4 comments/  29013 views/  1 favorites

The Debutante

By: MayhemLass



Note: This story is a continuation of my story "Highway Exposure", but several chapters on. I am writing a novella and have several other chapters in the works. Eventually, once I have written enough, I will put it all together.

*

D. sat, comfortably ensconced in a wingback chair to the right of the fireplace. At his feet, a rather lovely slave leaned against his legs, running her long slender fingers softly along the inside of his leg up to his thigh. Dark hair, swept up severely from a fine brow and narrow face, large lustrous strands falling in artful disarray across one slender shoulder. Almond shaped eyes, tip tilted, lent an exotic air to the fine boned features, the only anomaly a pouting mobile mouth. A thick leather collar encircled the slender neck; narrow leather straps attached with silver rings swept down and cupped the full, plump breasts, their dark nipples stiff. A scrap of material cupped the underside of the heavy breasts, supporting their weight and offering them as if on a platter. A gauzy underskirt barely masked the voluptuous figure of the slave, the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs silkily obvious through its folds.

D. kept up a desultory conversation with the rather striking domme who sat in an identical chair to the left of the fire. Her tall spare figure was severely garbed in a long leather skirt, split to the thigh and her long lovely legs, encased to the thigh in supple leather boots with 4-inch stilettos rested on the lap of her sub, a stalwart lad with blond curls who rested a handsome head against his mistress's warm thigh. Absently, the domme would rub her foot against the bulge of the boy's leather clad groin and D. grinned inwardly as the boy's face would redden, then pale as his prick would stiffen and then squeezed in a steel cock ring, subside.

Glancing about the room casually, D. masked his inward amusement at the spectacle of his fellow devotees and their attendants. Settling himself more comfortably in the chair, an exact replica of one described in many of the novels about 22B Baker Street, he found it in himself to be grateful his sense of irony hadn't entirely deserted him.

As much as he loved the lifestyle he had adopted many years before, his strong sense of practicality and reality often intruded on the somewhat fanciful world he inhabited. While many adopted the trappings with ease, immersing themselves in fantasy, D.'s clear gaze was unable to entirely sublimate the absurdity of some of the outward manifestations.

The room was quite crowded as this, the second Saturday of each month always provided good entertainment as Damian usually introduced new submissives to the group as part of their training. Glancing about the room, D. noted that the numbers of doms and dommes were fairly evenly matched, with the edge perhaps in favour of the females. Male submissives and slaves, for some reason, were far more numerous than a true heterosexual submissive female and many doms searched for years before finding a compatible sub he wished to keep.

Outwardly, D. was calm, his mobile face serene, the green eyes relaxed. Inside, he felt remarkably nervous, his stomach churning. He knew S. was being introduced tonight and despite having seen her used by several others at this point, this would be the first truly public display of his possession and he was equal parts proud and apprehensive. That secret part of him that few knew existed caused him great anguish as he contemplated seeing his beloved S. fucked by other cocks. He had found out much about himself over the past several weeks, and had had to continually reassess his own limits and search deep within himself to ascertain what his true desires demanded. He was, at this point, having seen his darling flogged, spanked, used and abused, conversant with his real desires and that was that once her training was complete, he would take S. away. He realized, being painfully honest with himself, that he harboured real regrets over the course he had chosen – that had he know how difficult it would be to see her humiliated he might have chosen differently. Yet, an introspective man, painfully honest with himself, he recognized too that as much as it bothered him to see S. abused, that part of him that made him what he was relished it and found it immensely arousing.

The course was set and knowing that so many others were going to see his S. used definitely provided a fillip of excitement that he had been missing in his life. Putting his hand down, he tangled it in the dark curls of the slave, pulling slightly so that she sighed and hung her head. Leaning over, he cupped a heavy breast, contemplating its swelling richness with a rather absent air, then fingering the hard nipples felt his prick stir. Pressing the breast into his hand, the slave ran her hand up his thigh to cup the growing bulge. D. pinched the stiff nipple between his fingers, hard, then suddenly, with no warning, smacked it and admired the way the plump expanse jiggled, the mark of his hand livid against its pale flesh. Sighing, the slave merely leaned into his punishing fingers, her breath coming faster.

A stir at the front of the room distracted him, and dropping the plump breast, D. looked up. The ornate doors opened and the trainees entered, their keepers leading them by silver leads attached to the leather collars encircling their necks. 

Ignoring the others, D.'s eyes fastened avidly on his darling. She looked, he thought relieved, quite marvellous. Tall and slender, her magnificent hair was pulled up in a complicated riot of curls, baring the long neck which looked obscenely vulnerable in its thick leather collar. Despite all that she had undergone in the past two weeks, S. stood tall and proud, resigned but unbroken, her shoulders squared and proud, the small plump breasts tip tilted, their long pink nipples stiff, thrown into relief by the fact that her arms were cuffed behind her. The long slender torso and narrow hips were naked except for a simple leather harness that encircled but bared those pretty breasts and clasped the narrow hips, straps running down to circle each thigh but leaving the smooth shaved pudendum open. Her marvellous long shapely legs with their taut thighs and swelling calves were one of S.'s best feature and showed to advantage in gartered pale stockings and knee length stiletto boots. The contrast of the boots and stockings against her nakedness was provocative and shocking and immensely arousing. Judging from the reactions, D. knew he wasn't the only one who found it captivating.

S. was most assuredly the most captivating trainee among the three that entered and for that D. was thankful. 

As he watched, Lydia tugged at the lead, thus turning S. so that her back faced him. He felt his prick jerk and swell as he saw the marks of her flogging the night before clear upon the pale, delicate skin of her back. Long welts criss crossed the expanse of flesh in an expert pattern and grudgingly D. admitted to himself that Damian's hand with the whip was second to none. Not once did he see where the sting of the crop had struck twice. 

The smooth, taut cheeks of S.'s bottom were crimson and narrowing his gaze, D. could see that there were even one or two drops of blood, a thin rivulet which trickled down the keep furrow between. He felt an avaricious desire to go to her and run his finger along that hot red ass, to put his finger to the thin trickle of blood and then sip its sweet nectar.

He became aware that the slave at his feet was rubbing his stiffening prick through the cloth of his pants. Pushing slightly into the expert fingers, he pulled back, then charged her to desist. Standing, he indicated the slave was to follow him and he began to make his way across the room.

****

As S. came into the room, she felt her heart beating frantically and wondered if whoever was there could see its throbbing beneath her chest . She prayed that outwardly her agitation was not obvious; she would be mortified if others saw her fear. Her eyes blindfolded, she stumbled slightly as Lydia guided her through the crowd, an experienced hand using the leash which was clipped to S.'s collar to guide her.

Beneath the blindfold, S. eyes moved frantically. She could hear voices and felt around her the crush of people, scents and voices mingling and confusing. Her other senses had become hyper aware when her vision was taken and she was astonished at how much she could surmise without her eyes. Without her vision, she couldn't know for certain but she felt, strongly, the room was crowded. She could feel the warmth from many bodies, while her hearing was acute and could make out the murmur of many voices over the low music.

The pale skin of her arms flinched as fingers trailed along her shoulder blade. S. steeled herself as the fingers came down and cupped her breast, squeezing and feeling the weight of that sweet morsel of flesh. She stood quietly as she had been told as yet another pair of hands seized the other breast, less gently than the one that now clasped and cupped her left breast. The new hands squeezed hard, making her stifle a groan as they cruelly twisted the small breast, seizing then pinching the nipple.

Then shockingly, she felt a hand probing between her legs, pushing a finger between the smooth, slippery lips and without any preliminaries, pushing up her tight passage. Behind she felt the warmth of another body and then the unmistakable feel of a moist prick rubbing between the taut cheeks of her ass.

Her breath quickened and she consciously worked at slowing her panting, forcing herself to try to relax as the stiff prick rubbed a dribbling head up and down the furrow of her buttocks. The other hand pushed several fingers up her cunt, rubbing the sides and pushing open the swollen folds almost painfully. 

"Has she been fisted?" a male voice asked her, the owner of the fingers now rubbing the swollen folds of her cunt.

"No, sir," Lydia answered respectfully.

"Sir John said that was to be done in public for the first time. This one has a problem with public display."

S. stifled a scream as the hand twisting her breast suddenly smacked it. She felt the soft flesh quivering and a hot flush spread over her body.

Behind her she felt the owner of the stiff prick probing at the tight furled rose of her asshole. Unable to prevent herself, she clenched her buttocks.

"I thought you said she had anal training?" a voice asked.

"She has - but she still has to get used to others using her at will."

S. whimpered under her breath, her heart pounding as she heard her lover's voice. She yearned to throw herself into his arms, to have him caress her and hold her and tell her she was safe. But here she stood, a willing sacrificial lamb, an innocent to slaughter because to do less or different would mean that she would lose him. Despite what she had undergone in the past several days, S. would deal with that and more. What she could not deal with was a life without D in it, a life devoid then of hope and passion, empty of meaning or desire.

She sensed him beside her, the fine pale hair of her forearms rising as she sensed his beloved presence. She realized then that no matter what they did, no matter how they restrained her, treated her, she would tolerate all of it and more as long as he continued to desire her and want her and love her.

She felt his hands, so familiar, so beloved on her face, caressing the tight line of her jaw, running a finger gently along her nose and probing the small mouth. Gratefully, she licked the proffered finger, sucking it gently between her lips.

He laughed, gently then removing his hand, she felt him move behind her.

He pushed slightly in the small of her back. Obediently, she leaned forward slightly, feeling her buttocks flare out. Trembling, she felt him part the taut cheeks, his finger probing at the tight anus. Between her legs, a gush of fluid trickled from the swollen folds to snake a glistening trail down her thigh.

D. pushed a finger into the deep red folds, wetting his finger. Then back to the buttocks, pushing gently, insistently against the furled rose. Sighing, she surrendered, relaxing her clenched muscles and the probing finger sank to the first knuckle in the deep hole.

S. felt D. pull it out, then murmuring and she sensed him move away. Suddenly, harshly, the spongy head of a prick slipped the tip into her tight hole. Gasping, she involuntarily began to clench, then cried out as a hand smacked down on her cheek.

Hard hands grasped her hips and pulled them harshly back against a heavy groin, and she felt the unmistakable sponginess of a fat belly. Then, shockingly, a heavy prick pushed against her unprepared ass, pushing aside tight folds, causing tiny nicks which trailed minute trails of blood.

Breathing heavily, the man behind her pushed his stiff moist prick firmly, determined to sheath it in her tight fundament. His fingers dug into her narrow hips as he brutally thrust up into her, then began to push in and out, ignoring her moans, intent on fucking the tight ass as hard and as much as he chose. Precum, leaking from the tip of the heavy, invading prick thankfully began to provide a little lubrication. 

Trembling, S. forced herself to stand as quietly as possible, exerting a tremendous sense of control; wanting to pull away, get away from the cock that was now violating her but wanting more to make D. proud of her – wanting him to know that no matter how she felt, she was doing this as he wanted her to – that she would take this rape and deal with it and not cry out or complain.

D. stood to one side, his face expressionless, and watched his beloved get roughly probed by a thick prick. Her small breasts jiggled and jumped as the heavy, florid faced dom behind her thrust his prick harshly in and out, relishing the feel of the tight passageway, liking the sensation of scraping that sent exquisite tremors into his throbbing prick. S.'s glorious red hair was pulled up and away from her slender neck which looked obscenely vulnerable circled as it was by the tooled leather collar. Snaking out from beneath the blindfold, D. saw glistening tracks as S. wept silently. His heart swelled as he saw her courage, proud of her and thankful she was so committed.

An introspective man, D. probed inwardly, trying to identify the emotions which threatened to break his usual stoicism. He realized ruefully that what he felt was a combination of pride, lust and possessiveness. He enjoyed watching his possession being used – that seeing her fucked roughly and thoroughly didn't bother him as much as he would like, but made his own prick throb. 

S. gave a little moan as she felt fingers at her breast again. Her bottom was flaming, the entrance burning and sore and yet the prick still kept thrusting. A hand grabbed her breast roughly and cupping it firmly began to smack it rhytmically, timing the slaps to the thrusting of the prick into her violated hole. Despite herself, S. began to grow wet, her clit to swell. 

Her world was black, made up of sensation and sound, the murmuring of voices in the room, the slapping of her ass against a hairy groin, the sweet crack of a hand against her soft breast and the swelling which began to gather, like a tide, deep within. 

"Look at those nipples!" said the voice beside her, no doubt the owner of the slapping hand.

"Yes," she heard her beloved say. "Her nipples are quite extraordinary."

D. watched as his friend, Robert, continued slapping the soft breast. He admired the finger marks which showed lividly against the pale flesh, the nipples crimson and extended. Robert moved to the front and began to smack both breasts, relishing the jiggle and the pull but loving most of all the reddening flesh, the livid bruises which were already beginning to form.

S.'s delicate, pale Irish skin was ideal for this. D. had requested that no permanent marks be inflicted as he had a fondness for the smoothness of her lightly freckled white flesh but had agreed that it was quite provocative and enjoyable to see how well her body displayed the mark of the whip and the hand.

Behind, the dom's breathing quickened, his protruding belly shaking as he shoved his thick prick in and out of the impossibly narrow passage. Still not properly lubricated, the thick stem scraped against the sensitive sides of her anus, causing minute nicks and tiny pinpricks of blood. 

D. looked and could see the big prick swelling even more, the heavy balls taut and drawn up into the hairy groin. He couldn't help but admit that the sight of the heavy stem thrusting into and out of that slender ass was enticing. 

The dom's hand came down hard on the flexed buttock, smacking it painfully and despite herself, S. cried out. Grinning at the faces which were avidly watching their coupling, he smacked her already flushed ass again, this time with a harshness that immediately raised swollen welts. Despite herself, S. cried out.

Hearing her cry of pain, the man groaned and pulling the slender hips tight against him, thrust his prick as far up as he could manage. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward as much as he could over his own swollen belly and grunted as his prick swelled even more then began to spasm, spurting into the tight passageway. 

S. felt hot jets of cum scalding her sore bottom. Painfully, but determined, she pushed her violated buttocks back against the man's groin, ensuring that all the sperm was emptied into her body. Breathing heavily, spasmodically, the dom thrust once, then twice, bringing a heavy hand down on her buttocks each time while Robert increased the intensity of his slaps against her small breasts. Shouting, the dom emptied his prick.

For a moment, panting heavily, the rapist leaned against the slender girl, his belly shaking as he tried to catch his breath. Then grinning as a few jokesters clapped, he pulled his shrinking prick from the tight anus, still dribbling sticky thick sperm which trailed a glistening trail against the crimson of her abused ass. 

Without being asked, Lydia released S.'s lead, kneeling in front of the man, she took the reeking prick in her mouth where she carefully and thoroughly licked it clean, running an experienced tongue along its softening length and paying particular attention to the spongy tip. Absently, the dom scratched his belly while Lydia attended to him, and turning to his friend said, "She's a good tight fuck – want to try her?"

Grinning, his friend went over to where S. stood, legs trembling, ass crimson. Pushing her forward slightly, he pried apart the tight crimson buttocks and then poked a finger in the slightly gaping hole which dribbled sperm over his questing finger.

"I'm not fucking her up there until she's washed," he said laughing.

"I'm not a fan of sloppy seconds."

"But ...." 

Grabbing S.' lead he jerked her around, almost causing her to fall off her pointed heels.

Tugging the lead harshly, he pulled her to her knees. 

S. heard a zipper and obediently opened her mouth. A moment later, a long slender prick pushed into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag. Breathing through her nose, she regained her equilibrium and closing her lips around the stem began to suckle.

D. stood to one side and felt as if his prick was going to explode. He watched as S. obediently sucked the prick which was now thrusting in and out of her sweet mouth. Saliva wetted its pale length while from his vantage point, D. could see the long, wrinkled ball sac banging against her chin. 

The owner of that prick tangled his hands in the red curls, grasping her ears and pulling her tight in and out against his groin. He particularly liked shoving the long prick straight down the back of her throat.

His breath quickened. The girl was good, he conceded, not once pulling away but accepting what he chose to mete out. Looking down he found it immensely provocative to watch the white stem of his prick disappear to his groin, in the small mouth, her red curls dishevelled, the eyes blind behind the black blindfold.


The Debutante Ball



My life has been a series of random events; an endless parade of gaffes and non-sequiturs. No goals set—no plans made—just drifting aimlessly on tiny stream to nowhere. One meaningless relationship after another—dead-end jobs—no hobbies or interests that anyone I knew cared about, and an attitude that can only be described as indifferent.

"Hey, what are you doing down there?" she screeched in her whiny, high-pitched voice.

I was glad she said something—it gave me the chance to get my nose out of her pussy long enough to gulp down some fresh air.

"I'm pleasuring you," I said. Even I didn't believe that line.

"No, you're not—your tongue feels like sandpaper—you're not buffing a car—you're thirty-two years old and you don't know how to lick a va-jay-jay?"

Va-jay-jay? Good grief....

"I'm outta here," she declared as she swung a hefty leg over my head and jumped out of bed. "You know, all the girls at the club think you're cute for your age and wonder why you're single," she said as she hurriedly dressed. "I'll let'em know why—you're a lousy lay and you have a bad attitude—you can't even 'get it up'--I think you're queer--where the hell are my panties?"

I'm a lousy lay with a bad attitude? Yeah, I couldn't disagree with that.

After she stormed out of the room and I heard the front door slam shut, I rolled off the bed and searched for my briefs. Earlier, in the heat of the moment, we frantically stripped each other and clothes were flying everywhere.

I found my shirt and slacks, but no underwear. Out of chance I looked on the other side of the bed. Her red nylon panties were on the floor. I picked them up and held them in my hand. I liked the feel of them. My penis began to rise for the first time that night. I rubbed them across my chest then on my thighs. I achieved a full-blown erection.

Is this too weird? I wondered. Nah, not for me. I wrapped the panties around my cock and stroked my shaft. OOhhh, I really liked that!

I was 'into it' now. I lay back on the bed and stroked away. My entire body tingled. The feel of the panties on my cock was a whole new sensation. It felt—dare I say it—extremely 'delightful'. I was getting close—I stroked my shaft faster-and-faster—suddenly my balls contracted and my body jerked wildly on the bed. I shot jet-after-jet of cum into the red nylon panties. Whew! I lay there breathing hard—it was the best orgasm I'd had in a long, long time.

The next evening when I went to work at the club the girls whispered to each other and pointed at me, and the gay guys winked and wanted to high-five me. 

People are effing nuts, I thought. 

I was bartending in the service bar, as usual. The main bar in the club was staffed by twenty-somethings. Me, being in my early thirties, was considered too old to work the main bar. The difference was about 200 dollars a night in tips. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled with my employment situation. 

Toward the end of my shift, Fred the Owner came up to me. "John, I'm gonna have to let you go," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"We been watching you—you've been over-pouring," he said with a straight face.



"How can I over-pour with an automatic liquor gun?" I asked incredulously.

"We been watching you—here's your last check—good luck finding anything else in this economy."

I took the check from him and left the club. The girl from last night was his daughter. I had to have been temporarily insane.

He was right, though. The job market was brutal. As much as I disliked that job, it kept a roof over my head. Now what? I wondered.

I bought a couple bottles of cheap wine and went home and turned on the tv and stared at it like a zombie. What the hell am I doing with my life? I asked myself. This is ridiculous. No family in this town—not even any close friends to speak of. What have I been doing here the last five years?

I was down to my last bottle of wine and was flipping through the channels when I saw that Skin-a-Max was showing a soft core porn flick. I watched it and the one that followed and finished the wine. When it was over, I unsteadily rose from the couch and went to my bedroom and stripped off my clothes. I hesitated for a second then reached down into the waste basket and retrieved the red nylon panties from the night before and went to bed.

The next few days of job searching were an exercise in futility. Nobody was stupid enough to leave their jobs in this economy so there were no openings. Rent was due in seven days and while I had enough money saved to pay it, I'd be broke after that. I was getting nervous so I made the phone call of last resort. The next day I packed my car with a few belongings, gave my apartment key to the landlord, and drove off to 'The Low Desert Resort & Spa'.

It was only a two-hour drive but it was a lifetime away from the city. The 'season' at the resort didn't start for another two weeks, but I agreed to work in housekeeping and help 'open' the guest rooms until the season started then I would be a host/cashier in the cafe. There weren't any bartending jobs available unless someone failed to show.

In my sincerest voice I had told the lady I'd be happy to do whatever it took to help out the company. I've always been good at faking sincerity.

I thought back to my previous tour of duty in the middle of nowhere. I worked five seasons there before I moved to the city. The first time around I had a love/hate relationship with the place. They have a great golf course that employees play for free, but outside of that, there wasn't much else to do. If you didn't work at night it was difficult to stay out of the bars and save any money. Some of the resort was open year-round, if you didn't mind living in a place that was hotter than Hades in the summertime. 

When I arrived, I checked-in and received my room assignment. Another thing I didn't like about the place was you had to share a room with someone, and you never knew what type of person you'd be living with for eight months. I'm sure you can picture the possibilities. For at least the first week, however, I'd have a room to myself. 

That night at dinner I ran into a few people who were still there from five years ago, and they filled me in with the latest news and gossip, and who would be returning and who wouldn't. There were a lot of names I still knew.

The next morning I was assigned to work with Mark and Jamie, a couple queens I'd known five years ago. They were still together after all these years. They worked there year-round and loved it.

"Tennis, golf, swimming—except for the 'job part', it's like we've been on one long vacation," Jamie gushed. When the season started, they'd both be waiters in The Gourmet Room. They only took two weeks off every year. They were excellent employees; they had a plan; they saved their money and they would retire in ten years. 

The resort had two separate guest housing areas and we were opening the 'cabins'. It was dirty and hot work. The cabins had been closed for three months, all the furniture covered with sheets, and our job was to take off the sheets, dust and vacuum then clean the bathroom. September in the desert the temperatures were still around a hundred-and-ten, and you had to be careful when you pulled the sheets off—little stinging, creepy-crawlers like scorpions and vinegaroons could get pretty nasty when you disturbed their hiding places . 

It was almost a fun job. We worked hard but we talked about life and world events and we laughed a lot.

"Johnny, are you still insisting you're not gay?" Jamie would tease me. "You're way-too pretty not to be—even for an 'old guy'."

The first cabin we cleaned after lunch, I was in the bathroom scrubbing, when I heard Mark and Jamie making lovey-dovey noises and kissing. I peaked out the door and watched Jamie go to his knees and open Marks pants. I stood transfixed; I couldn't take my eyes away while Jamie sucked and fondled Mark's rather large prick. I was amazed at how much of the cock Jamie could get into his mouth.

Marks' eyes were closed and his head tilted back. Jamie's hands were busy stroking the shaft and massaging Marks' balls. His head and hand moved faster-and-faster on Marks' cock. I didn't really want to watch, but I couldn't turn away either. I remembered a couple months ago when I was at work and I accidentally opened the wrong door: I saw one of the gay guys on his knees sucking a cock. When I looked at the lucky recipient, it was Fred the Owner. They didn't see me, and I closed the door quietly. 

Holy shit! I thought. Why didn't I mention that when Fred fired me? I'm sure if I'd brought up his wife and daughter I would have saved my job! Good grief, I thought. Why do I always think of these things after-the-fact?

Jamie sucked Marks' cock for a good ten minutes. When I heard a low guttural noise escape Marks' lips, I knew he would cum soon. I wanted to see what Jamie would do with Marks' load. I didn't have to wait long: Marks' hips began gyrating and he cried out. I could hear Jamie make swallowing and gulping noises as he took Marks' jism in his mouth. He never spilled a drop.

"It's safe to come out now, Johnny," I heard Jamie exclaim.

I didn't know what to do or say so when I walked out of the bathroom my face was beet red, and I just stood there. 

"You know, cutie," Mark said, "...if you're this excited by just watching, maybe tomorrow you can kneel beside Jamie and he'll give you some pointers." He said as he pointed at my erection pushing against the front of my pants.

"I..ah, I..." I stammered; I hadn't realized I'd gotten a hard-on watching them.

Jamie laughed, "Sweetie, would you like me to 'do' you next? Or would you rather wait until Markie gets hard again so you can 'do' him?"

I broke out in nervous laughter; my face still bright red.

"Johnny, just so you know," Jamie explained, "...I do this for Markie every day after lunch—I know how to keep my man satisfied! If you want, you can join in or come out here and watch. You can take yours out while you're watching and jerk-off, for all we care."

They laughed and I joined in. It's not like I'm a prude or anything, but after that incident, I made myself scarce after lunch until they were ready to work again. I could still hear them, and maybe my imagination ran wild at times, but I didn't feel the need or have the inclination to join them.

Every night at bedtime, I would take the red nylon panties out from their hiding place and give myself a fantastic orgasm. I learned I had to wash them after every use so the cum didn't dry and make the nylon material crusty. I shook my head in wonderment at my bizarre thinking and behavior.

When we finished cleaning the guest cabins, we started on the employee cabins. These were away from the guest areas, and were near the employee laundry room and employee pub. 

These cabins were older and somewhat shabby. Many years ago they were for guests, but when they built new guest cabins, instead of tearing them down, they allowed the employees to live in them. Each cabin had two twin beds, a table and two chairs, and a bathroom. That was it. Not much space for two people living together. They were identical to the one where I was living.

It was towards the end of our work day when we approached a cabin that sat-off by itself, under two large shade trees. It was bigger than the rest, and appeared to be in better repair than the others.

"Who lives here—a manager?" I asked.

Jamie giggled, "No, this is Rique's cabin," he said as he unlocked the door.

I was stunned when we walked inside. There was a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room; a mahogany table and three chairs, heavy drapes covering the windows, plush carpeting on the floor and a full-size electric stove and refrigerator. The bathroom was large and modern, too.

"So who's this 'Rickey' person," I asked.

"Ree-que—not Rickey—short for Enrique," Mark corrected me, "...he's the best waiter in The Gourmet Room...Jamie and I are excellent waiters, but Rique is a notch above everyone here...a Type-A personality..." he added with a smile, ...and a perfect physical specimen. His other nickname is the 'Sultry Latin Lover'."

"No offense," I said, "...but how does a waiter rate this kind of place, and why is he allowed to live alone?"

They both laughed. Jamie answered my question. "Like Markie said, he's a strong Type-A personality—wait until you meet him—and he won't be living alone. He definitely is 'The Sultry Latin Lover'. After a couple weeks, Rique will 'choose' a roommate. He'll look around at the 'available talent' that's working here this season, and he'll choose someone and that person will move in here with Rique to be his 'girl'...you're going to be surprised...I guarantee there will be at least five or six queers working here whose sole purpose for coming here is to be 'Rique's Girl'!"

I told them it sounded strange to me that one guy, a waiter at that, could have so much power. It all sounded a little 'out there', if you know what I mean.

"Now Johnny, we just hope you don't become bitter and jealous when Rique doesn't pick you to be his girl...he does have standards, you know...he likes his girls to be under a hundred!" said Jamie, and they howled with fits of laughter.

"Well, I just might prove you guys wrong!" I said, and we all laughed at that one.

When we finished cleaning, Jamie went to his laundry cart and pulled out satin sheets and an ornate bedspread, definitely not standard issue linens here. 

"I kept these for Rique when he left", Jamie explained.

"Good grief," I said, as I rolled my eyes. They both smiled and laughed.

The opening of the 'season' was days away, and I began helping to clean-up The Café (coffee shop, really) where I would be working; Mark and Jamie went to work in The Gourmet Room at The Lodge. 

I finally got a roommate, a cook at The Café named "Bear". Like his name, he was big and hairy. We both viewed each other as necessary annoyances. His second night there he tried to crawl into my bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, keeping calm.

"This is what we do here—we 'help out' one another," he replied.

"I'm not gay," I said.

He laughed, "Get off it...I watched you work with your pretty-boy friend's today...you'll never convince me you're not a faggot...how do you want it: in your mouth or your ass?"

Now I was becoming alarmed: "Look, I'm not queer! Get out of my bed." He tried to pin me to the bed but I slipped out from under him and rolled off the bed. "Don't touch me again—you might beat the shit out of me but I'll mess you up, too!"

From then on our only form of communication was grunts to acknowledge each others' presence. 

I had a PO Box at the Post Office. One day I was checking the mail and as I came outside a Lamborghini LP 700 drove up and parked; an unusual occurrence, to say the least. When the driver got out of the car, the sunlight played off his head and the trees and I would swear it looked like he had a halo over his head. I knew immediately who it was: Rique, of course. 

We passed each other and I smiled and he smiled back at me. When he went inside the post office I stopped in my tracks: "Oh my God," I said aloud to myself, my pulse racing all because of his beautiful smile. Jamie's description of him didn't do him justice. I had never seen a man as handsome as him. I felt foolish about my reaction to him and went on my way. 

Every night after work I went to the employee pub and lost myself in wine and bar games. I was doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do: spend hard earned money I couldn't afford. 

To hell with it, I thought. I was pretty good at pool, pinball, and foosball and the camaraderie with my co-workers was fun and lifted my spirits. So far I hadn't seen or met any single female employees, which wasn't unusual out here. I hung out with the gay guys, they were fun, and always teasing me about my 'sexual orientation'. 

It was about a week into the season when I walked into the pub after work, and the place was packed. I heard Jamie call my name so I signed the chalkboard to play pool, and found a chair next to him and sat down. When I looked up, there sitting directly across the table from me was Rique. I felt my heart skip a beat. I blushed. 

"Rique, this is Johnny, he works in The Café," Jamie introduced us.

He stood, reached across the table to shake my hand and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

I was confused, was I supposed to stand to shake his hand? I remained seated. He had a firm grip. His hand dwarfed mine. I didn't know what to say. 

Finally I blurted out, "I hear you're a helluva waiter!" 

I felt embarrassed the moment I said it. I blushed again. I wondered what was wrong with me. I stared into his eyes; his gaze burned into me. We both smiled then someone yelled my name—it was my turn to shoot pool. I excused myself and left the table.

I'd be playing against Chuckie. He was a busboy in The Café. He was a little too gay, if you know what I mean. I'd call him a flamer, I guess 'twink' is another word. 

I never really thought much about my attitude concerning gay people. To me, they were like everyone else, and I interacted with them the same as I would with anyone. What I found was that most of the gay people I knew seemed intelligent, were fun to be with, were hard workers and they generally had great personalities. I couldn't care less what they did in private. However, just like everywhere, there are people you just don't care for, you'd rather not be around them, Chuckie was one of those people.

The pool game we always played was eight-ball. The lower numbered balls 1-7 are called 'solids' because they are one color. The balls 9-15 are called 'stripes', they had a stripe around them. The black eight ball was neutral. Whoever 'broke', if they made a solid or stripe on the break, that was what they needed for the rest of the game. Once you made all your 'solids' or 'stripes', then you tried to make the eight ball to win the game. If you made the eight ball on the break—you won the game. If you made the eight ball before you made all of your other balls—you lost the game.

Since Chuckie was the winner of the previous game, he 'broke the rack'. He made two stripes on the break, and I had to wait until he missed. He made one more ball then missed. I missed an easy shot and it was Chuckie's turn again. 

I looked at the chalkboard to see who signed up to play. Rique's name was fourth on the list. That meant, in order to play against Rique, I'd have to beat Chuckie, and the next three players. I'd played these guys before and beaten them, so I cleared the fog out of my mind and concentrated hard on the game. 

Chuckie and I were both down to the eight ball and he missed a fairly easy shot. I made the eight and won the game. One down—three to go. 

I had a good 'break' on the next game, and made five balls before I missed. I looked over at the table where Mark, Jamie and Rique sat. There were three flamers all vying for Rique's attention. Wannabe's, I thought. Chuckie had wormed his way into the seat next to Rique. I felt an odd and foreign emotion. What was it? I wondered. Jealousy? Can't be—what could I be jealous of? It occurred to me that Chuckie may have lost his game to me on purpose. Back to the current game, I won the game on my next three shots. Two down—two to go.

The next game I won easily. My opponent was drunk and could barely see the balls. Three down—one to go.

I looked over and Chuckie was gone from the table. As a matter-of-fact, so were Mark and Jamie. Rique was alone talking with Eddie, the host/cashier at The Steakhouse. Eddie? I wondered. Sure, he's a good looking kid, but I didn't think he was Rique's type—whatever that was.

I made a poor break on the next game. The balls were huddled together, and since Bob, my opponent and I were pretty good players, I knew we were in for a long game. No one wanted to make the mistake that would open up the table for the other guy. I kept taking furtive glances at Rique's table; he and Eddie were talking and smiling. I briefly considered breaking up the balls to give Bob the advantage but I fought that urge. After what seemed like forever, I made three balls in-a-row and made a cross-corner bank shot on the eight ball to win the game.




The Debutante Ball



I thought I'd have to tell Rique it was his turn, but to my surprise he'd been paying attention and came right over and racked the balls. I watched him as he racked; he was probably three inches taller than me and forty pounds heavier. He wore a tight fitting casual shirt and I couldn't see an ounce of fat anywhere. His hands were large, and his chest and shoulders were broad and well-defined. 

When he finished racking the balls he said, "Ahhh, Johnny—go at it, my friend."

My friend? We smiled at one another.

Wouldn't you know it? The odds are heavily favored against it happening—I've only done it a handful of times in my entire life: I made the eight ball on the break—I won—the game was over. For some reason, I felt disappointed.

Rique had a huge smile on his face as he came over and shook my hand.

"Johnny, beautiful shot—I see you are a man to be reckoned with," he complimented me. His voice was as soothing and friendly as his demeanor.

He hung up his pool cue and said, "I must bid you goodnight...perhaps you will offer me a rematch another time?"

"Ah...yeah, of course!" Smooth John—real smooth.

He turned to walk out of the pub then suddenly turned back to me and said, "Johnny, I'm playing golf in the morning at ten—I understand you enjoy the game, as well. Would you care to join me?"

A surprised smile spread across my lips, I answered: "I'd love to--see you there at ten!"

I am an introvert; I have a difficult time thinking of things to say when I first meet someone. Out of nervousness, I tend to make odd statements that make us both feel ridiculously uncomfortable. My father, who is the exact opposite once told me: "When you can't think of anything to say, ask them a question about themselves—everyone loves talking about themselves."

The next day I followed his advice on the golf course with Rique. It worked for a short while, but suddenly, Rique did the same with me. I thought he was just following the same advice, but it soon dawned on me that he was sincere—he really wanted to know about my life. 

I relaxed. I was open and honest and we learned about one another and joked and laughed all the way around the golf course. It was a fantastic day! By the time we finished, I probably knew more about Rique than I knew about anyone else in my life; and Rique definitely knew more about me than I'd ever revealed to anyone else.

That night at work Chuckie came to me and snarled, "Well, I hope you're happy—there are real queers here who want to be 'Rique's girl'—I heard you guys were laughing and carrying-on all day! Just what are you trying to do?" He stormed off in a hissy-fit.

The problem with a small community like ours is that you knew everyone's business—and they knew yours.

The next few nights I met Rique at the pub after work. We became the champion foosball team—we were unbeatable. Rique, Mark, Jamie and I would sit at the table and laugh and talk about everything. I felt like I was evolving from a suspicious, solitary man into a real person; one that could speak freely with others, and actually be interested in what others had to say. I was at ease with myself—I was discovering 'peace of mind'.

One night as I unlocked the front door to my cabin, Bear yelled, "GET OUT!"

"Bear, I'm tired—where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I don't care—come back in two hours!" he said. I heard Chuckie giggling in the dark. I slept in my car.

The following night there weren't many people in the pub. Rique and I squashed the few people that dared play foosball with us, and when there were no more takers, Rique and I shot pool. It was friendly, but we are both competitive people. I'd win, he'd win; it went back-and-forth like that. Finally, he said he'd had enough—that he'd see me at the golf course in the morning. We said our goodbyes and when he left, I saw Jamie sitting at a table by himself so I joined him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I thought he was objecting to me sitting next to him.

"With Rique—what are you doing with Rique? You haven't told him you're not gay, have you?" I'd never seen such a serious expression on his face.

"Well, no..." I answered.

"Outside of work, you guys are together all the time...golfing every day—here at night. What is going on in your mind?" He was genuinely concerned.

The million-dollar question. Until Jamie asked me that I hadn't given it a moments' thought.

"We're friends," I said. Suddenly the joy and exhilaration I felt earlier being with Rique disappeared; I felt alone again. "He's the best friend I've ever had in my life," I admitted. 

"John...I probably shouldn't even be saying this...he talks about you all the time...he really—REALLY likes you, if you know what I mean."

Jamie's words had an impact on me that no other words had ever had in my entire life. I felt exhilaration again, and at the same time deeply troubled. I knew what he meant—I knew now that I had a hard choice to make. I knew that the rest of my life could come down to this decision. I realized that this was about Rique's happiness. Was I being selfish for wanting him as my friend, but nothing else?

Jamie saw the sadness on my face: "John, look...we all like you here," he smiled, "...well, everybody except Chuckie (we laughed)...even when you worked here before everyone liked you. You're a damn good guy...you treat everyone with respect and we love you for that...we just wish you could get over your low self esteem issues...maybe I've been wrong all these years...maybe—just maybe you ARE gay...you didn't have a girlfriend the last time you were here—you don't have one now...I don't know how you feel about guys—I can't tell you what you should do...that has to come from you—you have to feel it on the inside...I gotta go—see you tomorrow."

I remained stoic until he left then tears welled in my eyes. I fought them back so no one else would notice. I left the pub and went home. Luckily, Chucky and Bear weren't there. I lay awake a long time.

The strangest thing to me was that if I'd met Rique anywhere else but here—I would never even consider that he was gay.

On the golf course the next day, Rique noticed I was more subdued than usual.

"Something wrong today, my friend? Is that asshole roommate of yours bothering you again?"

"No...no it's not him...I'm just trying to figure something out, I guess," I said softly.

"Johnny, if there is anything at all I can do for you—let me know, okay?"

"Okay," I said. I had to turn my head so he wouldn't see the teardrop rolling down my cheek.

I almost didn't go to the pub after work. This isn't fair to Rique, I thought. He deserves someone who can give him total happiness—not just a golfing buddy. Suddenly, I was overcome with a strong urge to see him so I said, "Screw it!" and went to the pub after all.

He was sitting with Jamie and Mark—Bear and Chucky were at the next table. I bought a round for our table and sat down. Riques' eyes lit up when he saw me. I smiled at him—he smiled back. 

He and I played foosball against the second best team there—we kicked-ass. I began to feel better; the conversation at our table was lively and stimulating. At the other table, Chuckie and Bear were making fools out of themselves. Chuckie was sitting on Bears' lap and they were making-out like drunken fools. They finally got up to leave and Bear came over to our table.

"Don't come home tonight," he slurred in my direction, "...don't come home at all—I don't want you there anymore!" and they stumbled out of the pub.

After a moment of stunned silence I said: "Wow! I guess it's true—there really is someone out there for everybody!"

We all laughed.

Jamie and Mark awkwardly mentioned ideas of where I could spend the night. I nodded and said, "Maybe...maybe..."

Suddenly Rique leaned over and whispered in my ear: "Johnny, I'd be honored if you stayed in my cabin tonight—you can have the bed—I will use a sleeping bag."

I coughed to clear my throat and whispered back at him: "Thank you for your generous offer—I accept!"

Apparently our whispers were overheard by Jamie who gave me a puzzled look. I smiled at him—he didn't know what to make of it.

We all finished our drinks and left the pub. Jamie and Mark turned one way and went to their cabin; Rique and I went the other direction to his. My hands trembled, and my heart was pounding so loud in my chest I thought Rique could hear it.

He unlocked the door, opened it and said, "After you, my friend."

We took off our shoes when we entered, a common practice where we lived so as not to track the desert onto the carpeting. I remembered the cabin from when we cleaned it; Rique had added his personal touch and the place was unlike anything I'd seen here. It was elegant yet comfortable.

"Would you care for a glass of wine, my friend?" Rique asked.

"Yes...that would be nice," I said. My nerves were still on edge, maybe the wine would calm them.

I sat on the edge of the big bed and he brought me a crystal wine glass filled half-way with red wine. I tasted it and smiled.

"This is very good—what is it?" I asked.

"The name is 'Flores Malbec'...it is from the Mendoza region of my country," he answered, "...it is made with the finest grapes in Argentina."

We sipped the wine and, I guess to ease the awkwardness of the situation, we talked about our golf game earlier that day. We finished the wine—it was getting late. He said he had a pair of pajamas I could wear to bed.

"I, ah...I like to sleep in my underwear, if that's all right with you?" I asked.

He smiled and said, "Yes, that will be fine—so do I."

I didn't hesitate—I stripped off my polo shirt and shorts and stood before him in my powder-blue, string bikini briefs. He smiled and stripped to his boxer shorts. My God he has a magnificent body, I thought. He reached for his sleeping bag and I stopped him.

"Why don't we talk about this..." I said, and sat on the bed and motioned for him to join me.

He sat beside me with a furrowed brow. I took a deep breath and put my arm around his back, and a hand on his upper thigh. His skin was smooth as silk.

I looked down and saw he had an erection straining against the front of his boxers. I caressed his thigh and stared into his deep blue eyes. For a moment we gazed at each other, then the same impulse overcame us—we moved our faces closer and our lips met for the very first time. His lips were warm and soft. It was a lingering, gentle kiss. 

The electricity from his hot lips gave me an erection. My hands couldn't help themselves—they freely caressed his back, his shoulders, his chest and his thighs. I decided it was now or never—I firmly grasped his erection through the material of his boxers. The look on his face was of astonishment and wonder. His expression was priceless—I knew I had done the right thing and there was no turning back now.

I reached inside his boxers and stroked his cock. Our kisses grew more passionate—we pressed our lips together; our tongues exploring each other. I tugged at the waistband of his boxers; he lifted his hips to help me pull them down to his ankles.

I gasped when I saw his hard penis. It was seven inches long, an inch-and-a-half around, and bronze in color. A sculptor could not have created a more beautiful piece of art than Rique's cock.

I looked into Rique's eyes and said, "Show me how you like to be touched."

He groaned and took my small hand in his and guided it to his cock. He liked to be caressed with the palm of my hand and fingers sliding from the tip of his cock downward to his balls and back up again. He was hairless down there. The smoothness of his flesh made my cock throb inside my briefs. His balls were heavy; I loved the feel of them in my hand.

I couldn't take my eyes off his cock as I caressed him. A voice in my head said "Kiss it" and I leaned over and pressed my lips to his cockhead. The manly aroma of his pre-cum filled my nostrils—it was wonderful. I licked his pre-cum and tasted it—it drove me wild with desire. 

I went to my knees between his open legs. I couldn't stop myself—I didn't want to stop myself. I held his heavy balls in my right hand and grasped the shaft of his cock with the other. I kissed and licked his cock just as I had caressed it—from the tip all the way down to his balls. 

"OOhhhhh Johnny..." he moaned. Sounds of pleasure came from his open lips.

I wet my lips and placed them over his cockhead. My tongue danced on his hot flesh. His throbbing cock in my mouth excited me beyond belief. Nothing in my experience had ever filled me with this much desire and passion. I wanted desperately for him to cum in my mouth. I wouldn't be complete without the taste of his cum in my mouth.

My lips slid up-and-down his cock; my hands stroked his shaft and massaged his balls. I looked up and saw his eyes were closed, his mouth open and his head rolling from side-to-side. I increased the tempo of my mouth and hand on his pulsating cock.

Faster-and-faster I stroked his shaft; my tongue caressed his cockhead as my lips, slick with pre-cum, slid up-and-down his magnificent cock. I felt his balls contract in my hand; his cock grew even larger in my mouth. I positioned my tongue on his cock-slit and when the first stream of his hot cum spurted from his slit, it shot directly on my lapping tongue. I stroked his cock faster as huge amounts of cum burst from his balls. I swallowed load-after-load of his indescribably delicious cum. The sounds of his ecstasy filled the room. 

Hearing him scream his pleasure pushed me over the top: my balls exploded and I came in waves inside my briefs. When the magic of our orgasms faded, and Rique lay back gasping for air to catch his breath, I buried my face in his crotch and used my lips and tongue to clean his cock and balls of the cum that had escaped my sucking mouth. 

In my entire life, I had never been so aroused and then sexually satisfied as I was now.

"Oh Johnny...Oh Johnny..." was all he could say.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom and peeled off my cum-soaked briefs. I cleaned myself and returned to Rique; I stood naked before him.

"I guess," I said, "...I'll have to sleep naked tonight."

He smiled and said, "I wasn't honest earlier, I like to sleep in the nude."

"Good," I replied with a wry grin on my face, "...because I would insist on it!"

That night was the beginning of the rest of my life. We held each other close; we kissed and caressed one another. I couldn't keep my hands off him. When I fondled him to another erection, I climbed between his legs, kissed and licked his cock, took his balls into my mouth, and then sucked him to another explosive orgasm. I fell asleep with my head on his chest and his arm around my shoulders and the wonderful taste of his cum in my mouth.

When I awoke the next morning, Rique was gazing at me and stroking my chest. I smiled and we kissed. My hand automatically went to his cock. His erection was rock-hard, and without a word being said, I knelt between his legs and made love to his beautiful penis.

We showered together. In between kisses, we soaped each others' bodies—we giggled like school girls. We were drying ourselves when there was a knocking on the front door. Rique wrapped a towel around his gorgeous body and answered the door. I could hear Chuckie's whiney, faggotty voice from the bathroom.

"Ooohhh, Hi Rique...tell Johnny I packed his clothes and all his stuff is lying in front of Bears cabin," he giggled as he walked away.

Rique must have nodded because I never heard him speak. We dressed and walked to the cabin to retrieve my belongings; there wasn't a question anymore of where I would be staying. 

As we approached I saw my things in a neat pile, but then I saw what was on top--the red nylon panties were on display for all the world to see. I'm sure Bears intention was to humiliate me, and it worked. I quickly scooped them up and stuffed them in my pocket. I was too embarrassed to even look at Rique. Between the two of us, we were able to carry everything back to his cabin.

As we found room for my things, I felt too ashamed to say anything.

Finally Rique said, "Johnny, I have always had a fondness for a pretty man like yourself wearing women's lingerie—would you wear them for me?"

I sheepishly examined his face: no trace of a smile or smirk—he seemed genuinely sincere.

"I, ah...I...I actually never wore them...I used them to masturbate," I admitted to him.

"Well, I would love to see you wearing them," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

I pulled the panties out of my pocket and hesitated, Rique, to encourage me I guess, stripped to his boxers and sat on the bed. The compassion on Rique's face was my motivation.

I took a deep breath and took off my clothes. I stepped into the panties and pulled them up to my waist. Rique laughed and when I looked down so did I: they were probably four sizes too big for me and the elastic waistband was the only thing holding them in place.

"Johnny, sit here," Rique said and he motioned for me to sit on his lap.

He put his arm around me and said: "Johnny, you should never feel embarrassed or ashamed when you find something in this godforsaken world that gives you pleasure. Life is very difficult! Think about all the work, the struggles, the emotional and physical aches and pains you endure—and for what? You struggle to survive just for a few minutes of fun and pleasure? If you live according to what other people find acceptable, or what they think of you—you will never find true happiness in your lifetime. Your life will be nothing more than a series of empty and meaningless days, weeks and years."

Tears overflowed from my eyes and down my cheeks. I threw my arms around Rique and held him tight. He kissed my tears away then our lips met. Everything seemed so clear to me now. It was as though my mind had been lost in a heavy layer of fog all these years and it finally lifted. I finally understood what I needed in life to make me happy.

I kissed Rique and looked deep into his eyes. "I want to be your 'girl'," I said softly.

"What?" he asked in surprise. 

"I want you to teach me how to be your 'girl'", I asked, almost pleading.

He looked at me a long time; I could see he was thinking this through.

"No, Johnny..." he said and my heart sank. "...I don't want you to be 'my girl'—I want you to be 'my man'...I want to share the things we like as 'two men'...I want to go places and do things with you as 'two men'...I think we can live a wonderful life together as 'two men'," then he smiled and added, "...yes, in the bedroom you will be 'my girl'—'my chica'."

My heart leapt with unbelievable happiness as we kissed. He stroked my chest and thighs. He pinched and rolled my nipples. My cock became rigid inside my panties. He caressed my cock through the nylon material. Our lips and tongues melded together with true passion. His hand moved faster on my cock. I groaned into his mouth. He pulled my nipples and stroked my cock.

He bit my earlobe and I felt his hot breath in my ear, "Cum for me, chica—cum in your panties for Rique."

I held him tight as my balls exploded and I soaked my panties and his hand with my cum. He milked my cock until my balls were empty. My heart was pounding and my pulse-rate was off the charts. This was no ordinary orgasm—it was 'the best' orgasm! It was an orgasm of incredible depth and feeling. I had never-ever felt this close to another human being.

I gazed into his eyes and said, "I love you, Rique."

He held my head in his strong hands and said, "I love you too, Johnny."

I felt his hard cock pressing against my bottom. I coaxed him into lying back on the bed and lay on top of him. We kissed; my hands caressing his smooth, taut flesh. I kissed and licked my way down his body. I pulled off his boxers and knelt between his legs. 




The Debutante Ball



This is where I belong, I admitted to myself. I loved kneeling between his legs and giving him pleasure.

I teased his cock and balls with my hands and mouth. I pushed his legs back until his beautiful brown anus was inches from my lips. I kissed his anus and my tongue explored his perineum. I curled my tongue and pushed it into his asshole. His groans of desire filled my ears and made me deliriously happy. 

When I finally took his cock into my mouth his hips were already bucking wildly on the bed. Nothing except giving him pleasure mattered to me. My lips and tongue moved frantically up-and-down his cock. I stroked his shaft faster. When my finger massaged his perineum and rubbed against his anus his whole body convulsed and thrashed about on the bed. He erupted like a volcano. I greedily swallowed his cum and milked his cock to get every drop out of him. When he had been drained, I lay beside his panting and heaving body.

"OOhhhh, chica...chica..." he moaned.

We were like newlyweds the next few days. We couldn't get enough of each other. We didn't play golf or go to the pub after work. Instead, we stayed home and gave each other fabulous orgasms. In the back of my mind, however, I knew something was missing.

One night as I was walking home from work I ran into Bear. He leered at me and smirked, "Not queer, huh?" then with a menacing look on his face he said, "I'll see you at 'The Debutante Ball'—oh God I'm looking forward to that!"

When I asked Rique what was 'The Debutante Ball', I saw him blush for the first time and he mumbled something about it not being important.

The next day Jamie knocked on our door and he was holding three large clothes boxes. Rique took the boxes from him and Jamie smiled at me and said, "I hope they fit—I guessed at your size."

Then he handed me a shopping bag, I knew he and Mark were going to the city so I had asked him to get me something.

As he was leaving, he smiled and said, "Have fun boys!"

I laid the shopping bag in the closet. I was curious as to what was in the boxes.

Rique smiled and said, "Look inside, chica."

The first box was packed tight with panties. Lace panties, nylon panties, sheer diaphanous panties. I blushed, but I was thrilled and excited.

The second box contained sheer and sexy baby doll nighties and teddies. I held one up against my body and Rique groaned, "Ooohhhh... sexy!"

The last box had garter belts and nylon stockings. I grinned at Rique and said, "Why you gorgeous pervert!"

He smiled and said, "I wasn't lying when I said I loved to see a pretty man in lingerie...chica, I want you to wear panties for me from now on." I immediately gathered up my cotton briefs and threw them in the trash. 

Rique had me strip and model the panties for him. For whatever reason, my cock didn't get as excited when I wore the lace panties so Rique decided I'd wear the lace panties during the day. I smiled and said, "Fine with me."

Jamie had chosen the right size, and by the time I tried on the last pair of panties, my cock was aching for release. Rique had me sit on his lap and he stroked my cock through the sheer material of the pink, diaphanous panties. My eyes rolled back into my head as I filled my new panties with cum. 

I was so happy with the gifts that I sucked two loads of cum out of Rique's cock before we left for work.

After work we decided to go to the pub. We hadn't been there in a week and we missed seeing some of the guys. The four of us sat at our usual table and when Mark and Rique went to shoot pool I leaned over to Jamie and asked him: "What is 'The Debutante Ball'?"

His face turned red and he averted his eyes from mine. "Ah...it's just a silly party we have here sometimes..." I could see he wasn't going to tell me more so I changed the subject.

The next day Rique and I would be off work so I asked Jamie if he could keep Rique busy for a couple hours. 

"Sure, no problem—I'll have Mark ask him to play tennis...what's up?" he asked.

I smiled and softly said, "Oh, I just want to give him a surprise."

The next morning when Rique left the cabin I stripped, grabbed the shopping bag from the closet and went into the bathroom.

I found the liquid laxative in the bag and swallowed a cupful. While I waited, I took the hair removal gel out of the bag and read the instructions. The laxative worked quickly. When I was finished I climbed into the tub and applied the gel to my body. It stung a little when I rubbed it onto my more 'sensitive' areas. I waited fifteen minutes then turned on the shower and washed myself. I was amazed at the amount of hair on the bottom of the tub.

After I cleaned myself, and the tub, I applied lubricant to a soft rubber tube and spread my legs. It was difficult at first, but I finally concentrated hard enough to push the tube inside me. When I was satisfied my rectum was thoroughly lubricated, I went to the closet and chose the outfit I wanted to wear. I dressed and waited for Rique's return.

When I heard his key in the lock I stood near the bed with my hands on my hips. Rique entered the room, looked at me and his jaw dropped wide open.

"Ay, caramba, chica!" was all he could say. A huge smile spread across his handsome face.

I had decided to wear all white: a thigh-high baby doll nighty, sheer, diaphanous panties, a lacy garter belt and nylon stockings. My raging hard-on was clearly visible through the see-thru panties.

He came to me and we embraced and kissed.

"Oohh chica—you're beautiful..."

I reached down and caressed his growing cock into a full erection. He said he wanted to shower first—I said, "Rique, I want you now!" and I pulled off his polo shirt and dropped to my knees and stripped him naked.

I lovingly stroked and licked his cock until he was quivering with desire. I stood up, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and wriggled my hips and pulled them down and off. 

I embraced him and whispered in his ear, "Rique, I want to feel you inside me—I want you to fuck me."

"OOhh chica—are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Rique, I want to bend over for you—my bottomhole is lubricated—I need to feel your cock inside me!" my small voice pleaded.

I faced the bed and bent over until my head and shoulders rested on the mattress. I spread my legs wide, and reached behind me and pulled apart my bottomcheeks. I exposed my lubricated anus to his view. I heard him groan.

"Oh chica...oh chica...oh chica..." he repeated as he stood behind me and pressed his cock against my bottom.

I took his cock in my hand and guided his mushroom-shaped cockhead to my anus. I pushed my hips backwards and felt his cockhead ever-so-slightly enter me. I pushed back further and the head popped through my opening. I winced in pain but was determined to have his cock inside me. 

He grabbed my hips and slowly pulled me onto his cock. I could feel every vein and nuance of his cock as inch-by-inch he pushed into me. I shook my head from side-to-side fighting the pain. 

Finally he exclaimed, "OOoooo Johnny—I'm all the way in—Oohhh baby—Oohhh chica!"

He gave me a few seconds to get accustomed to his seven inch cock in my ass. I relaxed my sphincter as much as possible. I opened myself for him. The pain subsided and I moved my hips. He knew I was ready.

Slowly at first, he pulled is cock out then pushed it into me. He was moaning non-stop. My asshole became numb to the fucking. Soon he sawed his cock in-and-out of me. I knew he was straining to cum. He began to fuck me faster with longer and harder strokes. When his cockhead bumped against my prostate I cried out. 

The pain was gone. My own cock was stiff and throbbing. I met his forward thrusts by pushing back against him. His cockhead kept stimulating my prostate and my body responded. I was babbling incoherently as his cock drove me wild with pleasure. 

"God this is wonderful!" I screamed out loud.

My words drove him crazy. He fucked me like a man possessed. His cock was now a battering ram. His strong hands pulled me onto his cock then he withdrew until just the tip was inside me. In-and-out---In-and-out---In-and-out....

We were animals now—sweat dripped off both of us. His cock drove me to a height of ecstasy I didn't know existed. My own cock ached for release. I could feel the cum churning in my balls. Suddenly Rique cried out; he fucked me harder as the cum shot out of his balls into my asshole. I could feel his scalding hot cum inside me. My balls exploded and my cock shot load-after-load of cum on the bedspread. I collapsed on the bed and Rique fell on top of me. We lay like that a long time gasping for air. 

When we recovered, I felt his deflated cock slip from my anus and his cum oozing out of my asshole. I shook my head in wonderment—every orgasm I had with Rique just got better and better.

For the next day or so I had trouble sitting down. In the pub one night Jamie noticed and gave me a wink and a knowing smile. 

I smiled back at him and asked, "Why didn't you tell me how great it felt to bend over for your man?"

He laughed, "It's a little secret every guy has to learn for himself."

When we resumed fucking, I insisted Rique show me all his favorite positions. He was only to gracious and happy to oblige. I found that one of my favorites was when he sat on the edge of the bed and I mounted his cock with my back to him. I had to work hard to push myself up-and-down his cock, but his hands were free and he used them to pinch my nipples and stroke my cock with my panties.

One night at work I was particularly happy and everyone noticed. Chuckie came up to me and said, "OOooooo Johnny—looks like you're ready for 'The Debutante Ball'!"

"Just what the hell is everyone talking about? What is 'The Debutante Ball'?" I demanded.

"You really don't know, do you?" he sneered at me.

"No, I don't!"

His face was inches from mine and he almost spit the words at me, "Well, sweetie, every year for the last five years, when Rique has his new girl 'trained'—he'll have a 'coming out' party for her. He'll dress her in her finest silk and lace and present her as his 'new girl' at 'The Debutante Ball'...she will proceed to get on her knees and suck his cock in front of everyone—then the fun really begins--he will have her suck the cocks of all the 'tops' who are there!"

"You're joking," I said.

"No, sweetie, I am not...and Bear and I are really looking forward to it this year. I'm gonna make sure Bear doesn't have sex for a few days before so he will absolutely fill your belly full of his cum!" he laughed his evil laugh, "...you'll have the taste of his cum in your mouth for two weeks--then you'll know what I go through every day!"

The spiteful bitch stomped off and left me standing there dumbfounded.

Rique's not like that—he wouldn't hurt a fly. Rique's kind and gentle--he wouldn't do that to me, would he? I'd never heard him say one cross word to anybody. I wondered over-and-over again for the next few days. 

I became sullen and withdrawn. I would only make perfunctory comments to Rique and Jamie when they asked what was wrong with me. I contemplated packing my car and getting as far away from there as I could. When Rique wanted to make love I'd just say, "No, not now."

What was I thinking? I scolded myself. People don't change—they've always been assholes and they'll always be assholes! All con men have to do is smile nicely, tell you things you want to hear, and then they'll fuck you over every time and you won't even know it until they're out of your life. How gullible and stupid can one person be, John?

Business was so slow one night the boss let me go early and I went straight to the pub. I sat at the bar and ordered Jack Daniels on-the-rocks. Friends stopped by to say 'hi' but I ignored them. As far as I was concerned, the night belonged to me and my good buddy Jack.

By the time Rique, Jamie and Mark got there, I was well on my way to oblivion.

"Johnny—Johnny—are you okay?" it was Rique, "... I've been so worried about you—what is wrong? What is it? I can help you—please let me help you!" 

He placed his hand on my shoulder and I angrily pushed it away.

"GET AWAY FROM ME," I screamed. Stunned, the three of them sat at a table. 

I ordered another drink but Susie the bartender wouldn't serve me. I grumbled below my breath; slowly, methodically I inched my way off the bar stool. I saw where the front door was and aimed myself at it. On the way, I had to pass 'their' table. I stopped and stared at Rique.

I finally said, "So Rique...when's The Debutante Ball this year? Next week? The week after? Or haven't I been properly 'trained' yet?"

Marks' eyes bugged-out; a look of sheer horror overtook Jamie's face; Rique buried his face in his hands and shook his head from side-to-side. I stumbled out of the pub.

After a false start, I got my bearings and walked to my car. I fell hard on the gravel and tore a hole on the knee of my good work pants. When I made it to my car, I fumbled in my pocket for the keys. 

"FUCK'EM ALL," I shouted at the heavens.

I unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. I had to get out of there and I had to do it now! I had trouble putting the key in the ignition—I couldn't find the ignition. 

"GOD DAMNIT," I screamed.

The keys fell to the floorboard. I bumped my head on the steering wheel when I bent down to find the keys—it hurt. Where are the fucking keys? WHERE ARE THE FUCKING KEYS???

I sat back in the seat. I began to cry then I fell asleep. I dreamed Rique and I were making love under the stars on the cool, damp grass of the golf course.

When I awoke the sun was shining in my eyes. Startled, I looked around and figured out where I was. I guessed it was about nine in the morning. My head was throbbing. I sat there wondering what to do. I remembered the keys and found them next to my foot on the floorboard. 

I opened the door and with great effort, climbed out of the car. Something caught the corner of my eye. I looked down near the rear of the car: Rique was sitting, leaning against the car, sleeping. My heart skipped a beat. He always looked so angelic and peaceful when he slept.

I slammed the car door shut and Rique bumped his head when he awoke.

He sprang to his feet. "Johnny...please, Johnny—let me explain—I'm so sorry—come home and let me explain!"

"I heard all about 'The Debutante Ball', Rique...how could you do that to someone?" I felt numb.

"Please—I am not proud of that—I was not a good person—I am a different person now—you have made me a different person!" he said, "...I love you, Johnny—I don't want to lose you—I need you, Johnny...without you I'd be lost...." 

I thought I saw tears in his eyes. His voice was quivering; his hands trembled. He looked and acted like a regular person now—not 'Rique the Latin Lover'. He was Rique, my best friend and the man I loved more than anything or anyone in the world. I went with him to our cabin to listen to him—I owed him that much.

We sat on the edge of the bed; he wouldn't look at me when he spoke. He talked softly and I strained to hear him. 

"I was eighteen when I knew I was gay...much earlier than that I knew I was 'different'—it wasn't anything sexual—I just preferred to be around boys than girls...I never had a romantic crush on any of the girls I knew, but there were some boys I really, really liked, but growing up with four brothers and a stern, 'machismo' father—I knew right-off I could never admit my feelings to anyone...in my family being a 'mariquita' was unacceptable—you were a man and you chased after 'putas', and that was it! ...I concentrated hard on sports to try and fit in with the other boys—maybe it took time to be interested in girls!"

His words were halting; this was extremely hard for him to talk about; I held his hand and he weakly smiled at me.

"My best friend was Pablo, we knew each other forever...Pablo wasn't a flaming faggot, but we both knew he was different...when I tried hard at sports to make friends with the other athletes, they all seemed so shallow and stupid that I always ended up hanging out with Pablo—he was smart, funny and he saw the world differently than everyone else...one night Pablo and I drank too much wine...I was tired and allowed him to give me a massage...before I knew what was happening he was on his knees with my penis in his mouth—it felt so 'right' I didn't stop him...our relationship changed and it was then I discovered I was a 'top'...we were both ashamed but we couldn't help ourselves—my brother, Javier, caught us one night—my father beat the crap out of me—no son of his was a faggot-period!"

I wiped a single tear drop from Rique's cheek.

"From then on my family made my life hell—even my mother, and that hurt the worst of all! Pablo was forbidden to come to our house and I have never seen him since...my older sister was the only person I could talk with—she took me aside and told me I needed to leave there—I should go to America...she continues to support me with money and understanding...when I got here I thought I could change—I tried dating girls—I had sex with girls—I didn't like it—I hated myself...I found the gay clubs and picked up pretty boys—they all seemed so faggotty I treated them like shit—I used them and threw them aside...I have been doing that until I met you—you have taught me something I never knew—'respect' for other people—you can be who you are, and you can respect other people for who they are...Johnny, I will never dis-respect you—that debutante ball bullshit never entered my mind with you."

He looked at me with love on his face, "I don't want to share you with anyone else—I want you all for myself!"

We held each other tightly. We kissed and I undressed him and satisfied his beautiful cock with my mouth. 

Later, after dark, we walked hand-in-hand to the golf course, undressed each other, and made love under the stars on the cool, damp grass.



The Debutante’s Fall



I am the married mother of two precious little shiny faced girls, age four and six. I live in an upscale neighborhood of a large urban area in the northeastern United States. My husband of seven years is a trusted professional, a pillar of our community, and he knows nothing about any of this. He would have no choice but to divorce me if he ever found out. On its face, it's a tawdry story: in a party I attended during my second year at college, I went down on a man I hardly knew, as recompense for some drugs that I had taken from someone else earlier that same night. I suppose that's quite a confession in its own right, but it's not the meat of the thing that I intend to own up to tonight. 

Let me explain. 

First, I didn't want to go down on that man. In fact, I tried my best to get out of it, but there was nothing I could do to prevent it. He had been using drugs and couldn't ejaculate. It took me forever. In the middle of it, he took a phone call. He was speaking to the guy who had given me the drugs. I know this because at one point they started discussing me. He laughed and said, 'She's sucking my cock right now.' I felt so humiliated. When he finally hung up, he took my head in his hands, pumped his hips, and then filled my mouth with his semen. I know it sounds crazy, but I felt grateful to finally receive his cum. I swallowed it all. I wanted to make him happy. I knew that, where I unable to please him, a much worse fate might lay in store for me. And that's the deeper story, the story that I want to relate to you. I met a man that night—a man called Bang—and he taught me a lesson about myself, a lesson so deep and fundamental that I believe it may have altered the very course of my life. 

Sometimes something good can come of even the most outrageous experience. I am grateful for the opportunity to participate in your study and unburden myself from the guilt and shame I still carry from that night. If my account can help some other young woman who finds herself in a similar situation, then so much the better. 

I am a good looking woman. Thin, long willowy blonde hair, and blue eyes. I have delicate features: a sharp chin and a small upturned nose. In my second year at college, my parent's marriage began coming apart, and I didn't want to go home for the holidays and listen to them fight. Instead I wanted to party. I went with two girlfriends to an off campus party in a big old brownstone somewhere in North Philly. I wore a pair of leather boots with stiletto heels. 

The party was a big rolling affair with people in every room and most of the floors. I settled into a room with one of my friends and three high rollers who had an improbably large supply of drugs. No sooner had we settled in, than my friends wanted to leave. But I didn't want to go back to the dorm. One of the high rollers, a light skinned black man named Marlo, seemed interested in me, so I asked him to give me some of his drugs. As I asked, I put my hand on the inside of his thigh to make sure he gave me the answer I wanted to hear. 

I should say here that the idea of using my sex powers to get what I want has always turned me on. In middle school, I was the girl who traded kisses for lunch money at cafeteria dances. Once down at the Jersey Shore, I let a bouncer secretly grope me, in exchange for backstage passes for myself and some of my friends, so that we could meet a local band we all admired. Marlo was intelligent and articulate, and I didn't see any harm in having a secret liaison with him or finding my own way back to the dorm. I considered it an early Christmas gift to myself. I kissed my girlfriends goodbye and made my way back to the little room with Marlo. 

Another guy was there, a forgettable nerd with glasses and khaki pants. They introduced me to him, but I almost immediately forgot his name and would never be able to recall it again. We all got stoned. If I wanted more drugs, all I had to do was ask Marlo, and he laid it out for me. He was very generous. 

The meek guy with the glasses kept staring at my boots. He had unkempt curly brown hair and seemed like a bore, but he wasn't an unattractive man. When I get high, I'm a bit of a flirt. I noticed him staring and maybe I teased him a little more than was prudent. He began to fawn on me and Marlo began to glower. One of my problems is that I love to evoke that sort of competitive attention between men, but not every man knows how to deal with it. Marlo certainly didn't. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, Marlo made it clear that he didn't want anything more to do with me. What's more, he said I'd have to repay him for the drugs I'd taken and that he'd struck a cash deal with the nerd: Marlo wanted me to have sex with the nerd to repay my debt. 

I was dumbfounded. Marlo had sold me. 

He crossed the room and began speaking with another woman, a redhead in a slinky black dress. The guy Marlo wanted me to sleep with came over and acted very contrite and patient. He commiserated with me, then told me that he had his own stash of drugs and invited me into another room. I felt so humiliated that I left with him, but the more I thought about what had happened, the more angry I became. 

Fuck Marlo, I thought. Fuck the cute little redhead. And fuck this guy—this whatshisname—too. I wanted nothing to do with any of them.

The boy laid some drugs out on the table and I did them. Not because I wanted to get high, but because I was so upset I didn't know what else to do. He unzipped his pants, and I watched him pull out his cock. My libido was roaring, but I was also pretty angry at being treated so poorly. I took it out on whatshisname. I mocked him. Pushing him onto the couch, I put the toe of my boot onto his hard cock and pressed. He squirmed, begging me to stop. I sat next to him. Taking his dick in my hand, I twisted it in my fist and berated him. I called him vulgar things and told him I couldn't remember his name. I may have even scorned the size of his manhood. 

It was too much for him. He made himself decent and left the room. I laughed. He was in such a hurry, he left most of his drugs. I helped myself, then made my way to another room and found a bottle of beer in a cooler. 

I wandered about until I found an interior balcony overlooking the crowded main floor. Leaning on the rail, I sipped my beer and watched the people below. A muscular man was making his way across the room. This was Bang, although I wouldn't learn that people called him Bang until a little later in the night. His skin was so black it seemed to swallow every contour in his face. He wore a black leather coat and moved like a large cat. He seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed eager to greet him. He was drop dead gorgeous. He looked up at me and my heart leapt. A beautiful smile, clean shaven, with luscious full lips and a strong chin. He passed out of my field of view and I realized how horny the business with Marlo and whatshisname had left me. I was debating what to do about my arousal when that big beauty of a man stepped onto the balcony and smiled at me. 

He glanced at my boots and then closed the distance between us. 

He spoke my name and I straightened my back. How did he know my name? He told me that he worked for Marlo, and that he'd been asked to find me. I immediately tried to leave, but he blocked my way. I grew alarmed. My girlfriends were gone and I didn't have a vehicle. He saw my distress and spoke softly, trying to calm me down. My treatment of the nerd seemed to genuinely amuse him, so I acted fearless and played up my outrageousness. "What do you want from me?" I finally asked. 

"Me?" He shook his head. "Nothing," he said.

He put his hands on his hips and squared his shoulders. "I have no problem with you." He smiled at me, and I felt my face flush with excitement and had to look away. 

"Marlo, though," he said. "That's another story. He's upset. Feels like you punked him. You really did." He chuckled as he said this, smiling warmly at me. I felt my face flushing again, but this time I didn't turn away. 

"Marlo asked me to find you and teach you a lesson." 

I watched Bang's eyes suddenly go flat. In an instant, all the warmth was gone. I could have been looking at dead fish on a bed of ice. His sudden change of expression terrified me. I swallowed hard and dropped all pretense of bravery.

"And I will," he said, his smile now gone. "I'm going to teach you a lesson tonight that you will never forget." 

I didn't want to, but I blew air out of my mouth and it came out in shuddery little half breaths. My legs felt weak. I had to put one of my hands on the banister to brace myself. 

"You okay?" he asked. He stepped toward me and put his hand on my elbow. His grip was firm, but gentle. His kindness surprised me. 

"What are you going to do to me," I whispered. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I'm going to fuck you." 

His coarse language shamed me and I dropped my head.

"Tonight—," he dipped his head to look in my eyes. I turned my head away, but he put his finger under my chin turned my face back to meet his eyes. "Tonight you are leaving this party with a load of cum inside you." 

He tapped his fingers on his chest. "My cum," he said. He paused and tilted his head, letting me absorb what he had just said. 

After a beat, he added: "You can't change that. It's going to happen. And it's going to happen soon. What you can do, though—what you can do right now—you can change how it goes down."

I stood there dumbfounded. 

"We can do it easy," he said. "Or we can do it hard." 

Tears started to roll down my cheeks. It was strange because I was still a little horny, but between the pitiless look in his eyes and the straightforward way he ticked off my options, I felt completely powerless. A feeling of such dread washed over me that all I could do was stand there and cry. I tried to hide by looking away. I didn't make any noise. I grew impatient with myself and wiped my cheeks. My hands shook.

"Let's go get a drink," he said. 

This caught me off guard. I didn't want a drink, but I didn't want to provoke him either. He took my elbow, and we started walking. 

He said there was a private club with a band in the basement. I followed him down some stairs. I was so emotionally drained, I couldn't imagine turning and running back up the stairs. Even if I could have mustered the courage to run, I knew I wouldn't get far in those stupid boots. As he led me to our destination, I tried to tell myself that it was an adventure. Not really much different than the original spree I had planned with Marlo. But I was absolutely wrong. I was about to experience humiliation and sexual indulgence unlike anything else I had ever known in all my nineteen years. 

The club was a large brick-walled basement with red and purple spotlights shining helter-skelter across the space. It was smoky and packed with people. Bang selected a small round table near the stage and sat in a straight-backed chair with his back to the wall. 

A waitress came by and he ordered drinks for both of us. I sat letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The table he selected had a white spotlight shining nearby, making it one of the most visible spots in the room. I marveled at our good fortune of finding an empty table in this densely packed room. I'd soon discover this had nothing to do with luck. 

He took out his wallet and placed a small stack of cash on the table. He put his wallet on top of the bills, then took out a small pistol and laid it next to the cash.

He looked at me, raised a finger and crooked it towards himself. I leaned forward and put my ear near his mouth. 

"Climb into my lap," he said. 

I wasn't sure that I heard him right. Did he want me to sit in his lap? I leaned back and looked into his face. He raised his brow. Crooked his finger again. I leaned forward.

"Straddle my legs," he said. "Put your pussy right here." 

He sat up and tapped his groin. 

I laughed. He wanted me to give him a lap dance. I sat back and shook my head in disbelief. In front of all these people? I wouldn't. It was just an outrageous request, and I leaned in to tell him as much. I might have to sleep with him. I might have to take his semen inside of me, but I wouldn't be party to anything as humiliating as a lap dance. I wouldn't make a public spectacle of myself. 

"You can shoot me," I said, glancing at his little pistol. "But I'm not giving you a lap dance."

He leaned forward, put his hand on the back of my head, and spoke in my ear to overcome the crowd noise. "If you don't, I'll pull your pants down and take you right here." As he spoke, I saw people were beginning to mill around us. There was no reason for them to draw so near and it made me nervous. I wanted to sit up, look at them—stare them down, see why they were crowding in so close—but I couldn't pull away from his hand. 

"And if I take you here," he continued, "it's going to get ugly. I won't be able to protect you. Someone will use your mouth." 

He sat up unexpectedly, his hand darting out and scooping the gun from the table. Holding the pistol over his head, he said in a commanding voice: "Back the fuck up!" 

He twisted his face into a scowl. The crowd of people—mostly men, but I saw a few women too—stopped moving forward. "This is a private dance," he said. The room grew quiet, but the band continued to play. 

"Bitches," he spat. Then he smiled slyly and lowered his gun.

A few guffaws of dissent rose up from the people standing around us, but no one really stepped back very far. They were all standing at the periphery of the light, making it difficult to see any of their faces. I still didn't understand why they had crowded around us. The buzz of conversation returned almost as quickly as it had gone. 

He lay the gun on the table and sat back in his chair. He grinned at me. Patted his lap. Appreciative hoots came from the crowd. 

And that's when I knew those people had surrounded our table to watch me perform. I was to be the night's entertainment. I considered racing from the room, but the last words he whispered into my ear kept ringing in my head. Someone will use your mouth. At first, I didn't understand what he meant. Use my mouth for what? And then, suddenly, I knew. He meant someone would fuck my mouth. The gun on the table wasn't there to threaten me, it was there to protect me. To protect us. The crowd was growing more boisterous. 

What could I do? I was in a terrible, untenable position. 

I stood up, licking my lips. The crowd was about four or five people deep. Taking a deep breath, I raised my leg and straddled his, putting my hands on his shoulders and casting my eyes towards the floor. I blew the air out of my lungs and then lowered my bottom into his lap. Laughter and shouts came from the people standing around us. I put my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest. I wanted to die. He smelled like sandalwood with a hint of citrus. I began rocking my hips, grinding my groin against his. 

I had never done a lap dance before and I suppose I was doing a poor job of it. The crowd started booing. "Take off your pants," he whispered in my ear. 

My heart sank. I looked up at him. I wanted to cry. For some reason, my mind focused on my boots and the difficulty of taking off my pants with them on. 

"I'm wearing boots," I said. 

He grinned. 

"Take them off, too," he said.

I felt like an idiot. I got off his lap, returned to my chair, and began opening the laces of my boots. He took a long draught from the drink a waitress brought. I noticed he kept his eyes on the crowd the entire time, barely giving me a second glance. He didn't talk to anyone, but he smiled occasionally, his eyes constantly scanning the room. 

He was looking for trouble.

When I got the boots off, I hesitated. I took a big gulp from my drink. The gin felt good in my chest going down. I stood up, opened my fly, and then dropped my pants as far as I could, about the middle of my thighs. The crowd cheered its approval. I was wearing skin tight jeans and had to sit down to remove them. I finally got them off and stood up. 

I had on only a lacey pair of boy shorts, my socks, and a tight fitting top that stopped just above my navel. The crowd cheered again. I felt the cool air on my thighs and started to get turned on. It's humiliating to admit, but the appreciation of the crowd made me feel horny. I put my fists on my hips and struck a pose. My big black persecutor assessed me. 

"Put your boots back on," he said.

The crowd seemed to be pressing in closer and I regretted encouraging them. I felt anxious, but I returned to my chair and tugged my boots back on. People in the crowd were grabbing at their crotches and making lewd comments. As I finished lacing my boots, I heard a glass shatter somewhere behind me. When I turned my head toward the sound, I saw someone had actually taken his penis out of his pants. 

I leapt back into Bang's lap, my heart racing. I felt certain I'd be gangbanged before the night was through. They'd have my mouth and . . . more.

"Easy does it," he whispered. "Easy."

My hands were shaking. 

"I'm going to take good care of you," he whispered, his voice a deep resonant purr. I wrapped my arms around his neck and began to rock my bottom on his lap. I felt comforted to hear him say he'd protect me. He was responsible for bringing me into this place, and he was taking responsibility for bringing me through it in one piece. I felt certain he could do it too. He seemed capable of handling himself and the crowd. If anyone came close to the table where his gun lay, he simply scowled, and they backed off. 

But I soon realized that he was only protecting access to his gun. He allowed the crowd access to me. People approached us from the other side, and soon I felt hands on my bottom and on my thighs. I tried to swat them off, but Bang warned me to let them have their fun. 

"Ignore them," he whispered. "They won't hurt you." 

He wanted me to feel disgraced. I did my best to disregard the people, but it was my own feelings of shame that I couldn't ignore. Soon people began slipping paper money into my panties. I could feel their fingers slipping cash into the waistband of my shorts. Sometimes they slipped bills into the leg holes or the crotch of my panties, and then their fingers lingered and probed. They were close enough that I could see most of them were boys my own age, students probably. It's hard to admit, but I started to get turned on. 

Bang wanted me further back on his leg, closer to his knee, to give them better access to my bottom. I put myself completely in his hands, doing whatever he asked. He was my shepherd tonight. Meanwhile, strangers stroked the insides of my thighs and caressed my ass. I had never been the explicit sexual focus of so many men at the same time before, and my pussy quickly became sopping wet. The noise was growing in intensity. Bang whispered that he wanted me to turn around, so that my bottom was on his lap. 

I did as he asked. 

You should know that through all of this Bang wasn't fondling me. He was the perfect gentlemen, if you can call it gentlemanly for a man to allow a room filled with strangers to grope his "date" as she squirms in his lap. To keep from falling, I had to hold the back of the chair as I rocked my hips. This meant I surrendered to the room unfettered access to my breasts and the front of my shorts. My bra was filling with paper money, as was the crotch and leg holes of my shorts. It felt like the boys were making small offerings, something to placate Bang, and then each would take a few minutes to stroke and pet me—get his money's worth—before moving off and allowing someone else take his place. The crotch of my shorts was so damp it had darkened considerably, and now the stain was beginning to spreading up the front of my panties. And I wasn't the only one excited: Bang had an erection, too. I hadn't noticed it before, but now I understood in a very tactile way that he was enjoying this as much as me. He seemed really big down there. Huge. I let myself imagine what it would be like to have him inside me. The fact that I would soon know how it felt pleased me. A girl tugged down my shirt and bra, exposing my nipple and suckling it into her mouth. I felt completely confident that Bang would protect me from being ravaged by the crowd and closed my eyes, allowing myself to revel in her warm mouth. 




The Debutante’s Fall



Someone screamed. 

I opened my eyes and a man was standing in front of my with his red, swollen cock in his hand. He reached for my head, slipping his hand under my hair, and taking the back of my neck in his palm. I pulled back, plastering my spine against Bang. 

The man who accosted me suddenly ducked, throwing up his hands to protect his face.

"What the fuck," Bang said. 

He had tossed my drink at the man, then threw the glass at his face. The man stood there with a look of shock on his face, his cock hanging out of his fly. 

"Motherfucker," Bang said. "Put that shit away."

The force of his indignation seemed enough to make the man back down. The crowd was with Bang, too, scorning the man who'd stepped over the line. This time, I thought. Next time I wondered if they might turn their scorn on me. Bend me over one of the little tables, hold me down and . . .

I had had enough. I twisted around and put my arms around Bang.

"Take me away," I whispered. "Please."

I could feel his hard cock under me, and I pressed my breasts into his big chest. I had so much adrenalin pumping through my body that all I wanted was to go somewhere quiet and allow myself to unwind. To feel a man inside me. To feel Bang in me. He was my oppressor, but he was also my protector, and I wanted him. Badly.

"Yep," Bang said. His affirmation made my heart leap, but then he added, "Soon," dashing my hopes. I laid my head on his shoulder and gave out one of those long exhales where my breath came out in shaky little half shudders. I wanted to cry. 

"One last thing," he said. "Then we can go."

He was still scanning the room, looking for trouble. I steeled my resolve, looked into his eyes and waited to hear what he wanted from me next. He met my gaze for a moment, then looked away. 

"Get down on your knees," he said. "Open my pants. Put my cock in your mouth." 

I swallowed hard. He wanted to humiliate me. Degrade me. I understood that intellectually. I had humiliated Marlo and the other boy now my punishment was to endure my own public shaming. And I did feel degraded. But what hurt most was my own complicity in it all. I had set aside modesty and decorum and performed in my panties for a crowded room. I had squirmed in his lap, making my bottom and breasts available to anyone who wanted to fondle me. But my biggest crime was the fact that my sex was throbbing and wet, and I looked forward to bedding the big animal of a man that was abusing me. If I felt a little thrill in my chest at the prospect of getting down on my knees and tasting his dick, my face also burned with shame for allowing myself to be manipulated into sucking his cock. It was all too much for me, an overload of my senses. I wanted it to end. "Please," I whimpered. "Please. Let's just go." 

He continued to scan the room. 

"I'll do it upstairs," I said, "when we're alone." 

Still he ignored me.

"I promise," I whispered. 

It killed me to have to make that promise just to win a little privacy to suck his dick. I think he knew how much I wanted him. I think he knew a little piece of me hated myself for wanting him. I like to think he understood just how difficult the night had been for me. He smiled sadly at me. Something in his smile told me he felt something for me.

"Come on," he said softly. "The sooner you start, the sooner we go."

I gave up. Sighed. On some level, I knew I had brought this on myself. 

I stood up, my legs on either side of him. As I moved to stand between his legs, I looked around the room. The people seemed to know what was coming. There was a current in the air, an electric pulse, and it seemed to resonate from person to person and then end somewhere in my chest. Because of the heels, I had to use Bang's shoulders and then his thighs to get down on my knees. I fumbled with his pants. The noise in the room rose and my hands began to shake. His belt buckle was complicated, his pants had buttons. He looked down at me with that deadpan expression. At the thought of displeasing him, I grew even more nervous. 

By the time I finally got his cock out of his pants, I didn't even think or hesitate. I put it right into my mouth. He was huge. Thick as a can of beer and inky black. He filled my mouth, and I licked him like candy. I let the noise of the crowd fade into the background. I still felt an occasional hand stroke my bottom, or deposit a little cash in my underwear, but I ignored it. I got lost in the task at hand. And that's when I first learned that my big black tormentor was called Bang. It's embarrassing to admit this, but I had pinned all of my hopes on his ability to get me out of that place—and I had his cock in my mouth—but I still didn't know his name. 

An older black man with a short grey afro and a business suit pulled a chair up and sat next to Bang. This man sat near the gun, and Bang allowed it. "Hey, Bang," the old man said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather billfold. 

"She for sale?" he asked.

My heart sank. I took Bang's cock out of my mouth. The old man seemed to know Bang much better than me, and I felt my chances of coming out of these negotiations ahead or even intact were very slim. It emphasized for me how precarious I had allowed my position to become. I was a fool.

I braced myself for the inevitable outcome. I was going to be sold tonight. 

Sold again tonight. 

"Everything in this place is for sale," Bang said, confirming my worst fears. He spoke to the old man in that comfortable, easy tone that good friends develop over long periods of time. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I had his fat penis in my hand and lowered my head, just to hide my face. 

"But the store ain't always open," Bang said. "Right now—store's closed. This is a private dance." 

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. I sighed with relief and pressed Bang's big tool against my cheek. I stole a quick glance at the old gentleman and found him grinning. He put the billfold back into his jacket. 

"She's cute," the old man said. 

He had a bill in his hand and made a motion toward me to which Bang nodded. The old man reached forward and petted my head. When I looked up, he tucked the cash into my bra, and then he tweaked my chin. I felt humiliated. Cheap. But I also felt grateful. And horny. I put Bang's big dick back into my mouth. The more I thought about what he had said and the way he had treated me, the more I wanted him. I lavished his cock with my mouth. 

"Come on," Bang said, stroking my head. The crowd was growing restless.

He stood up and helped me off my knees. As he assembled his clothes, I grabbed my pants and darted after him. I had to race and my heels made it difficult to keep up. When we got to the exit, the crowd was closing in. Bang had to retrace his footsteps, grab me by the arm, and then pull me through the door after him. Someone had the gall to follow us into the stairwell, where he found himself alone and up against Bang. He quickly backed down. 

I plucked cash from the waistband and leg holes of my panties. I found bills stuffed inside my bra and the laces of my boots. It was humiliating. Soon I held my jeans in one hand and a fistful of cash in the other, mostly small denomination bills. 

Maybe about fifty or sixty dollars. 

When I finished, Bang smiled at me. I handed him the cash, a foul look on my face. I always enjoyed the idea of trading sex for money, but this had been tawdry. I felt cheap. 

"I don't want it," Bang grinned, his voice incredulous. He put his hands up, palms out. "That's all you baby." 

I dropped my hand and let the cash waft to the floor. 

Bang laughed, his eyes twinkling. I couldn't be sure if he was making fun of me, or if it was something else. Mustering as much dignity as possible, I marched up the stairs, half naked and with my pants in my hand. Bang followed. Soon he overtook me, and then he led us, and eventually we came to a small private room with a bed. 

I wanted nothing more than to get fucked. 

It had all been an ordeal, but now it all seemed over and I wanted what I considered my reward. Bang's hard muscular body. His big black cock. I wanted the sex to take me away to someplace else, a place where I could forget the evening's torment. Once again, I couldn't have been more mistaken. I was going to get fucked, but it wasn't going to be the take me away kind of sex I was looking for. I was a dirty debutante, about to learn the lesson of my young life.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a condom. I handed it to Bang and asked him to put it on. He laughed and tossed it on the floor.

"Hey!" I scolded. "I only have one." 

"I'm not wearing a condom," he said flatly.

He looked implacable. I couldn't understand his reluctance to wear the condom. I blinked. "I'll get pregnant," I said. 

"I'll fuck your ass," he said. His expression didn't change. 

I snorted and shook my head in disbelief. "What about disease?"

Bang's face broke into a huge grin. He laughed. 

He put his hands on his hips. "You crack me up," he said. "You should have thought about disease before you got high with Marlo." His face turned hard. "You should have thought about pregnant before you chumped his little friend. You are leaving this house tonight with a load of my cum inside you. I don't care if it's in your pussy. I don't care if it's your ass." 

He was being cruel, but I felt like we had bonded in the club, so I put my hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. "Please," I said. I clambered down to my knees, cursing those goddamn boots for giving me fits every time I wanted to get on my knees that night. I rubbed my hands on his hips and begged. 

"Please," I said. "My parent's marriage is collapsing. They're constantly fighting. I'm just . . ." 

I lost my ability to speak and shook my head. I hadn't meant to mention my troubles from home, but now that I had put it out, I felt vulnerable and tiny. 

"Please," I begged, finding my voice. "I'm sorry." 

Bang inhaled, his big chest expanding. No one said anything for a minute.

He exhaled. 

"I have a wife," he said. He was speaking slowly and deliberately. "And a girlfriend," he added. "I don't even like anal sex. It's dirty. And I'm not that crazy about white girls. Or my job."

I saw where all this was going and felt lightheaded. 

"What you don't seem to understand is that this is a crack house. And you" —he paused, raising an eyebrow— "are a crack whore."

I scowled bitterly, turning my head and folding my arms. I could taste something fruity and terrible at the back of my throat. I exhaled noisily, so filled with rage that my breath came out in halting little gasps. 

"I'm sorry for your troubles," he said. "But troubles don't change nothing. We all have to do, what we all have to do. And right now, you have to get up on that bed." He pointed to the mattress. 

"You can get on your belly or you can get on your back," he said.

"Don't matter to me whichever. Because," he paused, stabbing his thumb into his chest. "I have to do, what I have to do." 

He began to undress, carefully folding his clothes as he took them off. I remained on my knees, terrible dark thoughts cycling in my mind. Bang said nothing else, and I refused to look at him. This was an upscale party at a fashionable property. I attended one of the most rigorous and prestigious schools in all the world. My mind raced, and then, all in a moment, kneeling on the floor of that little bedroom, I realized that nothing Bang had said was particularly false. This may have been an exclusive party, but it was nothing more than a den of dope fiends. I was an attractive girl, from a good family. But tonight, I had traded sex for drugs, and that made me the terrible thing he'd called me. 

I was a crack whore. 

I sighed. With acceptance, comes resignation. He was going to fuck me tonight without a condom. I would have to carry home a load of his cum, somewhere inside my body.

I blew air heavily from my mouth and climbed to my feet. I felt too ashamed to look at Bang. He doesn't like white girls. I took off my shirt and let it drop to the floor. My bra followed. I climbed onto the bed, lay on my back and raised my bottom, pushing my panties down my thighs. I had to sit up to work them past my boots. 

I looked at Bang. He was emptying his pockets on a sideboard against the wall. He was big and virile and sexy and I felt certain he would get me pregnant. I didn't want to do it, but I reluctantly rolled onto all fours. I tucked my knees up under my body and raised my bottom high. 

We all have to do, what we all have to do.

Soon he got on the bed behind me. I whispered to him that I had never done this before and he said that he had done it many times. I believe he said that to comfort me, but in light of his earlier admission about anal sex and his job, it made me shiver. How many girls had he schooled with this particular lesson? He applied the cold grease to my bottom and then I felt his finger probing inside me, relaxing my sphincter. 

"This is going to hurt," he said. 

Then he pinched my upper thigh so hard I almost collapsed onto the bed. I gasped and mewled and it went on and on. Finally he stopped and I had sharp, searing pain, throbbing in my thigh. 

"Focus on that, you won't feel this," he said.

He pressed his cock against my ass. There was a small amount of pain, but it was nothing compared to the pulses of warmth already coming from my poor thigh. And then he was in me. Instead of pain, I felt an incredible fullness inside my ass. As he started to work that big thick tool in me, I had to work to keep my anxiety levels in check. He applied more grease and soon I started to calm down, and then I started to enjoy it. I lay my cheek on the cool sheets, held tight to the mattress, and groaned. This went on and on until I was almost beside myself. The whole night had been an exercise in ratcheting up sexual tension, and when an orgasm finally raced through my body, it came on like a freight train. 

I screamed like a girl on fire, moaning and pressing my ass back against him. When I finished, I was sapped—still on my knees before him, my ass high in the air. 

I might have been spent, but he wasn't. He continued thrusting into my bottom. Once. Twice. Again. One more time. And then he made good on his promise. He groaned lustily, held my hips firmly, and pressed his cock deep into me. I felt a rush of hot fluid inside me and raised my head. As I turned to look at him, I felt another gush of his molten liquid inside me. I rested my head in my arms and waited for him to finish emptying his juices into me. When he finally pulled himself out, I felt so empty. I collapsed onto my side, listening to my breathing. I can't remember ever feeling so completely sated. 

Soon he tapped my boot. 

"Wake up," he said. He was cleaning his penis on the sheets." You go find that boy that you disrespected, and you make things right with him." 

I crawled out of bed. He was using a no nonsense tone of voice, and I didn't want to challenge him, but I felt slow and dimwitted from the sex. I scooped my clothes from the floor, then remembered I'd need to remove my boots. I looked around for a chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I looked at him dumbfounded. I raised my jeans and my panties and was about to say something but he cut me off with a loud sigh, a weary shake of his head. "Jesus," he said. He reached into his neat pile of clothes on the sideboard and found his wallet. 

"This is car fare," he said. 

He held a fifty dollar bill in his hand and motioned for me to hand him my jeans. He folded the bill and stuffed it into one of my pockets, then tossed the jeans onto the bed. 

"Before you leave, Marlo is going to offer you more drugs," Bang said. "He'll call it a peace offering, but it would be a mistake for you to accept it." My shoulders shook involuntarily. Bang stepped toward me. His shoulders and chest glowed with a light sheen of sweat from the exertion of fucking me.

"You're still in the store," he whispered emphatically. 

"You need to go find that boy," he said. "Finish up. Make sure he's happy." He pointed his finger at my face as he said this, and I swallowed hard. "When you're done," he said, "you come back here. Get your clothes. And then you leave." 

I looked at the panties in my hand, my jeans on the bed.

"Go on," Bang said. 

He sounded impatient, as if he were talking to an unruly child. 

I shuddered again, then my mind kicked into gear. I grabbed the sheet from the bed and drew it around my shoulders like a cape. I raced from room to room until I found whatshisname on a lanai with two or three others. He didn't recognize me. I tried to explain who I was and how we knew one another without embarrassing him in front of his friends. Finally I showed him my boots and the sudden look of shock on his face told me he remembered. I wasn't sure exactly what I ought to do. Should I apologize? I thought about what Bang said and decided not to take any chances. I opened the sheet. The midnight wind whipped it back from my hips and torso, and I held the fabric tight, opening my arms and holding them wide. I felt as if I were soaring through the night sky. 

Whatshisname looked at me and smiled. He looked happy.

His friends politely offered to leave us alone. Something wet was leaking from my bottom. For the last time that night, I navigated the wobbly journey from those stiletto heels to my knees. After that night, I never wore those boots again. I loved them, but I put them in the closet at the dorm, and then I promptly forgot about them.

I focused on my studies. 

My parent's marriage lasted three more difficult years before it finally came tumbling down. I was able to make myself available for both of them, but I had to learn not to let them force me into taking sides with one or the other. I became good at being an intermediary. My philosophy was we all have to do, what we all have to do. 

Later that year, I met my husband, a good man whom I love very much. Three years later we married. On our first year anniversary, he took me downtown to an opera and who should I see but Bang. He was on the other side of the lobby with the most beautiful black woman on his arm. He had that same beautiful white smile, those same dark smoldering eyes. He seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed eager to greet him. I caught his gaze, but if he recognized me, he didn't show it. 

Later that night, in my bedroom, I got down on my hands and knees for my husband. 

I never again had the nerve to do anal, but when my husband took me that night, I imagined it was Bang back there, taking me, filling me with his big fat cock. Our lovemaking was memorable. I know that sounds crude, and I want to make it clear that I am not unhappy in my marriage. I rarely think of Bang that way. More often, if I think of Bang, it's with much so much gratitude, it's close to reverence. Marlo did offer me more drugs that night, just as Bang said he would. I felt so terrible after the humiliating experience of blowing whatshisname, that I feel certain I would have accepted those drugs, had Bang not warned me what to expect. Instead I declined. I took a cab home, paid for with the money Bang had slipped into my pants. If I want to get down on all fours for my husband and then imagine that it's Bang fucking me, schooling me with his big black dick, I most certainly will.

My husband is a high ranking executive at a Fortune 500 Company. He has a stressful job, and he often comes home on Friday night frazzled from a difficult week. I feed him and put the girls to bed. We go into the den and he turns on the TV to unwind. 

I get down on my knees and put his cock in my mouth. We all have to do, what we all have to do. On nights like this, it can take forever for him to come. But I have less illusions about myself now. I know exactly what I'm capable of. I could have been a crack whore. Instead I'm a socialite. I try to be grateful for all that I have. 




The Debutante’s Fall



Diamonds, furs. 

A vacation house in Barbados. 

My own Lexus.

When the cream fills my mouth, I look up into my husband's eyes. I swallow it all. Smile. When I'm finished, I open my mouth, show him it's empty. 

I want to make him happy. 

Jessica M. 
Philadelphia



The Debutante



Watching his friend fuck that tight ass had already brought him to a fever pitch of arousal. Grunting under his breath, he watched avidly as he fucked that sweet mouth, feeling his sperm boiling in his balls, which tightened now and pulled up into his groin. Then sighing, he shoved his prick in as deep as he could, feeling the red tip tickle the back of her throat and ensuring that its whole length was buried in that hot mouth, felt a delirious pleasure as his prick began to pulsate, sending long streams of cum straight down the back of her throat. 

Holding her head tight against his groin, he emptied his prick.

D. watched the long slender column of S.'s throat contract and expand as she frantically tired to swallow the hot sperm which was now being pumped down her throat. Coughing slightly, breathing hard through her nose, she gulped, her hands spasming as locked behind her, they sought to grasp the hips which even now pumped its load in her mouth.

Although tightly plugged by the prick, from the corners of S.'s small mouth a thin stream of pale sperm suddenly spurted, one trailing a glistening rivulet down her chin, the other actually striking the man's groin.

Laughing, the man pulled his still jerking prick from the warm prison of the sub's mouth, the crimson tip dribbling. A young slave next to him dropped to her knees and cleaned him thoroughly with her own sweet mouth, ensuring to lick the blob of sperm which stained his hip.

"Look at that." he said, indicating the spot. "She'll have to be punished for that."

Reaching, he went to grasp the end of the lead still held in Lydia's hand.

D. stopped him.

"Just a minute – you can have her in a second." 

D. walked to where S. still knelt, tears tracking a silver trail down the pale cheeks. Reaching behind, he undid the fastenings holding the blindfold tight.

S. blinked, her eyes blind in the sudden light, their deep limped depths awash in tears, giving them an otherworldly radiance that caused some of the spectators to gasp with admiration. As if by instinct, still somewhat blinded she turned her gaze to D.

Green eyes met green eyes in a moment that for that second shut out the room around them.

D.'s, grass green and sharp captured and tangled with the paler green gaze of his love, entangling, enchanting and enthralling all over again her bruised heart.

In his gaze he tried to convey his pride, his happiness with her submission and obedience, his absolute delight in her. She, heart beating wildly as she met her beloved's gaze, poured her soul out in a soft radiant acceptance of her fate which she handed to him, freely, joyfully and without limitation.

Smiling, D. leaned closer and brushed his lips gossamer soft over the sperm daubed lips of his love.

Without saying a word, the two understood each other. Leaning close, D. whispered in the sweet ear, murmurings of love, of pride, of happiness and told her quietly, he would be with her later.

Meeting his eyes once again, her heart slowing yet her soul soaring, S. gave her gentle smile and felt in herself an acceptance which to this point had been grudging, almost forced. She realized that while she had allowed her body to be used, her mind to be manipulated, her soul had been kept sacrosanct and apart. With that wild green gaze, she gave that too to her love and bowing her head accepted her fate.

She felt a jerk at her neck, and struggling to retain her dignity, managed to gracefully find her feet. Obediently she followed the tug of the leash.