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Bitter

By: harmonyjones



There is a saying that goes something like, "When a woman marries a man, she does so hoping that he will change. When a man marries a woman, he does so hoping that she never will." There are few sayings to do with marriage which sum up its beginning and ending so well, so succinctly, and so truthfully. 

All of my married, divorced, soon-to-be-divorced, or wish-they-were-divorced women friends all say the same thing. When they married him, they were hoping something would change. 

"I thought he'd change his mind about not wanting kids." or "I hoped he'd really commit and stop seeing other women." or "I thought he'd settle down and not party so much." or, maybe most tragically, "I thought he'd finally open up to me." 

All of my married, divorced, soon-to-be-divorced, or wish-they-were-divorced male friends all say the same thing. When they married her, they were hoping she'd remain the way she was when she was dating. 

"It was like the second she got pregnant she became this monster..." or "She no longer wants to be intimate with me, and when she does it's like she isn't even there." or "She doesn't seem to care about her appearance anymore." or sadly, "She lost all ambition. She's just... stagnated." 

Because of this, as a single woman I vowed to find a man who I could love even if never changed. One I could marry and be happy with forever just exactly the way he was. I knew there was nothing special, powerful, or worthy in me which I could use to demand such change, to make someone willing to change for me. I also promised myself that once I'd become the woman I wanted to be (still having no clue what that was) I'd stay like that forever. I'd always do whatever it took to keep my husband happy, to never give him an excuse to find love or affection elsewhere. 

I dedicated myself to becoming someone lovable, someone desirable, someone worth marrying. For every obvious flaw I had physically or in my personality, I came up with some compensation. To compensate for my ugly teeth, I worked on my figure with diet and exercise and employed makeup to bring out my better features. To compensate for my tendency to clinginess in relationships, I tried to also be funny and a good listener. 

Since I also had a jealous streak, I refined my sexual technique in every arena. My goal was to be able to please anyone with any fetish or desire. I practiced often, and rarely experienced any pleasure of my own. 

Instead of being inwardly motivated and successful professionally, I learned domestic traits such as cooking, cleaning, menu planning, home decorating, and how to look for sales, deals, and clip coupons. Believing (wrongly) that there is no higher calling for a woman than to be a wife and mother, I made becoming an attractive mate my sole focus in life. 

When I finally met someone I could love and who deigned to love me back, I immediately dropped everything and married him as soon as I could. All day and all night that same popular saying played in my mind over and over, for years. I tried as best as I could to remain the same girl he'd courted. But it was truly impossible in spite of every effort. 

I became depressed, having realized that I could never keep up my exhaustive strain to be cute and funny for all eternity. To always be the object of desire which never received any physical pleasure of her own. To always be pleasant. To never feel lonely, jealous, afraid, or bitter. To always make his lunch. To always make his dinner. To always kiss him goodnight even after he'd already rolled off my prone body and began to snore. To always, always, be. 

I visited therapists and even spent some time in a mental hospital, trying to fix myself. Trying to get better for him. To be worthy of him. To be good enough. I took the pills they gave me. I worked on my 'coping skills'. We even visited a marriage counselor. I promised to be a good wife, to listen to him, to keep giving and never, ever stop. 

After childbearing I found the strain even more difficult. Firstly, my beauty was greatly diminished. Not just my body which everyone sees, but my most intimate areas were negatively affected. My perky breasts drooped, staring sadly at the ground. My nipples, which had been small and peony pink, became large and a depressing taupe. My tight, difficult to enter, vagina was loose, fistable even. My labia turned a brown the color of ruined meat, where they had once been a lovely rose pink. Where there had been a flower, a paradise, there was some sort of goblin. By giving my husband the most precious of gifts, I also guaranteed the end of his passion. 

Second, I became tired. I could no longer be the giddy and spontaneous flirt. I had to be up with the baby at all hours with no time for him. For nearly a year I smelled of sweat, puke, and a dirty diaper twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Since I rarely had any help with the baby, I was unable to maintain the immaculate hygiene he was used to. That I was used to. I might go an entire month without washing my hair. Our home was disgusting. I lived in fear that Child Protective Services would somehow find out and take my beloved child from me. I cleaned as I could, but I could only do as much as my baby would allow. A load of laundry here, a sink of dishes there was all I could manage. Running the vacuum or scrubbing the toilet would have to wait. 

At some point in this madness, and possibly sensing no end to it, my husband told me at last that his love for me was gone entirely. That he was no longer attracted to me. That he felt resentful toward me. That I had changed too much. After a week of constant crying, of self harming for the first time in years, of sleeping on a palette of piled sheets and blankets in the nursery next to my baby's crib, he came to me. He said he'd been wrong. He said he never meant a word, that he just needed to "get it out". He had needed to see me hurting over him. 

We resumed. I began to put forth more effort. I truly believed that more effort on my part was really what was needed. 

I tried to lose the baby weight by denying myself rest after a long day of reading Peter Rabbit and Goodnight Moon, of cleaning up thrown food, of endlessly wiping and powdering a little bottom, of choking back my own tears while rocking my crying baby. I denied myself the fleeting pleasure and comfort of food and wine. Instead I tried to put my anger into swimming, running, or weight lifting. I tried to focus or gain peace from pilates, yoga, or barre exercise. 

I visited a doctor about my vagina and was told the only answer was kegels, which I did as often as possible. I also bought expensive lightening creams for my nipples, labia, and anus. Nothing worked. My skin remained dark and my vagina remained as slack as ever. 

I bought new lingerie for him. I did my nails and makeup. I spent time and money on my hair. I bought some new, more fashionable clothes. I looked at the floor and tried not to cry as he scolded me for the unnecessary expense. I nodded obediently and heard him telling me that I was basically taking food out of our baby's mouth, or resigning us to poverty in retirement by spending money we didn't have. Thankfully I still had my receipts and was able to take my things back to the stores. 

I lay still for him as he grunted over me until whatever he was trying to get rid of was gone. I let him tell me how much he wanted to fuck my friends, and begged him to tell me more as I put my mouth on him, as I touched him, as I swallowed his semen and my anger in one gulp. I gave. I gave as I never had before. 

And no one knew. I never told a single soul how much it destroyed me a little every day. How I felt like I was just biding my time, just waiting to die. How the only thing keeping me from doing it myself was the thought of my beloved little child. The only thing worth living for anymore. The only reciprocal love in my life, and only just, and only for a little while. If I think of what I might do when my little one grows up and no longer needs a mother, my mind goes a black place, a place of unimaginable pain. 

Thing is, once a woman loses whatever she initially brought to the table in a relationship, it's over. If it was looks and she gets old, the relationship is over. If she was a good listener and now she's too busy, it's over. In my marriage I had my looks, my domestic abilities, and my personality. 

I'm no longer beautiful, my personality has changed as I am now jaded and bitter, and I have no desire to use my domestic ability to take care of my husband as I once did. Since day after day it's a new mess to clean up, a new diaper to change, another dish to wash, another shirt to fold. There are no accomplishments. There are no goals met. There is no ladder climbed or glass ceiling broken. It's just another dirty dish in the sink. It's another sock in the drawer. 

Every compliment I am given on being a wife and mother is received with a blush, downcast eyes, and a sweet thank you. Afterward I always say something along the lines of, "I couldn't do anything without his help." or "It's worth it because he is so good to me." No one would ever hear a negative word about him from my lips.

Inside, I am bitter. Every 'thank you' I receive hits me in the chest like a sledgehammer. Every time someone tells me I am brave or strong I want to vomit on my shoes. I hate being a good woman. I hate being a good wife. I hate that it's all I can do, that it's all I know, that it's all I can ever be. 

Every day is another regret. Every night is another fantasy of escape. Each time I leave my house, even if it's just a visit to the grocery store or coffee shop, I cry at the thought of returning home. Panic takes my body. My heart feels like a bird who beats its wings against its cage. My heavy limbs drag me back, always back. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to drive into the nearest tree, stay on my side of the road, or not go flying off a bridge. 

I think the worst is when people tell me that they envy me, or that they wish they had a marriage like mine. I want to shake them, to slap them. I want to tell them what it feels like to be trapped by a room full of toys and a pile of towels on the bed. I want to tell them that marriage is nothing but a Sisiphean task. I want to tell them nothing can keep a man and woman together except for the tiny, shining hope that once the children are out of the house and the mortgage is paid that things will go back to the way they were. Whatever that was. 

I am grateful to him for rescuing me from my parents. I am grateful to him for giving me his seed and therefore my child. I am grateful to him for putting a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my belly. I am grateful to him that he does not abuse me, and that he loves our child. I am grateful that I am taken care of, that I am generally healthy, and that my medical bills are paid. I see that he takes care of me, and I am grateful. 

But our marriage is not based on love. We have no love. We have a bond from having gone through terrible things together, from having mutual interests, and from raising a child together. Our marriage is a tattered but warm blanket that one reaches for during the chilliest nights. It's ugly, and you don't know why you keep it until you are sleeping soundly beneath it, and awaken to the cold dawn. You feel it's softness and remember when it was new, then fold it carefully before placing it back in the closet until you think you will need it again.

Bitter



Lindsay sighed as she approached her house. She could sense Paul's extreme arousal all the way from her office, three miles away, the hum of his diamond-hard penis thrumming in her mind, louder and louder as she drove home. She walked up the steps with a deliberately slow pace, and took her time fishing her keys out of her purse. She pursed her lips as she opened the door, and saw her husband writhing naked on the floor, gasping and whimpering, his hard penis jerking repeatedly in the air. She was surprised he wasn't humping the floor, horny as she was, but then, she remembered the no-masturbation spell she'd put on him prohibited humping attempts.

She closed the door a little louder than normal, getting Paul's attention. He looked up at her wide eyed for a moment, starting to sit up, before a bolt of pleasure made him cry out, and knocked him on his back again, his hips thrusting into the air. He was drenched in his own pre-cum, and Lindsay watched a thread of the clear, thick fluid fling itself from his cock to land on the puddle on his stomach.

She let out an exasperated huff, dropped her purse on the nearest chair, and walked up to her husband, hands on hips, looking down at him with a scolding expression. Paul was shaking and gasping and reached out to clutch at her calf.

"Having fun down there?" she said, in an annoyed voice.

"Lindsay... baby... please..."

"Please what?"

"Please... make it stop..."

"I'm not doing it to you. This is some other woman, pleasuring you behind my back. Who is it?"

Paul's expression scrunched to one of helplessness. "I don't know! Please! I don't know!" Tears welled up in his eyes, and she could see his hands shaking, fighting to clutch himself, and unable to from her restrictive magic.

Lindsay crossed her arms. "Really? So you're saying some random woman just randomly started teasing your cock for no reason?"

"YES! No! I don't know!" Paul gasped. "I don't know who it is! But I--!"

"Don't yell."

Paul groaned, gritting his teeth. Lindsay could sense every nerve ending in his penis was being stimulated at once, a combination of feathers, tongues, and slick hands playing with him, driving him to the edge of orgasm over and over and over, but refusing to let him cum. Of course, her own orgasm block probably helped with that last part.

"Lindsay, come on! You know I can't help it! The magic, it's too strong! And any woman could be doing it!"

Lindsay frowned, shook her head in irritation, and stalked off, leaving him writhing. He started to beg some more, and she flicked a finger at him. His mouth clamped shut and he couldn't speak.

It was half an hour later, after Lindsay had changed into casual clothes, gotten some water, and made herself comfortable on the couch, that the magic assaulting Paul finally ceased. The man lay in a sweaty, pre-cum covered, boneless sprawl. It took him several minutes to get the wits and strength back to stagger to his feet. He looked to Lindsay and tried to open his mouth to say something. Lindsay flicked her finger again, and his mouth was freed.

"What the fuck was that?" he said.

"I'm getting tired of bailing you out," Lindsay replied, looking back at the TV. "If you don't like it, stop doing whatever it is your doing to antagonize women into teasing you."

Paul took a step forward, and his still stubbornly hard, red cock bounced. A thread of pre-cum began to drip. Lindsay glanced at it, and gave him a hard look. "Don't drip on my carpet."

Paul, who had looked like he was about to chew her out, jumped as he felt a sharp jolt on his cock. He held a cupped hand down below his penis head to catch the pre-cum thread, as close as he could manage to get to his penis, still several inches away.

"Lindsay..."

"Christ, Paul, go fucking shower first," she said pointing to the stairs. "You're fucking filthy with your own slime."

Paul's jaw worked, and he opened his mouth, then shut it again. She was about to jolt his penis again, but then he turned and started trudging upstairs. She did it anyway, and watched him stumble onto the steps, panicking for a second as he tried desperately to make sure his pre-cum didn't touch the floor.

"And don't get dressed," she called after him, once he was out of sight. She shook her head and continued to watch the TV. A game show of sorts, where women tried to guess words and phrases that men were reading on index cards, by reading the men's thoughts through their cocks, and the men tried their best to confuse the women, by thinking a jumble of non-sexual thoughts while they were reading. More often than not, the women figured them out rather quickly, no doubt using a few psychic teases to coax the answers out of the men's minds.

Paul came downstairs a few minutes later, nude, his hair damp. His cock was still rock hard, twitching occasionally, but the color had faded to a less angry shade of red. He looked grumpy as he sat down next to Lindsay on the couch. Lindsay feigned ignoring him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Several times Paul glanced at her, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. His cock twitched now and then, still stubbornly refusing to go soft after so many edges, as if demanding she do something about it.

Lindsay suppressed a sigh. Men and cocks. So needy. Sure, their frustration fueled women's sexual magic, but the constant neediness could get grating after a while. Paul opened his mouth, then shut it again for the dozenth time, and Lindsay finally turned to him, giving him a flat look. "What?" 

Paul swallowed, uncertain he should speak. Lindsay didn't bother reading his mind, content to let him wrestle with himself to voice his thoughts. She remembered when they were first going out, how bold and assertive Paul had been. Unafraid to say what he wanted, even as a girl had him on his knees, shaking and burning for relief. Twenty years of Sex Magic, however, had blunted his assertiveness quite a bit. The same went for almost all men, really.

"I just..." Paul began, then hesitated again.

"Spit it out."

"You just... I..." Paul was almost shaking as he tried to force himself to find the words.

Lindsay turned back to the TV and gave him several minutes to attempt to articulate his thoughts. She listened to the psychic thrum of his cock, the buzzing of his full balls, rise and fall as his fear almost started to ease his sexual tension, only for his lust-drenched thoughts to make the tension surge again.

Ten years ago, Paul would have been on his feet, standing firm, jaw set, as he gave her a piece of his mind, talking her down from tormenting him, demanding she respect him and his needs. And while she might have tried to seduce him into submission, seeing him stand strong would send a tingle through her pussy. Such "arguments" usually ended with him shooting his load down her throat or deep into her pussy. She felt that tingle now, just thinking about it.

But it had been quite a long time since then. Passionate love making, surrendering to his power, had gradually given way to more and more pity fucks, until that was all it was anymore. She barely allowed him to cum at all, never let him touch himself. A part of her wanted to pity him. There really was no way a man could help it. They couldn't stop the magic, they had no way of resisting. It really wasn't their fault. And yet, seeing her husband reduced to a simpering toady sex toy by her mere thoughts, there was just no denying how turned off she felt.

Such a cruel irony, really. The more helpless horny and worshipful he became of her, the less interested she became. But just telling him that, somehow, would be worse. He'd be faking it just to try and please her. It wouldn't be the genuine dominance he used to have, that sheer male power that had made her weak in the knees and obsessed with his cock. By the time she realized the tables were flipped, however, it was too late to fix.

Come on, she thought. Stand up for yourself. Give me one inkling that you still have a spine left, and I'll suck the cum out of your cock until you don't have a single drop left. She felt the tingle between her legs grow, and she flexed her thighs. Come on. Yell at me. Try to hit me. Try something, you gutless little shit.

Paul swallowed hard again and set his jaw. Lindsay felt the tingle in her core, waiting for him to give her what she wanted, what she realized she needed. What they both needed.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Paul said meekly.

Lindsay felt the tingle immediately go still, felt the moist heat between her legs dry up almost instantly. Lindsay glanced at him, her expression cold. She let out an exasperated sigh. Then, with a thought, she channeled her magic at Paul's penis. Paul cried out as the sensations he'd felt earlier, the feathers and tongues and slick hands, returned to his cock, three times as intense as before. His cock jerked as it went as hard as possible, immediately trying to cum. His balls burned with the need for release she denied him.

Paul whimpered and mewled as he flopped onto the floor, writhing and begging between gasps. Lindsay let out another sigh and stood, clicking off the TV and going up to their bedroom. She left Paul there on the living room floor, helpless, tormented, useless to her, save as a battery for her magic. She would leave him there for the rest of the night. Maybe after a good nights sleep, she'd feel enough sympathy to release him.

Stripping off her clothes and laying on the bed, she let the waves of Paul's lustful energy imbue her as she reached down and touched herself. She masturbated to memories of Paul dominating her with his powerful, manly bearing, huge cock, and his ability to put her in place. It had been years since he'd been able to do that, but the memories were still sharp and fresh in her mind. She cried out and softly begged Paul for mercy as she took over an hour to tease herself, building herself up to climax, only to back off and let the tingling warmth shiver through her.

When she finally let herself cum, she shrieked Paul's name. Downstairs, Paul was too far gone in his own sexual torment to notice. Bitterly, Lindsay tripled the intensity of sensations Paul was feeling. She let Paul's howls and pleas lull her to sleep.



Bitter Coffee



Emily walked into the store, nervous to the core. She was in her mid-forties, married for eighteen years and just now going into an adult store for the very first time. She didn't feel she had any choice in the matter, however. 

Emily's husband wanted to experiment with female domination. Billy confessed this to her last week and asked that she try ordering him about. She had, but didn't care for it. Emily considered the idea perverted and told him so. Billy dropped the idea. 

Then she noticed that when a woman came on a movie or TV screen and looked like she was in charge, Billy would keep his eyes on the screen. When a girl dressed in leather skirts or wore leather boots, Billy would follow the girl for as long as he could, almost drooling. Emily soon realized that if she didn't take over and fulfill his fantasy, he'd soon be looking elsewhere.

So with that in mind, she tried to appear dominating. It just didn't work and she had no idea where to go to see what did work. Except an adult store that sold examples of what female domination meant. So she went to the only one in town that didn't seem squalid on the outside. 

She was almost surprised at the interior. The store was clean, the racks nicely displayed, the lighting bright and cheerful. It wasn't the dark, dingy place she expected. A young girl behind the counter gave her a cheerful 'hello', a greeting that made Emily only cringe and hurry behind a rack. She cringed even more when she saw the magazines that had men naked with each other and she hurried back around and down another rack. 

Emily saw only girls with large breasts displayed and she turned to go hide behind another rack. The way was blocked by the young girl from the counter. As Emily stood frozen, the girl smiled and held out a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Here, maybe this will help your nerves. There's nothing to be afraid of here."

Emily took the coffee in shaking hands and tried to drink it. It was cold and tasted bitter.

"Now, just browse until you see what you like. Ask if you do or even if you don't see what you like. We may have it someplace else."

With a smile, the girl went back behind the counter. Emily took another sip and wondered if it was ill manners to set the cup down and leave it. Deciding against it, she carried it with her as she breathed deeply and went down another rack of magazines. She covered two more before finding the area she wanted. 

Billy wants me to do this? He's worse than a pervert! Emily decided as she looked at the covers of men being whipped and kissing girl's body parts. A sound made her turn from the magazines to see the counter girl at her side. 

"Better drink the coffee before it gets cold. It won't taste good that way. Have you found what you want? You've been in here awhile."

Emily stuttered for a few words and tried to cover up by drinking the cold coffee. She wanted to hand the cup to the girl and run from the store but took another swallow instead. 

"I'm just looking. Don't know what I want."

The girl smiled at Emily and told her to drink up and she'd get her some more. All she had to do was let her know when she needed help.

I don't get this much help in a department store Emily thought as she emptied the cup and handed it to the girl. Armed with a fresh cup of cold coffee, Emily stayed in the racks, looking over the magazines and wishing they weren't sealed in a plastic bag so she could see what the inside was like. 

Emily moved to the bookrack and found paperbacks on domination. Those she could flip the pages on and she spent a long time sipping cold coffee and trying to find a book that explained what domination as all about. She finally decided that there wasn't any and headed for the door. 

"Where you going?"

The voice made her jump and turn to see another girl standing in a hallway. The girl was glaring at her as if she had been insulted. 

"You drink my coffee, thumb my books, spend an hour moving things around, and then decide to just walk out? Well? Is that it?"

Emily couldn't talk. She tried but the girl snatched the empty cup from Emily's hand and tossed it into a wastebasket. 

"Heel"

Emily watched the new girl turn and walk back down the hallway, not even bothering to see if Emily would follow. She looked at the counter girl who shrugged, motioning Emily to move down the hall. Emily followed and stopped when the new girl entered an office and stood by a desk to glare at Emily. Emily stood just inside the door. 

"Close the door and get over here."

Emily did as she was told, unsure of what would happen next and wondering why she wasn't running out the door instead of closing it and crossing the room. 

"Strip, lady, and bend over that chair. You need a lesson in manners."

Emily gasped at the instructions and stood with her mouth open. Of all the impertinence! I've never been talked to this ... The slap took her mind of her thoughts and she blinked as she realized what had happened. Emily amazed herself to see that she was unbuttoning her blouse and in a few minutes she was naked and bending over a chair, her hands on the seat of the chair.

There was no warning, just the slaps to her ass, making Emily howl in shock, humiliation, and pain. But she didn't try to escape or stop this, later wondering why. For now, she could only take the spanking the girl dished out. Finally the girl moved back to the desk. 

"Stand up and don't play with yourself. Sorta fat for your age, ain't you? Kinda of a chunky monkey it looks like to me. Or maybe too much Chunky Monkey?" 

The girl laughed at her own joke as Emily stood and tried to cover herself with her hands. She had always tended to run to fat and thought she had done well to be only twenty pounds or so over what the doctor considered her ideal weight. 

"I just spanked your naked ass. Crawl over here and kiss my shoes, right and then left, and thank me with each kiss. Or do I need to use a strap on you?"

Emily dropped, her mind screaming to run away, her body crawling on all fours to kiss the toe of each sneaker, the right and then the left one, and her mouth thanked the girl for the spanking after each kiss. Emily wanted to die on the spot, knowing it couldn't ever be much worse. 

"Get your skirt on and your blouse. Don't button either of them and go back out to look at the domination stuff on the wall. Ask Kelly about the collars."

Emily left, dressed as ordered, her bare feet feeling like they were sticking to the floor as she hurried up to the counter. The counter girl nodded that she was Kelly and smiled as Emily held the blouse and skirt closed and asked to see the collars. 

In a few minutes Kelly had an assortment of crops, cuffs, collars, and items that Emily couldn't even identify on the counter. She ran the items on the register and smiling at Emily, announced that she needed $637.85 including tax. Emily could only open and close her mouth.

"Stop sputtering like a fish, chunky monkey. Use the VISA."

The girl handed Kelly the card and Kelly in turn gave the receipt to Emily to sign. Letting go of the front of her blouse, she shakily wrote her signature on the line. The card and receipt went back to the girl before Kelly started placing the items in a bag. 

The girl snapped her fingers at Emily and pointed to the door. 

"Sit in the car, chunky monkey. Fold your skirt up nicely and hand it to me when I get there. Be good and you get rewarded. Be bad and I'll drape your ass over the hood of the car and beat it with a strap. Now go."

She snapped her fingers again, making Emily scared of what was happening and almost running out of the store to sit behind the driver's wheel. She had no keys, no purse, and she was in tears as she removed her skirt and folded it up neatly. If anyone came by, she'd die of fright, she just knew it. 

The girl eventually strolled out and up to Emily. Emily handed her the skirt through the open window, almost positive she had closed the windows and locked the car before going inside. The girl dangled a strip of leather in from of her. Emily was told to put it on. She saw the front of the collar had a silver plate that read 'slave' on it and she blanched. The girl slapped her face again and told her to hurry up.

While Emily buckled the collar, the tears flowed down her cheeks. The girl told her to knock it off, the tears wouldn't work.

"In fact, chunky monkey, I'm thinking that you can do more. So we're going to your place. Just pull into the driveway, I'll open the garage since I have the opener." That was the first Emily had noticed that her electric opener was missing. What else was missing?

"Once inside, slide to the passenger side and fold up the blouse. Hand it to me when I ask for it."

Emily drove slowly, one hand on the wheel and one hand trying to hold the blouse closed enough so that no one would arrest her for indecent exposure. She wasn't allowed to raise the windows or button the blouse and Emily wasn't sure how she would make it home without an accident. But she did, sitting in the driveway almost thirty seconds before the door opened. The kids playing in the street ignored her for a few seconds and she could see where a few were getting curious as to why she sat there. She prayed they wouldn't come over as she pulled into the garage. 

The girl strolled in, clicked the opener again, having the door closed. She went past the car and inside, leaving Emily to sit with her blouse folded in offering. She didn't dare move until the girl came out and removed the blouse to toss it on a workbench. 

"Out, Chunky, and thank me."

Emily got out of the car, dropped to her knees, and kissed the right foot and then the left, thanking the girl each time. Emily just didn't know what she was thanking anyone for as the leash was attached to the collar and Emily was told to heel. Emily crawled behind the girl as they went inside the house for an inspection of the place.

"Not bad. Get me a diet soda, Chunky Monkey, and don't waste time." "We -we- don't have any. We don't - don't drink it."

The girl frowned at Emily as she sat down. As Emily knelt on all fours, the girl put her feet up on her back, using Emily as a footrest. 

"You will when I come back tomorrow. Now tell me about why you're so interested in the female domination sections."

Choking back the tears of humiliation, Emily told the girl about what Billy fantasized about and how she was looking for ideas of what to do. Emily wanted to shut her mouth and get up and run from this strange girl and was confused as to why she was doing exactly as the girl ordered her to do. She was used as a footstool for half an hour as she answered questions about her sex life and her own fantasies, deemed vanilla by the girl. Emily crawled to the kitchen and brought the girl an unopened bottle of water. The girl poured some into an ashtray.

"Have some water, Chunky Monkey, and don't spill a drop."

While the girl swigged water from the bottle, Emily lapped the water from the ashtray, tasting the remains of old cigarettes. She felt like throwing up but resisted since she also felt the girl would order her to lick that as well. 

The girl finally got up to leave, making Emily crawl behind her to the front door. 

"Listen good for I'm only saying it once. When I arrive, you will be naked except for the collar and you will be hairless from the neck down. Your ass and cunt are a hairy disgrace to the human body, let alone a chunky monkey type of body. Make sure you're kneeling next to that plant over there and don't forget how I like to be greeted. I also want to see for entertainment, your way of dominating Billy boy. So make sure you video tonight."

The girl walked out the front door and it was only then that Emily started crying. As much as she had tried all afternoon to resist, she was as obedient as any trained dog. 

Or monkey she thought since that's what she calls me.

Drying her tears, Emily saw the time and quickly went in for a shower. It took some time to shave herself and dress as she thought a dominating woman should be. The girl had worn only a blouse, clean blue jeans, and sneakers but Emily thought that Billy would want more. She almost said Billy boy, but thought it ridiculous to call a man almost fifty Billy boy.

The next morning found Emily rushing to shower and shave wherever she felt a hair that she missed the night before. She got the collar on and ran into the living room to put in the tape of her ordering her husband around. Billy had meekly done the vacuuming and dusting as Emily spanked his naked butt. Somehow Emily didn't think the girl would be impressed. 

She heard a noise out front and scrambled to kneel by the pot as directed. The girl walked in casually just as Emily got into position. As the door closed, Emily crawled forward and kissed the sandal feet, right then left, and thanked the girl for coming after each kiss. 

She seemed indifferent to the homage, walking into the living room as Emily crawled behind the bare legs showing beneath the cutoff shorts. The legs weren't all that bad looking. 

"Get me a soda and don't dally around. I'm thirsty."

Emily froze in place, completely forgetting about the diet soda ordered the day before. The girl slapped Emily's face hard, making tears come to her eyes. 

"I give you a simple request. Not at all difficult for any simpleton. Apparently you're one of the dumber chunky monkeys in the world. Get me the strap you bought yesterday and remember that I get pissed when you deliberately keep me waiting."

Emily raced down the hall, forgetting that her knees were sore and raced back with the strap in her lips, the only way she could think of carrying it when on all fours. Her imagination didn't seem to impress the girl who insisted on Emily counting and thanking her for each swat on the ass. Emily discovered that if she said it too slow, the next blow was a freebie and too fast meant a double freebie. After a dozen, the strap dropped to the floor and the girl walked away. 

"Heel"

Emily crawled to the bedroom and was sent to collect clothespins as the girl went through Billy's dresser. When she came back with a bag of pins, the girl told chunky monkey to stand and stay still. Emily stood and almost yelped as the first pin closed under her right breast. Four were placed on each breast, all underneath. Then two were placed on her pussy lips. The girl looked bored as she waited for Emily to catch her breath from the pain. 

"Put these on" 

Emily donned her husband's jogging shorts and one of his tee shirts as the girl talked. 

"There's a store a little over a mile away, at least according to my car. Here's three bucks, bring back a cold six pack of diet coke, the receipt, and the change. No bag. The receipt is not to be wrinkled or crumbled or wet or your ass will be sore. Remember that chunky monkeys don't lose their clothespins or they beg for punishment and usually don't beg enough."

The girl handed Emily the money after Emily put on her sneakers and went to the front door. 

"I have a good idea of how long you'll take if you want to please me. So if you want to piss me off royally, then take your time. Have a cup of coffee."

Emily took the plastic cup of cold coffee and drank it quickly and then was given another cup. She hated the bitter taste but did as she was told, trying to will herself to run away and have the police arrest the girl.

"The clock starts now." The girl said as Emily set the empty cup down. She ran out of the house, not caring what her neighbors may think of this overweight middle aged lady running down the street trying not to drop the money or the shorts that were eight inches too large for her around the waist and had no pockets. 

Emily felt her lungs burning and her body aching as she ran to the store. The clerk was amused at the sight of limp sweaty hair from Emily and seemed to take forever to get the change. Emily tried to ignore the pain of the pins, mentally taking stock that all ten were attached, as painful as they felt. The tee shirt was wet with sweat and catching her reflection, Emily could see the first few pins visible under her breasts. 

The run back wasn't much more fun as she tried to keep a pace without hitting the pins on her pussy and dislodging them. She wished she died of a heart attack by the time she got home. 

The girl was laughing at the video Emily had made and made no attempt to take the change or the receipt from her. Emily set it all on the counter, placed five cans into the fridge and opened the other can to bring to the girl. 

"Glass, three cubes of ice."

Emily stopped at the order and filled the glass as requested, setting the glass on a coaster by the girl's chair. The girl paused the tape. 

"Why are you dressed? Did someone tell you it was okay for you wear clothes? Someone around here that you're a slave to besides me?"

"No -no, no one else. Just you." Emily stripped the shorts and shirt off, removed her sneakers and set the items to one side. All the pins were accounted for, for which she was thankful. 

"I'll tell you later how to dominate Billy boy for the next video. Right now, you need to make your own. So go get the camera."

Emily spent the rest of the morning posing for the camera. She begged for a spanking, spanked herself, used a carrot in her ass and later ate it for lunch, a smile on her face even as she felt like getting sick. She told the camera how she loved to have her tits in clamps and hung nipple clamps on her nipples and danced for the lens. She masturbated with her fingers and with a vibrator, asking the girl behind the camera for permission to cum, finally begging for the chance to climax on camera, her vocal life long dream as a chunky monkey slut. 

The girl did her best to make Emily feel humiliated. While the girl ate a sandwich fixed by Emily, she opened a can of creamed corn and poured it around the kitchen floor before walking through it. Emily was video taped licking the floor clean and both of the girl's sandals and her feet. The last shots were of Emily squatting over the toilet, spreading her pussy lips while asking if anyone wanted to see her pussy piss and ass shit. The girl delighted in telling Emily to go, stop, go, stop for the camera. 

The girl gave Emily a small thermos and had her drink the last of the bitter coffee from it. Then she collected the homemade videos and told Emily what she wanted to see in the next one. Then the girl left, gathered the mail from the mailbox, and continued walking away. 

Emily had plenty of time the next morning although she would have been happier to know that in advance. She again shaved her body, not wanting the girl to find any other reasons to punish her. Emily had a few hours to sit naked on the floor, wondering why she was so obedient and where all this would take her as she waited for the girl to show up. The tape of her abusing her husband was in the machine, all rewound and waiting for viewing. 

The girl finally walked in and Emily greeted her as taught. Then she crawled behind the girl as the girl made for the bedroom. Emily was surprised to have the girl pick out a blouse and skirt set for her to wear. Then the girl kicked a pair of high heels toward her and left the room. Emily quickly put them on, hoping she could have hose or something. 

Instead, the girl went to the garage to start Emily's car. Emily was told to sit on the passenger side, her skirt around her waist. At no time, unless she had permission, was she to sit on any article of clothing. Period. 

They arrived at a restaurant, Emily embarrassed as the waiter stared for a moment at the slave collar around her neck as Emily tried discreetly to move the skirt to her waist while in the booth. The girl ordered the meal for both of them, ordering a diet soda for Emily as well. Emily wanted to protest but her mouth wouldn't let the words out. When the drinks came, the sodas went over to the girl and in exchange, the girl set a plastic cup with sesame street characters on it, filled it with the bitter coffee, and screwed on a spill-proof lid. Emily could only sip the coffee through the slit, feeling like a fool every time someone looked over at her. The girl never said a word to her during the meal and Emily was too scared to start a conversation. 




Bitter Coffee



After the meal, Emily was loudly told to rinse out her favorite cup and make sure it was dry before it was put away. The girl then walked over to pay for the meal as Emily heard some laughter as she headed for the ladies room. 

Emily was given more instructions as they went outside. She hurried to open the door for the girl and then held the car door open for her before sliding into the passenger side. She knew it wasn't by accident that the passenger side seat was left in the sun as she lifted her skirt. They went to the mall and shopped, Emily's role being consigned to carrying the purchases and signing the credit card receipts. The girl demanded and received Emily's pin number. Emily watched the girl remove two hundred from the bank account. But all items were bought with credit cards. 

Once back home, Emily hurried to open the car door for the girl and then the door into the house. Then she stripped and retrieved the packages, carrying them to the front door while the girl sat and watched the tape. Then she told Emily that her feet were sore and Emily crawled over to massage them. Then kiss them and then lick them as she rubbed them. 

Emily was told to do five pushups after bring the strap to the girl. Emily murmured 'yes miss' without thinking and was hit in the breasts with a viscous forehand and backhand so fast that she didn't even have a chance to protect them. 

"You don't have permission to call me anything!" the girl screamed at her "You ever call me anything with my approval and I'll hang you by your tongue! You got that?!"

"Yes" Emily's reply was quick.

"You are chunky monkey and a slave to a girl you don't even know. You will crawl for me and humiliate yourself here and in public if I desire and you will do it. You will dominate your husband for my entertainment, not for your pleasure. The only pleasure you will know is when I don't whip you. Clear?"

"Yes, very clear."

"On the days I don't see you, you will still do what I want. Your life will be mine and you will live it as I desire. Now do the pushups."

The pushups was to kiss a foot, raise up and kiss a knee, lower to kiss the other foot, and raise to kiss the other knee. That was one and Emily only did three. She got five with the strap on her ass, rolled over and had five more on each thigh and five more on her tits as she was told to call them. Then she was told to sit up which meant the girl turned around and bent over, a bit of ass cheek showing under the cutoffs. Emily had to kiss one side and raise up to kiss the other for a count of one. She did two and was whipped again with the strap, the last five having to administer to her own ass after assuring the girl that she would hit herself very hard. 

Then Emily went back to giving her a foot massage as the girl watched the rest of the tape. The girl gave instructions for the night as Emily was told to drink the last of the coffee. Emily tried to assure herself that things couldn't be worse after the girl left, but she didn't believe it. Somehow the girl would make life much worse, that these would be the happier times. Emily cried as she showered, shaved, and dressed for her husband's return home. 

The next two weeks were a blur for Emily. She openly responded to the girl dominating her, hating herself for allowing it, but seeming to have no control to stop it. A large urn was on the counter and Emily was ordered to drink a cup three times a day even if her owner wasn't around. Having to admit that the young girl owned her as property made Emily's insides quake, but she continued to be obedient.

Her husband enjoyed the change in her. He stripped in the garage, ate from a bowl on the floor, wagging his ass happily as his wife threatened to shove all sorts of items up it. All this was done on camera and, unknown to him, at his wife's owner's instructions. 

Three weeks after the domination started, the front door opened and Emily crawled forward to kiss the sneakered feet. Then another set of sneakers came into view and Emily hesitated a second before kissing them as well. 

"A bit of unsure, but she managed to kiss without being told. That's a good sign."

The two moved on and Emily looked up as she crawled behind. When the girl turned, she saw that it was Kelly from the adult store. It was she that had spoken and Emily waited for her owner to say something. 

"Miss Kelly wants to beat some ass. Go get something for her."

Emily crawled away and brought back the strap, her owner's choice of punishment. Kelly used it on Emily ten times, Emily thanking Miss Kelly after each one. 

"Not bad. She's taken to this pretty well. Better than I expected when you told me to snare her for you."

Emily listened to the exchange, wondering how Miss Kelly had snared her for the girl that had no name but owned everything about Emily. After the small beating, Emily was told to use her lips to bring Miss Kelly to a climax, and Emily hesitated. She had never done anything like this before and the strap came crashing down on her ass with a vengeance. Emily quickly scooted over and drew the panties down from Miss Kelly, only now realizing that both girls were wearing tennis dresses and sneakers. She started to lick but Miss Kelly held her head back. 

"Lips, chunky monkey, lips. She said nothing about licking me."

Emily moved her lips around the well-trimmed pussy, feeling it getting wetter and wetter. Miss Kelly's hips were starting to buck against Emily when Emily thought her lips were going numb from all the rubbing. 

Emily's head was removed and she saw the desire in Miss Kelly's eyes and face as she stared at her friend. 

"Please let her finish me. Please."

"Hands behind your head, Kelly. Count from five to one nicely."

Emily was surprised when the ash-blonde girl did so. The action raised the tennis dress so that her pussy was exposed. When she got to one, the other girl said "cum". Miss Kelly had an orgasm on the spot, taking Emily by surprise. 

"Now lick her dry, chunky. Remember what I expect from you when you cum."

Emily licked the juices from the thighs and pussy in front of her as Miss Kelly came down from her climax. Emily wondered if she would be expected to orgasm on command although it had been so long since she had one, she also had to wonder, as she licked, if she still could. 

Emily got dressed in a lightweight summer dress and sneakers and followed the two girls outside. They drove to a tennis court and Emily soon found she was the ball girl. Two guys joined them and it was mixed doubles, the men quite at home with humiliating Emily. They would tweak a nipple when changing sides or ask if she sucked the winners. By the fifth game of the first set, Emily was tiring in the hot sun, the others drinking water or soda from a cooler. 

Miss Kelly finally told Emily to remove her sneakers if she was going to run slow after a missed ball. That would help speed her up. 

It did. Bare feet used to shoes and a hot tennis court made for quick moving as Emily felt she was getting burns on her soles. She hopped and ran after every ball for two well played sets. Miss Kelly and the man on her side won. Emily was told to suck him off. 

Emily had never had another cock other than her husband's and the fact that she could see past the man and the children playing in the park made her almost refuse. Her owner was in no mood and Emily was spanked soundly before being told to suck. Emily sucked the winner and then the loser and then the winner, swallowing every drop at all times. It was only when she was done that she saw the girl with the video camera. She knew the kids would be in the background as Emily begged to suck off the strange men. 


She felt even more humiliated later when Miss Kelly and the girl viewed the tape at Emily's home. As with the other ones, this tape also left with the girl. That was after she was allowed to bring Miss Kelly to another climax by using her tongue in Miss Kelly's ass. 

Emily took orders over the phone from the girl and continued to humiliate herself to the point that she thought she had no pride in anything but obedience. Emily still drank the bitter coffee, still hated the taste, but still drank it on the schedule set by the girl. 

On a pleasant Friday, she told her hubby to dress in a frilly apron by the door when he came home and to clean until further notice. As soon as he left for work, Emily stripped and knelt by the plant. She was shocked when a man entered the door. She could only freeze in place, wondering what he was doing here.

"You chunky monkey?"

Emily nodded at the question and crawled forward to kiss his shoes, thanking him for being there. He laughed at her response.

"No good kissing my feet. You'll have enough of that later. Get a dress on and go with me."

Emily donned a summer dress and walked barefoot with the man to his car. He drove as she arranged her dress hem to her waist. The man seemed indifferent to her naked ass on the seat or her lack of questions or that she was simply barefoot because no one mentioned wearing shoes. 

They drove to a strange house and the man parked in the street, telling Emily to follow him. Once in the garage, she stood by a rack of clothes. The man told her to strip and Emily removed the dress without a second thought, standing naked for anyone to see. She made no attempt to remove the collar, that never being a part of stripping. 

Emily was handed a very short leather skirt and a small leather vest. It shocked Emily to realize that the items actually fit her, not at all realizing that the sit ups, push ups, and diet had caused her to lose excess weight. She had not had any tight clothing on since the girl started running her life for her. 

Platform pumps rounded out the outfit. Emily was practicing walking in them when Kelly came out of the house. Emily stopped walking when she saw that Kelly had the word 'slave' on each tit and wore only a thick collar with rings on it. Kelly ignored the reaction as she came over and put a leather chauffeurs cap on Emily's head. 

"Mistress will have you drive this weekend. You will be as obedient to her as to your owner. There will be no, I repeat, no bad report about you, chunky monkey. Failure to be absolutely respectful and obedient at all times will not be tolerated by your owner or by mistress."

Kelly didn't wait for comprehension, just turning and walking back into the house. The man stripped and went down stairs off to the side. Emily was left alone so she continued to practice in the platform pumps. 

A woman about her age came out and another person jumped to hold the car door for her. Then the person signaled for Emily to get behind the wheel. 

She followed the directions as she pulled out and away. The mistress had another girl in the back with her and occasionally Emily saw the girl doing mistress's nails as they rode or massaging a leg while mistress drank something in a glass. Mistress never said a word, the directions coming from the other girl. Emily realized as they left town that it really would be a weekend away. She thought of Billy, having to clean until told otherwise. The house would be very clean. 

The weekend was from hell. Emily lost all ability to have pride in anything, to believe she was even on par with any human. That night she wore the outfit to a club after the other two showered and changed. Emily was stationed at the bathroom where someone video taped her squatting ad begging to be used as a toilet, mindful of orders to not let anything stain her outfit. She had to puke twice that night to empty her stomach of what when into it. 

Then someone on stage needed a volunteer to use a new kind of vibrator and Emily was selected. The thing kept fucking her pussy on its own, while Emily tried to figure out how it stayed in her. She held the short leather dress to her waist to avoid any juice on it and kept her legs wide to avoid any on the shoes. In the mirror in the back, she could see how exposed she was. A few months earlier, Emily would have fainted at the idea. Now, chunky monkey had no feelings about it. 

The weekend went downhill from there, leaving Emily almost to tired to concentrate on driving them home. Once back at her house, back in her own dress, Emily lay on the floor and cried herself to sleep. 

It was two days before her owner and Miss Kelly came to see her and neither made a comment about a report on chunky monkey's behavior. Neither whipped her either, simply watching a video and laughing. As Emily knelt as a footstool for one and massaged the feet of the other, she found the conversation interesting. 

"What a dweeb! Almost like Dave back in high school. Remember him?"

"Remember him? All he wanted to do was help me study."

They laughed at the memory.

"Your own fault, Kelly. You were valedictorian of the class. He needed the help and you were the only one that talked to him as a person and not a dumb jock."

"He was cute. Besides, how was I to know the future?"

There was a kissing noise above Emily.

"Future in that I sold him for a hell of a profit and that you were a slave for me and my aunt? You never knew what hit you."

"You promise to never sell me? Please promise."

"No promises. I still remember my boyfriend asking you to the prom before he did me. He's paying worse than you only because you turned him down. It took you three days to think about it which why you're a slave now, but you at least turned him down."

"I wonder how he likes living in Brazil."

"At least he's picking up a second language."

The girls laughed over that, Emily left to ponder the exchange. 

She still pondered that exchange three months later when she was driven to the strange house again. This time she was led down the stairs and saw the dungeon setup. The girl used Emily on several apparatus's for a few hours. 

Emily was led upstairs to a contemporary living room. A chain was locked around her waist and her hands cuffed to the chain. Then she was led to a tub with a large block of ice in it. Trying her best to maintain her balance, she stood on the ice. As a man balanced her with one hand, he inserted a vibrator in her ass with the other hand. Then nipple clamps were attached to her and attached to the ceiling. Cuffs were placed around her ankles and a six inch chain connected them. Emily was left to try to balance on the ice, her feet getting cold and wet as she attempted to remain upright and not tear a nipple off. 

In a few minutes, a party was in progress. Occasionally someone removed the vibrator from her ass and gave it to her to suck clean as another took its place in her backside. Emily was facing a wall and missed seeing the action behind her but heard the noise. 

Someone named sexless was being ordered around by Emily's owner. She gathered it was a man from all the 'he's' that she heard and almost felt sorry for him. Nothing he did was right for the guests and he was abused by one and all. 

Emily thought less of the party behind her and more about her own position as the time went by. The ice was melting and getting harder to stand on. She was no longer flatfooted, but had to stand more on her toes to prevent the nipple clamps from tearing both of her nipples. She also had to suck the vibrators clean without letting them slip out of her mouth as she tried to remain on the ice. Her legs were cold and she could feel the coldness going almost to her thighs, thus making feeling more difficult and she was forced to look down several times to see where she was standing. This made everything painful, almost costing her a vibrator at one point. 

The party seemed to be getting tired of abusing sexless and Emily was let down. She crawled to help with the entertainment, someone putting a black facemask on her. It matched the one on the man referred to as sexless. Emily gave him some of the bitter coffee to drink so he could rinse and swallow. She didn't blame him, for he had shit all around his mouth, as he gulped and swished. 

The night came to end as Emily started at one end of a semi-circle and sexless started at the other and they gave each guest oral sex until pleasured. The problem was when they passed each other and had to continue to the semi-circle of people already given up their climaxes. It was much hard to suck on cock or pussy when they were tired from cumming only a few minutes before. 

The chore was finally achieved and the guests left. Emily's owner finally sat on a chair and told them to clean her shoes. The leather heels were dirty and Emily licked as she suddenly realized that the girl had not partaken in the activities. In fact, there were no other slaves around or anyone that Emily could recognize from her position. 

The aunt came in and sat down, Kelly at her feet. 

"That went well. These two are better than I expected when I found out their ages."

"Well Auntie, you know I always wanted parent figures. What better than to have them at my feet where I know where they are?"

There was laughter. 

"So will you keep them?"

In reply, she kicked both and they stopped licking and knelt before her. 

"You agree to sign over your house and your possessions and your lives to me?"

"Yes" came as a synchronized chorus.

"Good," she told them as she removed their facemasks. " My birthday will be in a few days and I expect that as a present. Do it well and you will have a mistress. Do it poorly and I'll sell your asses to the Eskimos. Or worse."

They were left to ponder that fate for a few moments. 

"You have shoe grime on your faces. Lick each other clean."

Emily turned to sexless and froze as did he. She never expected Billy to be here anymore than he seemed to expect to see her. Then their tongues darted out to do as their future mistress told them. Of that, there was no doubt for either of them.



Bitter Fingers



Another sunny school morning, Monday morning to be precise, and John Lock waited by the stile for his first love Margaret Short. They walked across the field together, every weekday, to school. The field was the next one to John's garden and a few hundred yards from Margaret's house. At the bottom end of the field was a long gravel track that went slowly downhill ending in an overgrown thicket that boarded a shadowy copse.

The field and copse were owned by John's parents along with the farm cottage and smaller field on the other side. Both fields were full of bright yellow rape that John's dad grew for seed to sell for the oil. The stile was their daily meeting place for their walk to school, hand in hand, both in their own bubble of love.

Margaret loved their school and so would John if it wasn't for the fact that Gary fucking Smith went there. John always called him that or sometimes Gary fucking bastard Smith if he had particularly rubbed John up the wrong way that day.

Gary Smith was an arrogant little prick and John hated his fucking guts. He was always chiding John about something and he was forever trying it on with Margaret. The fact that she didn't let him get to her and just brushed off his amateurish advances, didn't make the slightest bit of difference. Gary just wouldn't let up, only last week he had poured ink into John's pocket without him realising it until his leg felt wet. His best school trousers were ruined and his leg was still tinged blue three days later.

Living in the village of Soton and being in junior school in the sixties was hard work if you had a prick like Gary fucking Smith on your back.

Margaret was John's soul reason for getting up each day and walking through the rape fields in the sunshine with her was the reason he hadn't tried to strangle Smith way before now. Margaret had said a few times that she thought Gary was probably just misunderstood and despite all the upfront bravado, underneath she felt he was quite a nice guy.

As 10 year olds, John and Margaret had only ever held hands and cuddled. The fact they thought of themselves as "girlfriend and boyfriend" was down to the fact that they had known each other so long and, if truth be told, actually loved each other very much. John and Margaret could never see themselves ever being apart and neither of them wanted to be. 

The last year of junior school turned out to be the hardest and worst of all for John. Gary got even more obnoxious and his bating scaled new heights, as the volume of John's hatred was turned up several notches. Through all this Margaret kept right on defending him and insisting he was a nice guy really. 

The class was split up into smaller groups according to skill level in different subjects. John was in different groups from Margaret and Gary for reading, science and mathematics. This meant that considering the boys and girls were split as well for PE, John only got to see Margaret at the beginning and end of the day and the occasional lunchtime. Breaks and most lunchtimes were staggered because of the size of the kitchens and food kiosks. 

Days were long and lonely and spent looking forward to the walk home. Margaret didn't seem to miss him as much as he did her as all she seemed to do on the walk home was talk about what fun she had during the day's lessons. Gary fucking bastard Smith's name cropped up a lot more than John wished it had.

On the second to last day of term John knew that Margaret had the same lunchtime as him and he looked around the school for her. He found himself looking across the playing field to to edge where there was a long row of birch trees. John had run along behind those trees many times as they mapped out the end of the cross country run to insure the runners completed the whole course. 

He could see the two of them facing each other, close enough to touch but not quite hugging. A weird sick pain shot through his gut, making him almost throw up, and he had to force down a dry heave.

John stopped himself from running towards them and appearing desperate yet he found himself walking faster and faster towards them. Suddenly he came to a stop a couple of yards behind them, just as Gary leaned into her and pressed his lips against hers.

He stood there, mouth open, breathing hard his heart beating so hard that he felt in that moment that the whole school must have been able to hear it.

"Oh, John.. No.. John it's not, it's not what.. John no." Margaret spluttered.

John said nothing, he just stared at her, with his mouth still agape.

"John I, I, John it just happened."

Gary stepped back and away from her.

"Oh just fuck off and leave us be" Gary moaned, "she's always liked me better, so just fuck off."

John just slowly closed his mouth and turned his head to stare at Gary. Not having a clue what to do or say he just stood there stunned.

As he turned back to Margaret with the soul intention of saying something, anything but at least speaking. Then BANG, a sharp pain in the mouth, and he was falling backwards his lip swelling as he went down, and then BANG another sharp pain in the back of his head.

Gary had punched him hard in the face and knocked him off balance and he had hit his head against the bottom of the tree behind him. Everything went black for a few seconds and then he could gradually see a face coming into focus in front of him. 

Mr Mann was one of John's teachers and was smiling at him.

"Ok John, slowly now, slowly." He spoke gently.

John was trying to pull himself up as his head thumped, but his vision cleared.

"Come on now son, take it easy." The wise voice ordered.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just bumped my head a bit." John moaned.

"Ok, ok, but we need to get you to the nurse, just to check." Mr Mann stated.

Glancing around John looked for Margaret and Gary but apart from what seemed like his whole school year, he could see neither of them. In fact that was to be the last he would see of either of them for a long time.

Margaret.

There wasn't a second gone by that Margaret didn't regret her first kiss. It should have been with John, the boy she loved so much, but of all people it had to be with Gary fucking Smith. That's what John called him so it had kind of stuck. Gary hadn't really forced her, he had just been very persuasive. And of course her curiosity had got the better of her. The moment she saw John standing there with a look of horror on his handsome face, she knew her life's direction had taken a sudden change.

Gary had hit John and knocked him out, or so she thought. Suddenly there were lots of people everywhere and Mr Mann was trying to wake John up. Gary pulled her away and with his arm around her, walked her back towards school

"It's ok, he's fine, teach'll sort him out, can't believe he went over like that, I hardly touched him, Jesus I'm hard, if I'd punched him with all my power I .."

"Stop it Gary, you shouldn't have hit him." Margaret chided.

Still shepherding her towards school with his arm around her shoulders, Gary kept up his banter. "He's such a fucking wimp, you're better off with me like I keep telling you," he bragged.

Margaret just suddenly realised that John was absolutely right about Gary, he was a fucking bastard, and she wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. "Get off of me you idiot, John was always telling me what a nasty boy you are, and now I know he was right." She cried. 

Ducking away from him she turned and ran back towards the field leaving Gary standing there with a bewildered look on his face. As she got nearer to the place it had all happened she realised that everyone had gone back to school. She ran as fast as she could but as she got there she could see everyone had returned to class.

"Sir, I need to see if John Lock's ok, I won't be lo.." She stated

"No need dear, he's fine and he has all the help he needs now," Mr Lovell ordered.

"But Sir I just need to.." She retorted, getting cut off for second time.

"If you carry on it'll be the headmaster you'll see, now sit down and take out your work and let's not hear any more out of you about anything but the parts that make up a flower," stormed Mr Lovell.

At the end of school Margaret waited for John in their usual place so they could walk home together but he didn't show. Walking across that field alone made her feel worse than she had all day. 

As she reached the stile the tears started and she sat there for a few minutes with her face in her hands. Why had she even thought about kissing that prick? What was she actually thinking? Or was she thinking at all? Maybe a zillion questions went through her mind but they all had the same answer, she just didn't know.

Her mind in turmoil she suddenly found herself at John's door, knocking with what was left of her hope in her clenched fist. She didn't know how many times she had knocked without an answer. Why didn't John come to the door? Ok maybe that was a stupid question. But if he didn't want to talk to her, ok she could understand that but at least he could have shouted at her, he could have screamed at her out of the window. 

Even if he didn't want to talk to her himself, either of his parents could have at least answered. The final walk from John's cottage to her house was made in floods of tears, she didn't realise she could cry like that until now. Despite her parents comfort she ate very little supper and went to bed early where sleep came slowly. 

Maybe John had been taken to hospital yesterday and he wasn't back when she called. If that was the reason maybe he would be waiting by the stile in the morning. With that thought she finally dropped off into a restless sleep.

Bright and early the next morning Margaret waited hopefully at the stile. John never showed and sadly Margaret made her way across what always had been such a bright sunny field, but was now so much more dull and sad. School was much the same, as John never showed up there either and Margaret's last day of junior school just did even more to feed her depression without John.

Everybody at school was happy and jolly and full of the holiday cheer, exchanging gifts and excitingly chattering to each other about what senior schools they would be attending and who would be their teachers and what house they would want to be in. Margaret didn't much care about any of it and soon everybody realised it and left her alone. Gary was his usual self but after Margaret's third put down he decided that he needed to play the long game and hopefully with John out of the picture, as he thought, his chance would come.

John.

John headed home early and dreaded his parents seeing him, especially his dad. His fat lip wasn't as painful as his hurt pride, and he had no after effects of head butting the tree, with the back of his thick skull, and being knocked out for a few moments. 

John was surprised more than anyone that Gary had the punch to knock him over, especially when he knew that it was hitting the tree that had put him out. But his fat lip was testament to the fact that he'd been caught with a sucker punch. 

More than anything else John didn't want his dad to find out he'd been bettered in a what could be described as a fight. 

John's dad is an ex boxer, he was an unbeaten semi-professional middleweight who had retired at the pleading request of his wife, John's mother. He joined the Navy from school and boxed for them against international opposition for six years. After leaving the Navy he then fought for the British and Commonwealth titles whilst working as a farm labourer. It wasn't until he met and married Emma that he gave up fighting when she couldn't take him fighting for a living. Ron Lock then bought the small farm cottage and grew crops as opposed to getting punched for a living. When he saw John's lip, in that instance he knew that he had to go against his wife's wishes and at least give John the option of not being hurt.

"Follow me boy" Ron instructed walking out the kitchen door towards the barn.

"Ron, please, no" Emma pleaded.

"He has to learn if he's going to survive" Ron replied, "that'll be the last chunky lip my boy will ever come back home with".

"I just don't want him getting hurt to earn money," Emma cried.

Putting his strong arms over her shoulders Ron whispered comforting words to her, "Don't worry love, I won't make that decision for him, but what I will try, with all my power to do is make sure is that he learns how to duck."

Ron took his son out to the barn.

"How do you feel?" He asked John.

"What do you mean dad? John replied.

"How do you feel? How do you feel about that?" Ron asked pointing at John's lip.

John bowed his head. 

"Ashamed" John whispered.

"Good," Ron stated, "Remember that feeling because after today you'll never feel that way again about being hit." Ron said.

"Sorry dad" John moaned.

Lifting John's face gently with his big fist, Ron looked his son in the eyes and smiled "I love you boy and I don't ever want you to be ashamed or sorry from fighting ever again, so I'm going to teach you all I know about boxing and that will at least be enough to give you the option of not being hurt,"

A small tear beaded in the corner of John's eye but he blew his cheeks out and nodded to his father.

"Ok face me, you're right-handed yes?" Ron asked.

John nodded.

"Left foot forward, feet about shoulder width apart." Ron stated. John immediately did as he was told.

"Up on your toes and nice and loose. Now hands up, left in front of right. Tuck your chin into your chest and eyes on me, don't take them off of me until I says its ok."

Thus began the tutelage, in the art of boxing, of John Lock.

Maggie.

John went to Shirley Warren senior school which was five miles from the village Margaret and he lived in. Margaret went to the Soton village school as did Gary and most of the kids from their junior school. It was unusual for kids from Soton to go to any other school than the local one and Margaret was shocked that John would go to Shirley Warren. 

Soton was considered a better school and obviously closer so she couldn't understand what would motivate John to want to journey further away to an inferior school. She enquired to her parents about whether she could maybe transfer there but was shot down in no uncertain terms that it became obvious to her that John must have either really wanted to go to Shirley Warren or really did not want to go to Soton .

She had lost count the number of times she had knocked on John's door, but only to be told that he was either very busy or not there. She hadn't even seen John in the village at all and if she saw either of his parents they would politely acknowledge her and quickly avoid making any kind of conversation. Her parents were treated the same way by his and soon avoided them as much as possible. Pretty soon it was as if John had disappeared altogether . Although not forgotten completely John almost became a distant memory to Margaret but the small ember of love remained.

Boys hit on the quickly blooming Margaret all the time, her beautiful green eyes, full cherry lips and shocking red hair made her stand out from all the other girls. Her Irish temper had been a gift from her Mother's side of the family and there were times when she was hit on, especially by Gary, that it was gratefully received. In her mind she had cheated on the only boy she had loved so she was going to remain faithful to him from then on even if they were no longer together.

"My name is Maggie and you would do well to remember that," Was her favourite saying and seemed to work when dealing with anyone, as well as the fact that people always remembered her when they met her.

Margaret decided that she liked her Irish side and becoming Maggie made her feel like a new person. She passed through her senior school years with ease and left with good enough qualifications to enter the university of her choice. Nursing became her vocation and she excelled in her field, becoming a highly sought after nurse and climbing the corporate ladder quite quickly. At the age of twenty six she moved back to Soton to take the position of head nursing sister at the small town's doctors practice. Her parents had retired and emigrated to Australia but she made enough money to easily be able to afford to visit them sometimes up to three times a year. 

Maggie had all but forgotten John and although he would always be her first love she had met and dated a few men, and although being a good Irish girl and still having her virginity she had indulged in everything else but penetrative sex. Wanting to remain a virgin until marriage was, in her eyes, her penance for being a cheater and of course she felt it was the right thing to do. 

Moving back to Soton had been her wish for a few years and finding an available single apartment had been a massive stroke of luck. She was quite close to work and all the local amenities including The Rising Sun bar or "The Sun" as it became known as. 

The Sun had a long single bar, a couple of pool tables, a dance floor and a small stage with just enough room for a DJ or sometimes a small band. There were tables and chairs around the dance floor but there were also several dark alcoves with couches and soft leather armchairs that couples could become intimate in. 

One Friday night, Maggie sat at a table next to the dance floor with Elaine and Lynne from the doctors practice, they had come to the pub that night to listen to a local band called Solar Prestige. A night of drinking and dancing was always an enjoyable end to the week, where Maggie could relax and let her hair down for a bit. Most of the people that she had got to know since she had moved back, came to The Sun over the weekend.

"Hey grumpy knickers, someone's angling for a dance I think," shout Elaine , pointing across to the other side of the dance floor.

"Who is? What are you going on about?" Maggie shouted back.

A nail polished finger pointed across the table towards a guy standing, staring at her with a half drunk pint of lager in his fist.

"It'll be you he wants, that's Nick," Maggie pointed out.

Nick was a regular in The Sun and Maggie had gone out with him once, but so had both of her friends and also most of the single women in the bar. Maggie's date with Nick had been ok until the end. Nick had picked her up and taken her to El Sombrero for a nice meal, then had made the stupid presumption that he would get a "result," as he put it, and get his cock wet on their first date. What he failed to understand was that the only way his dick would be getting wet on that date, or any other date with Maggie now, was if he sucked it himself. What Maggie didn't know was that Nick had gotten his cock wet on most of his first dates including those with Lynne and Elaine.

"A little portion of Nick would do you the world of good, it would go a long way to getting some of the starch out of your panties," Lynne chided.

"Yeh stiff knickers, Nicks got just the tool to unlock those well and truly slammed shut legs of yours," Elaine added.

"Just because Nick gave you both a five minute prodding doesn't mean he's ever gonna get the chance to pass on whatever tropical cock disease he's picked up this week, to me," Maggie replied, taking a sip from her very rare glass of iced Vodka and Coke, and remembering the slap she had given Nick after he had tried to clumsily push his hand up her skirt whilst ramming his whole fat tongue down her throat.

"Suit yourself, but he would certainly help to change your nickname," Elaine said back.

"I don't care what people call me," replied Maggie, "The Iron Virgin, doesn't bother me or any other name."

"It would bother me," Elaine groaned.

"Me too," Lynne chipped in.

"Well I don't care, I'm waiting for the right guy, and we'll love each other forever and it'll be special and not just for the first time but every time," Maggie shouted as she rose from her seat and pushed past the few people on the dance floor and headed to the bar.