0 comments/ 18753 views/ 1 favorites Unintentional Ch. 01 By: JaxTB This is a work of fiction... There was knock at the door, not the doorbell, but a knock. A knock had a particular significance, at least knocks of a certain kind. This one was that kind. Three, pause. Two, pause. Three more. Hank looked at his watch and shook his head. There was no one expected at this hour, no one wanted, as far as that was concerned. He sat for a moment, thinking of ignoring the knock, letting whoever it was determine that he either wasn't interested or wasn't home. The knock came again. He waited. And again. Damn! He thought, guess someone's in need. On the walk to his front door, Hank hoped the persistent caller would have already decided to leave, that his opening the door would be fruitless, the porch empty. It wasn't. Standing in the darkness, illuminated only by light issuing forth from inside his house, Hank saw a young female, what he would consider a girl. Hank was 47 years old, though he looked a little younger, somewhere in his late 30's, as if that small amount really mattered. The girl looked very young to him, younger than she ought to be, knocking on his door like that, at this time of night. Knocking in the rhythm that implied she knew something, wanted something, expected something from Hank that others had gotten, still got whenever they could schedule time. Hank looked at her with a scowl on his face. She was smiling, sheepishly. "What can I do for you, miss?" he asked politely, more politely than he wanted, out of respect for her age, or lack thereof. He figured, in a glance, that she had somehow knocked the special knock by mistake, and in her ignorance had intruded on his evening. "Uh, I... well, I'm here for the... treatment," she said, stammering, saying the words as if they were rehearsed, memorized, not truly meant. Hank scowled again. "Y must be mistaken," he said, a bit taken aback by her words, the words he required to be said before he let anyone in who really was there for his treatment. "Uh, no... I'm here for the treatment, sir," she said again. "I know what that means." From the tone of her voice, Hank thought she really believed what she was saying, that she knew about what followed those words. But, he thought she still didn't know for sure what she was saying. "Who put you up to this? This some kinda joke?" he asked, his tone hard, edgy. He wasn't in the mood for jokes. "No... I, uh, am here for the treatment," the girl said, her eyes pleading, as if she wanted to say more but didn't dare. Hank stepped out onto the porch, forcing the girl backwards. He looked both ways, up and down the street in front of his house, wondering who was hiding, watching, thinking this was funny. Then he had another thought. "You a cop, or work for 'em?" he asked. "'Cause if you are then you can get the hell outta here. I don't do anything illegal." He stepped towards her as he spoke, his large body looming over her, threatening in its own way. "No sir, I'm no cop. This is no joke. I'm here..." she started to repeat the statement but Hank interrupted. "Stop! Goddamn, let's talk inside," Hanks patience was thin, easily exhausted this particular evening. The girl nodded, went inside after he motioned her ahead of himself. For the first time Hank noticed her physically, really looking at her body rather than seeing her with a filter, as he had been doing, already having categorized her as too young. Her ass was full and firm looking, her tits larger than average, especially for a girl this size. Hank put her at about a size 3. Maybe she's older'n I thought, he told himself, but still too young for me. Too young to be knocking on his door and asking for the treatment. The sound of the door being shut made the girl stop. There was nothing spoken, but she stopped in front of the mirror, just as he made the others, the ones who were really there for what he offered. "Now, miss...?" Hank waited for her to give her name. "...Tracy," she answered on cue. "...Tracy, okay. Now, Tracy, why are you here?" he asked in a tone that left no doubt he was still irritated. "I'm here..." she started once more but Hank stopped her again, this time by slapping his hands down on a table he had in front of the mirror. In a tone that he knew was scary, intentionally, he interrupted her. "Goddammit! No more of that shit! Now you either tell me why you're really here or I'm either gonna throw you out on your ass or call the cops! Understand?" The look on her face was startled and scared. Good, he thought, now maybe she'll cut the shit. "Uh...er... I'm telling the truth," she said quietly. Hank started to grab her and pitch her out into the dark, hoping she'd run back to whoever had put her up to this, crying, and he could get back to his quiet evening. Instead, he deiced to try another approach. "Okay...Tracy," he said slowly, "Just what kind of treatment are you hear for?" Without hesitation she answered, "The same type you give the others who come." "Hmmm, well, and what would that be?" Hank asked, still believing this was a set-up of some kind. Tracy hesitated. Swallowed, then answered, "Bondage, training, whatever master desires..." Hank stepped back. She had said the words he required of those who had been to him before, who were really there for treatment, his treatment. "How do you know about this, Tracy?" he asked. This time she blushed, looked down at her feet, her mouth opening a few times before any sound came out. "I...uh...sir, well, I spied on you," she said, so quietly that Hank almost didn't understand what she said. When his mind had processed the words, he was surprised at what she had said. "Well, tell me what you saw," Hank was still skeptical. "I saw you with... Helen... saw you..." she seemed afraid to say what she had in mind. "Go ahead, Tracy," Hank said, now very intrigued by the girl's story. "Well, I saw you make he strip... then you cuffed her hands behind her back... then you..." Tracy glanced at him quickly, then averted her eyes. "Yes, Tracy.... then I did what?" Hank felt a twinge of concern as he listened. "You... whipped her breasts, her nipples, until she was... begging," Tracy's voice had taken on a sort of heavy tone, thick, as if she had a hard time saying the words. Hank walked behind the girl and looked over her head at her image in the mirror. "Go on," he said. "She begged... for you... for your...," Tracy looked up at Hank in the mirror. He nodded. "...for your big cock... she said she'd do anything..." Hank knew she had indeed seen his session with Helen Garnett, a divorced woman, mid 30's, heavy hanging tits, huge nipples, rounded hips and a full bush of pubic hair and addicted to bondage. In particular, Hank's treatment. The only other option as that Helen had put the girl up to this as some sort of sick joke, wanting to arouse his anger, or lust, or both. But, Helen wasn't due for another treatment, another session for at least a week. Made no sense to do this at this time. "Uh huh, Tracy, you are correct about that. Do you know Helen?" he asked, hoping to see where this was going. "No sir, I don't know her except from here," the girl answered. "How'd you spy on us, Tracy? Those sessions are private." Hank wanted to here this answer. "I snuck in your house. I live down the street. You left your back door unlocked. I... hid in the closet." Hank shook his head. "Well, then I guess I should call the cops. You broke in my house..." Tracy interrupted him. "Technically I didn't break in. You left it unlocked..." The look on Hank's face kept her from finishing the sentence. "Okay, Tracy, games over. Time for you to go. Want me to call your mother or are you gonna walk home?" Hank had heard enough and was getting irritable and tired. "No, please... sir, this is no game... and my parents lives in another state. I want..." Her eyes met his and Hank saw truth. "How old are you, Tracy?" He asked the question he knew he needed to ask. "Twenty. I'm twenty. I go to the university. I..." her voice trailed off. Hank looked at her again, reversed as her image was in the mirror, studying her body, her face, to see if he really thought she might be telling the truth. What he saw made him shrug. Could be, he thought. It still didn't matter. She might be of legal age, but he had never been turned on by young girls. He could appreciate their lovely bodies, tight and beautiful, but Hank had sex with minds, with brains, with attitudes. Mature ones. He was seldom sexually excited by mere visual stimulation. "Okay, Tracy. You're twenty and you can leave now. You saw me with one of my friends and that's that. Nothing we do is illegal, we're consenting adults. And, I don't appreciate you're spying, illegal or not. I will promise to lock my doors, cover my windows and make sure you can't intrude on the private times of other people. Good-bye." Hank had walked to the door and opened it as he spoke. Tracy didn't budge. "Please, sir, I beg you,' she pleaded. "Do to me what you did to Helen. To all the others. I beg you. I'll do anything for you, just please don't make me leave." Hank felt a stirring at her words. His balls began to churn a bit, his cock begin to fill slightly with blood. Hank shut the door. "How many others have you seen?" He asked. "None, inside" she said. "I have watched them come and go... men and women." Hank shook his head. He tried to be as subtle about his activity, mainly for the privacy of his friends, clients, whatever they should be called. Obviously he hadn't been subtle enough. "How'd you find out about this?" Tracy looked at him sideways. "I, uh, well, I am somewhat of a voyeur. I have always liked to watch others. I happened to be walking home one night when I saw a lady walking to your front door. She looked, well, dressed for something more than a dinner date. I thought she might be a hooker. I love to watch...." "...sex?" Hank finished for her. Tracy nodded. "Go on," Hank prompted. "I, uh, well, snuck around your house, hoping to be able to see. I couldn't ever really see, but I heard. From the back. Her groans. I don't know what you did, but after a while, I listened to her orgasms. She screamed...." Tracy was breathing heavily. Hank knew she was speaking of Sherry Arnold. Sherry was in her forties, widowed, and loved to fuck. Hardcore, anything-goes kind of sex. Hank gave her what she wanted. And she did scream. Oh well, he thought, I knew someone had to hear that. Tracy was continuing. "So, I came back, watched. There were lots of others. It didn't make sense 'cause you were a male. I thought perhaps you had a lady who was a prostitute. But, I never saw a lady. Only you. But there were men as well as women who came. I didn't know what..." Hank nodded. He did men as well as women. Bi-sexual, whatever you wanted to call it. Sex. Two or more people, doing what they wanted, needed, desired. He never tried to label himself. But others would consider him bi. "But I knew I had to know. So, I found your door open one evening, slipped in, hid, and watched. I'm sorry...I just couldn't help myself..." Tracy's voice was serious. Hank raised a hand to stop her. "Okay, fine. If you did really watch who came and went, then you shoulda noticed one particular thing about all of them. Can you tell me what that is?" Hank thought he'd let her in on his own preferences. Tracy shook her head. "Well, Tracy, you should be more observant. Coulda saved yourself some embarrassment." He walked up close to her, put his mouth next to her ear, breathed into it, letting the goose-bumps cover the young girl's flesh. He knew without looking she was shivering with the sensation of his breath in her ear. There was no doubt in his mind. When he looked in the mirror, her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open. The sight made his cock and balls stir some more. Shit, he said to himself, get this over with. "Tracy," he whispered into her ear, watching her face as he did, "I don't do youngsters... even legal ones." Her eyes slid open, heavy and full of lust. She mouthed the word. Please. Hank felt his body react to her plea. Before he knew what was happening, he felt something touch his crotch. Then he knew what it was as her hand firmly grabbed his cock and balls through his pants. There was no doubt she knew he was growing excited. The bulge didn't lie. Please, she mouthed again. Hank's cock was growing in her hand, along with his lust. Damn, I don't do this! he told himself. But, he made no move to pull away from her grip on his crotch. By the time his internal voice's had gotten halfway through the discussion as to what he was going to do, Hank's ten inch cock was completely hard. Tracy's eyes were locked on his and he was sure his were as filled with lust as hers. "Goddamn," he said, "I should punish you for spying." His tone was low and non-threatening. It was a weak justification for going against his own personal rules, and he knew it. He also knew his lust was growing, hardening like his cock. Tracy gasped at his words, "Yes, please... I beg you..." Unintentional Ch. 02 This is a work of fiction... Hank sat in his large chair, staring at the sight before him. Young female, strapped to one of his contraptions, breathing heavily. Tracy, he thought, damn. The young lady had knocked on his door. The knock. After a bit of confusion, she had confessed to him that she had sneaked into his house one night, hidden in a closet, the one across the room from where he now sat, the one inside the treatment room, and watched him put Helen Garnett through her session. Then, the young girl had begged Hank until he, for some reason, agreed to put her through her own session. He had even explained the rules to Tracy. At that thought he shook his head. Goddamn! Why’d I have to tell her the rules? he berated himself. The rules. 1. Hank decides on the content of the session. 2. At any point you may ask Hank to stop. But, if you ask, after release you must get cleaned up and leave. 3. If you make it through the session, you may have sex with Hank, or not, if that’s what you want. 4. Hank has the right to stop the session at any point for any reason he deems necessary. If the session is stopped, you may ask for a return engagement or simply leave and not return. Those were the rules. Hank knew he could’ve just made the girl leave, or at least, put her through the session and then made her leave. But no! He had had to tell her the rules. He sat, looking at Tracy’s body, his lust still heavy within him. She had endured all of the treatment. Riding crop. Hot wax. Weighted clamps on her nipples. Her body still bore the red welts he had put with the crop. Welts not nearly as bad as most others endured. And the wax, now cooled and hardened, coated her body, from her large nipples to her absolutely unbelievable asshole and clit. Hank had almost gasped out loud when he had bent her over the table, her ass spreading, drawing his eyes there, holding them. Hank loved assholes. Not people who were stupid, but real, crinkled, brown or pink assholes. He had always been turned on by them, ever since he was a kid, watching his older sister bend over in her nightshirt, no panties, pussy and asshole exposed to his young eyes. He could never explain his fetish for them. Tried for a while, then gave up, accepting that it was just a part of him. Tracy’s asshole was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. What was even better was that she had a huge clit that poked out from between her lips, as big as the end of a finger. There was only one he had seen bigger, in person that is. Needless to say, Hank stared at the sight of those two beautiful parts of Tracy’s anatomy as he had given her the treatment she had begged for. Now, as he sat, contemplating what to do next, angry with himself for telling her the rules, knowing she was going to want to fuck, his mind recalled her asshole and clit. His hard cock got harder, pushing out more precum, pooling into his already wet jeans. He looked down at the spot, growing larger as he sat thinking about what to do next. He sighed, got up and walked over to Tracy, watching the nipple weights swing slightly as she breathed. Hank had put her on the table, a cushioned apparatus with cutouts for tits and cocks. Person lies face down, feet still on the floor, tits or cock in the cutouts. Hank weights whatever body part sticks through with enough weight that the person will groan, or even cry, as some did. He put Tracy on the table after blindfolding her, putting in a ball-gag, cuffing her hands behind her back and hot-waxing her nipples and tits. She had groaned, moaned, but not cried. Not even when he weighted those hard nipples with enough to stretch them to three times there normal length. The only time she had done more than groan was when he whipped her clit with the riding crop. Then, she had cum, not screaming, but getting close. The sound had made Hank’s lust grow to where it was at the moment. Huge, heavy, demanding. But, Hank had done a lot, been this horny more times than he could count and many times denied his own release, especially when he knew that would torture his client more than any of his devices could. He wondered if perhaps this was one of those times. As he stood next to her, Tracy turned her head towards him. She didn’t speak, couldn’t with the gag still in, but he knew she was communicating. “You ready to get up?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t the proper thing for him to say at this point, No response. He sighed again, then had a thought. “Tracy, you’ve completed your session. Before you decide what to do next, there is one more thing I demand of you. This is in payment for sneaking into my house. Listen closely, and after I speak I’ll remove the gag and blindfold. Understand?” She nodded. Hank walked around the table, observing the prone, naked body of Tracy as he spoke. When he looked at her asshole, her wet pussy, he had to hesitate. “Tracy, you must tell me about when you learned, when you knew that you had any sort of liking, craving, fixation with this sort of sexuality. You’re young, and haven’t had time to have explored this fully enough to know where you are in it. But, I want to hear how you came to this point. Is that clear?” She nodded again. Hank undid the snaps and buckles on the gag, then slipped the blindfold off her eyes. She blinked and squinted her eyes, stretched her jaw, then smiled at him, expression calm but still full of lust. Hank left her restrained and sat back down in his chair. She had to turn her head sideways to look at him. If he had remained standing, he would’ve been tempted to look at her asshole again. And he was horny enough as it was. “Begin,” he said, and she did. Hank was fascinated how much her thoughts and desires were like his own, the ones he had as an ignorant kid, stumbling along in sexual darkness, unsure of where to place his next step. Tracy had seen things from a perspective Hank never had, a female one. Some of her feelings were vastly different than his, lust mixed with a sort of nurturing, mothering desire. The words she used, the phrases sounded as if she had thought this through, or at least done a lot of reading. Hank interrupted Tracy. “What’s your major at the university?” “Psychology,” she answered. Makes sense, he thought. She talked about watching movies in which a person or a group would be bound, beaten, tortured, how this made her pussy wet, made her feel almost angry, in a controlling way, wanting to expend her passion on someone. “You ever feel guilty?” he asked her. “Of course. My parents are very religious people. The town I grew up in had more churches than anything else. Guilt was a way of life,” she said, almost bitterly. Hank nodded, understood her feelings. “Yeah, same for me too. Go on,” he said quietly. Tracy then spoke of how the Internet had opened up a whole new world for her. How she had seen what others did, how they expressed what she had only felt and thought. The discovery that others were much the same as herself had been liberating. Until her mother caught her looking at porn. Tracy had been fifteen. Her mother had beat her with a belt, not knowing that the punishment she delivered was just what Tracy needed. Not because it taught her to stay away from such “sinful” sights, but because within the blows that her mother rained down upon her, Tracy found release. “I had an orgasm while my mother whipped me,” Tracy said, her voice low and soft. “She never knew, couldn’t tell the difference between my squeals of pleasure and pain. Hell, I couldn’t tell the difference, except inside.” Hank shook his head. Incredible, he thought. He remembered going with his parents to see his older sister at college. They had gone to see the French Connection, Hank being only thirteen, it had been his first R-rated movie. But it wasn’t the movie that got to him. It was the previews. The theater he and his family were in was one that played X-rated as well as other movies. And, this night, they were showing the previews for several X-rated films. During one of the previews, Hank, who was sitting on the end, next to his sister, got so hard, so excited, he came in his pants. What made him cum was the scene of a man, kidnapping a lady detective, torturing her, then eating her until she orgasmed. The scene was so erotic to Hank he almost never got it out of his head. He had cum without ever touching his cock, his seed spilling from him in a river that soaked his jeans. Most of it had dried by the time the main feature was over, a feature he had to see again, later in order to know what had gone on. Hank’s sister had handed him her sweatshirt as they got up to leave, pulling it on over his head, letting it hang low enough to cover the wetness that still remained. The look in her eyes, the understanding, would be something they would share in later years, talking for hours about their desires. Tracy was quiet, staring at him. “You okay?” she asked. “You looked sad.” “Nah, just remembering something,” he said. “I boring you?” Tracy asked. “Oh no! What you were sayin’ reminded me of an incident in my own life, that’s all,” Hank said, looking down at his wet jeans, smiling. “Go on.” “After that I was just more careful about my porn surfin’. I found some people in my home town that were kinda into it, but not too deep. They were all older, too.” She winced when she saw Hank smile at her reference to his age. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “No need to be sorry. That was the whole reason I asked you to tell me about yourself, your desires. Most women don’t get into this sort of stuff ‘til they’re older. There are young ones, but not many who feel an obsession for this, like some of us do.” Tracy smiled. “The last part, the part that brings me up to this is somewhat disappointing. I cam to this university because of a couple I met online. They seemed to be into the lifestyle I wanted, needed. I got together with them when I came to visit the school. The session was hot, erotic, not everything I wanted but better than anything I’d had. After I got here, they split. She decided she liked women more than men and left him for some chick. I fucked him once after their split, but his heart wasn’t in it. I expected him to be angry, passionate, take out his feelings on me. Instead, he fucked me, then began to cry. When I left he was still crying. I never heard from him again. Last time I checked he had left town. I was wondering what I was going to do when I stumbled onto you.” Hank looked at Tracy for a minute. “So, you weren’t just being voyeuristic. You were looking for something more.” “I was hopin’ to find anything kinky. Just luck that I hit the jackpot,” she said, a very satisfied smile on her face. Hank had a question. “Tracy, aren’t there a lot of guys at the school who’d just love to give you what you like? I can’t imagine you ever having to do without.” She looked at him and shook her head. “I know you know better than that. Sure, I can get fucked any time I want. So could you. But, that’s not really what we want, is it?” They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while. “You sure are smart for such a young woman,” Hank said. “Oh, now I’m a woman, not a kid,” Tracy said with a wry smile. “Yeah, Tracy, you deserve to be called a woman, at least in my book,” Hank said, standing, letting her see his still hard cock and the huge wet spot on his pants. Tracy stared at his pants. “Oh shit, is that for me?” Hank shook his head as he began to undo her restraints. “It’s because of you but not for you,” he said, staring one more time at her asshole as he undid her ankles. She rolled over onto her back, sat up and looked at Hank. “The rules state...” Hank shook his head. “I knew I never should’ve told you the rules,” he said. “Besides, I also told you I don’t do youngsters.” Tracy slid to her feet and stood in front of him, she slid one hand along the huge outline of his still hard cock. “The rules state...” she said. Hank shook his head. “I said you were smart. What I meant was smartass,” he said. Tracy grinned. “The rules state...”