come forward and take what Loser has no choice but to give." Two stage hands released Loser from the straps and dragged her across the stage. Big Momma was lying back on a large pillow with her legs spread out in front of her. Additional pillows supported her head and shoulders so that it looked as if she were sitting in a big comfortable chair. As Loser was thrust down between her legs, Momma said, "If you cum before I do, I will take you back into that ring and personally tear you apart. If you don't hold back your cum, you will feel pain from me that will make everything to this point seem like pleasure. I don't care how many men you give your pussy or your ass to, but your orgasm and your mouth are mine until you have brought me off twice. Now get you sorry-ass mouth down her and start licking and sucking.... and you had better make it really good or that bus won't be taking you home tonight." Loser felt sexual heat boiling up inside her like she had never felt before, but somehow she held back her climax and lowered her lips to Big Momma's open cunt. As she began to lap at the juices seeping from that slit, she felt someone grab her hips from behind and suddenly a prick was thrust forcefully into her own sopping slit. The thrusts of the person behind her forced her face harder into Big Momma's crotch and forced her tongue deeper between Momma's labia. She began trying to find Momma's clit so that she could start taking her to her first orgasm. She found it, and Loser's tongue was soon licking circles around Big Momma's love button. Momma was bucking furiously against Loser's face, but Momma was a woman of endurance. Two men had already spent themselves in Loser before Momma began moaning. The third man chose the less traveled route and entered Loser's ass, but she was so absorbed in trying to make Momma climax, that she hardly noticed. While the fifth, or perhaps it was the sixth, man erupted into her cunt, Loser finally felt the quivers of an orgasm beginning in Big Momma. She licked and sucked and rubbed her face across Momma's steaming cunt. Finally with a deep grunt Big Momma snapped her legs together, almost crushing loser's head between her massive thighs. Loser thought she would suffocate before Momma's legs relaxed slightly and Momma's voice boomed out, "That's one." She laughed and added in a softer voice, "The second one always takes a lot longer, honey, so you'd better get back to work with that tongue." It did take a lot longer. Loser lost track of how many men fucked her cunt and ass while she tried to bring Big Momma to a second orgasm. It was becoming harder and harder for her to even move because her own body wanted to explode, but Big Momma had not yet even started to breathe heavily. Finally, about the time the dyke with the strapon attacked her ass, Loser started to feel the swelling in Momma's clit that meant an orgasm was starting to build. She lost herself in licking and sucking thinking only - perhaps even saying out loud - "When Momma cums, I can cum.... When Momma cums, I can cum.... When Momma cums, I can cum." Eventually Momma was moaning and grunting and Loser was grunting just as loud between her legs trying desperately to hold back a raging flood. Finally, Momma let out a tremendous guttural roar and once again clamped down on Loser's face with her thighs. Freed now to climax, Loser exploded. Her face was trapped on Momma's cunt, but the rest of her body jumped and thrashed as she experienced an unbelievable orgasm that seemed to continue forever. The man who was trying to fuck her from behind was thrown off. He grabbed her, pushed her down, and re-entered her, this time anally. Loser exploded again. Momma released her head and slid from beneath her. Loser was vaguely aware of the MC's voice calling out, "She's all your's ladies and gentlemen. You've got an hour until closing time so make the best of it." And then suddenly she was awash in a sea of cocks and cunts. Some were in or against her mouth; some were in her ass; some were in her cunt. At one point she was pretty sure that there were two pricks in her cunt at the same time, but everything was blurred by a overwhelming haze of unbelievable lust like she had never felt before. Finally, a loud bell sounded and the MC announced, "Closing time. Time to let Loser crawl home until next month." Target / Loser felt Big Momma pull her up to her feet and walk her out the door of the club and back to the van. She was naked and dripping with sweat, beer and cum. Big Momma threw her face down on an old rug in the back of the van and said, "Don't want you rollin' 'round back here." She spread her arms and tied her hands to the supports of the front seat and then spread her legs and tied her feet to the attachment slots for the backmost of the rear seats. A few minutes later the van started up and drove into the night. Target actually slept for most of the trip back. She was awakened by the sun shining through the windows of the van and by the bouncing of the van as it went down what was obviously a not-very-well maintained gravel road. The bouncing lessened when the van slowed and turned off into what appeared to be a farm yard. At least Target thought she could see a barn through the window of the van. The rear doors opened. Big Momma untied the ropes and pulled Target from the van. Another person was standing a little ways away holding what appeared to be a large video camera. Big Momma carried Target over into an old, fenced section of the barnyard and literally threw her out into a large muddy area that stank of pig manure. "You've got a choice, Target," said Momma. "You can do what I tell you to do and I drive away leaving you here, or you can refuse and I take you back behind the barn and bury you with the dead pigs. Your choice." "What do I have to do?" asked Target. Her voice was quivering. After all she had been through, what could be demanded of her that was lower than what had already been done. "My client wants one final image of you degrading yourself." yelled back Big Momma. "But you have to do it to yourself." Target stifled a cry, but her lower jaw was trembling as she waited for Big Momma to finish. "If you want me to leave you here alive, you lay down in that pig wallow and you roll yourself around until you are good and covered with mud and pig shit. Then I want you to lay on your back in the middle of that muck and masturbate yourself to climax. And make sure it's real, 'cause the camera is going to do a real tight closeup of your face for the big 'O'." Target slowly fell to her knees and began to scoop up mud and smear it on her body. "Don't pick it up," yelled Momma, "Roll in it." Target fell on her side and began to turn slowly in the mud and muck. The Contract After she had rolled completely over three or four times and was covered from head to toe in the black slime, Momma yelled, 'That's good enough. Now let's see you rub that mud into your twat until you cum." Target lay back and put her hands between her legs and slowly began rubbing herself. There was no response from her body. It wasn't until she looked over and saw the cameraman leaning against the fence obviously zooming in on a close up between her legs that suddenly she felt the heat rising within her. "Oh God!" she said aloud, "How can I be turned on by this. Having someone make of video of me doing this is turning me on! Knowing that this could be on the internet forever is taking me to orgasm. What am I? What have I become?" Soon she was chanting an answer to her own question, loudly yelling, "Slut..., Slut..., Slut..., Slut..., Slut..., Slut..., Slut...," in time with the rhythm of her hands until her chant turned into a wail and she arched her back high into the air with her hands held tightly over her clit. What seemed like a long time later, her body began to relax. As her muscles released, her heels slipped suddenly in the mud, and she slapped back down into the muck and lay there breathing heavily. She heard an engine start. As she lifted her head to see what was happening, she could see a blue van pulling out onto the gravel road and speeding away. Target slowly lifted her sore body up out of the pig wallow and walked over toward the barn looking for a hose or something to wash the filth from her body. = = = = = = = = Three days later Mary Morrison received a package by special messenger that had been relayed through two other special messenger companies. It was a finished video disk and several disks of raw video. She sat down with a glass of wine to watch what she hoped would be exactly what she asked for. It was. Big Momma and her video team had captured every detail of everything that was done to The Target. Mary replayed the final images of Target masturbating in the pig wallow several times, finally letting it play as she stroked herself to a very satisfying orgasm. The video even had credits at the end. Mary watched as the names of the cameraman and video editors were scrolled across the screen like at the end of a major motion picture. When the credits ended, Big Momma appeared on the screen. She was looking straight at the camera as she spoke. "I've done some weird shit for weird people in my life," she began, "but Mary, you are the weirdest. I know you checked me out very carefully before you hired me, but I checked you out just as carefully. I was impressed by how you made it impossible for anyone to trace anything back to you. I never would have found you tracing things back, but once you gave me the name of The Target, I traced things forward when I checked her out." Momma smiled and looked directly into the camera, "I knew who you were from before I filmed you fucking yourself with that dildo on your apartment balcony." Mary gasped as she watched Big Momma speak directly to her. Momma's eyes were now looking directly into Mary's eyes. "You planned your fantasy vacation very carefully from the moment where The Target - you - were pulled into my van, to the final scene where I dumped you into the pig pen at your grandmother's farm." Momma smiled a broad smile. "Yes, I knew it was your grandmother's farm. The one you inherited. I know you rent out the land, but use the buildings as a vacation retreat. I also know that you won a whole lot more money in that lottery than people think you did. You bought two tickets with different big ball numbers when you were on that business trip to Pennsylvania. One was almost the jackpot. That's the one you told everyone about. The other was the full jackpot that you claimed through a dummy corporation in another state." Mary sat mesmerized by what she was seeing and hearing on the screen. Big Momma continued, "I know you can afford it, but honey, don't waste your money setting this up again with somebody else. If you want to go back up to the Wicked Whip, just give me a call. I'll pick you up and take you up there any weekend. Hell, I'll even tie you up and make you ride naked in the back with a dildo buzzing in both holes - no charge." The camera zoomed in a little tighter on Momma's face. Her voice became softer, "And if you lose two more times, I'll buy your sorry ass so you can be my personal slave all of the time. I ain't quiet as rich as you are, but honey, I am just as kinky and I know I could outbid anyone else there except you." Big Momma laughed. The camera zoomed out to full frame. Momma was standing there naked and oiled. The lights glistened on her muscular body. "We could have some GOOD times together, honey. You told the people at that office you work at that you were going on a one-month fantasy vacation. That was almost true, but your fantasy - so far - has only lasted one weekend." A phone number appeared on the bottom of the screen. "Give me a call and we can find something else to do with the next three weeks... and maybe even longer than that." Mary picked up the remote and reset the video back to the scene in the pig pen. While it was playing, she brought up her email program and opened the draft letter of resignation that she had written but never sent after she found out that she had been a big winner in the lottery. She pushed the SEND button. Then, watching herself masturbating in the mud, she picked up her phone and called Big Momma. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = END OF STORY Please remember to vote by clicking on one of the stars at the end of the story. If you really liked it, click 5. If you really hated it, click 1, but please click something. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = The Contract My lips stuck together as they usually did when my mouth was this dry. It usually was when I talked to this delectable young woman. "It's a simple problem, really," the girl said. Her deep chocolate eyes burned into mine. "I can't make decent money without an education, and I can't get an education without money." She leaned forward a few degrees, though I couldn't tell whether she did it to emphasize her point or show me some cleavage. The latter she had. Creamy smooth skin, pale, and draped over small but perfectly shaped breasts. Her top was thin enough that saw her nipples making little buds. I forced myself to look back at her face and asked "So how can I be of help?" "I need a Sugar Daddy. I really do. It's the only good answer." I thought about the concept for a moment. She had some logic. She lived day to day with a series of physically hard minimum wage jobs. Her mom lived on a disability check; her drunken father had died before she finished middle school. In my conversations with her, she had shown herself to possess a good vocabulary, intense motivation and exceptional looks. She had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday last week. She had some logic. And when I say looks, I mean more than the blonde hair that surrounded her face like the velvet in a jewelry box. She had those enormous dark eyes, a wide mouth with smooth sensual lips, and high cheekbones just saved from gauntness with a layer of subcutaneous fat. She showed a hint of dimples. Her nose had a tiny crook at the end, almost unnoticeable, something she certainly obsessed over. She smiled easily, showing straight white teeth and her laugh seemed genuine. Minimalist eyebrows. The dark eyeliner she favored enhanced the Hersey of her eyes. Sweet Brown, like translucent dark sugar..... Celsey, one of those names that constantly sought mispronunciation, very clearly wanted a way to use what assets she had to gain those she wanted. But was she hinting or thinking out loud? "Have you given this enough thought?" I asked, more to gain time for my own thoughts than to gain information. My hardening lap demanded a few seconds at least. "Look, I like nice things. I drive a BMW – not a new one, but it's nice. I worked and saved to get it, and now some asshole plowed into me at an intersection and it's destroyed. He has shit insurance, and I have what I can afford, which leaves me without a decent car." She twisted in her chair, tugging at the tiny skirt that displayed her very nice long legs. "I've started Community College twice, and both times I couldn't stay because I don't quite qualify for any scholarships and I can't make enough while I'm in school to stay there. I need a Sugar Daddy." "How do you see that working?" I asked. "I mean, hotels rent by the day, apartments by the month, houses for years. Why not marry some guy your age?" "I've lived with two, both looked fine for a few weeks, but as soon as my school cost more than their beer or sports stuff they started in on me to quit." She huffed emphatically. "No guy my age seems to have the maturity I need. Or the cash." "Well, in my opinion, what older guys would want is access. Access to your body, for whatever stuff they wanted to do. You OK with that?" "You think old guys invented blow jobs and anal?" Anger clouded her face briefly. "I'm pretty desperate. I don't want to wind up beaten to death, but what else do you think they could want?" "I think you'd have to discuss it in detail. Do they want to cum every night? Do they want you to tell them they have a big cock? Would you need to swallow? How much money, and how would you get paid?" I pushed the issue a little, coarsened my language to judge her response. "I can go to school for $12,000 a year. Minimum wage gets me around $20,000, but it takes all my time to earn it. If I could earn that or a little more fucking one guy it would free up my time. I figure he would have to give me some support on a regular basis, but nobody would give me all of it up front." "Are you willing to let him check out the services before a commitment? Would you screw a potential client? Let's say he's in agreement. Are you willing to swear off other guys or at least ensure you always use condoms so he wouldn't have to worry? Most men in that position would want an absolute guarantee that no one would know. Would you be available anytime he wanted? What about the occasional vacation jaunt?" "Sex is OK, but most of the time the guys I've fucked can't get me off. I've got no problem with any of those things as long as I can manage to go to school." "What about threesomes? What if he wants to watch you with another girl, or even another guy?" "Those don't bother me. I have to find someone I know well enough to trust that he wouldn't hurt me.... Someone like you." This time the eye contact was more intense, and both of us blushed a little. Moving from abstract discussion to concrete was hard. Very hard. And so was I. "Like me?" I coughed out. "Sure, I've known you for what, 3 years? You're decent, nice looking, always clean and neat." She sat there quietly, staring into my eyes. "Well, uh, I do need..." "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you," Yes she could; that was just punitive. "I find myself in a position that I need some services like that." I whispered. "Spit it out. Are you asking me?" Her eyes became the size of the moon, at least. A full moon. In a very serious face. Oh God, what was going to happen if I crossed that line? Past kidding or misunderstanding? "I need a Sugar Baby. But it would have to be very confidential. No one could know." Her smile stopped the hammering of my heart; I had felt faint. "Oh, we can have a deal, for sure." "I want you to sign an agreement that says you solicited this, that you are 21, and that you know it's illegal. That way if it blows up, I can at least prove I didn't coerce you." "Sure." And she stood and crushed her body against mine. "When do we start?" The Contract Darren stared at the contract before him on the table. Jade and the "independent" lawyer stood behind him, she in a conservative blue business skirt and white blouse, he in a black suit and tie, Darren in a black skirt and a Robin's egg blue blouse of silk, his feet fidgeting in his black high heels. His hands, long nails painted bright red, jerked impulsively toward the pen on the desk, then away again in panic. He felt his silicone breast inserts slip slightly on his chest, sweat lubricating their movement like water under a glacier. He licked and bit his lip slightly, tasting the latest application of his lipstick. It was late in the day, and light streaked across the heavy, oak-laden room in sundrenched rays of dust, like a film noir starring Lauren Bacall. This was not your average business meeting. The lawyer brushed his moustache downward and said, "Read it carefully Mr. Weber. I have read it and my advice is that you do not sign this. It's too sweeping in scope and there are no real safeguards. It is not that you are agreeing to be a slave to Ms. McTier, as that cannot stand as being legal (and you can walk away any time you wish anyway); it is that you are signing over your assets to her. That is legal, and it is final. Not only that, but it creates a financial dependence on her for your well being. In essence, you become penniless and dependent. Mr. Weber, it should be obvious. Do not sign this. That is my official recommendation." The lawyer stopped and turned, looking out the window at the fading day. After a few moments of awkward silence in the room, he sighed and said with equal gravity, "I cannot make you do anything Mr. Weber; I can only advise you, as that is my job. Nonetheless, if you do choose to sign, I will witness it, but with trailing notes of my choosing. Is that clear?" Jade smiled at the lawyer when he added that last part. Her dimples showed bravely in her flawless face surrounded as it was by an uneven cut of dark auburn hair. Her lips were full and red, and her fingernails were impossibly long and strong. She spoke to Darren, "The important thing Darren is that you trust me, that I will only "force" you to do things that deep inside you want to do. Your slavery is really not to me, but it's an addiction to your desires. That addiction will remain with you whether you become my slave or not. But as my slave, you will have access to all your desires and fetishes for as long as I choose to own you. If, for any reason, I don't want to own you any longer, I will find a suitable replacement owner, or, as is also stated in this contract, I will release you from service and give to you $80,000 to start life anew. I have no plans to ever release you, as you will always be useful in some way. In the mean time I will love you, train you, clothe you, punish you as I see fit. In return, you will service my desires. Those desires are listed before you. Read them." She leaned over, a slight creaking sound betraying the leather corset beneath her conservative dress. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Your peace of mind is right here. Forever." She tapped the contract on the desk. "Think of the limits to your fantasies. Now go beyond them, way beyond them. That's what is offered here." She patted it again. She glanced briefly at the lawyer and added, "Mr. Johnson says it should be obvious what to do. I say the same thing, but the context is reversed." Darren smelled the leather and perfume, felt her kiss, heard the leather and the silky smooth voice of desire. All his assets. Slavery, total slavery...by his own consent. This was silly. But he had been lost in his faux life, had answered her internet ad to be her slave, had been smothered with all his fetishes over the last glorious week, and instead of feeling weakened, he felt stronger. True freedom was removal of choice. Who said that, he wondered? He continued to read, but soon the fog of fantasy betrayed him, and the words, especially the key words of his dreams, exploded into mist on the pages, disappearing into the void of want. He flipped the pages until he stared at the last, a straight line above his full printed name. He looked at the lawyer and said with a tremor in his voice, "I've made up my mind." "Mr. Weber, don't sign it." "Mr. Johnson," Darren said, "The idea of being totally owned by a woman is my ultimate desire and fantasy. You know nothing of that. Look at me for God's sake! How can I go on in the vanilla world when I want to be...like this?" He touched the bra holding his breasts, glanced at Jade and added, "I trust her, and I wish to sign." Jade couldn't believe this was finally happening. She watched as in a dream as Darren finally grasped the pen and signed with a strong flourish. She followed, and then the lawyer. A duplicate was also signed by all. It was done. The lawyer let out another long sigh and said, "Well, good luck with this Mr. Weber. I will list your house right away for the recommended price of $890,000 and when it is sold I will transfer the proceeds to Ms. McTier. Your other savings and deposits will also be transferred. You do realize what you have done, do you not?" "Yes. Yes I do," he said, also in a dream. The rays of sundried dust flashed out quickly and the room became darker to match the oak. Darren felt the warmth of a decision made wash over him. Then the steel collar closed on his neck, and he heard the lock clink shut with a finality that made the signing of the contract but a dim memory. As Jade attached the leash to the collar, she turned to the lawyer and said, "You don't mind if I don't show you out do you? I have some urgent business to attend to." "No, not at all. The business is done." Then he turned to Darren and said, "Mr. Weber, Darren, err, Darlene I guess you will be now, I don't fully understand this, or you, but clearly this is your right, to make this act, and I have to go with it I guess. Ms. McTier, you have made a commitment here as well. My trailing notes will have a provision that I can interview "Darlene" after three months, in private, to make sure he is being treated properly. If he divulges anything that suggests he is not, I will call the police." He glared at Jade and said, "Is that clear?" Jade laughed out loud and said, "You really don't have a clue what he and I want, do you? Of course you can interview him, but he'll be a lot different then, and you'll feel pretty foolish I think. But, whatever, we'll see you in three months." With that she jerked the leash and pulled Darren away, out of the room. The lawyer stared after them, smiled and shook his head. Now he had seen everything, he thought. As he began to gather up the papers, he heard the clip-clop of two pairs of high heels disappear down the long hallway to God-knows-where and to God-knows-what. He turned and left the room in the opposite direction, stopping briefly to smell the scents left behind by the slave and his owner. Leather, and something else, what was it? He couldn't place it, but he felt a knot of excitement in his lower abdomen, his groin. "Jesus Christ!" he said out loud, and he took himself to the door, let himself out, and climbed into his Lexus. As he drove away, he resolved to never come back here, not in three months, not ever. She was too much of something, too much to risk being exposed to...what was that smell anyway? Was it even a smell? The Contract 24 year old Sarah Lucas was working at a small office selling all kinds of things. She had been working for this company for around 6 months and has settled in nicely. A brief history for Sarah. She grew up in one of the more deprived London suburbs and despite this she had fared far better than her friends at school. At 16 she went off the rails and rebelled against her parents. She got into drinking and drugs. At 19 after a near fatal over dose on ecstasy she vowed to clean up her act and enrolled in community college which she excelled at and after a couple of office jobs landed her current role. It had been 5 years since her dance with death and that girl was all but a distant memory. She still went out most weekends and partied but now she stuck to booze. Life was sweet for Sarah. That was all about to change. Sarah was unaware that the company she worked for was a front for an illegal mob operation. The man she thought was her kind hearted boss was in fact a ruthless criminal who had killed or ordered to be killed over 30 people who stood in his way. David Taylor had also notice Sarah around the office and took a shine to her. He was happily married to Janet but he had certain sexual urges that she found too distasteful but she allowed him to have a play things in order scratch his sexual itches. She was also a sadist and loved to abuse and humiliate hi girls. His last girl had moved away after he released her from his service. He had a set routine on recruiting a play thing. First he would get them to do something illegal, mostly without their knowledge. Then blackmailing them to sign a contract binding them to his service until their 30th birthday and then he would release them from this contract with the fear of death should they tell anyone. He treated them well but had to make sure they played ball. So David had set his sights on Sarah and so he started to plan her downfall into his personal service. Sarah mentioned in conversation that she was planning a weekend away with a friend to Amsterdam. David asked if she minded picking up a package that was supposed to be a gift for Janet. Sarah agreed and was given the address to collect to package. David contacted his mole in the customs department to recoded Sarah coming through and gather evidence of her trafficking heroine across boarders. The package would only contain perfume but would be switched out for drugs once she was safely in the country. Sarah enjoyed her weekend away and collected David's package unaware it had sealed her fate in his plans. David asked her to drop it around to his home after work. Janet let her in and took the package from her and took it to David's office. In there it was swapped for the decoy package with the real drugs in it. David also had the video of Sarah carrying the package through the airport. Sarah greeted David as he entered the lounge. He said she was in real trouble and that he could help her. She got very worried when he showed her the now open box with the drugs in. He also showed her stills from the CCTV including a fake X-ray showing the box containing the drugs. David sat beside her placed a hand on her knee and told her to relax. He would make sure it all went away if she signed a contract to become his personal play thing. Sarah looked puzzled as Janet walked in and handed her a stiff drink. She outlined that Sarah was to be in their personal service to do whatever they asked or the evidence would go to the police. Also should she try to tell anyone about this arrangement she would be most sorry. Frightened Sarah did not know what to think. David produced a contract and a pen and without thinking she signed it. Still dazzled she did not resist as she was stood up and stripped naked in the middle of the lounge. David came up behind her and cupped one of her breasts in his hand as the others rubbed her arsehole. As he kissed her neck he pushed three fingers into her she let out a muffed yelp as he invaded her bottom. He led her over to the dinning table bent her over it and dropped his trousers and pushed his cock deep into her arse. Tears formed in her eyes as her boss took her anal virginity. He was rough and soon was fucking her mercilessly. She was crying from the assault but this just spurred him on till he emptied his seed into her bowels. He collapsed on top of her pinning her to the table. He whispered in her ear that she belong to him now. David climbed off of her and she just lay there whimpering. She put up no resistance as her arms were pulled behind her and her wrist locked in handcuffs. She forced to her feet by her hair and led to the centre of the room. She was surprised to see it was Janet who was guiding her. She was pushed down to her knees. Janet fastened a ball gag around Sarah's mouth. Sarah noticed David was sat in an arm chair with a glass of whiskey in one hand stroking his cock with the other. Janet left briefly and returned with a chair. She pulled Sarah on to it in her knees with her bottom sticking out. David laughed and said he just liked to use girls as he saw fit, but his wife was a sadist and got off hurting other girls. Sarah's eyes widened and a muffled scream as the riding crop Janet was holding ripped into the soft flesh of her arse. Janet delighted in whipping Sarah several times before pausing. She bent over and licked the blood from her fresh wounds. Sarah was hysterical but her screams could not be heard beneath the gag. Janet took a large butt plug and inserted it into Sarah's sore hole. She then took a 8inch vibrator and fed it into her pussy. She turned the power on to max and laughed as Sarah bucked from the pleasure pulsating through her body. Janet dropped her tweed skirt and walk to Sarah's head. She yanked off the ball gag and thrust her face in to her cunt. She told Sarah to lick her good. At first Sarah lick slow. But a couple of whacks from the crop got her lick with purpose. Janet held Sarah's face to her pussy as Sarah licked as deep as her tongue could reach. Sarah flinched as she felt a hand on her bottom. She felt the vibrator being withdrawn and soon replaced by David's cock. Sarah felt giddy from the assault she was going through. Janet came on her face then slapped her raw arse cheek as David fucked with out mercy. He did not last long and pulled out too shot is second load over her back. At this point Sarah passed out. She awoke in a darkened room laying in a double bed. She was wearing a nightgown and her wounds had be treated and dressed. After few minutes Janet walked in fully dressed and all smiles. Sarah felt afraid but Janet put her at easy and said there would be no more playing today. Janet left Sarah's clothes and went down stairs. Sarah dressed and followed her down. In the lounge David was watching television whilst Janet made Sarah a cup of tea. As they sat down Janet outlined the terms of the contract. Sarah was their property until her 30th birthday. Until then she would become their live in personal assistant. She would be free to live her social life but was on call 24/7 should they want her. She was to submit to their every desire or face punishment. They told her to go home and say nothing to no one until they made the official announcement at the office the next day. Sarah left and drove home. Her arse was sore but not as bad as she expected given the punishment she endured. She wondered what the coming days and years had in store for her as she drove into the night. The Contract I had a good childhood. Nice parents, two older sisters, plenty of friends in the neighborhood. Things changed around 10th grade. All of a sudden girls and boys were different, sex entered into the picture. For some reason, I was horrible around girls, just couldn't talk to them, relate to them. I was a brain, made perfect grades. Looking back, I was a nerd, tall, skinny, gawky, interested in technical things. It lasted through college. I was a virgin at 22 when I finished college and went to work in the high tech field. I was with a small start-up company and we worked forever. Long hours, lousy diets, but stimulating in a way because we were breaking new ground. That's when I was introduced to whores. My very first sex was with an extremely well built, very attractive whore. I loved it. She sucked my cock. Actually I think she made love to my cock. She told me I was bigger than most men and that she just loved my cock. She told me how to do the same to her body, so I learned to suck her breasts and lick her pussy and discovered that I liked it all as much as she seemed to. Then we fucked. And fucked. The best evening and night of my life. It cost a lot but my boss paid for it, for me and several other male employees. So I started using whores as often as I could either get my boss to pay for them or else afford them myself. Good whores, higher priced whores who were universally attractive with great bodies. Ideal sex partners in my opinion. Then another guy I worked with and me had an idea for a product and we got some venture capital money and started our own company. Once we had proven our concept a very large corporation paid us millions of dollars and bought us out. I then started work on a variation of that product and managed to create my own business. A very successful, fast growing business. I have offers to buy my company and some day I might accept one of them. But for right now, I'm doing fine. My own business, more money that I know what to do with -- I have a staff that invests it for me but much of it goes back into the business. And I get fucked regularly by high priced whores. I'm 26 years old and have a degree of fame, at least in the high tech world, the business world, and I enjoy my life a lot. I get a phone call from a counselor at the high school I went to some years before, asking if I would talk to a group of students, seniors, about the college experience and working and making a living. I remember that he taught there when I was there and I agree. So, here I am at my old high school, standing with Mr. Beltran, a gray haired man who's taught for thirty years and now is a guidance counselor, in the front of a classroom as young people file in. "There's Racquel," he says, "I didn't expect to see her here." "Who?" I asked, I hadn't really been paying a lot of attention. "Racquel Gutierrez," he says, nodding toward one side of the room. "The good looking dark haired girl. Sad story behind her. Her parents were illegals but she and her brother were both born here and about four years ago, the rest of her family were killed in an automobile accident. So she's been a ward of the court, living in foster homes. When she turns eighteen in a short while, she'll be tossed on her own, the county quits paying for foster care once you're eighteen. She's perhaps our best student, very smart and extremely nice. But she's going to be on the street in a few months and yet here she is trying to find out about college and life." The girl he mentioned was indeed very good looking. Hispanic, dark hair, dark eyes. Seems tall and slim and yet I can see she has a definite female body. Seventeen years old, a student with no make up on, yet beautiful. She could be a model or actress, she's such a beauty. Not a cute face, like the girl next door, but high cheek bones and an aquiline nose. If she were an actress, she should be cast as the queen, very regal. And then the class starts and I have to talk and answer questions. When the class ends, several students come up, including the dark haired beauty. She tells me she has no money at all, needs to find a job and wants to go to college. I tell her that I knew a guy that worked as a janitor at the Chevron refinery in El Segundo at night and went to the University of Southern California. USC , not some state school, and he finally graduated, paying his own way. So it's possible, particularly with student loans. She needs to find a job better than flipping burgers. I suggest that Mr. Beltran could help by perhaps aiming her at some government job, at the state or country or even the federal government, the pay is much better. Perhaps even private companies, like manufacturing companies. I said that perhaps my company might even have a job for someone with a high school education even though the top jobs all go to people who are technically capable, usually with a lot of education. Privately, as I look at her, I think that she might make a terrific high priced prostitute. I'd be very willing to pay top dollar to fuck her. Then I'm gone and that's over. Actually it isn't over. I go to Human Resources the next day and say that if a young girl named Racquel Gutierrez comes in they should seriously see if they could offer her some work. I even tell them, this isn't an order, I'm not saying you have to, I just know this girl is looking for work so if we have something she could do, it would be kind if we could employ her. Then, about three or four days later, I'm coming down the elevator, out into the lobby, and this beautiful young girl runs up to me and kisses me. I mean really kisses me, on the lips and seriously, and tells me how she just got hired. I look around embarrassed. Later, I talk with one of the women in Human Resources who smiles and says I looked as if I had been ambushed when Racquel ran up to me. A week or so later, I stop into the company cafeteria for lunch and Racquel is there so I sit across from her and ask how things are going. She gushes out a lot to me. Because of Mr. Beltran she'd filed for scholarships and had actually been offered some at a couple different colleges. She had also realized that she'd have to wait a semester or two before she could start because she wasn't making that much money and she needed to pay for a place to stay and for food and clothing. Because she had no credit history and no bank account, she had to pay cash and it was all very close but she was exuberant about thanking me for giving her a job. Even though I make sure she knows I didn't personally hire her, she still gives me the credit. Apparently she turned eighteen, the county stopped making any payments to her foster family, so she was out. At the same time, she had this job so she found a cheap motel by the day to stay at until she got her first pay check. She was behind and in debt but could see her way clear to getting started. She kisses me again. Fully on the lips, a real kiss. I feel for her but am not sure what to do. So I do nothing. A week later, I run into her in the cafeteria again. She's running into problems. The guy who runs the motel wants payment from her even though she hasn't received her first pay check from us. Apparently he was willing to use her body in lieu of cash. I pull a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet and give it to her and suggest she use it. Then I do something that perhaps I shouldn't have. I tell her that she is beautiful. That a lot of men would be willing to pay a lot of money to use her body. She could get much more than just a free week at a cheap motel. She could make good money as a high level prostitute. She wonders how I know this so I tell her that I use prostitutes regularly and they make very good money, around a thousand dollars for one night. Of course they have a limited life as a high wage earner but it's a way to get her through tough times. "But, I'd have to have sex with whoever hired me, wouldn't I?" she asks. "Different races, fat or slim, nice or obnoxious. And I'd have to do whatever they wanted." I agree that this is true. She then goes on, "It's not like they're all you. I mean, it would be easy to say yes to you but perhaps not to many of the others. You're nice, you're good looking, you're kind." We have a gym in the company so I work out regularly but good looking was something new to me.Her answer gives me a thought though. You have to understand my mind doesn't work the same when it comes to females. "So, I could hire you and pay you to have sex with me?" I ask. "Oh, that's a whole nother subject," she says. "It was just my response to your suggesting I become a prostitute.' A bunch of thoughts run through my mind. I'd used prostitutes a lot, perhaps hundreds of times. So, I had used the same one several times. I had never planned on it but using the same one more than once was not bad, based on my experience. So I say. "Just for discussion, let's say I offer to pay your way through college, to support you as you go to college, and in return you sleep with me, you're my, uh . . live-in companion." She just looks at me for a moment. "Since this is just for discussion, I'd probably agree to do that. But why should you pay thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands before it's over, to support me through college when all you're getting in return is sex." "I've been using prostitutes for years. I spend something like $70,000 or more a year on them. So using you wouldn't cost me a lot different and I'd have you available a lot more often than the hired girls that are usually there for just one night. I hadn't thought of it but you might even be a bargain for me. Besides, you're extremely attractive. I can't imagine I'd be giving up anything by using you." "How would I know that you'd actually come through and not just use me and then kick me out?" "Oh. I never thought of that. I know me and I know I wouldn't do that. But, we could draw up an agreement that says I support you through until you finish college in exchange for your, uh, companionship." "How about the rest of the time. I will need clothes, need to eat, how do I manage to live?" "I guess I'd have to pay for that, too. As a percentage, it probably wouldn't add a whole lot." "You're serious about this, aren't you? I mean, if I agree, you're willing to do everything you've said." "I haven't thought about it very deeply but, yeah. I'd be willing to do all that if you are willing to up hold up your side. I mean, prostitutes always make me feel as if they enjoy what's happening, are willing to cooperate in anything practically. Anything sexual. It has to be something that we both enjoy, that's to both our advantages. You can't hate what's happening and begrudge every moment and neither can I. We'd have to include an out, a way for either of us to cancel the agreement if it isn't working." 'What about my working here?" "I haven't thought it through but if you're going to go to school full time and spend nights with me, you'd have to quit working here or maybe anywhere. The job with me would be full time." "Huh," she says, looking at me. Then she grins. "I'll do it. Do we start today?" "Well, let's see. We need to get you on the pill if you're not on it. We need to get you clothes to see you through school. We need to apply to whatever school you want to go to, get whatever scholarships we can. Get you a credit card and what, a driver's license or some ID? A passport for when I make trips overseas. But I guess that could happen later if you wanted to start right now. I'm certainly interested in starting as soon as possible. You're a beautiful woman, Racquel." "I need to quit my job. I sort of hate to, I liked having a job. But I think this will be better. Maybe you can write up the agreement. I'll go get my clothes out of the room I have and pay the greaseball that runs the place. Cash. Then I come back, what, here and ask for you?" No. I'll write down my address, why not come there. I'll get out of here early and be home before you. O.k?" An hour or so later, she's at my door. With four cardboard boxes containing everything she owns. Pictures of her father and mother and brother, letters from schools about scholarships, clothes. "I'm sorry," I told her, "I never thought. How did you manage to get all of this here?" "I called a cab. I gave the driver the hundred dollars you gave me and asked him for fifteen dollars. I used that to pay the man who ran the motel where I was staying. I think he was unhappy, he had anticipated getting a different kind of payment. But I'm not unhappy. And then here, the cab driver helped me get the boxes into the elevator and even gave me a few dollars back from the hundred. So I'm here." "I never planned ahead. I need to find some place for you to keep all of your things. I have plenty of room, it's just a matter of picking some place convenient. Well, now that you're here, we should move on. Maybe we should start by taking a shower, getting clean, is that o.k?" "Sure, if that's what you want." She's being submissive, maybe scared a little about what's going to happen. We move into the bedroom and I start getting undressed so she does too. Then she's naked. I can't help notice that she's really looking at my erection. "Racquel, you're absolutely beautiful. You have the sexiest body possible." I knew she would have a good body. But she was even better than I had imagined. Still tall and slim looking with that beautiful face. But a great ass, round and firm and standing up tight. Almost no stomach. Lovely breasts, Not huge pendulous things, probably "B" cups or maybe a little more but perfect on her body. Firm and all up front, her nipples almost pointing up. Gorgeous legs, long and shapely. A definite thick thatch of dark hair between her legs. "Would you mind if I trimmed your pubic hair? I'm used to girl's being shaved clean there, no hair to get in the way, to get in my mouth or teeth," "Mouth?" she says, quietly, perhaps not meaning to even say it out loud. She has a quizzical look in her eyes that slowly goes away as she realizes what it must mean. She smiles. Maybe more than a smile, a sort of dirty grin. "No, if you want to shave me, that's o.k.". I'd never shaved a girl before. I figured I shave myself every day, it can't be too difficult. I know I need to start by using scissors to trim the hair down to a stubble. "I need to get some scissors," I tell her and go into my office area and get some office scissors. "Let's go into the bathroom." Once in there I look at her and think about how to do this. She looks at me and I think she knows that I'm not sure how to proceed. She goes to the toilet, lifts the seat up and straddles it, standing facing me. She squats slightly, pushing her legs out, spreading her thighs more open. "Maybe like this, so the hair falls into the toilet and can be flushed away." Here is this perfect female sexy body, opening her pussy to me with no hesitation. I don't know what I thought before but I was a little surprised that she seemed to have so little bashfulness about her body. I have to kneel on the floor, my stomach against the toilet as I hack away with the scissors. "I don't want to make a mistake here," I tell her. She actually laughs a little. "I sure don't want you to either." It was awkward with the relatively large scissors but I kept moving them around and snipping away and was getting most of the hair off. "I've never had anyone spend so much attention on me there," she says. I lean in and stick out my tongue and lick her lips lightly. "Oh, I plan on spending a lot of time here, I bet you're delicious." I can hear her sucking in a breath as I lick her. "I wonder if my electric razor will work," I say. "I think I have the hair down to where it should." I flush the toilet and the hair disappears mostly. Some sticks around the edge. I get up, put down the scissors and get my Remington. It runs on a battery fortunately, I probably couldn't get a cord long enough to get to her. I start at the top and work my way down and around her lips. "Oh," she says and then again. "Does it hurt, should I stop?" "No, I've just never felt anything like that before. It sort of vibrates." So I finish, hearing her breathing hard, holding her breath at times, I think. "O.k. we can now wash each other in the shower." I tell her as I pull back and stand up. She reaches down and rubs herself, first looking down and then looking up at me with almost a shy smile, then straightening and moving forward, away from straddling the toilet. I can't help myself, having this beauty naked for my pleasure gives me an overwhelming emotion and I press against her, put my arms around her and kiss her. She puts her arms around me and kisses back. I push my tongue into her mouth and she licks my tongue and pushes her tongue back. She's seemed submissive but here, she's returning my feelings with her own, she's holding me and kissing me as much as I am her. I'm used to using whores. They're high priced ones, good at what they do, so they enter into the sex with what seems to be enjoyment, often are even aggressive. I have to realize that Racquel is not an experienced whore, she's probably used to the man being the aggressor. She may even be hesitant at first to do what she might feel like until she knows if I'll be acceptable to her moves. In the shower, I use my bare hands and soap to wash her perfect body. I tell her how sexy she is and what a great body she has as I wash. I spend time on her breasts, kiss them, lick the nipples after rinsing them. I turn her so I can do her back, then down to her magnificent ass. A really beautiful ass, full and round and firm. I feel it, kiss it, massage it slightly before moving down her legs. I then have her turn. I'm kneeling, my face to her pussy. I ask her to spread her legs slightly, then use my fingers to pull open her lips. Pink, delicious insides showing, I get my tongue into her and lick up and down. I slide a finger down to find her vagina and push into it slightly, then move my tongue to replace the finger and lick inside her some more. I lick up to where her clit must be. It's not obvious but as I lick I can feel it change shape a little. She's sucking in her breath, making small noises. I then wash her and her legs and stand up and tell her it's her turn. She starts by kissing me, on the lips, then the neck, then the shoulders, then she starts washing me, from the shoulders down my chest. She's quiet but feeling my body carefully. I turn and she does my back, my butt, my legs. I turn again and my erection is in front of her face. I have a large cock. Really thick at the base and sort of like a spear, narrowing some with the head larger again, like a roundish arrowhead. None of the professionals have ever managed to take much more than the head into their mouths. I have no idea if Racquel knows anything about sucking cock although she soon will if she doesn't already. I wait to see what she does. She touches my cock, runs her fingers along it. She wraps her hand around it, grasping it and starts moving her hand back and forth, masturbating me. She looks up at me, not saying a word, grins and then looks back at my cock. She leans forward and licks up one side of it, then bends her head and licks the other side. She licks the head and puts her lips around the head and sucks on it, licks it inside her mouth. She starts doing everything a little faster. Her jacking me with her hand gets faster and in the process, she swings my cock some. It comes out of her mouth and she uses her mouth to catch it again. She does this over and over, like she's playing a game with herself. She never gets more than the head in her mouth and then it pops loose and then she's catching it again with her lips and sucking it in, all the while jacking me off fast and hard. I'm going to cum and tell her. She flicks her eyes up at me, either not understanding or not caring because she just continues to play her game and then, my head in her mouth, I shoot off a big load. She moves her head back, a mouthful of sperm I'm sure, and looks at my cock as it shoots again, hitting her in the face. She glances up at me and then looks back at the cock and gets hit again. She grabs the head with her lips and swallows it again as my last load fills her mouth. The Contract She's not jacking me anymore, just holding my cock, the head in her mouth, and she looks up at me again. "Just swallow," I say and I can see she does. Then she sort of grins at me and starts washing my cock and balls as I slowly deflate. She then does my legs and then stands back up in front of me. I pull her close and kiss her and she kisses back, pushing her hips against me. We rinse and dry off and head into the bedroom. I pull the spread and top sheet back and we climb on, kissing and holding one another. I then start working my way down her body. I want to make this something memorable for her, the best fuck she's ever had. I spend a lot of time on her breasts, sucking her nipples. She's no longer quiet, lots of moans of appreciation, catching her breath when I bite a little bit just with my lips, her hand on my head, encouraging me, her other hand on my back, feeling me, rubbing me. I should take more time but I want at her pussy. So I kiss down her stomach, get between her legs, which she spreads, welcoming me there, and kiss the insides of her thighs. I pull her lips open and get my tongue into her and go to work. Her moans are louder, her hands still on my head, tousling my hair. I do everything with my tongue that I can think of, tongue fucking her, licking her clit, finger fucking her, lots of clit action and she gets juicier and juicier and louder, Her knees are up to her shoulders, her feet in mid air, opening her to me. I can feel her go into orgasm, her whole body jerks, her hips bounce, fluid comes by my fingers in her vagina. I move my mouth down and try and suck her whole pussy into my mouth. She's actually screaming by now as I suck on her. Her hand is pulling on my hair, pulling me away, so I sit back and look up at her. She's not looking at me, she's looking up at God or something and I slide up over her and get my cock aimed at her. I take her hand and move it between us, putting her fingers on my cock. She realizes what's about to happen and opens her eyes and looks at me as she helps aim me into her. I start pushing my way in. This is the tightest I've ever run into. I have to really push hard to force my way further and further in. It feels as if it's going to pull my skin off so it must feel similar to her. Her eyes are squeezed shut. It's like she has a wall of something in there, I've never experienced anything like this. I pull back very slightly and bang into her as hard as I can and my cock makes it in a little further. I think she's crying. "Are you all right?" I ask. She just nods her head affirmative, her eyes closed. I push more and more and work my way all the way in. She's accepted my entire cock, although it was actually work getting there. I pull back a little and then slide in again, then again and again. I pull way back, almost out of her and her eyes open wide and look at me. "You're done?" she asks. I smile at her. "No," I say as I push slowly all the way back in. Her questioning look turns into a smile of sorts. The next time I pull back, she lifts her hips and pushes back at me and we're into a very terrific fuck. In a fairly short time, she's moaning and gets louder and then I can feel her insides grasping my cock with almost a rippling motion. I've felt this before, an orgasm, her vagina trying to milk all my cum out to impregnate her. Which reminds me that I don't have a condom on and she's not on the pill, so I can't cum in her. I hold my place, my cock fully in her, as her screams turn into moans and I start up again, sliding in and out and she starts pushing back. I pull almost out of her and she gets her legs up around me, her heels on my butt, to pull me back in. As I push in, she moans and moves her legs down and starts pushing back again. She has another orgasm and then I realize that I'm about to cum so I do pull out. She tries to get her legs around me again, her arms pulling me close and I unload my sperm on her stomach and abdomen. I roll off to the side and she rolls onto her side and puts a leg up over me and kisses me, her sticky stomach on my hip and side. I roll to her and put my arm around her and we lay there kissing. "I'm going to like it here with you if we do anything like that very often," she says, kissing me again. "Oh, we'll do it often Racquel, I love it as much as you do." But I'm sticky, The bed's sticky. I think men don't stay hot and sexy as long as women or something because I look down between us at the bed, wanting to move somewhere cleaner, and I see blood. A fairly noticeable amount of blood. "There's blood here. Did I hurt you, are you all right?" "I'm as all right as I can be, it's just that I've never done this before. I guess you took my cherry as they say." "You were a virgin? I never expected that. Wow. So this was your first. I never realized that, you didn't act as if you'd never seen a cock before or done this before." "Well, I had seen a cock before. Not nearly as big as yours. And I had seen it cum after I used my hand on it. but that's as far as I've ever gone before." "But a virgin. Why did you ever agree to this arrangement?" "Well, it was a good arrangement as far as I'm concerned. I mean, I'm as horny as other people, I knew I was going to do it eventually. I just wanted it to be something special the first time. And this certainly is something special. I mean, you're a genius, at least in your field, you're rich, you're in good physical shape, you're a real catch. It seemed like the perfect time to do it. Besides, I was practically on the street. That greaseball that ran the cheap motel wanted me to pay with my body and that would not have been anything special at all. If I moved out and was really on the street, sleeping in doorways, Lord knows what might happen. My getting college out of this was perfect but I think I would have done it just to experience it. This has been terrific, the best hour of my life I think. I even sucked a cock, something I had never done before Did I do any good?" "Racquel, you did great. This has been the best hour of my life, too, the best sex since my first time." She leans over me and kisses me, half climbing on me. "How long before you might be ready again?" she asks, nodding in the direction of my soft cock. "It won't be long," I say, "a few minutes." "Hey," she says, as if she just had a thought. "How about that agreement you said you would write? Do you have one? "Yeah, I do," I tell her and climb off the bed. She gets off, too, and follows me. I walk over to a dresser and pick up the paper and hand it to her. "I will support Racquel Gutierrez and pay her college expenses until she graduates in exchange for her providing me companionship. Alex Barton" That last is my signature. She says, "Do you have a pen?" So I pick one up and hand it to her and she signs under my name. "I guess I should sign so I'm agreeing to that 'companionship' part. But it doesn't seem as if you're getting your money's worth. I should also add that if today has been any indication of what it's going to be like, I think I'd of done this all for free because it's been so great." With that. she puts her arms up around my neck and leans her whole body against me. We kiss and she moves her hips to rub against my cock. When we break, she looks at the bed. "Where do you keep your sheets, we need to change that bottom one." She lets go of me and we go to the closet in the hall and I pull out a fitted bottom sheet. "They're all white, every one," she says. "Yeah, it's simpler that way. Everything matches everything." She looks at me and grins and acts as if she's going to say something and then doesn't, just takes the sheet and heads for the bed. She pushes the spread and top sheet to the floor at the foot of the bed, moves around loosening each corner of the filthy fitted sheet and pulls it off, then hooks the one corner of the new sheet, then moves down to hook the next corner. It doesn't fit. She shrugs and moves back to the first corner and turns the sheet and starts again. All four corners fit now. She then picks up the spread and top sheet and puts them back at the bottom of the bed and turns to me. I step to her, put my arms around her and kiss her. She responds by hugging me and kissing back. We slobber at each other a little and then I bend down some to get my hands and mouth to her breasts. I love her breasts. I love her whole body. After feeling and sucking on the nipples, I take her waist and move her back a step and sort of push her to sitting on the edge of the bed. I then kneel on the floor, spread her legs -- although she spreads them on her own when she realizes what I'm after - and get my face to her pussy. I need to credit that first prostitute I used for teaching me to eat pussy, to like eating pussy. I have no idea why I like it, it's a mental thing. But I think it's sex, pure sex, to get my tongue in there and slurp up all her tastes and experience giving her an orgasm. I do everything I've learned to Racquel and after a couple minutes, she's getting wetter, her moans or gasps are getting faster and louder. I'm sliding two fingers in and out of her and lip biting and sucking her clit, which has popped out and is a lot like a little finger. Then she blows, The fluids come, I move my mouth down to suck everything in I can. She's pushing my face into her and then pulling me away. She slides down to kneel next to me and kiss me. "You get up there, it's my turn," she says softly So I sit on the edge of the bed as she starts working on my cock. This is her second time. The first time she seemed to have fun, almost using my cock as a toy or something to play with and suck on. She seems more in earnest to giving me a great cocksucking this time. I'm too big, she can't get much more than the head in her mouth. She uses her hand on the largest part of my cock to masturbate me, her other hand on my balls, but she keeps her mouth on my cock this time, sucking and moving up and down as much as she can. Lots of lip and suck noise as she slobbers. I've cum often enough that I'm going to last and after a while, several minutes, I think she realizes that. "Slide back on the bed," she says, "on your back. Where are your condoms?" I point to the small table next to the bed and she opens the drawer and takes out a condom. "You must have to buy extra large," she says as she looks at the foil pack. "The gym teacher actually taught us how to do this in health class," she adds as she gets the condom out and starts unrolling it down on my cock. "I've seen this on the internet," she says as she straddles over me and gets the head aimed into her pussy and starts dropping down, taking it inside her. She's still so tight it must hurt a little. She drops some, then stops, rises a fraction and drops some more, supporting herself on her legs. She's finally fully down on me. She looks at me and grins. "You really fill me, I think you're up in my stomach somewhere," as she starts to squirm around, feeling me move inside her. She leans over me, stretching out both arms to support herself, and then starts using her legs to rise a little and drop back, over and over. Moving just and inch or so, then sliding almost off and all the way back down. I reach down with one hand to get fingers to her clit and massage it a little. She starts gasping and groaning and giving out 'ohs' and just keeps riding me. Her orgasm hits and I can feel liquid dripping out onto my groin, her inside rippling around my cock, and she collapses on me, my cock still fully in her. The top of her head is below my chin, I can feel the shape of her breasts on my stomach. I put my arms around her and use my legs to push us into a roll, my cock still in her I'm now on top and her legs are knees up on each side of me. I start pumping into her, slowly at first and then harder and faster. She's never experienced a real pounding before. Her body is pushing back as much as she can, she's grunting on every stroke. We're both working at this, perspiring slightly. Her grunts turn into a blurted word, "fuck" with every pound into her. It doesn't take too long and she's into another orgasm, felt by me because of her insides grasping me even tighter. I stop and let her get over it slightly and then pull out entirely. "Roll over," I say. She does and I grasp her hips and lift her. "Get on your knees." She does and I'm between her legs, aiming my wet, shiny looking cock in its condom, back into her, between her beautiful ass cheeks. Again I start slow and build up and soon I'm pounding into her as fast and hard as I can. I feel like an animal rutting. That is, there's no thought, just animal lust driving me. I'm holding on to each side of her butt, almost upright myself, pushing my cock into her. She's back to grunting and emitting blurted "fuck" over and over again. It doesn't take long and she's getting another orgasm and this time the grasping of my cock has it's intended effect and my sperm comes boiling up and fills the condom. I pull out and she collapses onto the bed. I crawl off and lay next to her. We both just lay there, breathing for a moment and then she rolls onto her side and looks at me, sits up slightly and reaches to take the condom off, rolling it up carefully to keep my sperm inside. She gets off the bed and goes into the bathroom. I don't hear a flush so I guess she's put it in the waste basket, and then she's crawling onto the bed again. I'm on my back and she lays completely on top of me. "This has all been something else, hasn't it? I've never experienced anything like it before. I love it. I just love it." I put my arms around her and she wriggles atop me and I can feel her whole body. "Aren't you sore? Your vagina has never had such a workout before." "Yeah. I am. My clit more than my vagina. But it's a nice sore. It reminds me how much I've loved the experience. And it's not sore enough to stop us from doing more when ever you want." She kisses me on the lips and we kiss for awhile. "I'm hungry," she says." It must be past dinner time by now. Do you have anything in the kitchen I can cook up for us?" "I probably have something. Well have to look. I don't usually eat in, I go out to restaurants." I kiss her again. "You cook?" "Well, yes. I was raised by a mother that insisted I know how and then in these foster homes, you have to chip in and do whatever needs doing. I haven't earned any blue ribbons but, sure, I can cook. When I go to school I'm going to want to eat breakfast, take a lunch with me, probably. And I don't know your schedule but whenever you're here, I can cook dinner." We head into the kitchen and look into the refrigerator and a pantry that has lots of canned goods. Racquel says she can quickly get something ready for us and she starts opening cans and getting some cheese out of the refrigerator. I get a couple glasses, fill them with water, and put them on the table and then get some silverware out. 'We've both been naked almost since you got here, does that bother you?" "Well, yeah, a little," she says,with a couple pots heating on the range. "I've never done any of this before and I've certainly never walked around naked like this. But I figure it's your place, you're paying the bills, if that's what you want, why Not? Besides, I've loved every minute of my time with you." With that, she comes over to where I'm sitting in a hard chair, straddles me slightly and sits on my lap, putting her arms around me and kissing me. "Mmm," I tell her, "I may decide to eat you instead of whatever it is you're cooking." "I wouldn't complain, I really love that, but maybe you should eat me after eating the food. I'm hungry and sperm wouldn't satisfy me right now." She climbs off me and goes back to the stove and starts dishing things out onto plates. It's not a fancy meal, green beans and sort of a sloppy Joe or ground meat with sauce and melted cheese on toast, but eating it with a beautiful naked woman makes it one of the best meals of my life. After, she sits on my lap again an d we plan tomorrow. I need to notify building management that she's living here and give her a key. We need to get to Planned Parenthood and get her on birth control pills. I also need to get her to a doctor for a physical but that can wait a little. We need to go to Nordstrom's and buy her a lot of clothes and get her a card on my account and we need to get the bank to issue her a credit card on my account. We also need to get to the college of her choice with her high school transcripts and the offer of scholarship and arrange to get her admitted and starting in the Fall semester -- or Fall quarter as it may be called now. We need to stop at County offices and get her birth certificate so she can eventually get a driver's license and passport but those can wait a few days. On the way back, we can stop at a market and buy some food for the kitchen. Somewhere mixed between kisses and her squirming her bottom against my cock we manage to get all that planned. I need to go in my office first and clear the day ahead. We then go through the apartment and determine where she can put everything of hers and where she can set up a study area for later. There's a second bedroom so that helps solve some things. Then, we're still naked and still horny apparently. At least she is. I'm not sure if I'm capable of anything more for a while. She goes to work on my cock with her mouth and we discover that I am. I think I can almost fuck all night at this point and perhaps never cum again. So I don't bother using a condom. I don't make it through the night but I manage to satisfy her enough that we're finally curled up against one another and asleep and I still haven't cum although she has, several times. The next morning, I'm awakened by her sucking on me again. So I have her scoot around and we sixty nine until we both manage an orgasm. While she gets some breakfast, I shower and shave and get dressed. I'm afraid to shower with her because I know we'd be at it again. I eat a small breakfast, coffee and toast, while she has a better one and I head to the office. I promise to be back in about and hour and a half. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Six months later everything has worked out even better than I had ever dreamed. I've spent years now in a false life immersed in technology, doing code work, creating software, then running a business. I had no life outside of work. Now I feel as if I'm close to normal. I've got a beautiful girl that seems to like me and we have sex regularly. We talk, we're friends even though it all started a little strange. I actually eat at home more than anywhere else. It's like I have a wife. I've even thought of seeing if she's interested in being my wife, making the arrangement permanent, I'm truly happy. I call home and talk to Racquel, telling her I'll be there in about an hour and asking if I should pick up anything on my way home. When I get there, she's in a short little bed jacket of some sort that pretty much shows me she has nothing on underneath. I get a glimpse of her pussy as she moves. I can also smell food. I kiss her and hug her and we eat dinner. She says she's done all of her class work and pretty much leads me to the bedroom so we end up naked, in bed, a little earlier than usual. I hold her against me and kiss her and run my hand down her back and feel how her back swells out onto her lovely ass. "Racquel, I was thinking today that . . . " "What am I doing wrong?" she interrupts. "When we first started we made love for hours, I had orgasm after orgasm, and now we're doing much less. Last night all we did was fuck once and then go to sleep." "You haven't done anything wrong. I love being with you. It's just that at first it was sort of like a honeymoon, where we discover sex and overdo it. Now, we've settled down a little. It doesn't mean I don't want to have sex with you, I do. Definitely. But the drive isn't as strong as it was at the beginning." The Contract "Well my drive is still like it was. I love to have you lick me, suck on me. It feels so great. And I love to play with your cock, to feel it, to have it in my mouth, to suck on it and taste it. I love to see how I can make you get hard, have an orgasm. And most of all, I love to have you in me. I'd be happy to have you make me cum a dozen times a day. What can I do to get back to the way we were to start with?" "If there's a problem it isn't you, Racquel. It's me. I've loved every moment since you moved in. I love having sex with you. I was thinking of asking if we shouldn't think of making the arrangement permanent." "Oh," she says. "Well, maybe it's just as well we're talking. I might as well be honest and say what I've been thinking. I've been thinking of asking you if it was all right if I started having sex with someone else. Not stopping having sex with you but also with someone else, just because I want to have more sex than we've been having." "Do you have a guy that you're interested in?" "No. I have no idea how I could go about finding someone. It'd be easier if I settled for another girl, there's at least one that's let me know she'd love to eat me and I'm sure I would enjoy it but I really want a cock involved. There must be some guy at the university that would be good at it, I'd have to ask around I guess. Would that bother you?" "Yeah, it would. I'd probably have to go back to using condoms if you were being promiscuous, having other people involved. There's too much disease around and it's scary. Maybe the best solution is for me to just get busy fucking you more often. Would that work?" "It'd be perfect Alex. I really love being with you. But we need to do more. I think at a minimum I need you to eat me to orgasm and me eat you to orgasm once a day and also fuck until we both orgasm at least once a day. I sort of hoped that when you came home today, you'd sit me up on the counter in the kitchen and eat me, which is why I had almost nothing on. If you had,, I'd have loved doing you, too. More than once a day would be great. What do you think?" "I think I've created a monster," I slide down her, pushing the sheet off, to get between her legs and get my face to her pussy. It's obvious she likes this, she spreads her legs and moves her knees up to raise her pussy into a position where I can get at it better. She's clean and smooth, has shaved regularly since we started. I get a couple fingers into her and start working my tongue on her clit. My intent is to get her to orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, I finger fuck her and massage her clit for four or five minutes and she's climaxing. I slide my mouth down to suck up all I can and then, even though she's pulling on my hair, I push a couple fingers into her again and get my lips back on her clit, almost biting on it. If she can have more than one orgasm fucking, she should be able to have more than one orally. I've never done this before but it works. She's almost screaming but she's quit pulling me away, so I just keep working on her and she does get to another climax. Then I slide up on top of her and start pushing my cock into her. She wraps her legs around me and moans and moans as I slowly fuck her, long strokes, stimulating her but not getting all hard and heavy. She's had two orgasms and I want to let her calm down a little before getting her up for another one. This works, too. Her moans start to die and she puts her legs down and starts pushing back at me, which lets me speed up and start pounding into her faster and harder. She's grunting with each stroke, pushing back, it's a terrific fuck anyway you look at it. I'm about ready to blow but I want to get her to another climax before I do. I have to turn my mind to the mechanics of rutting, pounding her, until I can hear and feel her start to yell and bounce around a little and when her insides start rippling on my cock, I cum too. I just leave it inside her as we both cool down a little and then I roll off to the side. She rolls to me and kisses me, cutting one leg over me so My cum can leak out onto me. We stay like that for a minute and she says, "We need to clean up." Naked in the shower, feeling each other as we wash is always arousing. When she gets to it and takes my cock into her mouth, I'm not sure I'm at all ready but she works on me until I am. "I love to make you go from soft to hard like that," she says as she momentarily pulls her lips loose and then re-attacks again. She's in her playful mood. She knows I'm not going to cum for a long time so she jerks me off with her hand and sucks the head. Her hand moves my cock around until it pops out so she has to catch it again with her mouth. Over and over. She then stands up, puts her arms around my neck to pull herself up slightly, lifts a leg and gets my cock aimed into her. Once I'm in a couple inches, she lifts her other leg. I have to turn and push her back against the wall or I think I'd eventually topple over. But now that we're here, with her weight essentially resting on my cock, I can use my legs to just keep pushing into her. My hands are under her butt cheeks, helping hold her. My body is pressed against her body, which is pressed against the tile wall, and I fuck her as hard and fast as I can. Which isn't at all as fast as if we were horizontal on a bed. But it's a hot position. She chose it and wants to fuck. So I work hard at it It takes a while but I can finally feel her cumming. And hear her. She's not quiet at all and being in the shower lets the sound reverberate. I'm glad I have the whole floor with no neighbors. Without even drying off, we end up on the bathroom floor, her on top of me, riding me. I massage her clit and when she leans forward more, manage to sit up enough to get my mouth to her breast and suck on a nipple. She just grins at me and keeps moving her hips, sliding back and forth on my cock more than up and down on it. When she cums, I roll us over, banging into the toilet as we move, and get on top in missionary position to start really banging her until I finally cum. We're both tired. I'm on top of her, my cock shriveling inside her. "See," she says, "that's the way we should be every day." "I'll sure try," I reply, then pull out and sit back, smiling as I look at her beautiful face and body laying there in front of me. We get up. She sits on the toilet and cleans out my cum and we head to bed. I lay back and as she climbs in she stops next to me and tskes hold of my cock. "It's still early. I bet I can get this up again," she says as she leans over and takes the head of my cock into her mouth and starts sucking as she plays with my balls. I really have created a monster, I think to myself, but the best one I could ever think of. I reach around and get my hand under her ass so I can get my fingers into her vagina. If a lot of sex will keep her, I'll give her all I can. The Contract This is my fist submission. I hope you enjoy. ********** I hated being indoors all the time at my job, so I always took my break back at a table on the loading dock. I was sipping my coffee when Sherri walked up and sat down. Sherri was the company nurse, and a bombshell. I think the budget for band-aids for our company quadrupled the day Sherri Grey came to work, and has never gone down. "Mr. Beckson, I was wondering if I could get you to listen to a business proposal." "A proposal? Sure! You don't mind if I record this, do you?" I pulled out my pocket recorder and switched it on. I was the contract negotiator for most of the company contracts, and I was used to double checking what was said to make a business proposal against the actual contract. Sherri looked at the red light on the recorder and nodded. "It's OK, I expected you to do this, because I'm not sure how this sort of personal contract works." "A personal contract?" "Yes, I wanted to know if you would be willing to sell me your sperm." Any attempt of composure was completely lost at this point. I did manage to turn my head in time so that I didn't spew my coffee all over Ms. Grey, but just barely. "What? You? Me? Sperm?" "Yes Mr. Beckson, I'm 34 years old, and I want to have a baby." "Look Ms. Grey, I married, and I think you could have your pick of any of the single men around here. You should find a man and marry him, and have his kids. Why are you asking me?" "I've tried Mr. Beckson, but the men just treat me like a sex object, and not like a woman like you do. I was going to use a sperm bank, but I decided that I don't trust what the men donating to a bank have written on their applications. I think they might be padded. I checked your medical history and educational background, and I believe you are a very suitable candidate." I was in complete disbelief at this conversation. She may have said other words after the first sentence, but I was hung up that I had treated her like a woman. Every time I had to deal with Sherri, my mind was screaming "Don't look at her tits, don't look at her tits", and I melted every time we completed our conversation and I watched that perfect ass wiggle away from me. I wasn't any better than the rest of the guys, I was just better at hiding it. "But Ms. Grey, I'm married, and I love my wife, and I wouldn't want to cheat on her." Sherri nodded, "I know that, and I don't want to break up your marriage. So there would be no intimate contact between us at all. When I determine the best days to receive a sample, you would have to come down to the health clinic and use the restroom to make a dose in a condom. You could then hand the sample to me for processing. You will be generating a sperm sample for me, but we will have no intimate contact that would put your marriage at risk. I would also want to your wife to know that you are donating sperm for my child." Processing? Generating a sperm sample? She was trying to make this sound like a simple business transaction. I couldn't look at her, so I stared at the table and the pocket recorder with the red light glowing on it. My god, she was actually serious! I had quietly lusted after this woman, and she wanted me to give her a child. The real irony of this whole thing was that my wife and I had spent eight years building up our finances, and we were about to start our actual family. I wanted a child, but my wife was starting to become cold to the idea and suggested we delay for a few more years. I continued to stare at the recorder's red light until it went out. The recorder was voice activated, and had turned off because I had been staring in silence, I had to say something. "Ms. Grey, I'm not sure I could do this, I mean, we would be having a baby." "No Mr. Beckson, I would. This would not be your child; it would be mine and mine alone. I would have to sign something that makes you not responsible for child support, and you would have to sign something to give up your parental rights. It would be like doing business with a sperm bank, and I would also have to have some assurance that you might be willing to do this a second time, because I want my children to be true brothers and sisters. Sherri had thought this out! She was not sure of how to go about getting the contract correct, but she wanted a baby. Sherri was also making clear headed moves to assure that she got what she wanted. My mind was racing, and I knew I needed to say something, but the little brain that's between the legs was taking over and throwing out any sense of reasoning that I had. "Ms. Grey, you HAVE been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" Whew! That didn't sound too much like a sex crazed maniac. I was just hoping she didn't look under the table that I was sitting at. "Yes I have, Mr. Beckson. I will also need to test you for STDs, because some can be transmitted through the seminal fluid. I purchased one that uses a blood sample. I want to test you before we go through with the contract, so if you come by the clinic, I would be more than happy to test you at my expense. You don't have anything to hide, do you?" "Me? With an STD? Of course not! I have never cheated on my wife." My reaction to the accusation was automatic and immediate. I HAD never been with another woman after I had married Tanya. There had been other before we were married, but none after. The thought that I had cheated on my wife had incensed me. "Well, then come by the clinic this afternoon and I'll perform the test. Even if this doesn't work out between the two of us, I would like your help in finding out how to make this contract for a sperm donation. You are the first, that I was going to contact, because of your work in contracts, but I had two other candidates within the company that may work out." Others? With my Sherri? I think not! Wait a minute! What am I saying? This isn't my wife, and this will not be my child, even if I did provide the sperm. My mind was a blur. What to I do? What should I say? "OK, I'll come by this afternoon. I'll be there after my one o'clock meeting." "Great! I'll look forward to seeing you!" and with that she simply got up and walked away, letting me watch her ass wiggle back and forth with my mouth open. After a few minutes, I managed to take another sip of my now warm coffee and come back to me senses. I quickly pressed the stop on the recorder and pressed the back key to replay the last conversation. I then pressed play on the recorder and listened to the conversation again. Oh, my, god! I had agreed to actually come down and give a blood sample! What was I thinking? I realized that my brain had clearly shut off, and my manhood was in control for over half of the conversation. I turned off the recorder and went to my office to try and clear my head. When I sat down at my desk, I stared at the photo of my wife, and I realized how much I wanted to have a child. I have heard of women having a biological clock go off, but I had never heard of such a thing with men. I didn't actually want to have one with Sherri, I was longing to have one with Tanya. I will admit, I did lust after Sherri's body, just like any other men around here with a heartbeat, but I would have never acted on it. What had triggered my mind to blur was a burning desire to sire a child. After coming to my senses, I now knew that I needed to talk to my wife about starting a family tonight. I yearned to have the evening free, but I would have to wait until tomorrow. The McGreggor account had been finalized two weeks ago, and the celebration party was tonight. As contract negotiator for the McGreggor account, I knew all the parties involved, and would be sorely missed. After having my morning break, which seemed to make time stand still, the rest of the day seemed to go by in a blink of an eye. The presentation for the meeting had a few glitches in the power point presentation, and time passed quickly as I edited the slide show, and the one o'clock meeting went without a hitch. I was a bit apprehensive about my meeting with Sherri, but I think it went well. I stopped in the clinic, and Sherri drew the blood sample. We chatted with each other, and I found that my desire to have my own child was so much more important than giving one to Sherri, that the act of donating sperm to her was almost a slap in the face to me. I found that I was talking to Sherri in a calm but serious tone, and my brain was working in my standard contract negotiation mode. I left the clinic, flattered that Sherri had selected me, but I had pretty much ruled out that I was going to donate sperm. I decided to leave at three to go home and get ready for the banquet at six. I was getting excited for Sherri, that she would soon be able to be a mother, just like I wanted to be a father. I wanted to follow her progress, and in some way this almost seemed to be a "practice" pregnancy for me to follow before Tonya and I would have our child. I left the clinic with thoughts of a night of passion with Tonya, where I would place my seed, and start a new life. I drove home with a clear vision of placing my hand of Tonya's belly, and feeling our baby kick. I showered thinking about the delivery, and holding my child for the first time. While I dressed for the banquet, I imagined watching my child take its first steps and cry out "Dada". I was nearly ready, when Tonya came through the bedroom door. I waltzed over to her, and planted a huge passionate kiss on her lips. She pulled back and stared are me, she seemed all wound up to me. She raised an eyebrow and turned the sarcasm up to full blast. "My my, aren't WE in a good mood tonight? Is there something I should know about? You're not meeting with anyone at this banquet, are you?" "No Tonya, it's not like that. In fact, I would love to have you come with me. How about it? I'd love to dance and romance you tonight." Tonya pulled the quilted comforter off the bed and wadded it up. "You're kidding Paul, aren't you? This week is midterm week, and I have a butt load of papers to grade. I told you two weeks ago I wouldn't be able to make it. I already planned on coloring my hair tonight, and trying out this facial mask that Clair has been raving about." She turned and left the bedroom with the comforter, and headed towards the laundry room. Oh well, So much for my grand and loving mood. Reality has a way crushing romance. When I got home from the Banquet, I just knew that Tonya would be in her ratty bathrobe, have her hair up in curlers, and that some bizarre green glop would be covering her face, and grading midterms at the dining room table. Even the thought of sitting down with her and discussing starting a family seemed to be a remote possibility. I took a deep breath, and realized that tonight was not going to be the night to discuss our future. I also knew that she wouldn't want to have sex on the clean sheets. I blotted Tonya out of my mind and resigned myself to enjoy the banquet. I also decided that I needed to double check our finances. I wanted Tonya to stop teaching and raise our children until the final one was in first grade. Once all the children were in school, we had planned that Tanya would then start teaching again. I really needed to make sure our finances were in order so that we could start our family. ********** I ended up having a fairly good time at the banquet, and I stayed as the party moved from the hall to the bar. I had a glass of wine with the dinner, but that was all the alcohol I had all night. I nursed a Diet Coke to get some caffeine in me before driving home, and I pushed my hand into everyone's hand before leaving to go home. I managed to get home about nine PM. I had nailed vision completely of Tanya at the dining room table, except that the glop on her face was blue instead of green. I went into the office and booted up the computer while Tanya continued to grade papers. We both worked in silence for about an hour before I saw the light go out in the dining room. Tanya took a shower as I tried to figure out why we had a lot less money than I thought we would by now. We were still saving money, but at about half the rate that I thought we were. It seemed that it was just little things that had added up. I did figure out that our paying an extra $300 each month on the mortgage was having a profound effect on the equity that we had on the house. If we needed to, we could re-finance the mortgage and get a much lower minimum monthly payment. Things were looking up. I made a few notes to make a few calls in the morning and called it a night. ********** I didn't have the most restful sleep that night, but I enjoyed it. The little brain was working overtime working out what position would be best to get Tanya pregnant. I woke up with a raging hard on three times, and went into the bathroom twice to take care of the problem so that I could get back to sleep. I woke up in the morning with the fourth hard on of the night, and wondered when the last time Tonya and I had morning sex. I rolled over to find the bed empty. I looked around the room and saw the bathroom light on. Tanya came out in her ratty bathrobe and her electric toothbrush in her mouth and went over to the closet to pick out clothes for the day. She looked over at me and rolled her eyes, "Finally!" After she pulled a blouse and a skirt out of the closet and placed them on her side of the bed, she disappeared back into the bathroom. A few moments later, she came back out with an attitude, "Paul, you really need to watch how much you drink at these banquets. You tossed all night, and you woke me up both times you went into the bathroom to pee. You need to watch it, or you're going to turn into an alcoholic and lose your job. Paul, are you even listening to me? You could at least have the decency to look at me when I'm talking to you". When she started into her spiel, I became focused on the red light on my recorder that was sitting on my dresser. It was recording the entire rant. I lowered my head and stared at the floor while my mind first tried to figure out when I had forgotten to turn the recorder off. I knew that I had listened to the entire recording of yesterdays morning break, but I couldn't figure out when I had turned it back on. I raised my head to view my fairly angry wife going on about looking at her while she was talking. "I'm sorry Tonya. I don't know what came over me. I was a little upset that you wouldn't come with me last night, and I guess I over did it. Why didn't you come with me last night?" "This again? I told you, I needed to grade papers." "You could have graded papers this weekend. You could have had a good time at the banquet. I know you love to dance. We could have danced together last night." Tanya was getting livid, "Oh, so this is my fault! I have to stay home and grade papers and you get to go out and get drunk with all your friends at work." "I didn't get drunk." "Whatever line of bullshit are you trying to sell me, I'm not buying it. You tossed and turned all night, and even had to get up twice to go to the bathroom, and you're expecting me to believe that you didn't have too much to drink? Actions speak louder than words, Paul!" She was fully into this fight, and wanted to tear me a new asshole. I just wanted her to calm down. I didn't want this to go on any longer. "I apologize. I'm sorry." She continued to drive her point, but I just continued to repeat "I apologize. I'm sorry." After she started up after the third time, I simply got up and walked into the bathroom and started my morning routine. I didn't want to fight, and if she wouldn't accept the apology, there was not point in continuing. I wasn't going to let her continue to grind away at me. "Hey! Paul, don't you dare walk away from me! This isn't finished! Paul, you get back here this instant!" I turned around and quietly spoke, "You are not my mother, and you will not order me around. Marriage is a pact between two people that choose to be with each other. I was having a special event in my life, and you chose to not stand beside me. I simply wanted to share a pleasant evening with you, and for that, I am getting venom from you. I'm starting to wonder if I even want you to have my children, anymore." Tonya just stared at me with her mouth open. The argument was over. I finished getting ready for work, kissed her on the forehead, and said, "We need to talk about our future as a couple tonight. I want you to think about where you see us five years from now, and I want you to share that with me tonight. I will do the same." The final action was to discretely pick up my keys and the recorder and head out the door. I left the house with tears in my eyes. How could we have such a blowup over such a petty thing? I picked up coffee and breakfast pastries on the way to work, and went straight to my office. During the drive to work, it had occurred to me that Tonya may have listened to the conversation between Sherri and I, from the day before, so I wanted to listen to everything on the recorder again. I had a ten thirty meeting that I was already prepared for, and I had come in early. I had three hours to listen to the recording. I sat down and wrote down a few questions. Where do I see myself five years from now? Do I want a divorce? Do I want to be a sperm donor? These were very good general questions. I then went for specific questions. Has Tonya heard the recording of Sherri's proposal? Why didn't Tonya go with me to the banquet? I reset the recorder and fumbled around with the forward and back buttons until I found the morning conversation. I listened to it, and in a way, I felt fairly proud of what I had said. I had stated that I was married twice, and that I loved my wife. I found out that I had started the recorder again when I went to the clinic to have blood drawn. I was even more content about the afternoon conversation than the morning one. I re-stated that I was married several times, and that I was in love with my wife. I then prattled on about having children with her. I did finish my meeting by promising to talk to my wife about donating sperm to Sherri, but I also told her that if donating sperm would cause any anxiety to my wife, that I was not interested. Even if Tonya had heard the conversation, I think I handled myself well. I then listened to the rest of the recording. It was obvious that I had forgotten to turn off the recorder. I had recorded myself going to the bathroom, which is a bit embarrassing, especially the flush. I found out I was in a very good mood going home, I was humming to the music. I heard myself getting ready for the banquet and asking Tanya to come with me. I thought about the argument this morning and all the venom that Tonya had thrown in my direction. I had graciously asked her to join me, and I had allowed her to bow out. I had not forced her to do anything against her own will. Not like the demands that Tanya had placed on me this morning. Our marriage didn't seem like a partnership to me. I then heard Tanya's voice say "Hello, Ben. Yeah, it's Tonya. Paul is leaving right now. We'll have at least three hours before he comes back. Get over here and fuck me silly." I stopped the recording. I felt completely betrayed by Tonya. I then looked down at the paper and started going through the questions. My world had been blown apart. I then added more questions to my list. Do Tonya and Sherri know each other? Is this a setup? I may have sat there for a half hour staring at my questions, and pondering what else was on the recorder. Then the phone rang. "This is Paul Beckson. How may I help you?" "Paul, this is Richard. I would like you to come by my office before that ten thirty meeting." The Contract Richard was my boss. "Sure thing, Richard. I'll be there in ten minutes." I felt adrift. I was starting to feel paranoid about the whole situation. I took a deep breath and calmed down. I fiddled with the recorder and placed a bookmark right before Tonya's disclosure, and then skipped forward. I glanced down at the clock and saw that that I had less than an hour before my meeting. I logged into my bank and checked my accounts again. Everything was still there. I went to see Richard. Richard was all smiles and was holding an envelope in his hand. After we shook hands, he gave me the envelope. "Paul, you did a great job on the McGreggor account. Our sales staff nearly lost this account three months ago when I asked you to come in and smooth out the details. I believe you contributed more to landing this account than the sales did, so I went to bat for you. Congratulations, you are splitting the commission with sales on this one, and take the afternoon off, you deserve it." I thanked Richard, and left the office. I opened the envelope and found a payroll bonus check for 100,000 before taxes. The actual amount was less, but I had never seen a check this large in my life. The McGreggor account was worth 20 million dollars. I had no idea that sales would get a 1% commission for landing these types of accounts. The highs and lows of the last 24 hours were starting to freak me out. I was thankful that Richard had given me the afternoon off to figure out my life. I went down to the clinic and told Sherri that I was going to visit a sperm bank this afternoon and try to get a copy of their release forms. I would have the afternoon off to listen to the rest of the recording and decide where my life was going. ********** The ten thirty meeting went well, I was simply there as an advisor to the other parties. I was sitting next to Mary from accounting. Mary was also there in an advisory role too, and I knew she had gone through a divorce last year. After the meeting, I asked Mary of she could give me the name of her attorney. "Paul, I'm sorry. I noticed that your wife didn't come to the banquet last night. I thought you might be having problems, but I didn't know it was this bad. I know it's not my business, so I won't ask. "Thank You, Mary. I was hoping that you could keep this discreet. This may all blow over, and you know how the rumor mill is around here. I am hoping that you can keep this one under you hat." "So, it's true. You are at least thinking about divorce, aren't you?" I glared back at her. "Sorry Paul, you're right. It is none of my business, and I promise that I won't tell a soul that I gave you the number of my divorce attorney." is going to end. Once, again, any positive suggestions would be welcome. "Thank You, Mary. Please see that you keep your word on this one." I reached down and deliberately turned off the recorder that was in front of us. ********** Thank You, for reading my story. I welcome any input to the plot, character development, or to my writing style. This is a multi part story. I have not decided how it is going to end. Once, again, any suggestions would be welcome. The Contract It was a hot evening and John was sweating profusely as he cleaned the car. Pausing to mop the sweat from his brow John's eyes were automatically drawn upwards to the bedroom window where he saw a grinning Andy looking down at him. Grin he might, it was his car John was cleaning and when finished he still had the back garden to attend to. He knew from experience that it would take a couple of evenings at least to mow the grass and weed the borders to Andy's satisfaction. Gazing up at the figure in the window, plainly naked, his broad chest a mass of dark curls, John felt very aware of the humiliation of his position. The humiliation was reinforced when Andy turned aside briefly before reappearing to wave Anne's bra and panties at him, a mocking smile on his face. When Andy disappeared from view John resumed his work on the guys' car reflecting bitterly about the situation which has developed. Andy, a divorcee of 52, and Anne's lover for the past 5 years, is actually an employee of the 39 year old John who greatly enjoys the reversal of their roles outside the work place. He makes no bones about the consequences of any refusal on John's part to carry out his orders. How all John's employees and friends will be made aware of Andy's fun and games with Anne, John's 36 year old wife, if he disobeys him in any way. Andy possess intimate photo's to back up his claim, photo's John perhaps rather stupidly took himself. Andy also knows the couples secret, it's the way they met him in the first place, which further puts John in his power. Astonishingly though John experiences a certain frisson to find himself so completely in Andy's power, to be dominated and humiliated by the guy he's grown to dislike intensely. It perhaps emphasises John's hitherto unrealised masochistic streak to find himself in a position of celibacy while his wife has regular sex sessions with Andy. Sad to say John hasn't enjoyed intercourse with his wife since she became Andy's mistress 5 years ago. First the secret. John has been a voyeur for as long as he can remember although ironically, despite his wife enjoying almost daily sex sessions with Andy, he's rarely allowed to watch nowadays. He told Anne about his interest in voyeurism soon after they married and fortunately for him, though surprised, she wasn't shocked by the revelation that her husband wanted to watch her having sex with another guy. On the other hand Anne was dubious, not seeing the point of it and saying she was only interested in having sex with John. Her attitude changed, and how, but only after much discussion and even argument. Reluctantly, and only after John assured her they'd be no recrimination from him if, contrary to expectation he had an adverse reaction to it, 14 month's into their marriage Anne had sex with a guy called Phil. It happened, perhaps inevitably, while they were on holiday with Anne having sex with Phil a number of times over a 4 day period. John watched with rapt attention as this virtual stranger fucked his wife and found it a phenomenal experience, masturbating several times. More importantly perhaps, it completely changed Anne's attitude. She loved her experiences with Phil and it blew away any doubts she might still have had. Of course it helped that Phil was not only a very skilled and attentive lover, but also well endowed. Oddly it excited John to know this guy fucking his wife possessed a noticeably larger penis than his own, somewhat modest member. From then on, whenever they were away from home, he sought further opportunities for his voyeurism. With discretion in mind their activities had to be restricted to short-term holiday flings despite Anne's increasing willingness for something more long-term, which John himself would have subscribed to if it hadn't been for the greater risk of their secret pastime becoming known. So it was that over the next 5 years or so 11 guys had the pleasure of fucking Anne while her masturbating husband looked on. Then fate lent an unexpected hand when during an holiday in Devon they met Andy who, unbeknown to them at the time, lives just 6 miles away from their home village! The unsuspecting John procured Andy to have sex with Anne while he watched, using the by now well-honed formula of his own imaginary inability to satisfy her. The formula, humiliating to himself though it was, worked well and a very successful, not to mention satisfying, week ensued. Rampant and randy the guy fucked John's wife 11 times in all with Anne loving every minute of it, as did her husband in his own way. Indeed John's ejaculations more than matched the other guy's although his were in his hand while Andy's were inside John's wife! It was 3 month's later that the blow fell. John was interviewing for a van driver; his company being relatively small he does most of the administration and personnel work himself, with occasional help from Anne if required. You can imagine his surprise when the third applicant to enter the office for interview turned out to be none other than Andy! In the interests of discretion the couple never reveal where they live to the guys who have sex with Anne and Andy unlike one or two others, hadn't mentioned his own location so the coincidence came as a total surprise to them both. It was Andy who recovered from the shock of recognition first. "This is a pleasant surprise. Presumably the interview's a mere formality now. When do I start?" John remained in a state of shock as Andy perched himself nonchalantly on the edge of his desk. "Shall I pop back outside and tell the other 2 guys who are waiting that the positions filled?" Andy asked with a smile. John simply nodded, still trying to come to terms with the unexpected reappearance of Andy into his life. Returning, Andy again perched nonchalantly, almost aggressively, on John's desk, carelessly dislodging papers as he did so. "You've got my address on the application form so why not bring your wife to my place this evening so we can get reacquainted. In the meantime you could prepare a different type of employment contract to include my regular servicing of her. I'm more than willing to take on the extra duty." Andy smirked and John felt himself grow hot, then cold at his next words. "I don't suppose you'd be all that keen on your holiday activities becoming common knowledge. How you like to sit and play with your cock while watching total strangers fuck your wife." John suddenly remembered the photographs. Three years earlier he'd hit on the idea of taking a few pictures of Anne's encounters, a sort of pictorial record, so that he could relive the experiences during the sometimes lengthy periods between flings. Four of her lovers had been happy for photographs to be taken, including Andy who had asked for a few pictures for his own use. At the time it had seemed only fair to give him two or three pictures but John now rued the day. "Best interview I've ever had." Andy chortled on his way out. "Looks as if I'm going to be a regular visitor to your bed and your wife's cunt; whether you like it or not." Andy's final words had an ominous ring to them which left John sweating and squirming in his chair. When he told Anne about Andy turning up for interview and his threat of exposing their secret lifestyle, John expected her to be as shocked as he. Instead she seemed excited by the news that Andy lived so close and, unlike John, eager to visit him that evening. They duly drove to Andy's house where he met them at the door. "As attractive and sexy looking as I remember from Devon" Andy said, greeting John's wife with a kiss. "The bedrooms to the right at the top of the stairs if you'd like to go up and undress ready for me." Without further ado Anne set off up the stairs, Andy commenting that she seemed keen while showing John through to the lounge to read the contract of employment he'd drawn up to save his new boss the trouble of doing so. John confessed to having forgotten all about drawing up a contract, having too much on his mind. "Just as well I did one then." Andy commented, undoing his jeans. "I'll go up and reacquaint myself with your attractive wife's body while you read and sign the contract." "What if I decide not to sign?" John asked. "I don't think you have much choice, do you?" Andy replied, casually showing John a photograph of himself clearly seen fucking Anne from the rear. "Copies could be passed round your firm and even posted on your village notice boards." Laughing at John's worried expression Andy removed his jeans and underpants to toss them aside. Then flaunting his penis at the downcast John he said, "See, my cocks already hard at the prospect of burying itself between your wife's thighs." Laughing Andy headed upstairs leaving a forlorn John to study the surprisingly formal looking document that he'd drawn up. It was a normal enough contract of employment until the final paragraph. Below the sentence which read: 'To undertake any additional duties as required' had been added 'NB to service Mrs. A ***** as and when required, but to a minimum of 5 times a week.' John found it difficult to understand or explain to himself but there was something about Andy's contract of employment which had a curiously exciting affect on him and to his amazement he found himself signing the document almost eagerly, albeit in a somewhat shaky hand. (When, less than a week later, Andy produced a second document, this one banning John from all physical contact with his wife, he experienced the same inexplicable excitement and signed that one also. Much to the smirking Andy's amusement.) While studying Andy's paper John had been aware of the sounds of lovemaking from above and now heard Anne's orgasmic cries echoing around the house, an experience he was to become all too familiar with over the ensuing years. A little later Andy returned, naked but for a towel around his waist. "Good you've signed!" he exclaimed seizing the papers. "Two copies for me and one for your records, though I don't suppose you'll be filing it in the office." He grinned. "Just one more thing needs to be done before you piss off home; your wife's spending the night in my bed. Give me your belt and drop your trousers, I'm going to stamp my authority by thrashing your bare arse with it." Well, John hadn't expected this and hesitated not wanting to be humiliated thus. "Come on do as you are told. You're mine to command now. Away from the workplace you'll do as I say or face the consequences of me going public with your little secret." The implied threat induced John to undo his belt and hand it to Andy before reluctantly lowering his trousers. Pushing his underpants down it was inevitable that John's penis, inextricably erect, was exposed to Andy's mockery. "That won't be seeing much action other than wanking." he taunted. "In fact your cock's redundant. No more sex for you." "What do you mean?" John exclaimed. "From now on I shall be fucking your wife so often she'll have no use for your shrivelled up little cock. Now touch your toes." With sinking heart John adopted the required position and then yelled as Andy began beating his bared buttocks. With Andy thrashing his buttocks with surprising vehemence John's cries were soon ringing out louder than his wife's orgasmic cries of joy earlier. In fact his yells brought Anne down from the bedroom to find out what was going on. She merely laughed to see her husband's humiliation and stood watching for a moment before returning upstairs. The sight of his wife's naked body, still glowing from Andy's lovemaking, did nothing to diminish John's erection while her laughter at his predicament merely adding to his humiliation. The explanation of her attitude lies in an incident two years earlier when a guy called Barry, someone John procured to have sex with his wife while on holiday in Ireland, insisted on putting him across his knee for a spanking afterwards. John had the first inkling of a masochistic streak then, Anne teasing him about seeming more excited by the spanking as by watching Barry fucking her. Eventually Andy threw the belt on the floor. "Now I think you know your place in my scheme of things. To all outward appearances at work I shall maintain the deferential employee to boss façade. Away from work though it will be a different matter altogether. Our roles will be reversed and I shall expect 100% obedience from you. I'm sure you don't need reminding of the consequences of any refusal on your part to carry out my orders." John remaining silent, Andy continued, "Now strip naked, go upstairs and give me bath and W.C. a thorough clean before pissing off." Again John was silent, feeling drained of all resistance. There was nothing to say, he knew the guy had him in his power, but also knew part of him relished the situation of helplessness he found himself in. Andy stood watching, a triumphant smile on his face, while John stripped off. "I can see why your wife likes opening her legs for other guys, makes a nice change from having that feeble looking body on top of her." Andy remarked, his contempt plain to see as he eyed John's weakly developed form. "Still she won't be bothered with it now she's got my big fat cock to play with. Your wife couldn't open her legs fast enough earlier on, practically begging me to fuck her she was." he taunted the almost cowering John. With Andy leading the way John meekly followed him up to the bathroom. The route taking them passed his bedroom Andy brought him to a pause outside the open door. "See how your wife waits for me with legs open wide, eager for another good pounding from my cock." he teased before continuing on into the bathroom. John followed, annoyed that Anne's only response had been to tell Andy to hurry up, seeming to acknowledge his taunting words. "By the way I think I deserve more than the salary your offering, considering that I shall also be taking care of all your wife's sexual needs. Increase it by another Grand a year." Andy said in the bathroom. "Ok." John replied, embarrassingly aware of Andy's mocking smile as he eyed his penis, automatically erect following the sight of his naked wife on the guys' bed. "Over the months and years to come I'm going to fuck your wife hundreds, thousands of times, and will expect regular wage increases." the smirking Andy told John, who meekly nodded his assent. Andy waited until John began cleaning the W.C. before turning back to rejoin Anne in the bedroom, closing the door behind him. On his knees cleaning Andy's toilet while his wife had sex with the guy, John felt to be the ultimate in humiliation. However the devious Andy has thought up many and varied ways to humiliate his boss since then. This took place on a Tuesday and for the rest of the week Anne remained at Andy's house, taking advantage of his period of leisure before starting the new job on the following Monday, for much lovemaking. "I lost count of the number of times I fucked your wife last week, Anne's one very randy lady. She can't get enough of my cock." Andy taunted the squirming John when reporting to work that first day. So that's how John's subservience to one of his employees came about. Since that first Tuesday evening he's carried out all Andy's orders without argument, fearful of the possible consequences of refusal. His enforced celibacy added urgency to the excitement John felt whenever he was allowed to watch their lovemaking in the early days. Despite the sneering smile on Andy's face John would masturbate furiously while watching their antics. Nowadays he rarely sees Anne naked so he certainly isn't allowed to watch her having sex with Andy. In fact with his wife spending most nights in Andy's bed John doesn't really see much of her and as invented a number of plausible sounding lies to account for Anne's absence when visitors call. After Andy had made a film of their lovemaking, using a couple of cleverly positioned cameras and ingenious editing, he said that John would have no further need to trouble them by his presence in the bedroom. "You'll be able to watch the film and have a wank whenever you feel like it, while I enjoy the real thing." he jeered. Of course the film, in which at one point John is clearly seen masturbating while watching Andy fucking Anne, the ultimate humiliation should the film do the rounds, puts John even more in the guys' power. Little has been said as yet about Anne's attitude to all this. Well with a highly skilled, well endowed lover catering for her every need, John's wife is one happy and very contented lady. The 16 year difference in their ages seems irrelevant, Andy remains as rampant as ever, and continues to fuck John's wife on an almost daily basis with Anne happy to oblige him orally or anally during her periods. So it was, his car cleaning finished, John prepared to trudge round to the back and start on Andy's garden. First he paused though, mournfully aware of his wife's joyous cries emanating from the open bedroom window as Andy fucked her yet again. The Contract She adjusts her shirt, sitting back in her chair as she waits for the boy to arrive. This was the first meeting, the time for plain speaking and letting it be known how she operates. It is the time when she lays the groundwork for exerting her very strong will over the man who will be sitting in front of her. She breathes deeply and contemplates what she knows about this man, his job, his need to be put under her thumb and made to obey. She knows she will have to be forceful with him, his submission will not come easily but she also knows that when it does, it will be divine. She knows it will take no small amount of work to break him down to nothing and rebuild him into what she desires and sees as the "perfect man". She looks up as there is a knock at the door. "Come in." She watches as he walks in, watches how he quickly observes the room and how his eyes quickly come to rest on her. He strides quickly and assertively into the room, showing with his body language that he is used to being in control. He is dressed smartly but casually, she smiles appreciatively as her eyes rove over his body, eyebrow arching as she watches him pause, knowing he realizes she has just undressed him with her eyes as easily as any man would a hot woman he was sexually interested in. "Sit down, let's begin shall we?" she asks him politely. He looks bewildered as there is only one chair in the room, which she presently is sitting in, "I guess..I'll stand?" She looks up at him and points to the floor in front of her. "Sit." She watches him struggle with this idea, watches the pride and arrogance wash over his face as he considers refusing her. She waits, silently. Finally, he settles himself on the floor, sitting indian style in front of her. Smiling, she nods and starts speaking quietly but firmly. "From now on that is your spot, I expect immediate responses to my requests at all times. If you fail to do so, you will be punished severely. No questions, no protests, no arguments. You will assume the position of punishment which is face down flat on the floor, ass up in the air legs spread so your cock and balls are hanging freely. Understood? Just nod, no need to speak. Your time here is entirely dependent on you. If you decide you can't or don't want to continue to learn how to be a good bitch for me, all you need do is say so and I will gladly show you the door. If I decide you are not meeting the requirements that I am setting forth, I will show you the door as well. I expect this will be difficult for you, the things I am going to ask of you, so I do expect some resistance. However, if that resistance goes the way of complete disrespect for me, I will be through with you. Understood?" he nods, slowly. She smiles and continues, "Your sole purpose in this household is to be of service to me. This includes everything from bathing, to cooking, to driving me around if I require it and everything in between. You will sleep every night until I think you have sufficiently learned your place in the kennels with the rest of the pets. Only good boys get to share my bed. As you prove yourself worthy of my attention and affection you will earn the rights of pleasuring me as well. I know you claim you are the best at these things, but that remains to be seen. This of course means your cock no longer belongs to you. It is mine, which means until I am ready to use it, it will be locked away. I absolutely do not want to catch you touching it, so to ensure that once this conversation is concluded you will be fitted with the best chastity device for you. While we are on this topic, your ass will be trained as well. I fully expect you to be able to take my cock and any cock that I may find for you. " She watches his face and laughs out loud "Oh, stop blushing. I know how much you want to be a good cock slut for me too. Yes, it will be fabulous watching you take cock in your ass and your mouth, watching you, the big bad ass man turned into a bitch. Treated just the same as you'd treat in woman you tried to hook up with. I do think it is about time you learned how to properly treat women, don't you?" She pauses and stares at him, watching his body and his face for his reactions. Laughing softly, she leans forward suddenly and pets him, strokes her hand down his head to his neck. Sitting back again, she starts speaking, "There will be daily punishments. Oh yes, I expect you will need them at least for awhile. You need to be reminded of your place, daily. The severity will depend entirely on how well you do during the day. You will find that I am a strict task master but I am not cruel for the sake of being cruel. Your attire while in my household will be nothing but the skin you were born with. If I have visitors you may be allowed some small article of clothing to cover my prized possession the cock between your legs. Of course, this is entirely dependent on the type of visitors I have. You will be expected to service whomever I choose for you, however they choose to use you within the boundaries of my rules. You can be assured that I will absolutely take care of you. My friends will follow my rules when playing with my toys or they will not be invited back. Are you agreeable to these terms so far?" He looks at her having a difficult time processing everything but very sure in himself when he nods. He fidgets, still savoring the brief touch of her hand on his head. She smiles at him, crossing her legs she sets her foot to swinging directly in his face. "One other issue that needs to be addressed, I am a bit of an old fashioned lady, being this way means that I require gentlemanly behavior at all times. You are expected to open and close all doors and wait to seat yourself until I have sat down when we are in public. When we are at home, as I said before, your place is at my feet like you are now. If we are at dinner as the gentleman, you will be expected to place our order. This could change depending on my mood but as a general rule this is how I expect things to go. If you disrespect me in public, your punishment will be most severe when we arrive home. I will not tolerate rude behavior. Clear?" He nods. "Now, is there anything you would like to add at this time? You may speak freely right now but once this chance is gone, you will always beg my attention before you are allowed to make a request. " She waits for him to respond, her foot moving along his chest just lightly. He looks up at her, shuddering slightly and shakes his head slowly. "No, we have talked a lot in the past and you are very clear. I am ready for this, please." She laughs softly and nods. "Let the games begin. Disrobe, fold your clothes neatly and leave them by my chair. You won't be needing them anymore." The Contract It began with a dress. She had always loved it. Loved how men looked at her when she wore it. But she always felt a little guilty. She had built her rep and her career on being being smart, forthright and right pretty much all the time. She fought the office battles on equal terms and never allowed her sexuality to come into it. So why did she feel such a anxiety about looking good? Was she letting herself down? But something always drove her back into that dress. The fleeting glimpse of shame quickly surpassed by the barely suppressed grin as she felt the impossibly light material slip against her hips and cling to her buttocks and the sure knowledge of the stares that followed her. And it's crimson hues matched her blush. "Lovely dress" was all he said and suddenly he had her attention. She looked into his eye to politely thank him and was floored by a hunger she saw there. He was composed and casual. But his eyes gave him away. She felt him greedily eat her up across the conference table and a heat rushed over her. He was the head of some dept, as was she. Their paths had crossed a few times and she realized she had noticed him before as she passed by his office on the way to the bathroom. He was not her usual type. She most often found herself with men like Jared - somewhat athletic, solid if somewhat unimaginative. He was the antithesis. Where Jared wore t-shirts and cut-offs this man wore a crisp and contemporary suit. Where Jared slouched this man walked straight and tall, his angular features and slender frame giving him a commanding air. Where Jared was easy going this man was a force and was known within the company to be less than agreeable on many occasions. She stuttered some reply and looked away. But as the meeting wore on she became more and more aware of his eyes returning to her. As the meeting closed she engineered herself to get by him as the rooms occupants squeezed through the doorway and he lightly placed his palm against the small of her back as he offered her the exit. Her skin still tingled from touch minutes later as she let herself into the spacious bathroom on the executive floor. Locking the door she stood before the mirror admiring herself, she put her hand where his was and with another she cupped and squeezed a breast through her dress thinking about how it might look if it where his hand. She had masturbated many times in this cool space, often watching herself in the mirror and today was to be no exception. Her panties pushed down to her thighs and a hand between her legs she stared at herself and her blurring fingers. Afterwards she would be shocked at herself at the images that came to her mind. Often sexually she saw herself in a more dominant role. But today she could think of little else than kneeling before him and taking him in her mouth. Of being roughly held down, having her hair pulled as he pushed himself in her. She felt she was going to come hard and she squatted down to spread herself wide. Reaching back to caress her anus lightly with a fingertip her head bowed and her face just inches from her panties that where stretched dangerously between her knees. She smells her own sex on her panties and the aroma, the dirtiness of it - squatting in a bathroom playing with herself inhaling her own musk - drives her over the edge and she bucks as she is racked by the orgasm. ---------- The next day she has the oddest experience, an almost sensory illusion. A pheremone hallucination. As she passed his office she sees him staring out at her, seemingly in deep thought and as her eyes meet his her nose is suddenly filled with the aroma from her session in the bathroom the previous day. As if from nowhere she can smell and taste nothing but her own sex and suddenly the sensation passes as quickly as it began. She stumbles a little in surprise and as she curses herself she sees him up and at his door, lightning fast. "Are you OK?" he enquires and his smile seems genuine. She is flustered and waves him off. As she walks away she is strongly aware of his eyes on her and the fire burring between her legs. Another visit to the bathroom is surely due. -------- She cannot resist. The memory and intensity of the hallucination and the magnetism of this man draws her to him. She finds reasons to pass his office several times a day. The hallucination is not repeated but now she has taken to actively burying her face in her own underwear when she comes in the echoey privacy of the bathroom just yards from his office. On the third day she surprises herself again. As she squats in the bathroom she detects a second scent under the smell of her own pussy. The faintest hint of stale pee and as she realizes this she is overwhelmed with shame and also desire. Her fingers shake as she sniffs again - first timidly then inhaling deeply. She cannot believe what she thinks to do and like a character in a cartoon looks around to see if she is being seen even though she knows she is alone. She pulls her panties back up and lowers herself onto the toilet seat. Holding her dress up and looking between her own legs she holds her breath. Seconds tick by. Nothing. She exhales hard and a tiny spurt of pee escapes her and soaks into the gusset of her panties. She laughs at herself and slides a hand inside her underwear. So very wet. She brings her fingers to her face and sniffs. Smells good. Something in it reminds her of fresh coffee and she pees again - this time a bold spurt that escapes her underwear and lands in the bowl. Now she has two hands between her legs, both inside and out of her sodden underwear as she wriggles and enjoys the wet clingyness. She raises a finger to her lips and her head swims with images of him as she comes while tasting her own piss for the very first time. -------------- She tells Jared nothing of this. She suspects he would be disgusted. In some ways so is she. But, as she sits at her desk, her panties still damp between her legs she realizes this is the allure. It is the fact that this behavior is disgusting that makes her want to do it. She realizes that she hungers for the humiliation of this private dirtiness. It is the knowledge of her own abandon that drives her to it day after day. She asks herself how far will she go? Her mind wanders down dark streets. She sees herself in a new light. A secret slut with shame to share and suddenly she starts from her reverie. He is standing in the doorway. "will you do something for me?" he asks. Her mind races. Yes. probably anything. She nods, not trusting her voice. "Will you wear that dress again tomorrow?" "Dress?" she blurts "Yes, the red one one you wore earlier this week. It pleases me" (who uses a phrase like 'it pleases me' she thinks) " and I have an important meeting tomorrow. That dress. Well. It makes me focussed" "Er... I don't know." She is frazzled and surprised and this makes her defensive. before she can check herself she is denying him "I don't think thats really appropriate do you?" He shrugs and turns away. "Well, think about it" -------- She does. All night. By seven she has vowed she will not wear it. By eight the dress has mysteriously made it's way onto the back of a chair in her bed room. By nine she is sure she will not wear it. Will not be treated as an object for his entertainment. Will not be degraded and judged only on her looks. By ten she is staring at the dress over Jareds' shoulder as he fucks her and as she comes her mind is full of images of degradation and abandonment. She sees the dress through slitted eyes as she imagines being used by him instead of Jared and her mind is made up. -------- The sense of ambiguity is multiplied by a hundred. She is simultaneously angry and joyous. She is not used to acting on instruction from a man and by the time she reaches the office that morning she is occilating between different states. She is wildly turned on. Her body was never as present as it seemed that day. She could feel every inch of herself and the touch of the dress on her skin like a bath of raw heat. She is also ashamed of herself and hence angry. She tells herself it's no big deal, that she is doing a co-worker a favor but her heart doesn't buy the rationalization. She knows that she has stepped onto a path that leads away from who she is and what made her feel strong and powerful. And yet there is another edge to the shame. It is the shame itself that makes her feel more alive in her own skin than she has ever felt. She wants to deny it but there is a strange and thrilling freedom of giving over a part of herself. But anger rules the moment. She feels she should confront, show her strength, not her vulnerability and she stalks to his office door. Before she can speak, begin her unplanned sarcastic tirade he looks up and the look on his face melts her resolve. Just seeing the desire in his eyes obliterates the anger. "My goodness, you are very beautiful" he says and the words disarm her even more. Her resolve has not caught up with her emotions but her emotions overwhelm her tone. She had meant to bitingly, sarcastically ask "So what would you like me to wear tomorrow?". Instead it comes out, soft, genuine. She finds herself calmly asking him what he wants her to wear the next day. This is not going as she planned. He stares at her for a long time. Thinking hard. Silence. She holds her ground, not knowing what else to do. This is the long moment of transition. The point where their relationship will change forever. Everything hangs on the response. The room seems to shrink around them. He smiles and looks her direct in the eye as he speaks. They both know something important is happening here and they both know each other know. "The short black denim skirt with the stitching on the side, the purple satin shirt you got in the sample sale, The Choo heels you first wore to last years holiday party, no stockings and the simple silver necklace you wear with the earrings that you always wear on Thursdays." Her mouth moves and nothing comes out. She has often read the phrase 'lost for words' but for the first time in her life is experiencing it. She simply nods, turns and staggers back to her own office. Her mind is reeling. Before the previous week she had hardly paid attention to this man and yet he seems to know her - or at least her wardrobe as well as herself. She realizes the full strength of the attention this man must have paid her over the time they have worked alongside one another. Most of her boyfriends - Jared included - wouldn't notice if she went to work in a Ninja outfit. Yet here is this man who seemingly clocks and remembers every move she makes and has listened oh so carefully whenever she speaks even when she hardly realized he was in the room. She smiles and laughs to herself. At least now she won't have to worry about what to wear every day. ------- She is distracted all day hardly able to concentrate and her cunt nags at her to be touched. She feels like a fourteen year old in the grip of a wild crush. Except she knows this is more sophisticated, more complex. This isn't about a cute boy. This is way deeper. She knows this man is attractive but that his hold over her is more meaningful. It's not about good looks and pure desire. It's about what he is unlocking within her. A dark side. A woman that wants to be told how to dress, how to act. To be submissive and dirty and have secrets. But this dark side has an honesty to it that makes her breathe deeper and more freely. Giddily she calls Office Services and asks that the new temp assistant she requires be located at a desk at the end of the work area - directly outside his office. -------- The ironic contrast between the her appearance and her behavior does not escape her. She dresses well, takes great pride in her appearance. Chooses her clothing to project power, control and, yes, wealth. She loves a designer shoe probably more than the next woman. And here she is, looking strong and confidant and in control in the black denim and the colorful shirt on her way to work. Nobody could guess how debased she is becoming behind locked doors, how filthy. Last night Jared was unable to make her come so after he fell asleep she made her way to the bathroom and dug several pairs of her own soiled underwear out the laundry basket as well as pair of sweaty shorts that Jared had played basketball in. She worked her way through her own underwear, sniffing and licking at the panties as she sunk her fingers into her pussy. She finds the vaguest shadow of a skid mark in the back of Jareds' shorts and thrills to find herself sniffing at it while she masturbates. Who would know that this powerhouse executive was, just a few hours earlier in the dead of night climbing into her empty tub to shimmy awkwardly and uncomfortably until her pelvis was raised above her head on the side of the bath to let out a stream of hot piss across her own belly, breasts and onto her face? Who would guess that she came last night with the taste of her own urine in her mouth and beading on her lips as she sniffed underwear almost upside down in a cold tub? And yet, this duality was from from dividing her. She felt freer, more light hearted than she had felt in a long time. The little black box was sitting on her chair. Most would leave a gift or note on the desk, by her keyboard but he has chosen this placement carefully she thinks. Right where her ass spends most of its day. She open it carefully. A black leather cuff. Both delicate and crude in it's design. She recognizes the designer label, not cheap she smiles to herself. The post-it below bears one simple word, hand written: 'tomorrow'. Somehow this does not surprise her. Of course this would happen. Of course he would provide her with a symbolic yoke. A mark of his ownership and her allegiance to him. This is how these things should be done. But she will not give him everything. She wants to be devilish, playful. She wants to set her own pace, buck his control a little and she straps the cuff to her left wrist even though it seems out of place with the shirt he has chosen for her today. She smiles to herself at the cleverness of her move and countermove. She will take his instruction but always show him that she is independent, capable of resisting. She will not wear the cuff tomorrow. She will wear it today. A tiny voice inside of her knows this victory is ridiculous. That she is only accelerating the final obliteration of her sense of control but she brushes it aside uncaring. "Thank you, it's lovely" she says, feeling stronger and more in control in his presence than she has in a week as she stands in his doorway. She has teased him all day - using her body as a tool to regain the upper hand (or so she tells herself). Several times she has found reasons to work long minutes with the temp outside his office. Hotly aware of his eyes on her as she leans over the desk presenting her rump wrapped in denim to him and kicking up her heels to show him the scarlet sole. Ostentatiously waving files in the air to draw attention to the cuff. "You are very welcome." he says "a woman of your looks only deserves the finest accessories". Is he laughing at her or are they amused together? Uninvited she takes a seat in a low arm chair opposite across from his desk, perching on the edge and playing with the cuff so she does not need to meet his eye. "So what shall it be tomorrow?" she asks ever gaining in confidence. His reply is instantaneous, "The tight black knit sweater and the tan skirt. And the knee-high boots you wore to the board meeting two weeks ago." She nods. It's a good combination that had not ever occurred to her. She has rehearsed the next line in her mind all day but her voice quakes a little as she asks. This is truly the point of no return. "What about underwear?" as coyly as she can manage. His office is spacious and open as befits an executive in such a large organization but to both of them it seems to shrink to a tiny box, the air hot and cloying despite the extreme air conditioning. A space big enough only for their bodies. "Well...." he pauses, raising an eyebrow in recognition of the challenge "... what are you wearing now?" Her heart races, she feels a lump in her throat and her head is swimming. She knows what she wants to do. What she must do if she is to retain any sense of control over this situation but the bald brazenness of it is intimidating. Her mind is racing. Does she have guts for this? Is this the kind of woman she is? What if she has misread this entire situation? And then she realizes she has already done it. While her mind was whirring her body took control, uncrossed her legs, leaned back in the chair and parted her knees just enough to give him a direct view of her pussy wrapped on black satin. She glares at him, knees spread, challenging and long moments pass as he stares between her knees. She sees him flush just a little and she is filled with a glowing sense of triumph. She has power over this man! It is her very submission that gives her the upper hand! Her mind races with the implication: to feel the full force of owning and controlling another human being by being owned and controlled in turn. It is a powerful and deep contract and the realization of this hits her with enough force to knock her breath away. She is grateful that the shirt does not show her chest or he would surely see her heart beating through her rib cage. But she is unwavering, holds the pose, holds his rapt attention. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair but his eyes never leave the dark space between her knees. She realizes that he is hard and his suit pants bend irregularly. Power rushes to her as control slinks away. Finally, after what seems an hour, he raises his eyes to lock with hers, even though she holds the pose. "Nothing" he says and his voice is hoarse. "You will wear no underwear. First thing in the morning you will go the the bathroom down the hall here" he nods towards her favorite private place, she flushes, does he know of her secret activity there? " take off your panties and deliver them to me. I will return them to you at the end of the day." And so it is done. She has crossed the line. She feels exhausted and thrilled. Her limbs are weak and she is barely able to nod assent, climb out of the chair and stumble back to her office his gaze following her all the way. ------------ Her hand shakes as she hands him the manilla folder containing her panties the next morning. She feels wildly exposed and giddily free, the cool air ever present on her naked ass and pussy beneath her skirt. She feels constantly in danger and is thrilled with it. Why did she never think of going 'al-fresco' before she wonders? He cracks the folder and peeks inside, nodding approval at the red satin. "I trust you wore them all night?" How well he knows her. She masturbated herself to climax three times last night night in the dark by Jareds' sleeping form while wearing them. Just thinking about this moment and the previous days events. Her mind filled with images of submission she had stared at all night online while pretending to work late in her home office. It was all she could do to not soak them with pee. But she was definitely not ready to reveal this deeply dirty activity to him. And probably never would she tells herself. "So you are not wearing anything under there?" he enquires and she nods sheepishly. "May I see?" Her heart jumps. She wants nothing more than to expose herself to this man at this moment but what if anyone where to see? She looks back through the office glass. It's deserted, too early for most. She looks back at him, locks his gaze and takes the hem of her skirt in both fists and quickly raises it to reveal her nakedness below. It is the quickest of flashes but he is forced to sit in order to disguise his arousal. The Contract "The Rubicons which women must cross, the sex barriers which they must breach, are ultimately those that exist in their own minds" -Freda Alder CHAPTER ONE- THE NEGOTATIONS "I own you now," the low sexy voice in her ear growled. Emily felt herself being pulled even tighter to the wall of granite hard chest at her back. The hands gripping her biceps were strong and the fingers bit into her skin, not that she minded. She was grateful for the iron grip holding her; her bones had turned to liquid and the hands seemed to be the only thing holding her up at the moment. The man at her back seemed to sense her arousal, or was it trepidation? He could smell the heady combination coming off of her as he buried his nose in her neck and inhaled. Either way, it was an aphrodisiac and it only seemed to intrigue him even more. He was, after all, quite enjoying the delicious way she was trembling in his arms and her breathing hitched. "I like your tits, show them to me. I want to see you breathe," he commanded. Emily felt the grip on her arms loosen and the heat at her back disappear when The Man stepped back; instantly missing it. She was amazed at how much her body had reacted to him. There was something so raw about this man that she couldn't help but be attracted to him. He stood about six foot two with ice blue eyes and short dark hair. His wide shoulders tapered to slim hips, flat rigid stomach, and long arms and legs that were roped with thick muscle. He had just enough tattoos to be sexy but not so many that it distracted from his good looks, and there was a hint of the nipple rings that he wore under his tight black ribbed shirt. God, he was beautiful. And although he was pretty he was no mammas boy. He carried himself with a cool confidence that said don't fuck with me. And people didn't. His most interesting feature, however, was his oversized penis. The Man's attorney had showed her photos of it during the negotiations and made it perfectly clear that based on his size that he might do some damage. And in all honesty, she had no doubt that he could. It was the kind of cock that would make a porn star envious. It was a thick column of velvet covered steel that jutted out from a dense patch of carefully trimmed coarse coffee colored hair; as long as a women's forearm and so thick she wouldn't be able to close her fist around it. It really was a thing of beauty. Emily shook out her nervous hands to do as he asked; fumbling with the tiny buttons until the gauzy material flopped to the sides and her breasts fell out, the material clung to the outside edges of her delectable breasts and sloped suggestively to her navel. The Man stood silently behind her patiently watching... waiting... Emily stiffened when The Man's arm swept around her waist and pulled her back into the granite wall again, his immense erection was propped against the small of her back and his breath feathered over the nape of her neck. He greedily cupped the breasts that had been torturing him since the first moment he saw her. Her nipples seared his palm before his hands finally retreated to her hips and caressed them leisurely. An errant smile curved up on the edge his beautiful lips as he admired the peek of her panties each time the hem of her dress crept higher on her thighs. Emily's eyes flickered to the oversized mirror that hung in front of them and she blushed when she realized he had been intently watching her reactions to him the whole time. The look he gave her was purely predatory, like an animal stalking its prey. "Who owns you, little one?" He asked to the wide eyes staring back at him. He did. She was slowly processing that fact as her mind raced over the details of how this unusual situation came about. How a well educated, independent, woman could willingly sign a contract for one million dollars to enter into sexual servitude with a man she just met, and an extra quarter million in it if her husband watched; a contract where this man could and would use her body as he saw fit. She never gave her husband a chance to say no. The negotiations hadn't been easy. The Man's attorney, who she suspected was also his bodyguard based on the fact that he was built like a line backer, was relentless in his questioning; asking very personal medical questions. But those were nothing compared to the humiliating questions that came next. Questions like: How often did she masturbate and did she climax? Has she ever used a vibrator before and how big was it? What was the biggest size penis she's ever had in her? All of which made her face burn and her husband pace back forth protesting each embarrassing question, wringing his hands so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "We're going to have to take pictures," the linebacker attorney said, grabbing an expensive digital camera and ignoring her husband's protests. "Maam, if you wouldn't mind?" He motioned towards an elegant couch, "Your dress?" "Oh, right," she mumbled looking over her shoulder at her husband as she sat down on the large couch. Chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she hated, and raised the cool fabric above her hips. The attorney kneeled in front of her snapping photos and looking bored. "Spread yourself please," he asked blandly. Mortified at the mere thought, she held up a hand to silence the attorney. "Are you fucking insane? You know what; don't answer that. I'll do whatever you want." Emily had a feeling that the attorney wouldn't have taken the question rhetorically and would've given her some smartass answer she didn't want to hear. Her hair was a silky curtain of black around her face as she bowed her head to hide the flush of her face and did as the attorney asked; tentatively sliding her fingers into the warm folds and peeling back the pink swollen furrows. The glossiness that coated her fingers glistened in the light. The Man languidly sat in an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, watching he negotiations with a stoic look. He kept his legs crossed and elbows resting on the arms of the chair, the amber of his untouched 50-year-old Dalmore scotch swirled in the crystal tumbler next to him. He glanced at her supple full breasts and noticed that one was about to fall out of the slinky sundress. He could see the full outline of her nipple through the material and a hint of the dusky colored areola as it peeked out, just begging to be tasted. Fucking tease. Emily hissed loudly and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when a particularly sharp pinch to her nipples shook her out of her thoughts of the negotiations and back to the moment; back to the man who was talking seductively into her ear. "Who owns you?" He repeated impatiently. "You do," she stammered out quietly. "Who?" he asked only because he liked the sound of her voice quivering and wanted to hear it again. "You do." He cupped her chin and forced her to look at both reflections in the mirror. "Good, because you're going to go into that room and when I enter to claim you I want you to show your husband how much you want me. I want him to understand that I own you now. And you better be vocal about it. Do you understand?" "Yes," she whispered. "Good girl." Twisting her head and kissing her, ravaging her mouth and claiming it as his. He pulled back so abruptly that it left her gasping, "Now go." ********* An hour later the door to the outdoor bungalow finally opened. The Man stepped out into a spacious room that over looked a white sand private beach. There was only one actual wall to the room. The two sidewalls had thick white linens lightly blowing in the wind and the furniture had a Mediterranean look to it; the fourth was nonexistent, leaving a scenic view of the ocean. The Man nodded to the bored looking attorney and noted that the husband and wife were sitting on an ornate chaise; the woman playing with her hands and chewing her bottom lip. Ice blue eyes settled on the woman. "Well?" The color instantly drained from Emily's face as she turned towards her husband, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. With a death grip she clasped her husband's hands in hers. "He owns me now," she gulped, "to use me as he sees fit." Silence. Her husband simply brought the back of her hand to his mouth, placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, and let her go. Unsettled, she shuffled towards The Man knowing the frayed threads binding her to her husband were going to completely unravel. She had known her husband for over 10 years and trusted him completely; could tell him anything. Well, almost anything; a girl had to have some secrets. Her marriage seemed perfect to the outside world. But if anyone had taken the time to really look they would see all the tiny cracks in it: cracks she desperately tried to hide; cracks that would expose her deepest secrets; cracks that had suddenly become giant sinkholes and were swallowing her whole. But The Man; he was her lifeline out of the dark sinkhole that was her soul and the surgeon knitting the frayed edges back together. She knew that he would be the one to draw her out of her head. The Man stepped behind her and curled his fingers into her hair tilting her head to the side and exposed her long neck. His other hand slid down her firm belly and disappeared into her panties to the top of her shaved sex. "Mm... so smooth, so very smooth," he murmured into her neck. His palm cupped her sex; the tips of his fingers made slow lazy circles that coaxed her legs father apart. "That's my little slut." "Eyes open little one," The Man whispered in her ear when her eyes flickered closed; his lips moved softly against Emily's neck and his stubbly cheek tickled her. "I want your husband to see your eyes when I make you come. You do want to come for me, don't you? Show your husband how much you enjoy my mouth on you?" he asked keeping his eyes focused on her husband. Emily's loud throaty moan dismissed any doubt that she belonged to The Man. A sharp tingle through her scalp made her gasp when his fingers fixed even tighter in her hair. The hand at her core skimmed up and held her tight around her tiny waist, locking her in place against him. His mouth dove firmly against her neck; nipping and sucking the delicate skin intending to leave his mark. The pleasure of his mouth and the sharp sting of the bites caused her to shatter. Her fingernails scored his forearms as her orgasm hit her hard and caught her off guard making her knees buckle. Once more, The Man's arms were the only thing holding her up. The Man smirked at her husband, "Mm, such a good little girl, I think I'm going to enjoy having her as a play thing. She's going to make a great slut," The Man chided. "Tell me, has your husband ever made you cum like that? Just by having his mouth on you?" The Man asked with his mouth close to Emily's ear. "No... I've always faked it," she admitted, hardly audible. Shit...shit...shit! What had she done? What happened to 'A girl has to have some secrets'? That was one secret she could have done without sharing. How many more secrets were going to reveal themselves? The Man's thumb brushed the dark purple spot on her neck, "I've marked you as mine; how do you like wearing my mark?" "I like it. I like being yours," she croaked. "I know you do. Now, go show it off." Swatting her on the ass and sending her back to her apprehensive husband. Emily sat next to her husband and tilted her head exposing the half dollar size mark on the hollow of her neck. The Man waited until he saw a subjugated look on her husbands face before making his way over to them. The Man stopped in front of Emily, kneeled between her legs, parted her thighs and deliberately admired the swollen sex in front of him; inhaling the sharp musky scent of her arousal. Emily felt The Man thrust a thick finger into her she and inhaled sharply. She braced herself with her hands, one on the chaise, and the other digging into her husband's thigh. "What do you want, little one?" he asked while his finger slowly teased her. "More," she groaned pumping her hips on his hand. More? More of what? The Man chuckled softly at her generic response and shook his head. He already knew what she wanted more of, what she needed, even more than she did. He just wanted to hear her say it. However: If she couldn't convey what was in that alluring mind of hers; the mind he was determined to discover; then she would get whatever he was willing to give. And for the moment he was only willing to give her another finger. His knuckles pressed against her and his thumb hit her clit while he languidly finger fucked her. His other hand spread her open so he could watch her wet pinkness suck his fingers in deeper. Lazily cupping her cheek with his rough hand, he pulled himself up so he was nose to nose with her and could feel the warm ruffle of her breath across his cheek. Her eyes were glassy and she nuzzled her cheek into his palm. "Are you ready to get fucked? Say it, baby, tell me what you want," his voice a smooth baritone that rumbled out of his chest. "I want-" Again, she couldn't finish the sentence. Not that the words themselves were offensive to her; she was just incapable of saying them. The Man impassively watched Emily's throat move as she swallowed hard trying to find the right words. He finally answered for her, "You want me to fuck you, don't you?" "Yes, I want you-" she breathed looking into his eyes and blushing deeply, "-I want you to fuck me." The Man looked abruptly to her husband; his voice was like ice, "Tell your wife you love her. I'm about to ruin her." Emily's husband leaned down and whispered that he did at the same moment The Man stuffed a third finger into her. She gasped in surprise as her hips lifted off the couch, her nails clawing into her husband's thigh and on the edge of another climax. Satisfied that he had gotten Emily's attention, The Man withdrew his fingers before she could orgasm, and methodically stood up between her legs. He loomed over her, put one hand on each side of her shoulders and leaned in, herding her back against the couch. He placed his mouth next to her ear and whispered haughtily in a low snarl, "When your pussy is screaming to be fucked; when you are screaming to be fucked- then- and only then- is when I'm going to fuck you. But make no mistake, little one, I am going to ruin you; just not right now," he paused for a heartbeat, "I intend to make you last awhile." With a smug male smirk he pulled away from her, stepped to the attorney and whispered a few words, then made it to the door in three long confidant strides. Not bothering to look back he called out flatly, "Get some rest, girl. You're going to need it." CHAPTER 2- SAY IT Discretion was the main reason people chose to stay at The Man's exclusive hotel so he knew he could trust the staff. But he hadn't taken any chances. He slipped one of the house keepers a couple of Benjamin's, just to make sure the she had sudden memory loss in case anyone questioned how he had gotten into Emily's room. When he and the attorney entered the room Emily was in the shower and her husband had the "sudden urge" to get a drink at one of the many posh bars in the hotel with the attorney Emily stood under the hot spray of the shower and grabbed a bottle of shower gel, generously poured some onto a loofa and began to use it liberally over her body; hoping to wash away her sins. It did little good. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get The Man out of her mind or the wonderfully sinful way he had made her come. Giving up, she stepped out of the shower, wiped the steam from the mirror and inspected the bite mark on her neck. Even though it had been several hours since The Man had given it to her the mark was still tender and darker than ever. She desperately wanted to see The Man again but the anxiety of waiting was making her edgy and; admittedly, she had mixed emotions about seeing him again in general. Primarily, she was afraid of what would happen if she allowed herself to let go and fully surrender control to The Man and the experience he was offering. She had enjoyed the way he made her feel but, as usual, was over thinking the situation and fighting the submissive feelings The Man was brining out of her. No one had ever brought out that kind of passion from her, not even her husband. It was exactly what she wanted- and it scared the hell out of her. The Man took the liberty of making himself comfortable in an oversized couch in Emily's hotel room while scoping her reflection in the bathroom mirror and sipping on Scotch he pillaged from the mini bar. Emily had conveniently left the bathroom door open and he was savoring the sight of her sliding on her lingerie, her big breasts jiggling as she wiggled her way in. He admired her taste in lingerie; it was something that he would've picked out for her, he had chosen his new pet wisely. He observed that she was finishing up so he silently got up and waited behind the bathroom door knowing that he would be in her blind spot when she opened it. When Emily finally stepped out of the bathroom he promptly grabbed her by the waist and muscled her up against the wall knocking the wind out of her. Making quick work of her hands he easily pinned her wrists to the wall above her head. His chest pressed into hers and his thick thighs forced her to widen her stance to accommodate him; shoving a knee high into her crotch so she was practically sitting on it. She tried to fight The Man's iron grip by throwing her weight into him but he out weighed her by at least eighty pounds and was about ten inches taller. She had no where to go. Grinning, he allowed her to push him back a step or two just for the fun of it. After all, he was a master at the game and only allowed the give and take because it pleased him to do so. He really did take pleasure playing with her; feeling her lithe body vibrating against him as she as she tried to fight him off. And, damn, she was beautiful in her struggle. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and wide from shock and determination, and her breath was coming out in fast little pants. Fucking beautiful. "What? Aren't you glad to see me?" He taunted, grinding his erection into her belly and pressing her wrists even tighter to the wall. "That's it, pet; scream for me you know how hard it makes me when you scream." And she did. "What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, "where's my-," The Man dipped his head down and captured her luscious mouth with his own; cutting off her words and making better use of her mouth. He bit her bottom lip and pulled it lightly with his teeth, letting it snap back into place, kissing her until he felt her body go pliant and she was kissing him back. Languidly he peeled himself off her and stared into her eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally answered her. His voice was rougher than expected, "He went for a drink. Now, be a good girl and open the curtains." Holy Hell. She was absolutely stunned by the view. The pearly white of the moonlight cut through the black water and spilled into the room giving it a soft glow. "It's beautiful, no?" "It's breathtaking." Tilting his head to the side The Man was also drinking in the view. But it wasn't the scene outside the window he was admiring. It was her. The moonlight washed over her making her pale skin look iridescent and he could see the complete silhouette of her curvy body. The lingerie was pale pink and completely translucent; hell, he would've been able to tell if she hadn't shaved. The delicate material clung to her curves and stopped just at the contour of her ass. It had a low v-neck with spaghetti straps and a tiny white bow at her cleavage with identical white ribbon accenting throughout. A matching barely there pink g-string was nestled tight in the cleft between her legs. The Contract "You know, I can see your breasts through your gown, your nipples are hard." He flicked his wrist in her direction, "I bet you were actually thinking of me when you put that on, weren't you? You knew I liked your big tits," he remarked nonchalantly, leaning against the couch and crossing his legs at the ankles. "And I bet... you were totally lost in that pretty little head of yours while you were showering, wondering if I was even going to come to you tonight." He started circling her like the prey she was. Chills skittered down her spine. Damn, was he reading her mind? How could he know that? "Your mind racing a mile a minute wondering how I would fuck you: If I'd be rough or go easy? If I would notice you trembling when you begged for me? If I would be able to- " he sniffed at her collar bone loudly, "-smell your arousal?" She didn't need to answer; the blush on her face and her body language told him all he needed to know. Her head was hanging down and she had suddenly found something very interesting to look at on the immaculate carpeting while she chewed her bottom lip and toyed with her fingers. "Very well," he sighed. "Since you wanted me to see 'em lets see 'em; no use hiding them. Show me your fucking tits. Now." Her whole body stiffened at his gruff tone but she gave a pitchers nod and did what she was told, sliding the shoulder straps down and letting the material float to the floor; her nipples puckering in the cool air. She fought the impulse to cross her arms over her chest. She had a feeling that he would be displeased if she did so she kept her arms firmly at her sides and her fists curled in tight little balls. "Eyes up, pet, it's too late to be bashful." He nodded approvingly when her big green eyes finally met his eyes. "Good girl. Now play with those big tits of yours. I want to see how far you can stretch your nipples." Watching as she yielded to his whim, alternating between lightly tugging at her nipples and letting them flick between the webbing of her fingers until they looked like hard pink pencil erasers. "Why do you want to be my pet and let me ruin you?" He asked softly, his eyes intently fixed on her face. She thought about her answer while she ceded to his wish and continued to knead her breasts, "I... um... I just want to be able to let myself go and to not have to think; to just feel- to stop going in my head and detaching myself from the moment. I've never been able to do that," she admitted. "And I... ah... I like it. I like idea of giving myself to you." He looked at her thoughtfully, as if he were studying her, and nodded towards the bed. "Sit down on the edge of the bed and spread your legs." She dutifully sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back slightly, supporting herself with her arms and expanded her long legs. Getting down on one knee he hooked his fingers in the crotch of her panties and tugged them down until her sex was glistening in front of him. His hands glided up the inside of her smooth thighs and gently pushed her legs even wider, arranging them to his liking. He placed his mouth at the bottom of her sex and gave her an ice cream cone lick up her slit until he got to the little kernel at the top; the stubble on his cheek made the sensitive skin on her thighs ruddy with whisker burn. He kept his eyes locked to hers while he teased her with the tip of his tongue, expertly swirling it around the little nub until it was swollen and popped in his mouth, her hips swiveling in response, aching for more. But he kept his touch light and continued with the tease; sucking at her clit, pulling it into his mouth and biting down gently. Her guttural moans of discontent echoed through the room when he unexpectedly pulled back and rose to his full height. "You look lovely, pet. Your arousal pleases me," he said cupping her jaw approvingly, moving his thumb over her bottom lip and looking pleased when she nuzzled his palm with her cheek. The Man took her hands in his and slid them under the waistband of his trousers. He could feel her hands quivering as they traveled over the curve of his ass, catching his trousers until gravity took over and they fell to the floor. His monstrous erection bobbed a hairsbreadth from her mouth; he always went commando. He took off his one thousand dollar handmade Italian silk shirt and chucked it to the floor like a dirty dishcloth. He swung his big body behind her and straddled her back, his erection settled in the small of her back. His unyielding arms wound around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest; rough hands creeping under her breasts and walking down her ribcage. His brazen hands moved effortlessly over her hips and turned inward so his finger tips brushed the inside of her thighs, tickling her core as they moved back up to her waist, gently fingering the small navel ring she wore. Her head tilted back against his shoulder as she relaxed into his hold and let go of a soft moan into his ear. "I like your piercing, little pet. Should I attach a bell to it so I can hear you when you walk? Maybe we should have these pierced too, yes?" He teased, flicking his fingers over her nipples. He chuckled when she let out a little whimper of panic and tensed in his arm: Something to remember for later on. He clasped her hand and placed it on her core. "I know you're wet for me, girl, I tasted you. Touch yourself; show me how you like to be touched," his voice was a faint whisper in her ear as his breath danced over her neck. Hesitantly, she cupped her swollen sex and ground the heel of her hand into it, her fingers dipping in. The Man kept his big hand covering hers, feeling her fingers move beneath his as he urged her exploration on. Looking over her porcelain white shoulder he watched, with clinical interest, as she bit her lip and blushed beautifully while she masturbated. "Purr for me kitten," he coaxed, "let me hear you purr." Placing a kiss on the shoulder he was just admiring and rolling his cock up and down her back. Of course, she obliged by moaning loudly into his neck and sank her fingers even deeper into her tiny cavern. "That's it, pet. That's my good little slut," he encouraged while he finger combed her hair off her face. When he sensed that she was close to shattering he grabbed a hunk of her hair and ruthlessly tilted her head back; putting his ear close to her mouth so he could savor every moment of her climax. "I'm going to enjoy filling that tight little cunt of yours, stretching it wide and packing it full of cock. But first, I'm going to watch you come and hear you scream my name. I'm going to watch that cunt of yours beg for my cock. Now, come for me and be loud about it." Almost before he could even finish his sentence, Emily's body jacked and she screamed his name. White-hot heat surged through her veins, her body felt like it was a sparkler going off and her head was spinning. Her sex was contracting in little spasms, the tight ring of muscles absorbing her fingers in deeper and locking them there. She was so numb with pleasure that she hardly felt him put her fingers in his mouth. His tongue darted between her juice coated fingers and nipped at her fingertips. Damn, she really did taste like warm honey. Delicious. He skillfully slid out from behind her and lowered her slack body to the bed. Placing a paw of a hand on each side of her head he hovered over her with his face just inches from hers, relishing the sight of her flushed face and glazed eyes. "Tell me what you want, pet; tell me what your body is begging for," he calmly asked when her eyes refocused and she impatiently squirmed under him. "Please-" "Please what?" "Please-" Her throat worked as she struggled to form the words that she couldn't say. Please stop. Please continue. Please make me come. Please deny me. Please fuck me. The Man crushed her breasts so tightly that the excess flesh oozed out between his fingers like Playdough. Then he roughly assaulted her nipples; cruelly twisting them and rolling them in his fingers like radio knobs. "Please what? Don't fuck with me, little girl, you won't win." In a voice of restrained desperation she confessed the lurid secrets that had lay dormant in the deepest recesses of her soul. The words poured out in an endless stream, shameless fantasies she never had the courage to say out loud. Damn, he loved hearing her beg for it and fully intended to give her every thing she wanted. He easily lifted her by the hips and dumped her in the middle of the bed causing her take a bounce and flop backwards when she landed. "I'm looking forward to giving you what you want, but you can't have everything at once. Only a taste for now," he growled as he straddled her and abruptly shoved the head of his cock into her modest opening. "Like I said, I want to make you last awhile." As expected, she tried wiggling away when the searing pain of his crusade exploded through her. He stifled her campaign by grappling her hands above her head; his fingers biting into her wrists. His other hand coiled around her waist while he followed her body movements with his own; relentlessly maneuvering into her core and not allowing her any quarter. Her body contorted violently as she died in his arms with an outburst of cries. He leaned down to kiss her, inhaling her screams and claiming them for his own. Her heat-soaked sensitive flesh spasmed and clinched tight around him; greedily consuming his cock. Damn, it was good to be him. THE CONTRACT 3- JUST FEEL Emily was resting contently on her side with The Man pressed tightly to her back, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He knew the moment he saw her walking through his lobby, and then again on the beach, that he had to have her: Her with her dark shoulder length glossy black hair, crimson pouty lips, porcelain white skin, and curves any man would want to sink his teeth into, a modern day Betty Page. And it wasn't just the sight of her in her tiny bikini that got his attention either. She had an easy smile and radiant warm eyes that drew him in. Eyes that hid secrets he was eager to uncover and he always got what he wanted. His fingers skimmed over her shoulder blade and down to her ribs, slowly tracing the curve of her body until he got to her fleshy hip. His fingers positively itched to touch more; he moved his hand to the back of her thigh and up and over her rounded ass, feeling it dip in just a bit. Was that a dimple in her ass? He scanned down her unblemished back to the offending dip. Yep, damn that was cute; his fingers lightly falling in the crack of her heart shaped ass as they traveled back up. His hand settled in the valley between her breasts and he trapped one of her legs between his with his hips were cradling hers; protectively wrapping around her. "You said that you wanted to just feel. To let your body go and to stop over thinking; you're going get your wish. I've taken it easy with you so far. What I gave you was just a taste, but not any more," his voice steady and quiet in her ear as he tucked a piece of errant hair behind her ear. "You know, most females can't take all of me... but you will, won't you?" He challenged. "I'm going to fuck you with my big cock and you're going to take it all. But it won't matter if you can or not. I'm not going to stop, baby girl, not until I'm buried to my balls in you. And it might even hurt a little because I'll be hitting the back of your cervix. But I won't care. Your moans of pleasure and pain will only encourage me because I know that no matter what you say or do you really want me to fuck you without mercy; to fuck you the way your husband won't; you want me to ruin you. You want me to give you all those things you asked for, don't you?" She inhaled a long slow breath and looked over her shoulder at him searching for mercy in his eyes but finding none. A stray tear escaped from the corner of her eye and cascaded down her cheek; she didn't bother to wipe it away. "Yes." With his face showing as much emotion as a brick wall, The Man uncoiled himself from her, silently got up from the bed, snagged his phone from the bedside table, and quickly typed a text message. After the message was sent he pulled his clothes on, instantly looking like the established businessman that he was, and settled himself in the overstuffed chair again; ignoring the questioning look on her face. Moments later the attorney escorted Emily's husband back into the room. Her husband shouldered himself recklessly past the attorney and embraced her, swinging her off her feet and crushing her against him. His hands frantically roamed over her body as if he was checking to see if her limbs were still attached. They spoke in hushed whispers to each other, seeming to console each other, his face sagging with relief when he realized that, yes; she was still in one piece. For now. The Man's eyes blazed with territorial instinct, his muscles coiled tight, and a low growling sound filled the room as he watched another male paw at his new toy. The Man didn't play well with others and was unaccustomed to sharing his toys with anyone. The Man only allowed this brief encounter because this other man was her husband. If it had been any other male touching his pet like that man would have had to been wheeled out of the room. Enough. Wrenching Emily by her bicep The Man snatched her away from her husband and swung her into him. The snarling sound abruptly stopping the moment she landed in his arms. The Man pulled Emily's torso down to the bed, her hands resting on the edge and her stance wide as her feet stayed firmly planted on the floor. His hand splayed out across her back as it drifted up her spine. When he got to the top he seized a solid handful of hair at the base of her neck and wrenched her head up. Her back had a beautiful arch to it making her ass pop higher and her enticing pink pussy bloomed like a flower right before his eyes. The bent over position left Emily feeling open and exposed and her breasts were squashed uncomfortably under her. She took a couple of deep breaths to try and relax, knowing that this was the moment she had been waiting for, but her nervous energy was radiating out of her in waves. The Man sensed her nervousness and slapped her ass cheek just hard enough to leave a pink handprint on her ass, the rosy color suiting her. The swat was just enough to get her attention and keep her focused but not hard enough to really hurt her. And it worked. Her attention was aimed back at him. "Relax, little one," he said soothingly, gently rubbing the spot he just smacked. He could feel the heat coming off her ass and was tempted to spank her again, just to see what kind of reaction he could get out of her, but thought better of it. He had plenty of time to color her ass later. With a sinister smile, The Man placed a kiss on Emily's shoulder blade and looked to her husband. "I have to tell you, your wife is a hot little shag. She's the best fuck I've had in a long time. It's time to earn that extra 250K. Oh, and just so we're clear," he glared dangerously at Emily's husband, "do not let go of her." Her husband nodded dumbly and moved to stand opposite his wife, the attorney stepping behind him just within arms reach. Emily supposed the attorney was there just in case her husband decided to do something stupid. Looking his wife in the eyes, he mouthed the words 'I love you,' tenderly clasped her wrists and stretched her arms across the bed; cringing, when he heard The Man unzip his trousers. Tossing a mocking sneer to Emily's husband, The Man palmed his cock and stabbed it into Emily; fighting through the rings of resistance that clenched tight around him. He placed his hands on her ass and spread her cheeks wide so he could watch his cock immerse itself into the conquered chasm. He slid out to the mushroom shaped head and slammed his cock home again and again; skewering her until his cock collided with the back of her cervix and submersed in juices. The Man gripped her shoulder and jacked her body back onto his cock when she earnestly tried to elude the pummeling buy wagging her hips. "Stay with me, girl." She was prey. A writhing body captured and on the razors-edge of being conquered. Something snapped inside of Emily as her hips recoiled against him. Her new found clarity permitted her to quit fighting and allow herself to fully submit to the experience. She allowed the pain and pleasure to morph together to the point where she couldn't tell where one stopped and the other started. To stop thinking and just feel. The Man actually felt the moment when Emily finally accepted her submission. She had stopped struggling and actually embraced it, meeting him stroke for stroke. "Come for me. Let your body have what it wants. Feel it. Come for me now!" He pressed. That was the permission that Emily needed. Her screams pierced the room as her tsunami like release Mac-Trucked into her. A kaleidoscope of color was zinging before her eyes and her whole body was an erogenous zone. It felt like her skin had been peeled back and all her nerve endings were exposed. 'Good girl. Very good girl.' was the last thing she heard from The Man before a raging silence crept over her while her vision dimmed. The soothing darkness engulfed her like a warm blanket that made her limbs go limp and splay out as if she where a rag doll that had been tossed away by a careless child. Satisfied that he had fully broken her, The Man allowed himself his own release by letting out an animalistic growl. It felt like the head of his cock had blown off when he erupted into her, the explosion of liquid heat surged into her almost to the point of being obscene. "You bastard!" Emily's husband snarled, impulsively surging forward to grab his wife's limp form out from underneath The Man. The moment Emily's husband surged, the attorney, in true linebacker fashion, tackled Emily's husband to the ground, wrenched his arm behind his back, and shoved a beefy forearm against his windpipe. The Man barked to the attorney, "Get him the hell out of here!" The attorney wagged his eyebrows at Emily's husband with evil delight, "With pleasure." A cold smile spread across the attorneys face as he, none to gently, yanked Emily's husband up by the throat and dragged him backwards out the door. The Man withdrew from Emily with a distinct sucking sound. A long gelatinous silver string of come connected cunt to cock and fluid splattered out of her like a water balloon being popped. The waterfall of juices cascaded down her thighs saturating the sheets: A trace amount of blood was mixed with the massive amount of semen leaking out of her pummeled sex; long rivulets of pink streaking her thighs. Emily groaned feebly and curled up in the fetal position. Her eyes were vacant and she was clutching her abdomen, her tiny body convulsing as she tried to recover from the assault. Despite the fact that The Man had just finished with her; his cock was kicking again just from watching her tremble on the soiled sheets and knowing he was the cause of it. A standard warning knock at the door drew The Man's attention from his lovely pet. He was unsurprised to see his attorney saunter through the door alone with a leather brief case in hand. The attorney glanced at the withering figure on the bed and rose a questioningly eyebrow. The Man nonchalantly smirked and shrugged his heavy shoulders. Sluggishly becoming lucid Emily wondered what the hell had happened. Why was her head pounding and her eyes not working properly? Everything was fuzzy- ech, she hated that. Emily thought she had heard The Man ask if she needed medical attention, but couldn't be sure. Her ears had been buzzing at the time and it took every ounce of energy she had to turn her head towards the familiar voice much less put a coherent thought together. The Contract She dug her knuckles into her eyes and finally got them to focus. Wait- where was The Man? And then she noticed the case. She stared at it for a long time, like it was a foreign object she had never seen before, contemplating if she had the energy to actually get out of bed to retrieve the damn thing. When she finally mustered the courage to get out of bed Emily couldn't decide which was worse: the ache between her legs or the ache in her head. Either way, she had to suck it up and get the case. This wasn't going to be pretty. She wobbled over to the table and leaned heavily on it. The gold latches on the case made a loud snick when she popped them open. Inside were several rows of neatly stacked one hundred dollar bills. On top of the thick stacks lay The Man's elegantly engraved business card it looked like something straight out of a movie. Emily froze when the sound of an incoming text message faintly chimed next to her. She anxiously swiped her phone and read the message. It was from her husband, fuck. The text said that he missed her and loved her and he would be at the room in a few minutes and blah... blah... blah... Realizing that she'd have to wait to call The Man, and feeling completely deflated, she turned the phone off and tossed it to the side not caring where it landed. Emily collapsed on the bed with a loud exhale; she was drained physically and emotionally and thought some quality time with Morpheus would do her some good. Maybe some quick Z's would help her clear her head before her husband got back. ********* Emily woke up shivering. Why the hell was it cold anyway? It shouldn't have been. When she had lain down she was sweating and exhausted. Not to mention that the temperature outside had reached 102 degrees. Maybe the air-conditioning was just on too high in the hotel room. Rolling to her back she cracked open her eyes and looked out the widow. Snow? Oh ya, it was January in Chicago. And the damn window in her apartment was open. "Well, that explains why it's cold in here," she muttered out loud, flopping a forearm over her eyes in disgust. Maybe if she tried really hard she could Yoda the thing closed. "Nope, not gonna happen," she groaned when nothing happened, the "Force" apparently not with her. She was going to have to get her ass out of bed and close the thing herself. She had cracked the window open earlier because she lived on the top floor of her building and the heat wasn't working properly; it had gotten to 90 degrees in the apartment. Now it was a balmy 52 and she could feel the icy breeze moving across her legs. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders she tip-toed to the window to close it; trying to avoid as much of the frosty wood floors as she could. On her way back to bed she stumbled over the thick book of erotic stories that was on the floor next to the bed. She had been reading a steamy story about a very attractive multimillionaire who signed a contract with a woman for her sexual servitude. The book must have tumbled out of her hands when she had fallen asleep. Emily's cheeks flamed when the memory of her erotic dream slammed back into her. Ech, if she could only be so lucky. She wanted more than anything to be able to surrender herself in real life like the girl in the story did. Grabbing the book from the floor, she curled up on the bed, flipped through the pages and started reading again: The attorney answered the phone on the first ring, "Hello Mrs. Taylor. We've been expecting your phone call..." The Contract Yasmin was confident alright, too self assured I thought as she addressed her Board of Directors, a slender hand waving confidently across the chart projected onto the wall behind her. They were suitably impressed and why would they not be? As Chief Executive Officer for the ever expanding cosmetic corporation she had every reason to be full of herself, she had fought her way from the bottom to get to where she was now and every guy in that room was under her spell. Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, those words didn't do justice to her. She shook back her almost waist length blonde hair, tumbling like a raging waterfall down the back of her midnight blue business suit, a tight skirt highlighting her curves finishing just above her knees. The jacket was obviously expertly tailored to fit her exclusively, enhancing her shoulders and complimenting her very ample breasts, seemingly impatient to get out from the tight restraints of its buttons. A crisp cream blouse with just the right amount of embroidery gave her the air of a powerful woman, which indeed she is. Summing up her pitch, her heels click-clacked on the hard floor as she used the entire space to her advantage, pencil thin and at least five inches high with the trademark red soles of Christian Louboutin. Her tanned dancer's legs tapered into them making my cock strain against my thigh. I was definitely not alone in wanting to spread her across that huge table and fuck the hell out of her, but I was definitely the only one with the power to do it! ***** 'Very good presentation Miss Lamour,' I complimented over the post meeting coffee. 'Yasmin please,' she enthused holding out her shapely hand. I took it and shook it gently admiring the length of her manicured nails and the polish exactly matching her business suit. Her fingers were long and very thin, silky to the touch and my cock responded with a renewed surge upwards at the thought of her hand around it. Now it was my turn to be confident, she would be holding my cock in that delicate hand of hers within the next two hours even though she didn't know it. 'Did your office send over the signed contract?' she enquired. 'No,' I said probably a little too abruptly, her pretty face furrowed a little. 'I have it with me,' I added, she relaxed, 'but I haven't signed it yet.' Her face furrowed once again. 'Is there a problem?' she asked directly. My cock hardened almost to its full extent at her obvious discomfort. 'Nothing that can't be sorted,' I assured her. 'Would you like to meet in my office tomorrow?' Her voice betrayed her nervousness. 'No,' I said decisively, 'in my room tonight, let us say in about an hour. Room 501.' 'I'm sorry,' she said quickly. I didn't know if that was a refusal or a quest for me to repeat it. 'I don't think that would be very appropriate,' she said with some finality. 'I think it would be very appropriate,' I responded. 'It has a very nice bed.' Her face once again betrayed her outward confidence, fear building inside her. I knew that without my contract in the bag her job was almost certainly down the drain and probably the company with it. 'I have a contract and I have a pen, and then I have a cock! You will have to persuade my cock to make me sign it,' I said evenly and very confidently. 'You obviously have all the skills required to get me to do it.' Yasmin's face paled. 'I thought we had an agreement,' she stammered, 'why else would I have presented it to the Board. Surely there can be no going back?' I studied the young woman, barely thirty yet so full of herself and aloof in her manner, it almost annoyed me but that was partly her charm. 'I thought it odd that you should announce something that had yet to be signed,' I said knowing I had the upper hand now. 'What will happen if I take our business to your competitor? I do have the power to do that and we have had a good response from them.' She paled even more then ushered me to one side by my arm, looking around her for anyone listening among the crowd. 'Please Mr Brown,' she gushed, 'we have had such a long relationship with your company, surely you wouldn't tamper with such a tried and tested business such as ours.' 'Oh, please call me Bob,' I enthused. 'I think it more appropriate to be on first name terms when you come to my room to, shall we say 'convince' me to sign.' Her face was aghast and who would blame her. She was the epitome of beauty, tall, blonde and nicely tanned with magical legs and fantastic breasts together with a very pretty face and high cheek-bones. Me on the other hand; well I am fat, fifty and almost bald! When it comes to women they usually give me a very wide berth. 'Will it really be possible for me to get your signed contract ... Bob?' She asked earnestly. I nodded. 'Did you say room 501?' I nodded again. 'I'll be there in one hour.' With that she turned on her spiked heel and was gone, back into the crowd as if nothing was unusual. I left in a hurry, trying to hide the huge bulge raging in the front of my trousers! ***** I had showered and shaved inside thirty minutes and practically soaked myself in cologne before resting uneasily on the bed to wait. My cock had developed a permanent hard-on that was impossible to hide beneath the bathrobe so I spent the time imagining the pleasures that lay in store for it. I may be too fat and too old and not particularly good looking, but one thing I do have is an enormous cock! There would be plenty enough for her, bordering on ten-inches fully hard and as thick as a good sized cucumber I reckoned it would probably be the biggest Yasmin had encountered. The all too infrequent women who had enjoyed it over the years had all remarked on its size, and ability, so I was confident in my capacity to satisfy her, but would she really come? Knock ... knock! My cock reared out from the opening in the robe at the tiny sound. I sprung off the bed and swung the door open, Yasmin stood resplendent in the corridor. I didn't speak as I ushered her in and closed the door behind her. 'I really need this contract, Bob,' she said almost hysterically without any preamble. 'You know my job depends on it.' I was still trying to get my breath back, her heady perfume had filled the room and the sight of her magnificent figure in my bedroom was beyond my wildest dreams. 'You will get the contract,' I assured her. 'But you will have to work for it.' 'I know what you want,' she said curtly. I didn't like her attitude; she was beginning to get haughty. It was her over confidence, even arrogance that had brought her here and now her self-importance had just upped the ante. 'And what do I want?' I offered. 'What all men want,' she scoffed. 'And am I going to get it?' She looked me up and down as if I were an alien, and probably to her I was, a very unlikely bed partner for such a beauty. 'Do I have a choice?' She tinkered nervously with the front of her blouse poking above the still buttoned up jacket of her business suit, her breasts heaving rapidly, revealing the truth about her outward confidence. She smoothed her long fingers over the front of her tight skirt and I nearly came. 'There is always a choice Yasmin,' I reminded her. I sat on the corner of the huge bed. 'If you want the contract you had better come here and bend over my knee,' I said sternly tapping my thigh. Yasmin's bright red lips dropped apart. 'What! I thought you wanted sex. You cannot be serious about spanking me?' 'Oh, I want the sex Yasmin, but I don't like your attitude, you need a lesson in respect for your elders, now come here and get across my knee.' 'Please Bob, this is ridiculous. I said I would go to bed with you, what more do you want?' 'Take off your jacket and skirt,' I ordered. I thought my cock would explode; it was bobbing up and down expectantly beneath the robe. 'You really mean to spank me?' she said incredulously. 'I really do.' Yasmin unbuttoned the midnight blue jacket and slipped it from her shoulders revealing the pretty cream blouse tucked tightly into her skirt, her breasts now heaving much more rapidly, her legs sensuously moving in almost a slow dance as she reached behind her skirt. My eyes ogled everything, the shiny black shoes with pencil thin stiletto heels, impossibly high and her tanned legs so shapely she could easily be a 'stocking model'. The skirt slumped from her waist and began to slide over her hips towards her knees, her hand holding onto the waistband as she stepped from it. Black lace panties barely covered her pubic area, the bottom of her blouse dancing in front of them like a curtain. How did I manage not to spurt? 'Why not let me suck your cock, Bob,' she urged. Yasmin knew if I allowed that it would in all probability be the end of it. 'Over my knee girl,' I ordered; my dominance over her swiftly becoming a reality. 'Please Bob, we are both adults. I want the contract, you want me, I accept the deal so why not fuck me and let me get back to work?' 'That was the plan Yasmin but the game has changed. You need your bottom spanked and I am the one to give it to you. No more talking.' She had come this far but I only half expected her to actually bend over my knee but she did, lowering herself onto my lap and presenting me with a vision of Heaven. The bubble butt that had so hauntingly filled the back of her skirt now stared up at me, clad only in the sheerest of satin; my fingers trembled as I reached to touch her. You could hardly have called it a smack but the squeal that came from her made me jump; her bottom had barely even wobbled as I had slapped it with my cupped palm. I spanked her again and another piercing squeal left her lips, the girl obviously had never been spanked before. The next rapid fire six spanks had her legs thrashing the space behind her, those expensive red soles flashing before my eyes as I began to get her bottom to match them. Yasmin was squirming like an eel, unwittingly massaging my cock with her pussy area as I continued slapping her backside, my other arm tight around her small waist to hold her to my lap. I pulled her panties up between the cleft in her cheeks, exposing almost all her bottom, reddening right before my eyes. Her legs were going like a runners but there was no stopping me now, I was enjoying it, the haughty madam was howling like a recalcitrant schoolgirl over my knee and my cock was getting the benefit. She scrambled off my lap a millisecond after I had finished, both hands reaching for her scolded rear end, head shaking back the rivulets of golden hair from her scarlet face, breasts alive with the action of her hands on her bottom beneath the tight blouse. I had wanted to spank that arrogant madam since the day I first met her, now I had my cock had swollen to its peak and stood proud of the bathrobe like a flagpole and she caught sight of it for the first time. 'My god,' she squealed eyeing my manhood. Her hands continuing to smooth gingerly over her satin covered orbs making me wish I had pulled her panties down and swatted her on the bare. 'Now you can get down on your knees and suck my cock,' I ordered, it was not a request and my shaft hardened to stone at the prospect of her luscious red-painted lips passing over my 'head'. 'Haven't you humiliated me enough,' she rasped shaking her golden locks from her shoulders. 'You forget I am the CEO of this company, I deserve some respect. You can't expect any woman to suck that horrible monster!' Her eyes were still glued to my erection. 'You forget madam that your tenure as CEO rests with me and as for humiliation, once I have splashed my cream across your pretty face I'll be satisfied and only then will you get to keep your job, now on your knees.' Her face was a mix of horror and abject indignation but she accepted her fate and began to kneel between my legs. 'Take off your blouse and bra.' She accepted my command but continued to mutter beneath her breath, I watched in total fascination as she unbuttoned the crisp cream blouse and shed it from her shoulders throwing it on the bed beside me. Her bra was a really pretty affair, matching her blouse but layered with lace and bows, far too delicate to be hidden beneath anything, my cock acknowledged its satisfaction, baying towards Yasmin in urgent anticipation. The young woman reached behind her and magically unleashed her tits which instantly spilled from their housing, bobbing gently as she un-shouldered her straps and threw the bra on top of her other clothing. I noticed her nipples were out, hard and pink and neatly centred on her pert breasts. 'Give me a tit-fuck.' The indignant look was back. 'I'm not a backstreet whore,' she screamed, 'I'll suck it but I'm not doing that.' I reached forward and grabbed a chunk of her blonde locks dragging her towards me. 'You are a whore until I say otherwise now wank my cock with those tits of yours, unless you want another spanking?' I had shocked her, no doubt about that. Her slender hands cupped her breasts and guided them onto my length, squeezing them together and massaging me gently. It was awesome. I don't know how I managed not to explode but I held on and relished the sight of my cock-head thrusting up and down between her gorgeous tits. 'Suck my balls,' I urged, bringing her down on me with a hand on top of her head. 'Oh, no please,' she moaned. I pressed her into the base of my cock and now it was my turn to moan as she suckled on my balls each in turn. God she was good even if she was protesting constantly. I pulled her up and handled my shaft, guiding it to her lips. 'Open wide gorgeous, this should stop your complaining.' More pressure to the nape of her neck and my cock-head slid between her lips. I know I'm big but she had a big mouth so there shouldn't be much of a problem. Yasmin gagged as I pushed my way in, a handful of her hair getting her attention, she was trying to complain about the rough treatment but my cock had filled her mouth so only a garbled moan came through. 'Suck me properly and I'll let go,' I said forcibly. She nodded so I released the grip on her hair. She responded by gently sucking my cock with a not inconsiderable amount of talent. The feeling was incredible, even dizzying. 'You're good,' I offered, 'you are no stranger to sucking cock.' She looked up at me with the widest eyes imaginable, deep blue and sexy, giving me a knowing look. 'Push my foreskin back with your lips,' she tightened her mouth on my 'head' and stripped my cock bare, following through with a great blowjob. 'Now I get to fuck you,' I said breathlessly. 'Take off your panties and get astride my cock.' I still could not believe the power I was exerting over her and her compliance to my demands. Rising from her knees she slipped her fingers into the string of her panties and eased them down over her hips, a tiny strip of neatly trimmed wispy pussy fur emerging from behind the tiny triangle of black lace. If my cock could have hardened any more it certainly would have, this girl was perfect in every detail. Her flat stomach curved gently towards the vee of her sex, parting her legs she stood astride my thighs and began to lower herself towards my waiting shaft. Yasmin halted as my finger found the slit of her entrance. Probing the delicate folds for her clit I delved into the damp recess, stroking it gently. The look on her face told me she was actually enjoying it, her eyes searching the ceiling for some heavenly messenger. I went in knuckle deep and felt her tighten around it. She took three fingers easily but my cock was much thicker than that, she felt wet and ready. Her high heels steadied her as she gradually lowered her sex onto my almost vertical cock, her fingers taking my end to guide it inside; a wet warmth enveloping my tender bulb as I entered her. Yasmin gave out a low moan from her moist, red, slightly parted lips as she sank onto me, breasts arriving at eye-level before me, nipples hard and looking an angry deep pink. A flurry of long golden hair danced down her bare back as she began riding my cock, my mouth greedily suckling her tits each in turn, my tongue flicking across her hard nubs. I needn't have worried about my length, she had absorbed everything I had and bounced eagerly into my lap, she was tight, but most girls were on the end of my swollen dick and I never ceased to be amazed at how they took it. Yasmin was squealing, I don't think she even knew she was doing it, I knew I was groaning but the tightness of her pussy was giving me one hell of a fuck! I felt her let go, her head rearing back as I held her waist in case she toppled off me backwards but she was oblivious as her juices flooded me, god she was hot. I was ready but I wanted to give her a facial to remember. I suckled her nipples one last time, almost chewing her nubs. 'Back to your knees girl,' I growled. She had spent her load and complied without question, easing her pussy off my cock then sliding back down between my legs. This time I stood up, my cock nuzzling her lips for access, hand on the back of her head for support, she sucked me like a slave, her blonde head bobbing back and forth with frantic urgency. I looked down on this vision of beauty, her golden locks dancing provocatively down her back, her legs splayed out to balance her on her knees, those spiky heels pointing in almost opposite directions. I could see her bottom, still red from the spanking, trembling with the action of her body, her breasts weaving between her arms, both hands attending to my shaft, one holding it and the other cupping my hardening balls. Yanking her head back with a handful of hair I handled my cock, withdrawing it from her mouth, she let go as I quickly stroked the cream from my balls, pulling hard at my length as wave after wave of hot cock-magma streaked her face. She never took her eyes off me as I wanked the last of my lust over her tits, emptying my chamber in several ground shaking jerks. Sitting back onto the bed I stared at my wilting cock, deflating as if it had a puncture. Yasmin pulled herself from her knees and went straight to the bathroom with no words spoken between us. I had achieved my goal and so had she. It seemed an age before she arrived back in the room wearing nothing but her stilettos. I watched in total admiration as she slipped her black panties over the shoes pulling them up her slender tanned legs, trimming them around her tiny waist. Nothing quite surpasses the sight of a woman putting on her bra and Yasmin was no exception, cupping her breasts into it before reaching behind her to hook it up, incredibly my cock began to regain some life. All too quickly her blouse was on and buttoned up, her skirt sliding up her legs onto her hips, zipped and clasped in businesslike fashion, her jacket swung over her shoulders and down her arms, fastened and ready to go in minutes. The show over! 'My contract?' she said evenly. 'On the table,' I nodded. She almost glided over to it on her impossibly high stilettos. 'You have to sign it first.' 'Already done,' I said smiling. She picked it up and flicked to the last page. 'So why all this?' 'How else would I have got to fuck you?' 'Well, you could have just asked.' I studied her radiant beauty. 'Yeah; and when was the last time you jumped onto the cock of a fat, bald fifty-something?' 'I take your point,' she said smiling. Striding across the room with the contract in her hand she leaned over and kissed me on the top of my shiny head. 'But if I had known what was lurking between your legs, who knows.' Her hand delved into the folds of my bathrobe and encircled my growing cock. 'That was the best fuck I have ever had.' 'Glad to be of service, hope you deliver on the contract,' I said by way of farewell. The Contract 'If I don't then I expect you will spank me,' she smiled winking. The door opened, she turned and looked directly at me with serious deep blue eyes. 'Let me know when you want me to report to you again in er ...' she looked at the number on the door, 'room 501.' Then she was gone. The Contract: A Woman’s Story Walt and I have been married for almost twenty years -- since we graduated from college. Last fall, our daughter joined her brother at UC Davis, leaving our nest empty. I confess that I had looked forward to that, because I thought it might improve our love life, which, quite frankly, had gotten a bit stale -- we still love each other, but the physical side has been boring for years. So far there has been no change, but I keep doing my best to look good for Walt, and set up situations, where the mood is romantic -- candles and wine and such. This has been difficult recently because there is a lot on Walt's mind. The economy has taken its toll and guys at the office are not having their contracts renewed. They had always worked on five-year contracts, but for the past two years as contracts expired the guys were kept on without a contract. When one of them was let go last month, because his productivity lagged, it put the fear of God into everybody. I remember when Walt came home that night, he was almost sick with fear. He explained the situation to me and I began to share his fear. He made good money, but we spent it all on our mortgage and the college expenses for the kids. There was no way he could get a comparable job and we had a lot to lose if he lost this one. Our savings would be exhausted in a year. Walt's productivity was better than most, but if his boss wanted to downsize, then one of the guys without a contract would have to go and Walt was high on that list. He was taking anti-acids for his stomach and Tylenol for his headaches. He worked long hours at the office and was on his computer constantly after he got home. He was not very good company, but I tried my best to build his spirits. The company had monthly parties for associates and their wives and at a Saturday night party at the club the atmosphere reflected a lot of false cheerfulness. Walt's boss, Dan, was a gracious host and he spread himself around trying to make everyone feel that the company was going to survive this downturn. He was a tall man with dark curly hair and looked younger than his forty-seven years. He invited me to dance. I must have been his tenth partner, but he seemed tireless. He was charming and an excellent dancer. We exchanged pleasantries and he returned me to my table, said his thank-you, and invited my friend Sarah to dance. Walt looked at me angrily. "Did he try to feel your ass?" He asked in a surly voice. "He was very gracious and a thorough gentleman," I responded. "Smile for God's sake. Keep up a good front." He leaned close. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't act that way. It's just that ... well ... my whole future -- our whole future -- rests with that one guy. If he decides to let me go he can, and there's nothing I can do about it. He can hand my clients to a less productive guy who's still under contract and let me go. There are half a dozen of us in the same boat. It's not fair!" "I know honey. But you don't have a contract and Dan doesn't control Wall Street and the market's down and everybody is suffering. Try to smile!" Walt made an attempt. It was a painful evening for all of us. Of course the guys at our firm were not alone. We had several friends in our community with other companies who were suffering their own versions of hell. Walt continued to work very hard and each night when he got home he went directly to his computer and worked till I served supper and then, went back to his computer again. I tried to dress attractively -- I still have a very good figure -- but he came to bed long after I did and went to sleep right away. I was horny but I didn't tell him -- I'd been horny for years. One day I was in the mall shopping and to my surprise I saw Walt's boss, Dan. He smiled graciously and we chatted briefly about how empty the mall was -- I had read in the paper that shopping volume was way down. Dan invited me to have lunch with him and I couldn't very well say no. We went into this very nice, rather expensive, French restaurant and Dan ordered quiche and a bottle of excellent Pouilly Fousie. It was a quiet, relaxed atmosphere and the wine went to my head a bit. I forgot our troubles and enjoyed lunch. We lingered at the table, talking about everything in general and nothing in particular -- certainly not about work. Before I realized it, we were the only ones left in the restaurant. I looked at my watch. Three o'clock! I had spent three hours over lunch. I said thank you and told Dan I had to get some shopping done to fix dinner for Walt. Dan said a very gracious goodbye and we parted. Damn! I thought as I walked through the parking lot to my car. What would it be like to have no worries and just "do" lunch that way whenever I wanted? Walt got home in his usual grumpy mood, did his computer thing, ate his dinner wordlessly, and headed back to the computer. I cleaned up the dishes and went into the den to watch television. There was a show about French wines on the History Channel and I watched it. Beautiful vineyards in the sun, small restaurants with waiters pouring white wine -- I even saw the label of the wine that Dan had bought for our lunch. I went up to bed and lay there unable to sleep. I couldn't get my mind off of that lovely lunch. I remembered that Dan had looked at my breasts several times -- always very discretely -- and I moved my hand up to feel myself - my nipples were hard. I heard the sounds of Walt clicking away on his computer. I fell asleep with visions of sun drenched French vineyards in my head. Things got really bad the next weekend. Walt had been out of town Thursday and Friday meeting clients and he was in a surly mood when he got in late Friday afternoon. His mood carried over to Saturday and finally he told me that he had lost some business that he had counted on. He was down all the next week. There was another company party at the club the following weekend -- I think Dan knew how depressed his staff was and hoped to improve their attitude. Maybe it helped. I had my usual one dance with Dan -- no mention of our lunch together. I had just come out of the ladies room when I met Sarah, probably my best friend among the company wives. "Walt seems down," she said, as we stood there watching the dancers. "Yeah, he is. Way down. He lost some important clients last week and he's really scared about losing his job," I said. "Bob has two more years to run on his contract. He was signed the year before the market went down," Sarah said. "I hope things get better soon." I nodded toward Dan, dancing with one of the wives. "He keeps trying to cheer everybody up." Sarah looked at Dan gliding gracefully across the floor. "A real good looking guy, don't you think?" "Yeah, very good looking -- and single!" "He could have any one of a half dozen gals whose husbands don't have contracts. They wouldn't dare say no," Sarah said emphatically. "I don't think he's like that," I said, thinking about how nice he treated me that day at lunch. "And not just the wives whose husbands could get fired. Hell! There's a half dozen more who'd spread their legs for him in a New York minute, and I'm at the head of that list!" I was shocked. "You're not serious! You can't be! Are you and Bob having problems?" Sarah looked me in the eye. "Be honest Jean! You and Walt have been married as long as Bob and me. When was the last time he fucked you?" "Well ... I mean ... things cool down after you're married that long." "That's a nice way to say Walt hasn't fucked you in months," Sarah said. I got defensive. "Walt's under a lot of stress. He's got no contract and he's losing clients. And ... " "Bob's got a contract and I still don't get fucked!" Sarah said firmly. I tried to forget that conversation, but it stayed with me all the next day. On Monday morning I headed for the mall, as was my habit, to do some shopping, although I had been careful in the past to spend as little as possible. It was not as much fun to shop that way, but I tried to think about other things. I had no sooner entered the mall than I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Well hello again. Building the economy with your credit card?" I turned and blushed as I saw him, thinking immediately of Saturday night when Sarah said she'd spread her legs for him in a New York minute. She would probably love to meet Dan like this. I almost stammered, "Well I usually shop on Mondays and I was thinking about getting a new party dress." "The green one you had on Saturday night was lovely. You have very good taste," he said. I was pleased that he had remembered what I was wearing. I'm sure Walt would never have remembered it. "Thank you. I'm flattered you noticed. I need a black one. You know the simple basic black," I said. He joined me and we strolled through the mall. We came to a nice dress shop where I had bought that green dress. I hadn't shopped there recently because it was an expensive place. Dan pointed to a lovely black dress on a mannequin in the window. "Is that what you had in mind?" We walked over to look. It was exactly what I had in mind, except it was twice what I had planned to pay. "You'd look good in that," he said, smiling. "Why not try it on?" He was so charming and pleasant that in a moment of weakness I said I would and I was surprised when he held the door and followed me into the store. A sales lady approached us smiling. Dan was accustomed to taking charge. "This beautiful lady would like to try on that black dress in the window." I was almost trembling as the sales lady checked my size and pulled a dress off of the rack. I went into the dressing room and removed my dress. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Next year I would be forty years old, but my figure looked a lot younger than that. My breasts stood out proudly and I knew they would look almost as good without my bra. My belly was flat -- I didn't need to suck it in. I had really good legs. Shit! I thought suddenly. Look at those damn pantyhose! Is there anything less romantic than pantyhose? There is nothing like hose, garter-belt, and bikini panties to set off a woman's figure. I should wear that more often. Of course I had no one to see it and Walt would never notice. The black dress slipped on softly like silk. It was the perfect size and just molded to my body, showing off my very shapely ass. It had a "feel" to it. The length was perfect. Thank God I had worn spike heels. My legs looked great. I glanced one more time at the price tag. Twice what I could afford, but when I walked out of the dressing room I felt like a queen. "Almost a perfect fit," said the sales lady, pinching in some material near the waist. "Your waist is so slim." "You're beautiful," said Dan. His voice was warm and loving. It sent a thrill through my body. I walked back to a full-length mirror for a better look and then turned and walked toward the sales lady and Dan, pointing my toes in a bit, like a model on a runway. I moved my hips a little extra as I walked. I felt like a model. I felt rich in that dress, even as I thought about the price leaving me poor. "I think your husband likes it," said the sales lady. Neither of us corrected her. My husband hadn't shopped with me in years. I hadn't bought myself anything really nice for over a year. I decided on the spot that I had to have it and I told the sales lady to take a few measurements, which she did. Dan waited patiently while I changed. Then looking at his watch, he smiled. "Just in time for lunch," he said. I smiled up at him and nodded. He took my arm and we just seemed to flow out the door and down the hall to the same restaurant that I had been dreaming about for weeks. I felt beautiful on his arm. I was in a daze and Dan ordered for us both and the waiter brought the wine. Dan raised his glass. "A toast to a lovely dress and to an even more lovely lady." I blushed. It was a habit I couldn't break or control and I hated it because it revealed my true feelings. The lunch went on timelessly as it had before. The wine went to my head again. And, as before, when I looked at my watch I discovered that what had seemed like thirty minutes had really been three hours. I was as warm and happy as I had been in a very long time. Dan said goodbye as we left the restaurant, extending both his hands and holding my hands in a warm friendly manner. I floated out to the parking lot, gradually bringing myself back down to earth. I thought about Sarah, as I got in the car. That horny bitch would have propositioned Dan on the spot! He was so beautiful and such a gentleman. And so charming. I spent extra time fixing a nice dinner for Walt that night and had a bottle of good wine on the table. He grumbled through the meal, complaining about a picky client who might go elsewhere, and when he finished he headed for his computer. I watched television and remembered that quiche and the Pouille Fussie and Dan. That night in bed, as Walt pecked away on his computer, I played with my pussy like a horny high school girl, and had an orgasm thinking about Dan. The next week on Monday I headed for the mall. I had dressed up a bit more than usual and had on taller heels. I even spoiled myself by wearing hose and a fancy garter-belt. I finally admitted to myself that I was hoping to see Dan again. I was ashamed when I thought about that but a thrill went through my body as I thought of him. I walked from one end of the mall to the other but he was not there. I was about to leave when my eye caught the display at Victoria's Secret. I remembered getting dressed that morning and posing in front of my mirror at home. It felt almost sinful to imagine myself in that sexy underwear. "Looking for something to wear under basic black?" His voice startled me. I blushed and a warm feeling flooded my body. Dan was standing right behind me looking over my shoulder. I felt embarrassed and sexy and afraid all at the same time. Then I felt glad that I had not worn pantyhose -- why the hell did I think of that all of a sudden? "I wouldn't have the courage to wear one of those things," I said. "Have you ever tried on something like that?" Dan asked with a chuckle. "I'd be afraid to," I confessed. "You never know till you try. I'll go in and give you moral support if you want to try something on," Dan said. I was so flustered and embarrassed that I giggled like a schoolgirl. He smiled at me and, reaching for the door handle, he opened the door for me. I couldn't leave him standing there with the open door in his hand so I walked into the store. A sales girl gave us the big hello and invited us to look around. "If you see something you like we have a dressing room in back," she smiled. "Your husband is welcome to go in with you to help you decide." Neither of us corrected her. Dan noticed a lovely silk gown, designed to reveal everything underneath. He reached out and fingered the material. "Is this silk," he asked. The sales girl nodded. "One of our most popular items," she said. I glanced at the price tag. It was more than the dress I had bought last week. She handed the gown to me and motioned toward the dressing room. "Try it on. Right back here," she said. I walked helplessly behind her as if I were in a daze, carrying the gown over my arm. She opened the door to the dressing room and followed me in. Dan waited outside. "You need help with those buttons," she said stepping behind me and starting to unbutton the back of my dress. She helped me as I stepped out of it. "Get rid of that half slip so your legs will show," she said. "You've got a great figure." Then she waited till I removed my half-slip and held the gown for me to put on. It was the sexiest thing I had ever had on my body. I looked at my body in the full-length mirror. Damn! I was glad I hadn't worn those damn pantyhose! I looked great! The sales girl slipped out of the door and before I realized what she was doing she had grabbed Dan's arm and pushed him into the dressing room. He seemed flustered and confused and embarrassed, not knowing what to do. As she closed the door she said, "You'll buy it for her once you see how it looks." I turned from the mirror to face him, feeling more naked than naked. Dan's eyes started at my spike heels and slowly worked their way up my long legs, which always looked their best in hose. He looked at the garter-belt holding my hose and at my naked thighs above the hose. That thin silk gown accentuated everything and hid nothing, not even the thick hairy bush that showed clearly through my pink bikini panties. When his eyes reached my belly, I instinctively held it in, but I was confident that I didn't need to. His eyes moved to my breasts and once again instincts prevailed as I subtly moved my shoulders back to show them off better. Finally his eyes met mine and he smiled. Every woman who has ever worn a bikini knows what a leer looks like on a man's face. This was not a leer! It was a warm, gracious, loving smile. Without a word, he stepped forward, took me in his arms, and kissed me -- holding me as if I were fully clothed, reaching for none of the "goodies" he had seen so clearly. As he kissed me my mind flashed back to that night, playing with myself in bed, giving myself an orgasm, thinking about him. I was wet when he released me and slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned, and went out of the dressing room. I heard him speak to the sales girl on the other side of the door. "You're right! One look and I have decided to buy it." I lived that afternoon in a hazy, slow motion, soft, misty, Technicolor daze -- almost like a confusing dream. I remember Dan driving me to his apartment, located on top of a downtown office building, with it's own elevator from the garage. I remember him carrying me into the bedroom and lovingly undressing me. I remember his lips and tongue like electricity on my breasts and belly, and then down to my clit where he gave me a gentle orgasm only moments after he began making love to me. I remember spreading my legs before he entered me gently as I moaned. He fucked me lovingly, slowly, then building in intensity. I had my second orgasm as he thrust deep into me, with my knees high, pressed hard against his sweating chest. I remember resting and talking and laughing and making love again, and then again. I remember Dan laughing as he opened the package from the store and put that beautiful, foolish, transparent gown over my trembling, naked body. He led me out onto the patio that overlooked the whole city, but was private, so no one saw my nakedness, except my lover. I remember him opening a chilled bottle of Pouilly Fousie. "Your favorite wine," he said and he leaned over and kissed me as he handed me my glass. I remember that huge, double shower with all those spigots squirting water on us as we laughed and soaped each other. I remember using his hair dryer to do my hair. My bewildering dream continued in his car as he drove me to the mall and kissed me goodbye. And the dream ended suddenly, abruptly, when a loud horn blared at me as I backed out of my parking space and almost ran into a huge pick-up truck. I looked at my watch. It was four o'clock! I had two hours to get home and fix Walt's supper. Walt! Oh my God! What had I done to Walt? I loved him. I really did. I hadn't thought about him even once. Poor Walt! What had I done? I'd been a whore -- that's what I'd done. I had called Sarah a whore in my mind for merely wanting to fuck Dan. But I'd fucked him for real -- fucked him for hours! Fucked him, trembling with passion! Fucked him mindlessly, without a single thought about my husband. But I couldn't think about that now. I'd go crazy! The daze came back. I don't remember driving home or fixing supper. The next thing I remembered was sitting down at the table with Walt, trying to look happy -- feeling guilty as sin. The Contract: A Woman’s Story "How was your day?" I asked in what I hoped was a normal voice. "Don't ask," he said, his voice surly. "I lost another one. If this keeps up I'll be out on my ass for sure." Then I remembered something else Sarah had said. "He can't very well fire your husband if he's fucking you." She seemed obsessed with fucking Dan and in her mind job security was just another advantage. I leaned over and put my hand reassuringly on Walt's arm. "Don't worry darling, you are not going to lose your job. I know I'm right about this." But I didn't dare tell him why I was so sure. Friday morning I got a call from Dan inviting me to "lunch" at his apartment. I picked him up at the corner and he gave me a clicker that opened the door to the underground garage. He showed me his reserved parking spaces and gave me an elevator key and showed me how to get up to his penthouse apartment. He had ordered in a delightful quiche accompanied by "your favorite wine." We had lunch in the dazzling sunshine, on his patio overlooking the city. After lunch we sipped the rest of the wine in silence, admiring the view, until he said, softly, "Your robe is in the bathroom closet." I took the hint and changed into that beautiful, transparent gown he had bought me on Monday. I was not, of course, wearing pantyhose. I had on my best spikes and my sexiest garter belt and bikini pants. I decided not to wear a bra. I walked back out on the patio and he looked me up and down very slowly, just like in the dressing room. Then staring at my bush, which was easily visible through my gown and bikini panties, he chuckled. "If you ever shave that damn thing I'll never speak to you again. That is the most beautiful beaver I have ever put my face into." We made love all afternoon, as we had on Monday, and it was just as exciting and satisfying. Our lovemaking over, we shared a shower and I discovered a big new ladies hair dryer, plus a set of French toiletries, which he had acquired for my side of that big double bathroom. I left at four and hurried home to change into my usual clothes and fix supper for Walt. Walt arrived home grinning from ear to ear, sat down in his chair and said, "You'll never guess what happened this morning." It was the first time I had seen him happy in over a year. "What happened darling?" I asked with a smile matching his. "First thing this morning the boss calls me and Bill Moody into his office and sits us down. He's looking at a big page of numbers. He tells us we are carrying more than our share of the load, we've been with the company longer than anyone without a contract, and then he hauled out two five-year contracts, which he signed and passed to us for our signatures. I'm gonna keep my job!" I walked over and sat in his lap and gave him a big kiss. "I'm so happy for you darling. I knew the boss would see how valuable you are to the company." Walt had two drinks before dinner and several more afterward. I had to help him to bed and he went right to sleep. I lay next to him listening to him snore and thinking about Dan. Saturday he didn't touch his computer. He went out to the club for the first round of golf he had played in months. Then he came home and got drunk again. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday except that he complained about his golf swing. Walt was happy and I was afraid to tell him to ease up on the booze. I just put him to bed, lay beside him, and listened to him snore. Monday morning Walt headed to work smiling and cheerful. I sat in the kitchen thinking and wondering about my life. The phone rang about ten. It was Dan. "Dan, I want to thank you very much for giving Walt that contract," I said. "He'll be a valuable member of the firm." "I know he will," said Dan. "But that's not the reason I gave him the contract. I did it so you would not feel you had to ... you know ... do anything. So you wouldn't feel that you had to ... you know." When I told Sarah that Dan was "not like that" I had seen in him a kind of basic decency. I had not been wrong. What had happened to us had been an accident, not part of any scheme on his part. I had wanted it to happen. I had needed it and not to protect my husband's job. I stood there in the kitchen, holding the phone to my ear, thinking about my life. I didn't have to protect my husband's job. Dan had set me free. He was that kind of man. Finally I said, "Dan, do you have a quiche on order from that little French restaurant?" "Yes I do," he said. "But I can cancel it." I paused only briefly, then said, "Don't cancel it. And put some wine in to chill." Then I headed upstairs, hauled my spikes out of the closet, and began picking out a sexy underwear and garter belt set that would look good through that lovely silk gown.