4 comments/ 250307 views/ 30 favorites Confession By: Bob Waters I never meant for any of this to happen. I have been married for five years and have never even come close to cheating on my husband. None of this is my fault and the only reason I'm telling you any of this is that I need to tell someone, need to get it out of my system. I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent woman, I'm certainly no babe in the woods but I can't deal with this. If writing about this helps me come to terms with it then, so be it. I suppose I should start by telling you a little about myself. I'm a twenty-nine year old woman, but my friends say I look a lot younger. I'm a marketing rep for a major software company. I've got chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. I wear my hair short in kind of a funky bob. I'm five six and weigh a hundred and nineteen pounds.. I am the mother of a two year old and am proud of my figure, it took a whole lot of hours in the gym to get it back to a size four. Even though I'm thin, I suppose I've got curves. I'm a C cup and my hips seem a little fuller now then before the baby. I guess I am pretty. My husband says I look like that Australian singer, the one that used to be in the soaps, but I don't know about that. A few months ago I had to go to a trade show in Dallas with some co-workers. We worked like dogs to get our exhibit set up and were on our feet meeting and greeting for two days straight. We decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner as a reward. We went to the restaurant at our hotel and had a magnificent meal. I had Gulf Shrimp, it was wonderful. The three of us polished off a bottle of Vouvrey with dinner. Jenny suggested we go to the bar for a night cap. It was early so I figured, "Why not?" Well, I like to chat so one drink turned into three. I was drinking gin and tonic. They didn't seem to be all that strong. I was not drunk but I suppose I was a little buzzed. A tall, handsome guy came over and started talking to us. He introduced himself as Jack and said he was here for the trade show. He was very nice and wound up paying a lot of attention to me. Alright, I will admit that I enjoyed the attention. I'm a flirt, no question. Hell, I'm normal, what woman wouldn't enjoy talking to a handsome man? Let me state for the record right now, I had NO intention of doing anything more then flirting with him. NOTHING. I love my husband and had no desire to have a 'fling' with anyone. Well, he bought us all another round and things began to get fuzzy shortly thereafter. All I can think of is he must have put something in my drink, you know, one of those 'date rape' drugs or something. I know that sounds trite, but it had to have been something like that because I went from buzzed to almost blacked out in no time at all. I had a few drinks under my belt, but not enough to send me that far over that quickly. I have since been over and over that night in my mind, and I think I have pieced together what happened. I cringe when I think of this, but I guess I got pretty giggly and affectionate. Jenny offered to take me back to my room but I insisted on staying. Jack began to get touchy-feely while talking and I guess I reciprocated, touching his arm and hand while talking to him, sitting close, the whole drill. I can remember at one point laughing at something he said while he had his hand rubbing the small of my back. I remember later, loudly announcing to my companions that Jack could escort me back to my room. The next real memory I have is waking up in my hotel bed, naked. I don't usually sleep in the nude so I knew something was wrong. I was bleary and hung-over, worse then I have ever been. As my head cleared, I remembered the events at the restaurant. Feeling a chill of foreboding, I forced myself to recall more. Almost as if in a dream, I recalled making love to a man other then my husband. I sat up abruptly in the bed and felt a little sore, 'down there'. I touched myself and the stickiness confirmed my worst nightmare. "Oh my God!" I moaned head in my hands. I remembered his mouth on my neck, on my breasts, on my.... oh God! My blouse lay in tatters on the floor, the buttons literally ripped off. I remembered him tearing it off me. Oh God, I remembered loving it! I remembered begging him to fuck me! I remember cumming for him, several times! The memories were fuzzy, as I said, dreamlike. I remembered having sex, but no real details, just sensations and flashes of images. I wept with bitter shame. I remember thinking, "What if I have AIDS?!" I took hold of myself and calmed down. I would get a test right away. I would not have sex with my husband until I got the results. I would tell him that I was not feeling well if he got affectionate. He need never know and this would NEVER happen again. I got up and went into the bathroom to shower. There, on the mirror, was a note. "Thanks for a wonderful evening. Can't wait to see you again." It was signed, "Love, Jack" I went hysterical for a few minutes. I tore the note into tiny pieces and flushed it down the toilet. I showered for about an hour. The need to catch my plane was the only thing that got me out, that and the need to escape that hotel room. I almost lost it when I met my husband at the airport. He sensed something was wrong but I just told him I must have caught something in Dallas. I went to my gyno for an HIV test. The 5 days spent waiting for the result were the longest in my life. I felt as if I had come back to life when the result turned up negative. Over the next few weeks, my life slowly became normal again. I compartmentalized my guilt, forcing myself to understand that it had NOT been consensual and that I had nothing to feel guilty over. It only worked to a degree. Foolishly, I didn't unburden myself to the one person that might help me, my husband. About two months later, the phone rang at work. I answered it. "Hello Robin," a familiar voice replied. My stomach flopped over. Any doubt I may have had as to who it was evaporated with, "this is Jack, remember me?" "You have a lot of nerve calling me," I hissed quietly. "What are you talking about?" he replied, oh so innocently. "You know what!" I spat out through clenched teeth, "You drugged me and raped me!" "Robin!" he replied mock shocked, "That's a very serious accusation. Did you go to the police?" That rocked me back. That action never even entered my mind. Before I could say anything he continued. "Of course you didn't, and, if you did now, no one would find a trace of anything in your system. Besides, I think our pictures would put to rest any claim of force you might make." My heart stopped. "Pictures?" I whispered. "Check your email," he replied as my computer beeped its announcement that I had mail. "How do you know my email address?" I asked. "I know a lot about you, you'd be surprised. Take a look at your message," he replied. With a shaking hand, I opened my email program. I noted a new message from an outside source. The subject line said 'Scrapbook'. It was blank except for an attachment. I opened the attachment and a very clear photo of me...fucking, for want of a better word, certainly not 'making love'...Jack appeared. Me on top, my favorite position. His penis clearly visible in my pussy, my eyes closed, mouth open in passion. Certainly no sign of force. "Where did you get this?" I asked, my voice quavering. "Oh, I have more where that came from," he replied happily. "You are very photogenic you know, beautiful cheekbones." "You know I was drugged," I spat, fighting back tears. "Prove it." "You son of a bitch!" I hissed. "OK, shut up cunt," he said contemptuously, "This is getting boring. I'm in town and want to see you. Get your ass over to the Plaza, I'm in room 523." "Why the FUCK would I even think of doing ANYTHING you want you BASTARD!" I railed. "Because if you don't, I'll send these snaps over to your husband," was his smug reply. I deflated like a balloon. I hadn't told my husband, Dave, a thing about that night. At first I was afraid to, then, as the weeks passed, it seemed like it was like a bad dream. If I just pretended it didn't happen it would go away. I know it was denial, pure and simple, but denial is a very seductive state of mind. If Dave saw these now, he'd have doubts I thought. I never told him. He'd see these pictures of me riding this stranger and wonder. He's always been a little insecure, he was very jealous while we were dating. Jack's voice interrupted my thoughts. "I figured you didn't tell him," Jack said, chuckling, "all you dumb cunts are the same. Get your ass over here, you have twenty minutes," and hung up. I sat there, stunned, looking at the photo of me on the computer screen. The bastard had the camera angle just perfect, my wedding ring sparkled on my left hand. I thought frantically, kidding myself that he just wanted a repeat and that he would go away. I told myself I could handle it, that I could turn the situation around. I would go over to the Plaza, fuck him and he'd go back to where ever he came from. I found myself making lame excuses to my boss and running out to a taxi. I made it to the Plaza with five minutes to spare. I felt the entire hotel was staring at me as I crossed the lobby to the elevator, that the scarlet 'A' must be emblazoned on my black silk dress. The click of my high heels seemed to echo like thunder as I got into the elevator and pressed 5. I floated down the hall to 523. I raised my hand to knock when the door opened and Jack grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room. I heard the door lock behind me and the rattle of the chain as he fastened it. I stepped into the room, noticing it was large and plush. It was a suite as the room I stood in appeared to be a sitting room. No bed was visible but a closed door on the far wall seemed like it might lead to a bedroom. An expensive looking sofa with a large mirror over it and a pair of armchairs flanked a low coffee table. Two drinks sat on the table, one appeared to be whisky of some kind, the other was a gin and tonic. "Have a seat my dear, I've fixed you a drink. Help yourself," Jack offered, stepping past me and gesturing to the couch. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to drink anything you give me," I answered coldly. He laughed. "I don't need to give you anything now, that drink is perfectly safe. You'll do whatever I want with out chemical aides." "You have a high opinion of yourself." "Oh sit down, this self-righteous bullshit is getting tedious," he replied forcefully. I realized I was alone in a room with a man, a dangerous man who was much larger then me. I sat. Jack produced an envelope from a briefcase on a side table and handed it to me. My worst fears were confirmed as the contents turned out to be more pictures from that night. There was that photo of me on top of him as well as others. Me blowing him, me under him, him licking me and even one of me with my hips propped up by pillows and him doing me doggie style. All of them clearly showed my face as well as his penis in my mouth, vagina, whatever. I could tell that I was unconscious or only semi-conscious in most of these shots, but they were posed cleverly enough that an outside observer wouldn't be able to tell. A truly disgusting close-up of my pussy dripping his seamen finished the set. I had time to begin to wonder how those photos could have been taken, I had no recollection of a photographer, but then I had only a hazy recollection of the acts themselves, when he took the photos from me and placed them back into the briefcase. "I rather think your husband would enjoy our little scrapbook, don't you think?" he replied sweetly sitting down on the sofa next to me. I tried to get up but he restrained me with a hand to my shoulder. "Or your boss, your family, why I bet I could sell these for a bit of money to a men's magazine or some internet site," he mused, " You really are beautiful. A real, classy type and such a body. Guys love looking at you classy types behaving like the whores that you really are. It was so nice of you to sign a model's release." He added a legal document to the pile I was holding. I don't know how, but there was my signature, or a good fake, there at the bottom. "Looks like grounds for a divorce to me, hell, I bet you'd lose a custody case too. No judge would give custody to a slut whore who does porn." I crumpled, burying my face into my hands and crying. He smiled, knowing he had me. "Now, now Robin," he soothed, "There's no need to worry. No one ever need see these if you just do as I say." Yeah, right, and the check's in the mail I thought, but I was ready to grasp at any lifeline at that point, no matter how tenuous. "What do you want me to do," I mumbled. "First, stop crying. Go into the bathroom and fix your make-up," he commanded gently. I still can't believe I meekly did as he asked. Normally I'm stubborn as hell. I guess I was in shock and happy to have some concrete task to focus on. I just did as he said and went to the bathroom to clean up. I normally wear little make-up to work. This was the summer and I already had a bit of a tan so I had just put on a little eye shadow. It didn't take me long to repair the damage done by the tears. I took an extra minute to regain my composure and resolved not to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me cry again. I returned to the room feeling a bit more self confident. It rapidly fled when I saw him setting up a video camera on a tripod. "What the hell is that for?" I asked, blustering a little to hide my growing despair. "I'll be just a minute.....there.....all set," he said brightly turning towards me. "Ah, beautiful as I remember." "I asked what that was for," I repeated. "And I though I remembered our agreeing that you were going to shut up and do as I say so hubby and the world at large won't get to see what a good fuck you are," he replied brightly. "I've got the stills, now I want some video, then we'll see where we go from there. Now, stand over there," he said gesturing to the center of the room. "You look absolutely beautiful, your husband is one lucky guy," he added framing me in the viewfinder. "I love that dress." "No," I replied. "You can't make me do this. I'll tell my husband. He loves me. He'll believe me. I don't know why I came here." I turned and started for the door. "Stop," he commanded, the word ringing with authority. "Does your son love you too?" I turned slowly, "What does he have to do with this." "It would be a shame if anything ever happened to him, wouldn't it," he observed. "Are you threatening my family?" I hissed. "No, of course not!" he replied, mock indignant. "It's just, well, this is a dangerous world and all kinds of things can happen to kids. I mean, hey, he's at daycare all day, Elm St. right?" He smiled. I went cold inside. "You're surprised I know where he goes to daycare? You'll find I know a lot of things. I'm very well connected and I've done my homework." He bragged, pulling another, fairly thick, file from his briefcase. "It's amazing what you can get nowadays. Medical records, school transcripts, credit reports, work history, it's all there if you know where to look. For example," he said, opening the file and reading, "Your most recent medical records: 'Patient presents for an HIV test. Patient relates a history of an unprotected sexual encounter.'" He looked up at me, "Tsk, tsk, naughty girl!" He went back to reading from the report, "'Patient has been in a monogamous relationship for five years prior to the recent encounter. Patient became sexually active at age nineteen with four partners prior to her husband. No history of STD. Recent PAP normal. Examination reveals normal, healthy, female genitalia consistent with status one para, one grava. No visible signs of STD. Bloodwork done and will be sent for full battery of tests.' Ahh," he looked up, "happily an addendum to the report indicates all tests were negative. What a relief." He closed the file. "You see Robin, I know all about you. I know who you are, what you do and even when you do it. If you go to the police, I'll know that too and you'll pay. I am far from a one man operation and we are very well connected." "But why are you bothering me!" I blurted, frustrated and angry. "I mean I'm nobody! I'm not some pretty young kid. I'm a mother for God's sake, I'll be thirty in two months!" "Don't sell yourself short," he smirked. "One; you are a very attractive woman. Two; you present yourself well. You have excellent taste in clothes, you are articulate and intelligent. Those are attractive qualities. Finally; while you are not 'a kid' as you put it, you are still young, you are in excellent shape and a matured but still young 'woman', as opposed to 'girl' has a great appeal to many men." "But, what do you want from me?" I asked. "That's easy," he answered, "anything I want. Understand this;" he pointed at me, "you are mine now, my property. I'll let you have your own life, but when I call you, you will come and while you are with me, you will do whatever I say until I dismiss you. If you fail to come, of if you displease me in any way, I will destroy your life and take away everything you love. Can you understand that?" I was devastated. I have never felt so totally powerless in my life. Weakly I asked, "What do you want me to do?" "You can start by standing in the middle of the room, like I said." I went. He got behind the camera and pointed it at me. "Subject is Robin Delany, twenty-nine years old. She looks absolutely lovely in her little black dress, Gucci?" he asked. "Dior," I replied numbly. I had on a sleeveless black silk dress, simply cut with a squared neckline and a hem about an inch above my knee. It was summer and I was tan so I had skipped the nylons and had on black Prada sling backs with a two inch heel. "Yep, beautiful dress. Take it off." he commanded. I could see the red light on the camera showing it was on. I guess I didn't move fast enough as he repeated, "I said, take - it - off." I could feel tears welling in my eyes again as I turned my back to him and reached behind me for the zipper. "No, face me," he insisted. I turned to face my tormentor and reached behind me to unzip my dress, the zipper loud in the stillness of the room. I pulled my arms through, but held the dress up in front of me. "Drop it," he ordered. I did. The dress puddled at my feet leaving me standing there in my panties, bra and heels. I had on one of those designer push-ups, you know, the ones that make the most of your assets, black with matching bikini panties. "Very nice," Jack purred. "You really have excellent taste in clothes. Now remove the bra please." I reached behind me once again and unhooked my bra. I slipped it over my shoulders and let it drop. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cringe. The cool air made my nipples crinkle up and he laughed. I saw him fumble with the camera and it made a low 'wrrring' noise. The pig was zooming in on my tits. "Beautiful. C cups I believe?" he said. Very lovely, quite perky, they really jut right out there, don't they. Hardly any droop. Quite firm too as I remember. You like the nipples bitten as I recall." I gritted my teeth. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "The panties please," he commanded. I was dreading this part. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down over my hips. They slid down my legs to the floor. "Ho ho!" he cried. "What happened to that lovely brown bush?" I had shaved for summer. I always did. I didn't want anything showing at the sides of my bathing suit and it made a nice little treat for my husband. We were going away for the weekend tomorrow right from work. I had just waxed so any irritation would be gone by the weekend. I saw him pan the camera down to my crotch. Confession "Nice job! No five-o-clock shadow for you Robin. You really are a classy slut, aren't you. This is going to work out just fine. Now, turn around for me. Slowly." I kicked the discarded clothing aside so I wouldn't get caught up in it and fall. I began to turn for him. I heard him dictating for the camera again. "Subject Robin Delany. Twenty-nine year old, Caucasian female. Hair; brown, eyes; blue. Height; five feet, six inches. Weight; one hundred twenty-two pounds at last physical. Married, mother of one. No scars, blemishes or other disfiguring marks. Measurements; thirty-six C, twenty-three, thirty-four. Dress size; four. Shoe size; eight." I wondered what the narrative was about. I finished my turn and he motioned me to stop. I stood there facing him as he finished his monologue. "Subject is college educated and intelligent. She is free from sexually transmitted diseases and is on oral birth control. She is in good health, a non-smoker and drinks socially. She does not use recreational drugs." He looked up and put the camera on pause, well, at least the red light went out. He smiled and said, "OK babe, time for your close up. Lie down on the sofa an open your legs." "What?" I asked, incredulously. He looked at me. "You've been so good up until now, don't ruin it. We're almost done here. Just do as I say and it will be over soon with no one getting hurt." I realized I had no choice so I lay down on the large sofa. He got behind the camera and the red light came on. I saw him focus the lens between my legs. "Open up," he commanded. I opened my legs. "Bring your knees up and open wider." I felt tears of humiliation and anger building in my eyes, but I did as he said. He began narrating again. "Close-up of subject Delany. You will note her pubic hair is completely shaven. Normally it is dark brown and kept groomed. Subject has smooth Labia Majora, small, smooth Labia Minora and a small clitoris. Color is a healthy, pale pink darkening slightly at the anus." He shifted his attention to my face. "Open yourself up." I scowled at him but complied, reaching down and placing a hand on either side of my pussy, I opened myself like those pictures you see in men's magazines. He resumed dictating. "Subject's clitoris is now visible with the hood pulled back, small and white. Her vaginal opening appears to be small. I can personally attest to it being tight with excellent vaginal muscle tone. Subject is sexually responsive and multi-orgasmic. Anal sphincter tone has not been tested at this time." The red light on the camera went off and he said, "OK, we're done with this. You can get up now." I got to me feet and reached for my clothes. He snapped, "Did I tell you to get dressed slut?" I froze. "I...you, you said we were done." "I said we were done with this. I didn't say I was done with you." "What, I suppose you want to fuck me now?" I demanded, trying to sound tough. "Not exactly." "What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" I asked, confused. "I mean you're going to fuck someone, just not me," he replied. My equilibrium was gone at this point. I must have stared at him like a deer caught in headlights because he laughed at my confusion. "In the bedroom," he said, gesturing to the closed door I had noticed earlier, "is the gentleman you are going to fuck. He's seen your pictures and has been watching you on camera here," he gestured to the video camera. I noticed wires running from it to what looked like VCR. I assumed it must be some kind of closed circuit set up. I shivered. "He is very interested in making your acquaintance. You will go in there and you will fuck his brains out. What's more, you will act like he's the best lay you've ever had. I don't care if you hate it and loath him, he better think you're totally hot for him. If he doesn't report that he is totally satisfied with your performance, you will suffer for it, or should I say, your family will." I fought back the tears. "I thought..." "You thought I wanted you as my little fuck toy. Well, sometimes I might. Other times you're a business investment, like tonight. This video," he said, holding up the tape he had just removed from the camera, "will be going into our catalogue. Clients who find you attractive may request your services. I will promise you I take care of my investments. You will never be given to a client who is diseased or who will damage you. Beyond that, you belong to me and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you. If that means having an entire football team gangbang you until you pass out, then you better make them think it's the best fucking experience you've ever had." He laughed, "Hell, you're a hot piece of ass, you probably won't have to fake it at all, but if you do, I want an Oscar winning performance." Stunned, I could no longer hold back my tears. They flowed freely down my face. "Now, now Robin. How are you going to convince the client you're having fun if you're crying?" He smiled, pure evil, "Well, today you're in luck. You see, the gentleman in the other room knows this is your first time. He's a very special friend of mine, you might say a business associate. He often helps me break in new girls. He doesn't mind a few tears, actually I think he likes them. He will, however, be grading your performance so you'd better not be a dead ass in bed. I will get a full report, and if he is less then satisfied, well.... Now, let's not keep our friend waiting." I blinked back my tears and looked toward the door. I approached it slowly, the portal to hell. I felt supremely stupid, standing there in my birthday suit and a pair of heels so I opened the door. A man stood there, facing away from me, looking out the window. He was older, I guessed mid sixties. That surprised me, why I don't know, I guess I thought he would be more my age. He was short, it was hard to tell, but he looked like he was only a few inches taller them myself. His hair was white and thin, but he was not bald. It was expensively styled. He wore a long, white terrycloth robe, the kind the hotel supplies with the room. He said nothing nor did he turn around so I stepped inside. The door closed behind me. I waited, standing there. He continued to ignore me. I actually got annoyed at that, I mean here I was, naked, his to ravish and this dirty old bastard was ignoring me! I don't know, I suppose I expected to be slammed on the bed by some slavering pervert. I certainly didn't expect indifference. I strangled a little snort at the absurdity of it all. He spoke without turning, "An ability to see the humor in adversity is a useful survival skill. It indicates a strong will." I knew that voice, that husky rasp. I thought the last hour had used up my capacity for shock, but I found out how wrong I was when the man turned to face me. I recognized him as a business associate of my Uncle Charles, a partner in his prestigious law firm. I had known this guy for years. If this was an indication of the level of 'connections' Jack had then I knew I was in deep trouble. 'Uncle Harry' here was plugged in at every level in this state, his finger in every pie. He knew where all the proverbial bodies were buried. My face must have betrayed my emotions. "You seem surprised to see me Robin." "I...you're involved with this? Behind this?" I stammered. "Involved? Yes. Behind your 'selection'? No. That was merely a fortunate coincidence." He sauntered over to me, circling me at arms length. Inspecting me like a piece of meat. "You were always an attractive girl, I'm glad for the chance to get a better look at you. You look wonderful without your clothes. I'm so glad the baby didn't ruin your figure, so many women let themselves go to hell after they've had a baby. You would never even know you've had one from looking at you." "But why are you involved in this?" I pleaded. "I mean it's not like there's anything wrong with you. You have no trouble getting women." Harry was older, true, but he had aged exceedingly well. He was a handsome man to start and age had given him 'character'. He was widowed and did have the reputation of being a 'ladies man'. He always had some new, younger, woman on his arm whenever I saw him. "Well thank you for that, I'll take it as a complement. No, I have no trouble getting women to go to bed with me. That has nothing to do with this." He stopped his inspection and stood in front of me. "What I enjoy, even more then sex, is power. The ability to do this," he reached out and grabbed my left nipple, twisting it hard. I gasped. "The ability to force someone to my will. To take what is not freely offered, that is why I do this." He twisted harder. I bit my lip as tears sprang up in my eyes again. "You see dear Robin, it's all about power." He leaned over and licked a tear off my cheek. I repressed a shudder. "I can do anything I want to you, and you have to accept it. This lovely body of yours is my toy for the afternoon, for whatever afternoon I want it. That gives me power. Power over you, power over your uncle. I can see him at the office and know I'm using his little nice as my fuck toy. Power over your husband, taking what is his in a way he never can. Power." God help me I was getting turned on. There has to be a sick side of me I didn't know existed. Here I was, totally helpless, about to be used by this perverted individual and I felt my pussy starting to tingle. "So, let's get started," he said opening his robe. He was naked underneath. His body was toned, not what you would expect for a man at the upper end of his sixties. He had little chest hair, what he had was white like the hair on his head as were his pubes. His cock was large but still flaccid. Much larger then my Dave's, larger in fact then any I had seen outside of some of the porno flicks I had watched on occasion with my husband. I became nervous as to how big it would be erect. "I want you to suck me. Get me nice and hard," he commanded. I hesitated for a moment, and then, remembering Jack's threats to my family, bent to take him in my mouth. "On your knees." I knelt before him. His big cock was uncircumcised. I had never seen an uncut cock before and wasn't quite sure what to do with it. I closed my eyes and took it in my mouth. It tasted salty, different from my husband's. I began to suck gently, licking the underside with my tongue as Dave liked me to do. Shortly I felt it begin to thicken, elongate. I began to suck harder. It came to me that if I made him cum this way, I might get out of having to do anything else to him. He soon grew long enough that I could not fit the entire length of him in my mouth at once. I started to fuck his now firm cock with my mouth. I tried to swirl my tongue around the head, but his foreskin was in the way. I used my hand on his shaft to pull the skin back, exposing the fat, pink head. My hand served double duty in keeping him from jamming his cock down my throat; he was rocking his hips now, taking more of an active part in the act, his hands on my head. "Massage my balls," he ordered. Whatever, I thought. I'm gonna make you blow old man and then I'm free. I grabbed his balls with my other hand. They were big, heavy, pendulous. I began to squeeze them gently, rolling them around in my hand. I tasted salty wetness at the tip of his prick and mentally smiled. It wouldn't be long now. Abruptly he pushed my head away. His dick throbbed in front of me and for a moment I thought he meant to cum on my face, but no such luck. He took a few deep breaths and his cock stopped throbbing but stayed hard and huge. "Very nice," he purred. "You're quite the little cock sucker Robin, but you didn't think I'd want to end this that quickly, did you?" He laughed, fully aware of my intent. "This is going to be fun. Lay on the bed and open you legs. I want to taste you." Resigning myself, I lay back on the king sized bed and looked at the ceiling. "You can take those shoes off," he said. "I appreciated the look while you were standing there, but they seem a little ridiculous now." Mechanically, I kicked off my shoes. They went thump as they hit the floor. "Hmm, not being very enthusiastic, are we? Well, I'll let that slide, for now, as a reward for some of the best head I've had in a while." I felt the bed sag as he climbed up on it. I continued to look at the ceiling. If you stared hard enough, you could see patterns. "Let's take a good look here," I felt his hands pushing my knees apart. "I love how you young girls shave your pussies. When I was your age, a nice girl like you would never even think to do something like that." I felt his hands, surprisingly gentle after the mauling he gave my tit, opening me up. "Why, you already seem a little damp Ms. Robin," he teased. "Don't tell me you're not quite as indifferent as you seem? Well, you have a beautiful cunt, let's see how you taste." I twitched as I felt the first probing touch of his tongue on my sex. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to think of something else, anything else. He used light little flickers against my lips. Butterfly light. He was good. I tried to think of doing dishes. I hate doing dishes. He used those light quick darts to open my lips. He started slowing them down. Feather light strokes up and down my lips, stopping just below my clit. I felt thick, heavy between my legs. Laundry. I really hate laundry. Long, slow swoops from my hole, up one side, across the hood of my clit and down the other alternating with figure eight's over the same path. Fuck the laundry. I tried to fight it, but my hips began to rock and my breathing deepen. He began to press harder with his tongue. I don't know how he did it, but he seemed to know just when to change tempo and just where to press. He moved upwards, concentrating more on my clit. I felt him use his hands to spread me open, pull my folds back. The tip of his tongue stabbed my exposed clit and caused me to gasp, the first sound I had uttered since lying back on the bed. As if that were his cue, he sucked on my exposed organ and plunged a thumb into my wet hole. I groaned and balled the sheet in my hands. I could feel him smiling against my cunt and I fought all the harder to stop my traitorous body from responding to him, but he was just too good. I got angry and, perversely, that heightened my arousal. He slipped a second thumb in me, licking my clit and sucking my lips into his mouth, his knobby digits feeling like, yet nothing like, a cock fucking me as he licked. I knew I was going to cum. I fought hard against it. I tried to detach, to think of other things. I delayed it but the delay served only to intensify the pleasure his tongue and fingers were giving me. Finally, the bastard bit down, lightly, on my clit and I exploded. Bucking my hips into the air I screamed wordless release. My inner muscles pulsed with such force I could literally hear my cunt squishing with each pulse. My entire body twitched with each spasm, emitting little yelps of pleasure with each convulsion. For a timeless eternity I came, all coherent thought banished, until finally my surroundings and my predicament slowly returned to me. I opened my eyes, and had to blink away the blurring, I had squeezed them that tightly together. I looked down to see him sitting between my legs, stroking my thigh, a Cheshire Cat smile plastered to his wet face. "You taste wonderful, as I expected. Your body is a wonderful instrument, you should be proud of it." My body was a fucking traitor and I was pissed about it. "Let's play some more," he smirked, climbing up and over me. I looked down and saw him aim his cock at my hole. I felt panicked, he was huge, at least ten, eleven inches and thick. I had never had a really large cock before, Dave is, I suppose, average as were all of my previous lovers. I had never felt the need for anything bigger then that and was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle it. Well, sure, I had given birth and that was a lot bigger then even this monster cock, but the experience wasn't what you would call 'pleasant'. I knew it would FIT, my concern was how much it would HURT. The answer was; a fair amount. I guess I'm kind of small down there, at least that's what Dave and a few of my former lovers said. I felt Harry position the head of his cock against my opening and then begin to press inwards. I can't describe the sensation, it was like, just when I thought I was full, along came more cock. I felt myself stretch, painfully, and let out an involuntary whimper as he invaded my body. Just when I was afraid I couldn't take anymore, I felt him hit the back of my vagina and he stopped. "My God, Jack was right. You are fucking tight," Harry gasped. He lay still for a moment and my cunt seemed to get used to the huge intruder, at least the slight pain went away. Slowly he withdrew his big tool, almost all the way out of me. He propped himself up on his elbows and, smiling into my face, slid it all the way in again until the head thumped up against the back of my cunt and his balls slapped my ass. He did it again, and again, establishing a slow, regular rhythm. A fucking metronome. At first I hoped he just climax and get it over with, but once again my body began to betray me. I had never been so full. Why the fuck won't he just cum? He's a goddam machine, pistoning away, grinning at me. There was no question that with each in and out my stretched lips pulled the hood back and forth over my clit. I was already sensitive from one killer orgasm so it was not long before my body was moving of it's own volition to meet his strokes. His smile grew lopsided, sardonic as he saw my eyes begin to glaze over. I felt my excitement build, much more rapidly then I was used to so that after a very few more strokes I was ready to cum again. I wrapped my arms around him and drew up my knees as I dug my fingers into his shoulders. "Unnnnnnh!" I moaned as I threw my head back, cumming, cumming onto his cock. Quick as a weasel, he pulled out of my pulsating cunt, positioned his now soaked monster against my virgin asshole and abruptly rammed it in. I was slick and soaked from my juices so thank goodness nothing tore, but the pain was indescribable. I screamed as my eyes flew open, bugging out. He pinched my clit and unbelievably I came again, or maybe the orgasm I was having got more intense, I don't know. I do know the sensation of intense pain and unbelievable pleasure blew my mind. I yelped, I screamed, I moaned, I came like I have never cum before, or since for that matter. It was as if all of the tension, all of the fear, all of the stimulation of the last few hours conspired to give me this one, mind numbing experience. It broke over me like a tsunami and crested yet again as I heard him let out a low moan and felt his hot seed jet into my ass. He pumped and I squeezed his cock with my ass, wanting to milk every bit of sensation out of this experience. All to soon the pleasure faded, leaving soreness in it's wake. Harry pulled his, now softer but still huge, cock out of my ass and I let out a little "Ah!" as it popped free. I could feel is sperm leaking out of my abused hole, I must have been as big as a truck tunnel back there after that pounding. My ass was sore, my cunt was sore and I think I had hurt my back a little from spasming. All in all I felt great. Guilty as hell, angry at being manipulated, determined to get out of this somehow, but great. "I think I can give you a good review for that performance, my dear," Harry spoke. "I think Jack had planned on 'sloppy seconds' with you, but I think you've done enough. It's getting late and I wouldn't want your husband getting too suspicious." I felt a huge stab of guilt at the mention of Dave. "We will be in touch, or at least Jack will. Don't think this was your one and only performance," he warned, getting up and putting on his robe. "It won't be often and we'll make sure you get clearance from work." I wondered how they would manage that but I didn't ask as I was afraid to find out. "It would be best for you, for your family, if you didn't discuss this with anyone. You may use the shower here." He started to leave the room but paused at the door, "Oh," he added, "keep the pussy shaved." He left, closing the door behind him. Confession I took him up on his offer of the shower. I took a nice long one, scrubbing the feel of him off of me, or at least trying to. I still tingled from what he did to me. When I finished the shower, both men were gone. My dress was hung in the bedroom closet, my undies arraigned neatly on the bed. My shoes were where I had left them on the floor. I got dressed and went home. I lied sweetly to my husband, telling him the day was routine. I played with my son and tried to be normal, but I couldn't. It's been three weeks. I have not heard from Jack or Harry. I don't know if that's a relief or a disappointment. I hate to admit it, but it's both. The phone rings from it's cradle on the wall. I answer with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. Confession "Bless me father for I have sinned." Even those first words from her aroused my inner demons. She sounded so innocent, yet, there was a sound of lust in her voice. Brooke Stevens was her name. She was an eighteen year old senior at St. Marks all girls high school. One of the most beautiful girls in the school. The envy of all the other girls. I often heard them making comments about her. Her reputation perceived her. Alas it is not my place to judge but to forgive and guide the young ladies into the right path. However, Brooke was different. She affected me a way no other person ever has before. This girl has been going out of her way to get my attention from the moment I joined the parish here. Everyday in class she would sit there and lick her supple lips so seductively as I was teaching my lesson. Crossing and uncrossing her legs showing me that she was wearing no panties. I am a man of God but I am also a man. The site of that beautiful young pussy drove me nuts. When she would come to my desk to ask for help she would lean over my shoulder and press her firm tits on my shoulders. My cock would get so hard. She was driving me out of my mind. Now here she is in my confession booth about to tell me her sins. Part of me wanted to make an excuse to get the hell out of there. The other part, however, waited there in anticipation to hear what nasty things this nymph was up too. "Father, I think of you late at night as I am lying in bed. My pussy is throbbing and wet and I wish you entering me." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did she have no conscience or morals? She was telling me, a priest, that she wanted my cock in her. What do I say? Do I go crazy and tell her that she is an immoral being and she should be severely punished for such thoughts? Thoughts that would send her straight to the depths of hell. I couldn't do it. This young confused, yet sexy luscious, beautiful girl wanted me to help her in her time of need. It was my duty to give her penance. Penis was more like it though. My cock was rock hard. My balls were tingling. The thought of this dirty little slut made my cock want to explode. Just as I was about to tell her to go home she standing there in front of me. Her blouse unbuttoned, I could see her huge tits, such hard nipples longing to be sucked! She was rubbing her pussy. Lifting her skirt for me to see her wet slit. My cock was about to burst out of my pants. I was frozen. I couldn't think. I was a priest, a man of God, but this hot little cunt wanted me in her. "Father Bryant, put your holy cock in me in fill me with the LORD." It sounded so right! She knelt down before me and took my cock out and began sucking on it. She was a cock sucking little slut and so good at it. Taking my whole shaft into her mouth. Rubbing my balls and stroking my cock with such expertise! It was as if she had a degree in falatio. "Father Bryant, do you want to pet my pussy." Who could say no to an offer like that. She had an amazing cunt. So smooth so wet. It smelt divine I had to taste her. No words could describe this luscious pussy before me. I had to shove my shaft into her hot wet hole. I laid her down on the floor and put my hard pulsating cock deep inside her tight young flesh. Sucking on her huge tits. The warmth of her wet cunt was driving me mad. "Fuck me harder father Bryant. HARDER! I want you too fill me with your hot cum!" I pounded that hot little pussy so hard. She was screaming so loud. "OH GOD OH GOD. FUCK ME FATHER FUCK ME!" My balls began to tighten I could no longer take it. I exploded inside her wet fuck hole filling her up with my cum! It was over now. As I lied there next to her I realized what I had done. We collected ourselves and began to exit the confessional. Upon exiting, Sister Mary-Margret, the mother superior, was waiting for us. She had heard the whole thing. I was white as a ghost. I have shamed myself and my parish. "Father Bryant, Brooke, the two of you should be ashamed of yourselves. How dare you get off in my church without me!" It was just then that I realized I truly did find my calling! Confession It is one of those golden days when all seems to move in slow motion. Sunlight takes on an unnatural glow. Passing traffic noises outside seem deadened, more distant than they really are. Words bounce off walls and then hang in the air like ancient insects trapped in amber. Is this the most logical place to begin this confession? I have moved all the furniture and rugs out while I redecorate. We sit opposite each other, the girl and I, cross-legged on the bare-boarded floor munching the sandwiches her mother has sent her over to me with. In spite of the wide-open windows, the room reeks of fresh paint and mineral turpentine. Today I am putting the first coat on the architrave, baseboards, windows and doorframes in my parents' old bedroom, on the way to banishing nearly fifty years of their existence in this house. The girl is called Dolly. She is six years younger than I am. When she was still a toddler, she and her parents moved into the house next door to my parents and me. She is called Dolly because her father, Derek, is an avid country music follower with a fixation on Dolly Parton. The Dolly sat in front of me must be a terrible disappointment to him. Not only is she medium-tall, dark-haired and small-breasted, although her mother once told me that Dolly was born a blonde, the girl also favours pop music by manufactured groups like Boyz II Men and Presidents of the USA. Why do I want to paint away the memories of my parents from this place? I am an only child. I loved them, but they are gone. I cannot live in the past. I want to erase the long slow agony of my father's emphysema induced death. Dad was never a cigarette smoker, but he worked as an engineer in an aluminium plant in his younger days when the unventilated, volatile fumes from the process came with the job. I need to erase the memory of my mother's desperate nursing my father through his decline and her quick, heartbroken following him when his lungs finally collapsed. This house and their genes are my heritage, but I must exorcise their ghosts. The girl rummages in the canvas bag she has brought with her. "Don't tell," she grins conspiratorially, "I pinched some of Mum's chocolate for our afters." She breaks off a piece and holds it out in my direction. "Wow! You'll be deep in the poo when she finds out!" I laugh, reaching out to take the dark, bittersweet morsel from her. Dolly leans further forward, holding the chocolate up. "No! Open your mouth!" I bend forward with my mouth open to receive her gift. Her soft, pink lips are slightly parted also and the tip of her tongue licks the lower one in concentration. She closes her mouth in concert with mine when I take the hard little bar from her fingertips. "Thank you." I tell her. When she resumes her former position, Dolly's short skirt, which was tucked modestly between her spread legs while she ate, has ridden up her thighs. I can see her panties; pale yellow cotton with white lace trim around the leg holes. Dolly breaks a piece of chocolate off the slab for herself. She seems not to notice how much she is revealing or its effect on me. She has an irregular shaped birthmark high up on her right thigh, about an inch from the lacy rim, a tiny light-brown imperfection on her otherwise flawless skin. I feel the familiar tingle in my loins and the heat rising in my cheeks. I want to kiss it. I clear my throat, "Errrrrrahem!" I have no wish to embarrass her but…"Dolly, would you mind doing something with your skirt…" Her face flushes also, "Oh…sorry Uncle Clive…I didn't realise…" She hurriedly hides her secrets from me again. We munch our chocolate in silence, lost in our own thoughts. A dark smear has appeared at the corner of her mouth. What would she do if I tried to lick it off? My mind is racing, pleading that she has not noticed the sudden erection that has sprung up from my groin. Dolly's voice breaks the stillness, "Uncle Clive…oh, this is silly…can I just call you Clive? You aren't that much older than me, and you're not my proper uncle are you?" She has always called me 'Uncle Clive', but we are not related in any way. I suppose Dolly's parents started it off. "Of course you can. I've always thought it a bit daft myself." "Ok…Clive…can I ask you something?" "Fire away." Dolly sucks in a deep breath; she always does when she sets out to ask me a deeply personal question. Anticipation hangs pregnant in the air like an invisible balloon between us. She comes to a decision and lets the air out in a rush. "How long have you known you're gay?" I reel backwards with shock. I don't know whether to laugh uproariously or respond with anger. "Dolly! What on earth makes you think I'm gay?" "Well, you've never had a girlfriend, not to my knowledge and I know all there is to know about you. And you blushed like anything when you saw my knickers just now." She thinks she knows 'all there is to know' about me? Wrong! But, Dolly is right about me never having had a girlfriend; well, almost right. I tell her, "Girls never liked me very much when I was at school, so I guess I never had much opportunity to take any of them out. And then other things got in the way." "Your Dad's illness?" "No, other, bigger things." "But, why didn't they like you? You're good-looking, and a really nice guy…" "Perhaps my being a 'nice guy' wasn't enough for them. Girls always seem to go for a hint of danger…violence, maybe. They found me very dull and uninteresting." "I find that hard to believe…" I close my eyes. Oh God! Do I tell her the truth? Do I destroy the safe, comfortable world of this lovely young person, who I have wanted to distraction from the moment I first realised she was changing into a woman? Do I tell Dolly that eight years before, her husband's continual country music driven absences from home made her mother Maureen desperately lonely? Do I say that Maureen's distress reached such a fever pitch that one day she took the hand of the tall, skinny, introverted fifteen-year-old who was mowing their grass for pocket money, and led him to her marital bed? Do I reveal to this princess of all my desires that her mother clasped my young bony frame between her firm, generous thighs? That I rode her mother's naked, big-breasted body until, after I had spurted four times in quick succession into her hot, liquid-satin depths, I lasted long enough to give Maureen the tensely shuddering release she had ached for, for so long. Do I tell Dolly that over the next six months, Maureen, with infinite patience, taught me to become a caring, skilful lover? That we have been lovers off and on ever since, whenever she feels the need? And do I admit to her that, in return, whether by accident or Maureen's design, I planted the seed for Dolly's younger sister Kylie in her mother's womb? Yes, little Kylie! Derek's unsuspectingly adored 'Gift of God'. The long and unsuccessfully striven for second child that he and Maureen had been unable to achieve between them! And do I tell Dolly that this is the reason her mother stubbornly resists her father's frequent attempts to move his family way from this town? That Maureen is determined to stay here so that I too can watch our love child grow? While my mind whirls chaotically with all these thoughts, Dolly touches me lightly on the knee. An electric shock shoots directly into my groin. "I am so sorry I upset you, Clive. I'd better go…" Dolly believes I am irritated with her because she thought I am gay! "No! Please stay…it's ok!" I open my eyes, but she is already gone. I continue with the painting, but I am distracted and make many simple mistakes. Late in the afternoon, I sense a presence behind me. It is Dolly, biting her lower lip uncertainly and poised to flee if I react badly to her return. She is carrying a Thermos flask and a pair of plastic mugs. Slowly, so as not to spook her, I put my brush in a jar of turpentine to soak. "Thank goodness you've come to rescue me," I tell her quietly. "I was making a real hash of this lot!" "I brought some tea…a peace offering…" "No need for 'a peace offering' as you put it." I smile at her. "Honestly, Dolly, I wasn't upset. You gave me one hell of a surprise, that's all." "I liberated some gingernuts as well. Can we go in another room? It stinks to high heaven in here." "Sure…" I lead her into the spare room next door, where I shifted all the furniture I wanted to keep from my parents' room while I redecorated. We sit in the only free space, on a pile of rugs in the middle of the floor and she pours the tea for us. We dunk the hard cookies in the tea to soften them. Dolly giggles when a wedge of biscuit breaks off and sinks to the bottom of her mug. "I didn't mind you looking up my skirt," she murmurs quietly, staring at the milky brown surface. "I was afraid that you'd catch me staring and think I was some kind of pervert." "Looking at a girl's knickers isn't perverted." "Well, we've known each other for so long. And you've always called me your 'Uncle'." "I suppose so…if you put it that way. Is that why you blushed?" "I didn't know I was blushing. It felt like I was overheating!" "At looking at my pants!" "There was a lot more to it than that…your legs are lovely." "Thank you…" "I didn't know you had that birthmark…" "Ohhh!" "Sorry! Now I am embarrassing you." "Not at all…Clive…don't think me too forward…but if you want to look again…" "Do you really mean that?" Dolly says it so faintly I hardly hear her, "Yes…" We sit in silence for a few moments while my mind digests this wonderfully intriguing bit of news. "Well?" she asks impatiently. "Well what?" "I am not going to show you, Clive, you are going to have to look!" I could simply lift her skirt and 'look' as she suggests, but I sense that Dolly wants more than just that from me. I take her half-finished tea from her and put both our mugs to one side. I place my fingertips on the inside of her knee. I gaze at my hand resting on her leg in total disbelief that I am actually touching her. Her skin is enchantingly, incredibly warm and soft and smooth! I look into Dolly's eyes, asking her the unspoken question. She has points of high colour on her cheeks. Her irises are deep dark pools. She nods her assent. My fingers slide slowly up the inside of Dolly's thigh, swirling, caressing, and stroking her perfect flesh. They reach the hem of her skirt and push it up her leg slightly. Her hands swim into my field of view. Taking hold of the cotton material, they pull the edge up a little higher. My hand follows. More caresses, more stroking, higher and higher. The only sound to break the silence is that of our shaky breathing. I circle the tiny birthmark with the tip of my index finger. Dolly has pulled her skirt high enough for me to see the very start of her panties. I can hardly trust myself to speak, nevertheless, I force the words out. "You know, earlier on when I saw this little mark, I was filled with such a deep longing to kiss it…you simply wouldn't believe!" Dolly's voice trembles with emotion. "I…I am so, so glad you are not gay!" she breathes. And with that, she lies back on the rug pile, pulling her skirt up to her waist and spreading her legs wide apart in invitation. I lower my face into the enchanting gap and ran the tip of my tongue around the area of her birthmark. But my attention is soon diverted to the swathe of yellow close by my cheek. Dolly tenses and gasps loudly when she first feels my tongue exploring her sexual folds through the material, but then she relaxes. After a few more minutes of insistent oral caresses, Dolly moans, "Clive! Please stop! And close your eyes for a minute!" She pushes me to one side. I feel wriggling movements on the rugs. Then Dolly takes hold of my head and leads me back between her legs, only now to taste and smell the full nakedness of her vagina. The springy hairs on her mound rasp on the tip of my nose. I tongue Dolly's delicious flavours and inhale deeply on her spicy scents. I explore her secret folds and the subtly different texture and flavour at the slippery entrance to her body. She pulls back her hood and my tongue and lips take possession of her clit, driving her to ever-higher planes of pleasure. I slide a finger into her clinging sheath and she explodes in orgasm with a shrill cry of ecstasy. I hold her and stroke Dolly's trembling flanks while the lightning bolts finish crashing through her body and the warm, spreading afterglow takes over. When she is complete, I ask her, "Why did you tell me to close my eyes just now?" "I am so ugly down there," she replies. "I didn't want to put you off." I kiss the tip of her nose tenderly. "Nonsense!" I murmur. "I am one hundred percent sure that you are wonderfully, perfectly beautiful!" "Are you really sure?" "Absolutely! In fact, can I look at you properly…now?" Dolly frowns uncertainly, but then agrees. I part her thighs and kneel between them. Then I shift her legs fully apart so that she is completely exposed to my gaze. Dolly studies my face to gauge my reactions and sees by my expression of awe and wonder that I truly do find her sex exceedingly beautiful. Reassured, she murmurs, "You are one up on me…let me see you." I bend quickly and kiss her between the legs. Dolly jumps and exclaims, "Wow! It feels like bells are still clanging in there!" I smile. "Now we will see something really ugly!" But I hastily undo and remove my shorts and underpants in one go before she can change her mind. Dolly sighs, rapt at the sight of my stiffly erect phallus and my dangling, hairy balls below. "Oh, Clive! Why is it that we each think that our sexual bits are ugly? You too are beautiful…so powerful…so magnificent! Come closer and let me touch…" I move closer to her, on my knees, between her thighs. Dolly reaches out tentatively and grasps hold of my hot shaft. "Oooooh!" she breathes tremulously and runs her fingers up towards my crown. Experimentally, she pulls back the foreskin, fully exposing the glistening, mushroom-shaped, bulging head. A clear bead of pre-cum emerges from the urethra and slides down my flesh and onto her fingers. "Oooooh!" she breathes again and with the index finger of her other hands collects the slightly sticky liquid and carries it to her mouth. Dolly's eyes lock on mine, staring into my brain, trying to read my thoughts. I feel her push my stiff shaft down until the sensitive head encounters the slick folds of her open-stretched sex. She slides my crown up and down in her moisture and then positions me at her warm, slippery entrance. "I am sure," she breathes. "I could have before now, many times, but I saved myself for today…for you." As I lower my pelvis to meet hers, my member slides easily into Dolly's wet, willing warmth. There is a sharp gasp of pain, but very little resistance. And then she locks her legs around my back and welcomes me into paradise. ***** "So you see Father, I have sinned greatly. First the mother and now the daughter. Dolly could be bearing my child even now. We didn't take precautions." The dark, obscure shape on the other side of the grill shifts uneasily. "Indeed you have, My Son, indeed you have. Tell me, do you feel deeply for the girl, Dolly?" "I truly love her, Father. I would to ask her to be my wife, but I am fearful that the secret of my relationship with her mother could eventually destroy us." "It will take much prayer, My Son, but first, here is your penance…" Confession and Absolution Christine left the hotel and went to her car. It was not yet dawn but she could feel the upcoming change between night and day. She got into her car, opened her purse, and removed her cell phone. She didn't bother to check it but just dropped in between her thighs. She started her car and sat for a moment, thinking about the nights events. She couldn't believe she had been allowed to do those things to another woman without him there. He had told her if she needed to do it then it was okay, after all he had been with another woman and this was mutually agreed on as a way to even the playing field. She just didn't know if she would have been able to carry it through. She had told him she had been with other women before they married but it hadn't happened in so long. Suddenly the phone vibrated to life teasing her freshly fucked pussy. Should she answer it or enjoy the ride she pondered? After the phone stopped vibrating she picked it up and opened it revealing she had received a text message from Stephen. She read the text. "Where are you? I have tried for hours to call and sent messages! You better have a good reason." Damn, she thought. He had given her permission to go out and play tonight but had set a few ground rules. She was supposed to have called to let him know where she at, and if she picked up someone, where she was heading. She had also told him she didn't want to fuck a random guy but preferred to find a willing woman. He had agreed to this and said he just wanted to hear everything about it when she got home. This she had eagerly agreed too and they made love prior to her getting for the evening. "Well I'm almost home and if I call we will just fight." She said to herself as she pondered returning Stephens call. Stephen was at home waiting for Christine to text, call, send an email....something. He was a little angry, concerned, curious and aroused. He was a guy of average build and took measures to take care of himself. He stood about 5'11", weighed just shy of 200lbs and was, much to Christine's enjoyment, very well endowed. He stood looking out of the front window watching for Christine's car to pull in to the driveway. He was wearing a pair pajama pants and nothing else. Stephen began to turn from the window when he saw the lights of Christine's car pull into the driveway. She didn't see him at the window when she climbed out of the car and made her way to the front door. She slid the key into the lock, turned the handle and stepped in the door. "Where have you been!" came a sharp tone from across the dimly lit room. "I'm sorry I should have called or something." "Yeah you should have. You broke the rules. Did you break any others?" "I don't think so." She sounded so unsure that Stephen clued in right away. "Why don't you tell me about your evening?" he asked as he sat down on the couch. "Ok, if you really want to hear about it." "I do." "Well I started out at McKinleys and thought about what you said. I started to drink a little and soon had met this woman. Her name was Susan and she was beautiful. She was about 5'9" 175lbs and had perfect curves. Her breasts were large and her nipples matched. We started to talk and I soon found out she had never been with a woman before and her husband had given her the idea." Stephen listened intently and realized his cock was being to bulge. "Go on." "Well we started to make out right there in the bar in front of everyone. I felt so free and unrestricted. I rubbed her inner thigh and started to finger her right there in the bar." By now Stephen's cock was at full mast and he was completely ready. "Well we continued to caress each other and make out and then she said she had to leave." She seemed to project a feeling the story was over. "Well then where were you for the rest of the evening?" he said, now with a more urgent aggressive tone to his question. "Before she walked away she gave me the key to her room and I got there before her and husband arrived." "What!!!" "Well when I got there they must have been making out on the way to the room. Mark, that's her husband, had come in the room and stripped down and he was ready to fuck. But Susan had come into the bathroom and found me." "Did you fuck Mark?" "NO! That wasn't part of the rules." "Good. So what happened?" Christine continued to tell him everything about what had transpired between her and Susan and was explicit in every detail and she watched as his cock stood at attention beneath his pants. "Does that excite you?" she asked. "Yes it does. Is there anything else?" "Well when we were done Susan sucked Mark's cock while I massaged his balls. He ended up cumming on her breasts. I helped clean her up by licking her breasts clean." "You did what!!" he sat up. "Ahhhhh yeah while I sucked her nipples, I licked Mark's cum off. What? I didn't fuck him!" "You broke the rules!" "What?" "You tasted the cum of another man." He yelled. Stephen grabbed her arm and took her down to the bedroom where he threw her onto the bed. "You know the penalty for breaking the rules." She did but she was ready or so she thought. Stephen took off his pants standing naked with his manhood in front of her he grabbed her by the back of her head. "You suck my cock like the slut you are!" She barely had time to open her mouth before he forced his hard cock into her. He pushed in deeply as she wrapped her lips around him. She was gagging with each thrust, but he didn't care. The intensity was animalistic and firm. She liked it but was scared at the same time. He had been rough with her before, but not like this. He continued to face fuck her and then he could feel his climax building. He came pushing his cock deep into her throat and exploding his hot seed into her. She was gagging and was gasping for breath, but so turned on. "There did that taste like him?" he asked "No. It was better." "Oh you want to make light of this." "No!" she replied. "Turn around!! Now!" She complied turning around on all fours waiting to see what his next move would be. He lifted her skirt to reveal her perfect ass to him. Then she felt a sharp sting as he slapped her right cheek. "OOwww" she screamed. "If you scream again I will do it with a belt!" "Sorry." She felt the pain subside slightly THHHWWACKK! This time it wasn't as hard but more pleasure than pain. Stephen continued until her ass was covered in hand prints. Each strike had sent sensations through her she couldn't believe. Her pussy was wet and she felt so dirty. Stephen grabbed her hair and pulled her head back slightly. "So slut, Are you ready to get fucked?" "Yes" the pain was intense but arousing. There was no preparation as Stephen positioned his cock near Christine shaved, swollen, wet pussy. He thrust into her as she screamed out. He grabbed her hips and pounded his cock deep into her. He was very well endowed and usually Christine took a little time to get ready for him, but this wasn't the case now. He pulled her closer with every thrust and she moaned and screamed each time. The things she was feeling were intense. Her body shook each time Stephen entered her and she actually started to enjoy it. "You are a bad slut..you deserve this right." "Yesss..I'm sorry." She moaned. Stephen slid his index finger into his mouth and coated it with his saliva, he then spread Christine's ass cheeks and pushed his finger into her tight rosebud. "Ohhh God...YESSS!! Fuck me now....I want to be your little slut...." She couldn't take much more as every feeling of pain had become pure pleasure. She felt like she was his dirty little slut again. She liked it. Stephen realized he had sent her past the point of regret and she was now his again....he began to slow down his thrusting. "Don't stop! Don't slow down. FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FINGER MY ASSHOLE." Stephen continued and quickened his pace as he pounded her pussy he fingered her ass feeling both tighten around him. She was moaning and writhing and he knew it wouldn't be long. "I'm....I'm cumming honey!" she screamed out. As she screamed he felt his own climax start and with each push he delivered his cum into her as deep as he could. She felt each explosion of his manhood and pushed back to meet him and by now was taking his cock deep into her pussy and his finger deep in her tight ass. Soon he couldn't give anymore but he could feel her pussy tighten around his shaft as though trying to get every last drop. They collapsed and held each other. "I'm sorry." She said. "So am I." he replied. "I'm your slut and only yours." She smiled. "Well lets not be to hasty." He smiled back. "Maybe we can find you another Susan." Confession and Consequences It was something I was reluctant to reveal to anyone. How do you tell someone you want to be tied up, spanked, and used for another's pleasure? To be teased, explored and controlled? How do you explain to someone that the very act of agreeing to something like this causes arousal? Well, you don't. Or, at least I have not figured out how. You give hints. You write it in stories or bring it up in little ways, and hope that your partner sees it in you and matches your desire with his own. Which is why, when asked directly, I found that I could not confess this desire. I lied. That dishonest response, however, burned within me until I could no longer contain it. Submissives do not have skills in deception. They tell the truth and accept whatever comes of it. Their very nature is revealing. It is their sensitivity and ability to respond honestly that makes them unique. Each and every response is a sacrifice: a gift to their partner. I could not live with it another moment. Confession became my compulsion. I sent a note to my partner admitting my deception and then waited, sure it would be too much for him. His response was swift and reassuring, acknowledging how difficult it must be to talk about and expressing his understanding. I was flooded with both relief at his acceptance and a sense of peace at no longer having any secrets. Which is why, several days later, I was taken completely by surprise. We had been dating for a while and routinely met for outdoor lunches on our afternoons off. Today, we had an outdoor picnic planned in the mountains, a relatively short drive away. He drove us to a remote location, and after a short hike we came to a clearing with a fabulous view. I spread out the blanket and began to unpack the basket we brought along. Lunch was an assortment of fruits, cheeses, crackers and chilled shrimp. Not too heavy, but immensely satisfying. We cleaned up and continued to sip on the wine, our conversation light and friendly. Stretching out across the blanket side by side, we began to describe the clouds. So far, we had not been intimate and I wondered if today would be the day. Sometime later, he rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand. His gaze bore into me and drew my attention from the sky. When I made eye contact, I was taken back by his serious intense expression. "You know," he began, as his right hand reached out and caressed my abdomen below my breasts, "I really wanted our first time to be romantic and tender, but you have taken away that choice." My eyes blinked in surprise, the expression on my face one of confusion. "I have to punish you for lying," he continued. My heart leapt to my throat as the memory of my lie flooded into my consciousness. I was speechless. Did he mean it? Was he capable of it? He paused letting the information sink in. My breathing quickened along with my heart rate and I felt the warmth spread quickly through me. "Do you understand what I am saying?" he asked. I nodded, unable to speak. His eyes searched my face for consent, taking in my expression and demeanor. Apparently satisfied, he continued, "Take off your clothes and lay face down looking that way." I looked for reassurance but found none. His face was hardened with determination. I moved to obey as if in a dream. I had imagined that the first time he saw me naked it would be because he had undressed me. I was totally unprepared to strip in front of him. I sat up and pulled my knees up to protect my modesty, then eased my jeans off my hips, rising only enough to allow them to pass over my buttocks. When I had kicked them off my feet, I reached up and took my t-shirt off. Leaning forward into my knees, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra; the last shred of clothing protecting me from what he had planned. When this was removed, I sat for a moment gathering the emotional strength to stretch out as he had instructed. He waited patiently but offered no encouragement or support. I rolled onto my stomach and turned my head as instructed, resting it on my arms, which were folded to provide a pillow of sorts. My hair covered my shoulders and tickled me slightly as the breeze crossed the clearing. I did not wait long for what he had in mind. The first blow struck suddenly, it was not too hard, but tears sprung to my eyes. I closed them tightly and did not move. "I have to trust you," he said between the blows that came at irregular intervals. "I am so sorry," I said in short breaths. He was good at this, I thought, as he continued unabated. "I need to be sure," he stated. He alternated between hard and soft, sometimes quickly and sometimes waiting so long, I thought he was finished. I could feel the heat spreading into my pussy. I wiggled slightly as my juices began to flow. "You do like it, don't you?" he stated rather than asked. I was fully aroused; it was obvious from my low moans and the fluid spilling out onto the blanket, still he continued, the intensity increasing. Every nerve was on fire and I was not sure I would be able to take anymore, when abruptly he stopped and began to massage the area softly. The curious combination of pain followed by caresses brought me to orgasm. His second hand slipped down my slit and his finger entered my pussy sending me over the edge. His fingers felt the tightening of my muscles and scooped to catch the juices that poured out over them. When the spasms completed, he gently pulled out of me and placed his fingers into my mouth. I licked my own fluid off of his fingers, cleaning them completely. I tasted slightly sweet, a complement to the wine flavor still lingering in my mouth. "Am I forgiven?" I asked. "Pull you knees up," was his only response. I obeyed, lifting my ass in the air while my face remained pressed against the blanket. I heard him unzip his pants and braced for his assault on my pussy. It did not come, however. Instead, he teased me, running the head up and down the outside of my slit. Brushing my clit but never remaining long enough to sustain the sensation. His finger would occasionally slip into me, but this was vaguely unsatisfying. "Please," I said "I need you in me." His only response was to back away. "I decide when and how you get fucked. Is that understood?" he said in a tone that made it clear only one answer was acceptable. "Yes, Sir," I replied through gritted teeth. I was desperate to have him in me and maintained my position only with extreme effort. "Sit up," he ordered, as he backed away. His cock was hovering in front of my face and I reached for it, taking it into my mouth. I felt his hands run through my hair, as I applied myself to pleasing him. I licked and sucked him gently, running my tongue around the tip and pressing it into the opening at the end. My hands cupped his balls and pulled on them lightly. I was enjoying myself. I closed my eyes and worked on him without thought of time. When he pulled away, I felt disappointment at the loss of contact. He knelt in front of me and reached for my breasts. I leaned back placing my hands behind me for support. "No," he said after a minute of contemplation, "I will not tie you up today, we need more trust, but lay down and put your hands over your head, and don't move." As I positioned myself according to his instruction, I could see that this lifted my breasts upward toward him. His eyes traveled up and down my form, missing nothing. He reached between my legs and spread them. Again, his hand massaged my pussy while avoiding my clit. I threw my head back in frustration, but kept my thoughts to myself. Then he began to focus on my nipples, beginning with a slow firm massage and culminating in a pinching and pulling pattern that was delivered in the same exquisite timing he delivered my spanking. He did not abate in his efforts for what seemed like an eternity and my moans grew louder and less human as he continued. I needed to have him in me, but did not dare tell him. My behavior was certainly a clue to my desperation. An orgasm began to build as I lost myself in his attention. Finally he lowered one hand to my clit and began to roll it slightly. The additional stimulation sent me into a series of spasms that took several minutes to complete. I was spent, and yet still needed him in me. His cock was engorged and I gazed at it wishfully. He locked eyes with me, reading my mind. So far, he had been a model of restraint. I was impressed, but knew now that he could not last any longer. I was right, much to my delight. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and entered me; any semblance of teasing had now vanished with his need. In that moment when he entered me, I experience an incredible sense of fullness, completeness and relief. There was no gentleness in his behavior now, only raw passion as he drove himself into me. I matched his motion stroke for stroke, my own need for completion as strong as his. There was no thought about anything, only sensation to be experienced. We were lost together. His hands pressed down on my shoulders forcing me to hold still while he pounded against me. My orgasm built quickly, my muscles tensing against him, and I heard him groan as he released his fluid deep within me. My own voice cried out as I felt him spasm inside of me. When, sometime later, we finally pulled apart, he looked down at me and said, "You are forgiven."