4 comments/ 32632 views/ 25 favorites A Good Girl By: Ashson I was just bumming around the house on a Saturday afternoon, watching the game on the TV. The game was, quite frankly, boring. Two second rate teams putting on a second rate performance, with me being too lazy to turn the television off and actually do something. The knock on the door came as a welcome relief. It meant I had to get up off my blot. I answered the door and Clare was standing there. Let me tell you about Clare. She was the epitome of the local good girl, the one held up as a shining example to all the other children in the neighbourhood. She attended school diligently and applied herself to the lessons. She never got in trouble at school or at home, always being polite and obedient. While not brilliant she was quite intelligent, and passed all her exams easily enough, a result of all that diligent studying. Clare was quite pretty, looked to be reasonably fit, and had what I consider a good figure. She was also sociable and generally well liked by everyone. She had been a Girl Scout since she was a kid and the reason she was at my door was that she was selling Girl Scout cookies. How sweet. A fine girl in every aspect, everyone agrees. I can't stand her. "Afternoon, Clare," I greeted her. "Come on in and show me your wares." She trotted into the front room and promptly laid out half a dozen boxes of different types of cookies, none of which I wanted. "You're still in the Scouts?" I said, making it a question. For some reason I thought she'd moved on from that. "No, not really," she told me. "I gave that up when I turned eighteen, but they asked me to help out with the cookie drive. Fortunately my uniform still fits me." It fitted all right. Like a glove. A rather tight glove. Somehow I don't think Clare realised just how snugly that uniform fitted her. "It figures that they'd draft you," I said. "Always willing to lend a hand aren't you. As a matter of curiosity have you ever done the wrong thing?" She blinked at the question, puzzled. "Well, of course," she said. "Everyone makes mistakes." "I'm not talking about making a mistake," I elaborated. "I mean have you ever gone out and done something that you know you shouldn't? Like liberate a packet of chips from the shop when no-one is watching." "What? No, of course not. I wouldn't deliberately do something wrong. Why would I want to?" "Just for the hell of it. Don't you get tired of being the local good girl? I bet you've never even received a spanking in your entire life, have you?" "A spanking? No. My parents never considered it necessary to do that. They'd explain if I was doing something I shouldn't and I'd stop doing it. There was no need for violence." "A spanking isn't really violence. It's just chastising a child with a little negative reinforcement. Does wonders with some children. All children should have at least one spanking to remember. Helps to keep them on the straight and narrow." "Well, I've never needed one and I think I've turned out OK," said Clare, her tone of voice saying the subject was now closed. Unfortunately I was in a contrary mood. Her Little Miss Goodie behaviour was really irking me. Petty of me, I know, but I was still irked. "It seems to me," I said, rubbing my chin and trying to look thoughtful, "that you just don't know what you've missed. Even at your current age a nice spanking would be just the thing to keep you on the correct path." "Not going to happen," was the firm reply. "Not if it's up to your parents," I agreed, "but I'm a good sport. I don't mind filling in for them for a few minutes." By the time that seeped into her consciousness it was too late. I was already sitting on the couch and pulling her across my knee. She started struggling but way too late; she was lying across my lap with my hand on the small of her back holding her firmly in place. Before she could finish saying don't you dare my hand came down hard where her skirt was stretched tight across her rump. "But I haven't done anything," she wailed as my hand came down a second time. "This isn't fair." "Life's not fair," I pointed out, giving her a couple more paddles. "Haven't you figured that out yet?" I paused the spanking for a moment. "This silly Girl Scout skirt is too thick. You can't get the full effects with that there. Excuse me for a moment." With that I pushed her skirt up over her bottom, freeing the playing field as it were. I must admit that I was slightly surprised to see the type of undies she wore. I'd always assumed that a good girl would wear granny panties. Not so. "Nice panties," I murmured, giving the material a slight tug. "They're lace and they're expensive," Clare snapped at me. "If you damage them I'll strangle you. Let me up." "I have a better idea. I'll just make sure your panties are not in a position to get damaged." There followed a very indignant squeal as I pushed her panties down to where they'd be safe. "You can't do that," she wailed at me. "Yes I can. You just saw me do it," I pointed out as my hand came down on her now naked bottom. "This is a much better way to receive a spanking isn't it?" Women can be contrary creatures. Clare disagreed with my assessment, seeming to think the spanking was a rotten idea. She actually called it that. A rotten idea. Childish terminology in my opinion. Maybe a little variation would help her adjust to the idea. Now there's not much variation you can give a spanking. A bottom does only have two cheeks, after all. Fortunately there is also that nicely shaped love mound right there next to the bottom, just the right size and shape for a hand to cover it. Clare had been protesting and complaining about the standard spanking but that paled into insignificance next to the squawk she gave when my hand land smartly on her pudenda. It was a case of SCREAM and "What do you think you're doing?" "Sorry," I said, quick with the apology. "My hand didn't mean to land there." I gave her mound a quick rub to ease the sting. Would you believe she protested over that as well? "Just trying to ease the sting," I pointed out. "If you don't want me to you only have to say. Now, where were we?" My hand came down smartly on her bottom again, distracting her from the accidental assault upon her pussy. At least, it distracted her up until my hand landed there again. There was no scream this time, just a sharp intake of breath and a protest pointing out that I was doing that on purpose. "What? This?" I asked, hand coming down with a sting on sensitive flesh. "Yes, that. Don't do it." "But it's all part of the mystique of having a man spank you," I pointed out. "Um, how does it feel, especially knowing that your, ah, bottom is bare and that the man can see everything." I was quite surprised at her reaction. Up until that time I don't think she had even considered there was anything sexual about what was happening. She gave a shocked sounding gasp and clamped her legs together tightly. "Now you're being silly," I told her, resting my hand on her bottom. "Your legs might be together but the way you're bent over means that you're still exposed here." I gave her a gentle poke to indicate where she was still exposed. "Actually, I think you'll find that you can't keep your legs together like that while you're being spanked. It's just natural to let them drift apart in the hope of distracting me. Women tend to think that the man would rather rub then here than spank them." I gently rubbed so that she understood exactly what I meant. I believe that one should give a demonstration when explaining something. She started squirming again and with a sigh I swung her back to her feet. She stood there clutching at her bottom and glaring at me. "You had no damn right to do that. You're an animal," she snapped. "I know, but I enjoyed it. Take off your uniform." "What?" "Your uniform. Take it off." "Why on earth should I take off my uniform?" "Because I want you to. It's not like you're going to take it off without me asking, so I'm asking. Seems reasonable to me." "Why?" "Why? You're kidding, right? So I can see you naked, of course. Why would you think? It's not such a big ask when you consider how much I've already seen. Besides, you want to." "I want to? What makes you think I want to?" "Natural feminine curiosity and pride. A man has just spanked you and now wants to see you naked. You're wondering what it will be like to show him." "Ha! If I did take it off what's to stop you from making a pass and groping me." "Geez, grow up a bit girl. Once you've taken it off I'm going to lie you down on the floor and take you. I'm not some teenager groping and making passes. Now, the uniform." She was giving me a rather strange look. "Do you really think I'm going to take off my clothes and let you make love to me? I don't do that sort of thing." "Why not? Is it part of your good girl image? You really will have to shake that tag and now's a good time to start." Reaching over I pushed her panties, which were still at knee level, down to her ankles. A tap on an ankle and she stepped out of them. I ran my hand up the inside of her leg, not stopping until I reached a point where her legs were pressed together. "Move your legs a little, there's a good girl," I murmured, continuing to lift my hand when she did so until I was cupping her mound. I gave her a gentle rub, one finger probing gently between her lips. Then I sat back again. "The uniform," I prompted. She swallowed nervously and started undoing it. Once she started it didn't take long and she was standing there, naked, bar her sneakers. I couldn't really believe it. A lovely young thing was standing in front of me expecting me to make love to her. There was no way I was going to decline. I reached out and took her arm, gently pulling her down onto my lap. She was trembling slightly but she sat still. I didn't grab. I moved easily, slipping my hand over her breast, letting the weight of it rest in my palm. Her nipples were erect, a sign that the spanking had aroused her whether she realised it or not, and I rolled one around under my thumb. She was breathing harder. At least, she was when she wasn't holding her breath. I gently pleasured her breasts, and could almost feel them swell under my touch. I turned her head towards me and brushed my lips against hers. From there I let my lips drift down, running along the line of her neck until I reached the curve of her bosom. My mouth closed over a nipple at the same time as my hand slipped between her legs and cupped her mound. Again, it was time for gentling her, letting her get accustomed to my touch. I could feel the heat inside her and it wasn't long before she was moving restlessly, wanting something more. When my fingers slipped between her lips and stroked her internally I could feel her holding her breath again. That didn't last long. A delicate probe near her clitoris and she let out her breath in a startled gasp. Now her restlessness was becoming more pronounced and she wanted more. I'm a fairly strong man and she was reasonably petite. I just lifted her up and placed her on the rug, laying her out before me. Standing over her I stripped, watching her watching me as I did so. Naked, I settled down onto the rug beside her. I didn't say anything. Speaking would break the spell and might make her panic. I just lay there, one hand stroking her breast while I slipped my foot between her ankles and gently drew her legs further apart. Back to massaging her pudenda, rubbing slowly but firmly, letting the sensations I was raising sink deeper into her. She was breathing hard again and there was no resistance as I moved her legs even further apart. Then I was kneeling between her thighs, my erection poised above her, then just touching her. Fingers at her slit, easing it apart and slipping inside. Fingers out again, but still parting her lips, and then I was pressing the head of my cock against her, pushing past her lips and into her. She gave a small gasp as I started entering and then fell silent, watching. The head of my cock had barely started into her when I lost control. Not of myself, but of her. My intention was to take it nice and slow, doing my best not to hurt her for this first time. It turned out that her intention was 'I want it, and I want it now'. She heaved up against me, pushing hard, literally nailing herself to my cock. She gave a slight yelp as her virginity fell by the wayside but that didn't stop her as she kept pushing up against me, taking me deep. I was startled to find myself all the way inside her before I had a chance to do anything. She said, "Oh, my," in a very satisfied voice, and her legs came up and wrapped around me while her arms were clutching my shoulders, holding me tight against her. I could feel her rubbing her breasts against me, relishing the feel of skin on skin. (Where her breasts were concerned I suspect it was more a case of skin on fur. I have a very hairy chest.) Now if I had considered the situation I would have thought that at this stage I'd be coaxing her past any tears and moving slowly, just teasing her arousal back to life. Instead of which I found myself swearing internally and trying to slow her down. She wanted to go hell for leather from the moment I entered her. I held her tight, quietly suggesting that she relax a little and let me do the running. After all, I knew what to do and she was just going on instinct. (And she had one hell of an instinct.) I managed somehow, finally getting a nice easy rhythm going, listening to her appreciative sounds and ignoring her demands to go faster. It seemed like only seconds passed and she was ready to climax. It was probably a bit more than that but she had a way of making time contract around us. I was still going nicely but Clare was getting frantic, tossing her head and demanding I finish things as she couldn't stand this much longer. She could, even if reluctantly. I didn't hurry and by a concerted effort I was able to keep her simmering just below the boiling point while I took my fill of her. When her pleas turned to threats (quite ugly ones, too) I decided that perhaps it was time to move along. I drove in harder, deliberately pushing her towards her climax. It turned out that a very small push was all that was required, with Clare almost exploding with the first really hard thrust, her whole body straining up against me as she shuddered and squalled her release. We lay on the rug afterwards. I was spent. She looked awfully smug. "So," she says, "how many packets of cookies do you want to buy?" My immediate thought was none. That was not the reply I gave. "I'm not sure," I told her. "Not that it makes any difference right now as I've no money on me. Why don't you come back tomorrow? I'll have had a chance to go to the ATM by then." "OK," she said thoughtfully. "I was planning on going out selling tomorrow so I can swing past here first." That was a fine idea. I wondered how many of those damn cookies I'd finish up having to buy. I wondered what would happen when she swung past the next day. Just how far would she go to persuade me to buy? I trusted she would put some real effort into it. A Good Girl? A Good Girl? The weeks leading up to Christmas are always a special time for me. I love the buzz that goes around the workplace as the twenty fifth of December draws closer; colleagues forget their daily grumbles and focus on the positives in their life. I treasure those moments when I can sneak into the kitchen and munch my way through a mince pie with brandy butter, or indulge my sugar addiction with copious amounts of chocolate. But most of all, I get excited about the time I'm going to be spending with Jennie. This year we decided to introduce a new tradition. The Friday before Christmas, we arranged to take the day off work, with the sole purpose of chilling out. We made sure we wouldn't have to worry about the children, as they would be staying with other family members. It would be quality adult time; to let loose and have fun. Such free time, in our busy lives, was prized far higher than any gift from a shop. We wanted to spend most of the day relaxing at home - doing simple stuff like watching a sentimental Christmas film, reading a book and tucking into culinary treats. In the evening we planned to go into town to celebrate, but hadn't made any firm plans about where we might go. As the evening drew in, we found ourselves snuggled closely together on the sofa, contemplating how to make best use of the remaining hours of the day. We were in no hurry to make a decision. It was great to sit back, without any pressures, and simply admire the decorations festooned around the house. In the background, Michael Bubblé was belting out classic Christmas tunes, while the sweet, fruity aroma of mulled wine graced our nasal passages. I was the first person to make a suggestion about what we should do next: "I reckon we should have a special game of scrabble." "Are you serious?" replied Jennie, "I thought you wanted to go out somewhere in town?" "I do. But we can do that after the game. Anyway, I thought we could spice things up by adapting Scrabble, to make it more interesting." I allowed my sentence to tail off, knowing that I had piqued Jennie's curiosity. "What did you have in mind? Is it going to be anything kinky?" Jennie replied with glee. She gave a cheeky wink: "After all, we are alone in the house, and you might want to have your wicked way with me, half way through the game." I couldn't resist laughing. Jennie knew me too well. My mind was always full of smutty thoughts and fantasies. "Tempting as that may be, I was actually thinking we should keep things simple and just play a normal game of scrabble. But the twist is, whoever loses the game, has to agree to be a sex slave for the rest of the night." I allowed Jennie to digest this proposal. I wasn't sure whether she would be up for it, but I hoped the copious amounts of alcohol we had consumed since lunchtime, would lower her inhibitions. "Ok. I think I might go prepared to go along with your suggestion. But, before I agree to this, we need to go through the finer details. After all, given my track record of whipping your arse at every game we play, I want to know what sort of things I can make you do, when you are forced to become my personal sex slave!" Clearly, I had struck the right note with my challenge. However, I wasn't intending on losing the game. Would Jennie's confidence be her undoing? "I think it's crucial that whoever loses, doesn't back out. Once we're both agreed to the rules, we have to go through with this. No feeble excuses to avoid being the sex slave." "Yep, I'm good for that" said Jennie. "The winner can instruct the loser to do anything they like, from the moment the scrabble game ends until the stroke of midnight tonight." I glanced at the clock. "So that's about six or seven hours as a personal sex slave, depending on how long the scrabble game takes." "Hang on a minute", Jennie cautioned. "There have got to be some limits to what kind of things you can be forced to do." I paused to think. "Ok. The loser can't suffer any long-lasting physical injury because of what the winner has said or done." "So would spanking or whipping be ruled out completely?" queried Jennie. "I'm not saying that. If spanking rocks your boat, that's ok. But it's about us being sensible with the amount of force used." "Well, I'm glad to hear that. When you lose you can expect some severe punishment from my hand!" Jennie slapped her lap in a pantomime fashion, to make her intentions crystal clear to me. "The other thing is you can't be forced to do anything illegal. If that happens, you can say no." Jennie still had more questions: "What if you are forced to do something really embarrassing or humiliating? I've got to warn you now; I wouldn't be happy if you posted photos of me naked on the internet or emailed the snaps to my friends or family." I leaned over, and gave Jennie a big kiss on the lips. "I wouldn't do that to you, if you didn't want me to. But I think you're right – we can have two extra rules - no photography and we mustn't involve people we know or are likely to come across on a day to day basis." Jennie mulled over what had been said thus far. I could tell she was imagining a multitude of ways to use, abuse, and humiliate me, if I became her personal sex slave. She seemed to relish the prospect of having total control over me and forcing me to submit to her every demand. I wasn't sure, if she gave sufficient thought to the possibility of losing, because within a minute, she confirmed her readiness to play this high stakes game of scrabble. I think we both realised that whoever won or lost, the sexual adventure would be mind blowing. It was the anticipation, as much as anything, that was pumping our adrenalin levels. We prepared to do battle over this addictive word game. We moved to the dining room table and the scrabble board was quickly laid out in the middle. Wine glasses were refilled and snacks were positioned nearby. We drew out seven tiles each and so the contest began. It was a closely fought game. The lead kept changing between us, and there was never more than fifteen points between our scores. To keep the tension going, Jennie threw in provocative comments, in an attempt to distract me from playing my best word: "I have to warn you, I'm expecting you to be a very obedient slave tonight. I expect to be completely satisfied in every way. I might not be able to take photos, but I can guarantee your face is going to be glowing red with embarrassment. But it will be worth it...for me at least!" gloated Jennie. I had to point out that I hadn't lost yet, and she would have to be prepared for the consequences were I to pull off a shock win. The alcohol kept flowing in between rounds of word play, ensuring we were both feeling the woozy effects of the drink as the game neared its conclusion. The final tiles were drawn from the scrabble bag. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere now. The scrabble board resembled a completed crossword, making it harder to find available places to add words. It was now my move. I looked down anxiously at the score sheet. Jennie was leading by twelve points and she only had two more letters to play. On the other hand, my remaining four letters were hardly inspirational - E, J, N and Y. Up until this point, I had instinctively placed words without taking too much time to find the optimum score. But as Jennie only had a couple of letters left, I realised this was potentially my last turn, and I had to make it count. But what could I come up with that would see me across the winning line? I scoured the board for an available space and grappled anagrams in my head. The pressure was beginning to tell. My initial optimism turned to pessimism. It looked like I was going to lose. Jennie observed the heavy frown on my face and sensed victory was near. She kept up the pressure, with her verbal teasing: "I can see I'm a few minutes away from another triumphant win. You'll have to accept, once and for all, that I'm the best scrabble player. But don't worry slave, I'll go gently with you... to begin with!" I decided that if I was going to lose I had to go out in style. After all, this was supposed to be fun, and did it really matter who claimed the prize tonight? I lined up my remaining letters and placed them carefully down. I used a spare N on the board, to create the word J-E-N-N-Y. I didn't know if it was an acceptable scrabble word, but I thought it would bring a smile to both of us. I did a quick count and declared my score as 15. "I guess that makes me the winner." I tried to suppress a wide grin. "Hang on a sec. You can't use people's names in scrabble. That's an illegal move, so I've won", blustered Jennie, "and more importantly that's the wrong way of spelling my name!" I reached for the nearby scrabble dictionary and flicked to the relevant section. I took a deep breath. My eyes scanned down the lists of acceptable words. I gave out the biggest sigh of relief when I realised I had struck it lucky. I had indeed created a valid word to win the game! The tables were turned as I allowed Jennie to view the place in the book where my finger was pressed. "I don't believe it!" gasped Jennie. I leant across and placed my lips tentatively on hers. The kiss lasted a mere second, but it was enough to send a clear message to Jennie that I loved her. "Right, Showtime!" I announced, jumping out of my seat with renewed energy. "Now, I've got a few surprises lined up for you. So just wait here, while I get things ready." I bounded away from the table and went up to the bedroom to make my preparations for the evening's fun. I left Jennie shell-shocked by the outcome of the game. She never expected to lose and was now coming to terms with the prospect of becoming my personal sex slave. Disappointment welled up inside, as she realised she would not be able to live out her own sexual fantasies as a female dominatrix. However, Jennie turned her mind to the adventure that now awaited her. What would I make her do for my own sexual gratification? Ten minutes later I was ready and I summoned Jennie upstairs. Jennie plucked up the necessary courage to join me in the bedroom. She wanted to show her willingness to play along with her new role. She lowered her head and performed a bow, to confirm that, for tonight at least, she was going to adhere fully to her subservient position. In a meek voice, Jennie spoke up: "You called for me, Master." With a wave of my arm, I gestured to some clothing laid out on a nearby chair. Jennie glanced at the items I had placed on display for her benefit. The most striking garment was a 'Naughty Miss Santa' costume. The costume consisted of a short dress made from deep crimson velvet. The dress flared out at the waist. The furry trimming along the hem of the dress was snow-white and there was a fur-lined hood attached to the back. Finishing off the outfit was a wide black waistband around the midriff. Next to the Santa costume I had placed a strapless lace bra and a pair of black leather boots. Jennie's jaw dropped in surprise at what was unfolding. I had caught her off-guard by secretly purchasing these clothes in advance. Jennie's mind began racing – If I had got these items, what else had been planned? I stepped towards Jennie and drew her into a passionate embrace. I lavished her neck with butterfly kisses and gently nibbled her tender earlobes. Jennie purred in approval, as I combined my kisses with dragging my fingernails up and down her back. My hands skimmed over Jennie's curves, sending tingles along her spine. Without a word being spoken, I grabbed hold of her trousers and pushed them down to the floor. My amorous advances continued. Jennie gasped as my fingers travelled along the edges of her knickers, teasing her inner thighs. I sensed Jennie succumbing to the physical pleasures. She adopted a wider standing stance. This gave my nimble digits access to her prized pussy. I seized on this opportunity and began rubbing my middle finger over her silk panties; following the contour of her slit. As I glided along this treasured pathway, Jennie's breathing became more laboured. Things were beginning to heat up but I didn't want things to boil over. Not yet. I stepped away. I made my first instruction to my slave: "I want you to sit on my face so I can taste your honey pot." I lowered myself to the floor, and sat back on my knees. I waited expectantly for Jennie to comply with my demand. Understanding what was needed of her, Jennie slipped off her underwear so she was naked from the waist down. She shuffled forward and stood astride me; navigating her needy pussy towards my hungry mouth. As contact was made, my tongue went into action. I devoured the folds of her cunt with licks and caresses. I continued my oral assault, by brushing the underside of my tongue against her pulsing clit. I began snaking my tongue deep inside her love tunnel. I was addicted to the taste of her succulent juices. I found myself in a heightened state of arousal just by inhaling her distinctive feminine smell. I would sometimes pause, allowing my warm breath to blow against her highly sensitive vulva. I could tell Jennie was enjoying my ministrations between her legs. She was trembling slightly, as she struggled to remain straddled over my head. The tell-tale signs of a looming orgasm were evident. She was beginning to swivel her hips with more urgency against my face, and she was making loud panting noises. Much as I wanted to bring Jennie to orgasm, my plans for the rest of the evening would be ruined, if I continued with the oral sex. So with great reluctance, I backed away from Jennie's embracing thighs. I wanted Jennie constantly on edge; wondering what my next step might be. In this way, I hoped the sexual charge she was feeling now, would only escalate in intensity. I reached behind me and grabbed a love egg I had hidden under the bed. Jennie was still standing in front of me, with her legs slightly apart. Without too much difficulty I was able to reach forward and insert the egg into her well lubricated snatch. Jennie's eyes opened wide and she gasped: "What was that?" Her immediate response was to snap her legs together and back away from me. "Don't worry. It's just a love egg. It's completely harmless." I rubbed my hands up and down her legs to reassure her that all was well. "Now I expect you to keep the love egg inside you for the rest of the evening, unless I give you an instruction to the contrary." I spoke with an authoritative tone, to make it clear what was expected of my sex slave. "But it's going to fall out!" pleaded Jennie as she squeezed her legs tightly together and put her hands towards her private parts. "Stop! Don't take it out! That's an order! Just use your vaginal muscles to keep it in." To her credit, Jennie acceded to my demands and did not make any further attempts to retrieve the love egg from its hiding place. It was amusing to watch Jennie's facial expression as she adjusted herself to the prospect of containing the intruder that had been pushed inside her vagina. "Right, I expect you to remove the rest of your clothes and put on the items that I have laid out for you." Jennie quickly disrobed her remaining garments, so she was completely naked. Jennie then turned her attention to putting on the new clothing. Jennie realised I had not left out any knickers on the chair, so instinctively reached for a pair of her own underwear. She had not followed my clear instructions. "I told you to put on the clothes I have provided, nothing else. I want you to wear the bra, the dress and the boots. I said nothing about wearing a pair of knickers." "But if you want me to keep this love egg in, I need some reassurance it's not going to suddenly fall out as I walk about", Jennie appealed. Her puppy-like eyes certainly gave me pause for thought. I deliberated her appeal and gave my considered response: "This is going to be the last time I will allow you to challenge me. You are my slave tonight and you will do as I say. Any further disobedience will result in punishment. But on this matter I'm willing to offer you a small concession. I will allow you to wear a pair of tights under the Santa dress. That way, if the love egg drops out accidentally, it won't fall to the floor. I'm determined that when we go into town tonight, you won't be wearing any knickers." Jennie digested this news as she examined her Santa outfit again. Judging by the length of the dress, there was a high risk that if she bent over, people would realise she wasn't wearing knickers. She thought about the implications of going along with my firm demands. She would be hugely embarrassed if a stranger caught sight of her derriere or bush. But she was torn by her promise at the beginning of the scrabble game. She was not the sort of person to welch on a bet. She had agreed to play the part of sex slave when she lost the game. She had to comply. Despite her fears and misgivings, Jennie followed my request to wear the fancy dress clothing. She put on the bra, dress, tights and boots with due grace. I had done my research thoroughly and they all fitted perfectly. Jennie was correct in her initial assessment about the dress length. Her upper thighs were fully exposed above the knee-high boots; the dress only covered her torso with an inch or two to spare. Any sudden move and there was a strong chance she would reveal her private parts. The low cut design of the dress ensured Jennie's sexy cleavage was also on full display. Her tits would surely draw attention from every passing male, and some women might also cast a jealous eye over her voluptuous mounds. Jenny gazed across the room to see her transformation in the full length mirror. She wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of her attire. She began posing in a suggestive manner; cocking one leg as she began blowing kisses and licking her lips provocatively. Tiny giggles broke the atmosphere, as we both revelled in Jennie as 'Naughty Miss Santa'. I sidled up behind Jennie and placed my arms around her. "I love you" I proclaimed with great sincerity. Jennie started to relax as I rubbed my groin against her bum. "I love you too, but do we really need to go out tonight with me dressed like this? Can't we stay here? I promise I'll make it worth your while", whispered Jennie in a sultry tone. She turned to face me. She began French kissing me, while had hand slipped down to grab hold of my erection. It was difficult to resist such sexual advances, but I was determined to stick to my original idea of being in control until midnight. The next part of my devilish plan needed to be put into action. "No. I think we need to go out now." I said, pulling myself away from Jennie's magnetising lips. "But before I order the taxi, I want you to put on some bright red lipstick." "But I'll look like a proper slut in this outfit with red lipstick on." I smiled and said nothing. Jennie sighed and reached for her makeup bag. I have to confess that I was in awe of how sexy Jennie looked at this point. Jennie had straightened her hair earlier in the day and she was stunning in appearance. I was so proud that she had gone along with my whims. Deep down, I hoped she would find the rest of the evening pleasurable too. Without more to do, I ordered a taxi. As we waited for it to arrive, I could sense Jennie's nervousness. For Dutch courage we had a couple of Baileys to steady the ship. A honk of the horn, told us that the taxi had arrived. I gave Jennie a gentle squeeze and kiss. "You'll be fine. Remember, we're only going to meet strangers tonight. You don't have to care what they think about you because you'll never see them again." "This is a complete nightmare for me. Can you at least say where we are going?" A Good Girl? I tapped the side of my nose, in a knowing way: "That would be telling!" Jennie stepped into the back seat of the taxi. With horror, she realised her dress offered no protection to her modesty. The dress rode up so there was next to no material covering her intimate areas. Jennie desperately moved her hands over her lap and anxiously looking into the rear-view mirror. Did the taxi driver witness something he shouldn't have? Jennie's fears were confirmed as she saw the driver's jaw had dropped and his eyebrows arch. The car set off and I placed my hand onto Jennie's lap in a supportive gesture. My other hand slipped into my coat pocket, and clasped hold of a miniature remote control I had placed there. With a simple press of a button, I was able to remotely turn on the love egg which was still inside Jennie. I knew the button worked because Jennie immediately gave a squeal and almost jumped out of the seat. The vibrating motions of the love egg sparked nerve endings inside Jennie's love tunnel and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Within a couple of minutes Jennie was squirming about in her seat. Jennie was too embarrassed to speak openly in front of the taxi driver, so started gripping my hand tightly and exchanging furtive looks to get my attention. I pretended to ignore her impassioned glances and feigned ignorance about what might be bothering her. Instead of easing the pressure on her pussy, I secretly adjusted the remote control, to speed up the vibration settings on the love egg. It was wonderful to see Jennie's resistance to the love egg melting, and watching her become more and more turned on. I leant across and discretely whispered into Jennie's ear, "I want you to spread your legs wide, and keep them open. Let's give the taxi driver a sight to remember." To encourage Jennie, I began stroking her thighs. Although there was initial resistance, Jennie succumbed to my prompting and eased her legs apart. With greater access, my hand wandered towards her nylon-covered pussy lips. Rubbing my fingers over the silky material heightened the stimulation of Jennie's slit. This brazen masturbation in the back of the taxi was arousing for both of us. Jennie could not hold back her own sexual excitement in spite of the situation being so embarrassing. Her body responded to the love egg's movement and the external finger rubbing. She was dripping wet. Her eyes closed and she found herself uttering guttural sounds of pleasure. The intensity of arousal was getting too much. Jennie launched her mouth onto mine and smothered me with kisses. She was so close to reaching the pinnacle of satisfaction. The slightest of touches could trigger an avalanche of sexual bliss. I continued to satisfy her. She was almost there. So close. Her heart was beating louder. There was no hiding place for Jennie from the approaching orgasm. She knew it was going to be really intense. But I didn't want that to happen! In an instant, I turned off the love egg and removed my hand from between her legs. Jennie looked at me with dismay. How could I deny her the ecstasy that all this had been leading up to? In frustration, she sought to finish the job with her own hand, but I pulled it away. "No. I don't want you to come now. You'll have to wait. Remember. Do as I say until midnight." After lots of huffing and puffing, both of us re-orientated ourselves to where we were – sat in a taxi, with a driver observing our sinful activity through the rear mirror. I was surprised we hadn't been involved a car accident, because of the sex show we had just put on for the benefit of the driver. The driver smiled, "Don't stop on my account." "It's ok. We're good for now. Anyway, I think we're nearly at our destination", I responded. Sure enough, the taxi pulled up at the side of the road. I sought to hand over the cash to the driver but he waved me away. "Keep your money. I got good value from what I saw." Out of the car, Jennie turned towards me, and began hammering her fists on my chest. "I can't believe you did that! I'll never live this down! You force me to expose myself to that taxi driver. You get me all worked up and then you leave me all sexually frustrated. You're such a bloody tease..." I flicked the remote control back on. Jennie lost her train of thought. Her verbal rant of frustration and embarrassment dissipated, as her pussy started pulsing in rhythm to the love egg. I ushered her towards the side door of a large building, we had never been to before. "Come on. Let's go inside. There's just one more thing I want you to do tonight." I knocked on the door. While we waited for a response, I twisted the remote control down to its lowest setting. This would keep Jennie simmering with passion all night, but it wasn't enough to take her over the edge. The door was opened by a middle aged bald man, who was tastefully attired in a dinner jacket and a black bow tie. A rendition of LMFAO's track, 'Sexy and I Know It' emanated from within the building. The man looked at the pair of us and cryptically spoke to me, "I assume you're Mr. and Mrs. Claus?" "Yes. We spoke earlier on the phone. Is it still ok to go ahead?" "Of course, you've timed it perfectly. You can go on next. I'll take you to our dedicated waiting area. Once I've introduced you to the crowd, the stage is yours." If Jennie had been surprised before, this bizarre encounter just caused greater confusion. "What's going on?" hissed Jennie, tugging my elbow, as we entered the building. "I've arranged for you to give the performance of your life tonight. It's entirely up to you what you do when you get on stage. Whatever you choose to do, I know you won't let me down." Panic set in on Jennie's face: "Hang on. What sort of place is this?" "It's an exclusive, members-only club. You have to pay mega bucks to be allowed into this place. They do all kinds of adult themed entertainment. You know, cabaret performances, strip shows, lap dancing, that sort of thing." "Whoa! Stop right there. We agreed that none of our friends or family would find out what we got up to tonight. This is way too public. It was bad enough what we did in the taxi, but not this." "They won't find out. None of our friends comes here. They will never find out. Trust me. You will be perfect." I kissed her once more. At that moment, the music quietened and the man began making the announcement: "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have great pleasure in announcing a new act tonight. She's a bit nervous, as it's her first time here, so please give her lots of encouragement. Without further ado, please welcome Mrs. Claus onto the stage." A loud cheer erupted from behind a nearby curtain. 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' began playing over the speakers. The bald man re-appeared and ushered Jennie towards the curtain. Without having time to think or object, Jennie found herself sleep-walking towards the stage which was hidden behind the curtains. Another member of staff directed me through another door, so I could join the audience in front of the stage. I was provided my own table, at the very front. This was my first opportunity to examine the venue we had come to. The room wasn't huge. I guessed there were about sixty patrons watching Jennie nervously walk into the middle of the stage. Although most of the audience were men, there were a number of women also watching the show. There was great enthusiasm from everyone, as they saw Jennie arrive in her 'Naughty Miss Santa' costume. They hollered and cheered her every step. Jennie was joined on stage by two muscular male dancers in their mid-twenties. One of the men had light blonde hair, while the other had curly chestnut brown locks. The men were identically attired in smart black trousers and gleaming slip-on shoes. Their upper bodies were bare, apart from a decorative red bow tie around their broad necks. The men's well defined Pecs were devoid of any chest hair. The word Adonis could be applied to each man. Jennie approved of their rugged good-looks and forgot the initial embarrassment of being on stage in a scanty outfit. Jennie was mesmerised by the eye-candy parading around her on the stage, as they commenced their dance routine. The male dancers began to incorporate Jennie into their performance by taking hold of her hand and guiding her around the stage. Jennie felt safe under their reassuring hold. They were urging her to join in with some dancing and started twirling her about on the spot. In doing so, the hem of her dress began to spin out and away from her legs. The twirling manoeuvre got faster and the dress began to rise upwards. Jennie gasped at the prospect of revealing everything to the audience. There was a crescendo in the cheers and clapping from the eager onlookers. I took this opportunity to increase the settings once more on the remote control; getting the love egg to perform an act all on its own. No one could discern the noise from the vibrating sex toy, but Jennie could immediately detect the increased frequency of its vibrations. After being spun round, Jennie was unsteady on her feet. This temporary imbalance wasn't helped by the large quantities of alcohol she had consumed earlier. But Jennie was protected by the male dancers, who kept a close hold of her whenever she was about to stumble. They urged her to continue with the dance routine, as they cavorted in front of her. In spite of being embarrassed, Jennie was finding herself increasingly turned on by the exhibitionist role. Showing off her sexy assets didn't seem so bad after all. Doubts about the morality of her actions were cast aside. She was being bombarded with positive reinforcement that she was doing the right thing. Her body wanted the delectable sensations from the love egg to continue. The cheering from the audience just spurred her on. The blonde man approached Jennie and moved ever closer, until his toned body was rubbing against her. Jennie found herself instinctively putting her arms around the man's back and together they began a clenched dance. Jennie was inches away from the man's face. Her face was slightly flushed from the sexual energy within her. But she was not alone in feeling aroused. As they continued to dance, Jennie could feel his firm erection pushing against her. Without needing to see it, Jennie knew this man was well endowed. His lengthy meat kept rubbing against her legs. It was sending teasing messages to her; promising her complete satisfaction, if only it were released from the trousers. Jennie salivated at the thought of feeling this stranger's appendage deep inside her. The second dancer approached Jennie from behind, and in one smooth move she became the equivalent of a sandwich filling; stuck dancing between these two beefy men. Jennie was getting sensory overload. With every swish of her hips, she was poked by their 'loaded weapons'. The atmosphere was electric. These men had deep primal urges to sexually devour her, and she was caught up in their erotic desires. By now, the music had moved onto the next track, Robert Thicke's 'Blurred Lines'. Following the rhythmic beat of the song, Jennie found herself thrusting her pelvis towards the blonde dancer, and then pushing her bum towards the other man's tented trousers. Jennie was so turned on from dry humping the blonde man. The tips of her fingers sneaked down the back of his trousers and a bolt of excitement shot through her as she clocked he had no underwear on. Her hands pushed further down the back of his trousers so she could firmly grope his arse cheeks. Enjoying the experience, the man started singing along to the music: "And that's why I'm gon' take a good girl, I know you want it, I know you want it, I know you want it, You're a good girl..." Jennie couldn't believe she was doing this in front of me and the wider audience. But the irresistible pleasure sensations in her body kept muddling her brain. The crowd strongly approved of Jennie's performance and kept shouting encouragement. I was joining them with cheering and clapping. The man continued his mini-karaoke rendition: "I feel so lucky, Hey, hey, hey, You wanna hug me, Hey, hey, hey, What rhymes with hug me? Hey, hey, hey..." As he purred the suggestive lyrics to Jennie, he grabbed hold of his own trousers. The trousers had been specially prepared for a strip show, using Velcro fastenings. This allowed the dancers to quickly removal their garments. With a swift tug, the trousers fell away from his legs, and were casually discarded onto the stage floor. The second dancer followed suit and ripped away his trousers. Both men slipped out of their shoes so they were now completely in the buff. Jennie couldn't help drooling at these fine male specimens. Their engorged cocks jumped to attention, as they were freed from the confinement of the trousers. Both cocks were suitably large. The biggest belonged to the blonde man and must have measured nine inches. The other man was also endowed with an eight inch penis that had plenty of girth to match. An attractive woman entered the stage, to further whoops from the audience. She was wearing a 'Saucy Elf' Christmas outfit. Her bodice was a mixture of red and green, with white lacing. She wore a tiny red thong and her legs were adorned with red and white, striped stockings. To finish the ensemble, she wore a red and green elf hat. The woman oozed sex appeal, as her plump round breasts sought to escape out of the top of the bodice. The woman pushed a golden throne into the middle of the stage. The two male dancers gently escorted Jennie to sit down on the throne. As Jennie settled herself into the seat, her legs were eased apart by the men. She realised, that if she hadn't been flashing her pussy to the audience earlier, she certainly would be now. Like a pair of matching statues, the men stood on each side of the arm-rests, facing towards a transfixed Jennie. They lifted Jennie's hands and guided them towards their erections. She felt powerless to resist and found herself grasping hold of two penises simultaneously. It was difficult for Jennie to comprehend her feelings at this point in the night. She was exhilarated by all the attention she had been receiving. She revelled in the wanton nature of her current behaviour. It was so out of character. Basic instinct kicked in and Jennie began to do what she knew best. She firmly gripped the gorgeous cocks and began to pump them for all they were worth. Up and down, her hands tugged. As her digits squeezed tightly on the shafts, she felt the heat from the blood pulsing through them. She began preparing a countdown in her head for when the men would launch a fountain of cum upon her. Jennie didn't care about the potential mess of two men ejaculating all over her. If anything, it fuelled her basic urges. She continued to wank both men simultaneously, faster and faster. The sexy elf girl had no intention of remaining redundant in this public sex show. She wanted to join in the proceedings. She knelt between Jennie's legs and tenderly offered her tongue to Jennie's pussy. Jennie's tights were sodden wet, from all of the sexual excitement so far. This did not put off the elf girl. Far from it, she was more motivated to taste this most precious, amber nectar. The elf girl started licking Jennie's outer pussy lips, through the nylon gusset. Jennie couldn't take any more of this sexual drama. Jennie surged towards her own intense orgasm, with an outpouring of grunts, moans and screams. Jennie exploded with waves of passion. Her muscles rippled. Pulses of physical pleasure emanated from her pussy and spread throughout her body. The sexy elf-girl found her face covered with fresh pussy juices, as Jennie lost all control. This was the cue for the men to spurt their creamy load onto Jennie's heaving chest. The spunk formed an arc a metre into the air before descending onto Jennie. The globules of sticky semen formed pools on Jennie's chest, with some of it dribbling down her cleavage. The elf-girl climbed up Jennie's body and offered to lick off the come from her bosom. She lapped up the white liquid, like a contented cat. I was the first person in the audience to offer a standing ovation, but was immediately joined by the others. The afterglow of contentment radiated from Jennie's face. She didn't care what she looked like or what other people might think of her. What she did know was she had been the perfect slave for me and this was going to be a Christmas she would never forget. THE END. A Good Girl Is an Easy Sacrifice Johnny Manley has a problem. When he loves a girl, he gets too invested. He longs to lose himself in the needs of his mate. But Johnny understands that this is no good for him. He knows he needs to change. He meets Dominique Thomas, a young girl fresh from the Caribbean. Johnny knows he needs to find new ways to relate to women. He hopes sweet Dominique can help him overcome. But if Johnny is to succeed, if he is to flourish and thrive, he will first have to make a sacrifice. Something about him must change. What might it be? Perhaps something to do with his illusions about women, good girls. ---- Johnny Manley watched Dominique Thomas make her way up the stairwell. Fresh from Barbados, she had creamy dark skin and a slim athletic build. She'd told Johnny she was nineteen, but he didn't believe her. "The one on the right," Johnny murmured as they hit the final landing. Johnny kept his voice low, so as not to wake the old lady on three. Dominique looked over her shoulder and smiled. If she was nineteen, then Johnny was ten years her senior. He hoped that a younger girl, a teenager, might help him solve his problem. She looked nervous. Dominique was a good girl and Johnny knew just how to treat her. That was a big part of his problem. He'd spent most of the day wooing her. He'd taken the crosstown train to her home in the projects earlier that afternoon. Met with her sisters, a flock of thick-armed women, all living in the same apartment, wearing the same blue hospital work uniforms. They'd cooed over Johnny and made a big fuss. Fed him some dark stew with simmering knobs of bone, a light skim of grease. Johnny loved the good girls. When he fell in love, he liked to give his girl all that he had. He gave his paycheck first. Soon after came his undying attention, and then an open heart followed. Johnny gave it all. He couldn't help himself. He held nothing back. Johnny once gave a girl his '74 blue Chevy Nova. He'd just made the final payment. Johnny knew he had a problem. Dominique entered the apartment. She passed through the tiny kitchen and into the living room. Johnny flicked on the overhead. Save for a single recliner pushed against the wall, the living room was empty. Four walls of nothing. Two bare windows overlooked the deserted street below. Dominique laughed, a lyrical, happy sound. She went on laughing a little too long and Johnny looked at her. "I'm sorry," Dominique said, her voice contrite. "I'm just starting out," Johnny said. He was surprised by the pang of shame he felt at her amusement. Johnny flipped off the overhead and two pale rectangles of streetlight reached across the floor. "Want something to drink?" he asked. There was only water. He handed Dominique a glass of tap water and then sat in the recliner. Dominique stood in front of him holding her glass, looking uncomfortable. She was an attractive girl in modest clothes: A button down cotton blouse, a light knit sweater. Designer jeans. She'd straightened her coarse hair, teased it into a giant pillow framing her face. She looked like a fresh daisy. She didn't know where to sit. He invited her into his lap with a wave of his hand. Careful not to spill her water, she tucked herself into the chair, her hip on his groin. She didn't weigh much. He could smell the coconut scented conditioner she used in her hair. Johnny had met her at Bronx Community College. Night classes. He liked her because she was from a small town, on a small island, somewhere in the middle of the sea. Dominique missed everything about Barbados, even the strict father she had left behind there. When they talked, Johnny could hear the longing in her voice. He enjoyed telling her about Carnal, the small town where he grew up. Where his own large family still lived. When she would ask why he'd come all alone to New York, he always changed the subject. He liked her. But he didn't want to tell her about his problem. Johnny wanted to love her, but not too much. He had no idea what a healthy relationship with her might look like. Leaning over the arm of the chair, he set his water glass on the floor. When he came back up, he kissed her gently on the mouth. Put his fingers on her chin. Tilted her head up. She sighed. Kissed him back. He took her glass and set it next to his on the floor. He put one of his hands on her thigh, the other on the small of her back. They necked, his tongue deep in her mouth. She eagerly returned his kisses. But when he slipped one of his hands between her legs, she locked her ankles together and squeezed with all her might. She wouldn't let him pet her breasts either. Johnny took it all in stride. It wasn't sex he was after. "Don't you like me?" he asked. He kept his voice low, just a murmur. "It's okay. I mean, it's totally cool. I completely understand." "Wait, whoa—" Dominique said. "Hold on." She shook her head. Bit her lip. Dominique wanted her green card. Many of her friends had simply married to get one. But Dominique was a good girl. She could only marry a man she truly liked. "I do like you," she said. Johnny considered this for a minute. Dominique put her head on his strong chest, cuddled closer to him. Johnny idly stroked her back. "Well, then, what's wrong?" he whispered. "What do you mean," she wanted to know. She raised her head, met his gaze. Her voice was low, wavering. She looked confused. "It's like a wrestling match," he said. Dominique swallowed. She looked shocked to hear him describe their behavior this way. She didn't respond. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Let's get up," he said. Dominique looked crestfallen. She obediently stood and Johnny followed her to his feet. "Come on," Johnny said. He took her hand and headed into the bedroom. When she saw where he was headed, she stopped short. "We'll be more comfortable on the bed," he said. Her eyes went wide, and he almost laughed. "We don't have to do anything," he said. She didn't say anything. A distant car alarm wailed somewhere in the night. "The chair is killing me," he said. She laughed softly. The chair was uncomfortable. He dropped her hand and headed into the bedroom alone. Flopping onto the bed, Johnny kicked off his shoes, then crawled to a sit against the back wall. She followed him inside. Sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight. She wouldn't look at him. Her hands were in her lap. "I can't," she whispered. "Can't what?" he asked, genuinely unsure what she meant. She looked at him. Running her hand across the bedspread, she stretched her body out next to him on the bed. Propping herself on her elbow, she looked around the bare room. "It's a bad time for me," she said, emphasizing the words bad and time. She was looking away from him, though there was nothing else in the room to see. She shrugged. "I just—" She turned to look at him. "I can't." He wasn't sure what she was telling him for a minute and then he got it. "Menstruation?" He laughed, genuinely amused. "We could take a dip in the red river," he said. She snorted, aghast, and then laughed herself. Her face flushed. "I've never met anyone like you before," she said. "I have plenty of towels," he added hopefully. He liked the music of her laughter. "What should we do?" he asked. He reached out to her. His fingers danced along the buttons of her blouse. She allowed it. Soon he was tracing her small breasts through the fabric of her top. He kissed her softly and opened her top button. Dominique lay still, hardly breathing, as he unfastened a few more buttons on her shirt. "What about oral sex," he murmured. His finger drew an invisible line from the wire in the base of her bra to her bellybutton. Her body stiffened. She licked her lips. For a beat no one said anything, and then he looked her pointedly in the eye. "I already told you," she said. Her voice was a hoarse whisper now. "I can't." "No, I mean me," he said. He grinned. His cock twitched in his pants. He reached two of his fingers into her bra, the soft pad of his fingertips finding her nipple. The room went quiet again. "Sure," she said. Her voice sounded clipped. Determined. "Okay," she added. He was surprised, wanted to laugh with delight. But instead, he stood on the bed and unzipped his fly. He wasn't completely sure she'd follow through, and he didn't want to give her any easy excuses to back out. Pulling his cock out, he stroked it. Let his pants fall to his knees. Dominique averted her eyes as she swung her legs under herself. She sat on her heels, then finally allowed her gaze to settle on his cock. He stroked himself. When his cock rose and rolled from his groin, he let it go. It was pink, long as a carrot, and swaying in a thick thatch of golden hair. He put his hands on his hips and waited. Dominique rose to her knees. She pursed her lips, then licked them. She put one of her hands on his naked thigh, and with the other hand she took the warm shaft of his cock. She held it in her hand like a little bird. Felt its small weight, its warmth. Looking up at him with a shy grin, she quickly looked away again. Couldn't meet his eyes. He watched her take his cock in her mouth. Her cheeks went concave. He felt a sudden and immediate discomfort, a white hot pain shooting between his legs. She was sucking on his penis as if she were siphoning gasoline. "Hey—" he said. "Hey!" He gently but firmly pushed her head away from his cock. He laughed, cupping his penis protectively in his hand. "—what the hell?" Dominique sat back and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "What are you doing?" he asked. She didn't answer and he chuckled. Her face flushed. She laughed, raised both her hands in a helpless gesture. "Sucking it," she said. Her voice was a whisper. "I'm sucking your . . ." She stopped, not quite sure how to say the rest. "Dick," she giggled. He laughed merrily. Something about her inexperience awakened something in him that was equal parts tender and silly. He wanted to save her. Coddle her. Place her high upon a pedestal of his own creation. But Johnny knew none of that would do. "It's not a goddamn vanilla milk shake," he laughed. "You think you're at McDonalds?" She laughed, lowered her head, and put her hand to her forehead. She stayed like that for a beat and then dabbed at the corner of her eye with one of her fingers. He saw the tears and immediately regretted his language. He'd meant to sound cavalier, but it came out sounding too harsh. "It's okay," he said. He took her chin in his hand. Tilted her head up. "They call it 'sucking'," he said, "but it's not really accurate. It's more like fucking, than sucking. But instead of putting it in your vagina, it goes in your mouth." He shrugged. Grinned. She looked at him contritely. Her shirt was open. He could see her black bra, the creamy skin of her breasts. He was idly stroking his cock and it was starting to recover, returning to a thick stalk in his hand. "Come," he said. "Try again." Dominique got back onto her knees. Sniffed. She made her way toward him. Just before she took his cock in her hand, he pulled it back, out of her reach. "No biting," he said in a mock stern voice. She laughed. Reached for his dick again, but he kept it cupped in his hand. She looked up at him. Looked him right in the eye this time. "No biting," she dutifully repeated. He grinned. Put his hands on his hips. She took his cock in her hand. Her hands were warm and soft and she moved the skin on his cock in ways he hadn't expected, the slack stretching taut even as she stroked it, the soft bone of flesh underneath the skin getting longer all on its own. Licking her lips, Dominique took the head inside her mouth again. He could feel the warmth of her mouth, her rough tongue and the hard ridge of her teeth. This time she was more careful with her mouth. Johnny sighed. He placed his hand on the back of her neck. He wanted to be careful about her fancy hair but he soon realized there was nothing that could be done to protect it. Taking her head in both his hands, he crushed the pillow of hair around her face. He began to gently rock his hips. "You see," he said. "It's just like fucking, but I'm fucking your mouth." He enjoyed saying the word 'fucking' as he rolled his hips, drove his cock into her face. "Fucking your pretty little mouth," he whispered. "Fucking." Dominique's head was immobilized. She was breathing through her nose, her hands on his hips. His cock slid in and out of her mouth. His dick was getting harder. He watched its length disappear into her mouth, then come back, wet and slick from her saliva. He felt powerful as he rocked his hips. Whispered that her mouth was his to fuck, to fill with his cock. This was, Johnny thought, the way to treat a good girl. "Or," he said. "We can do like this." He stopped rocking his hips and let go of her head. Keeping the head of his dick in her mouth, he took his cock in hand and stroked himself, his fist stopping just short of her lips. He placed his other hand on the top of her head. Johnny's fist was a dull blur as it worked his cock. Dominique obediently folded her hands on her lap and waited. He could hear his own breath, huffing toward release. He intended to pull himself from her mouth, tilt her head back, and spray this sweet girl's bare throat and chest. Suddenly Dominique shook Johnny's hand from the top of her head. She let his wet cock drop from her mouth. Johnny used both hands to reach for her head. His cock jammed against her cheek, her closed lips. Dominique took his warm penis in both her hands. She looked up at him, then licked his hard shaft. She used both her hands to pump his cock. Johnny was annoyed. He'd been about to peak, to pull his cock from her mouth. To finish. Now she'd taken over and was using a different motion. He tried to take his erection back, replacing her hands with his own, but she wasn't having it. It was her first cock and Dominique was enjoying it. Johnny grudgingly allowed it. He felt he had to. He wondered if it would be selfish to interrupt. She closed her eyes, slathered the head of his penis with wet, useless kisses. Nibbled the soft sack of skin at his testicles. This went on for a few minutes. Johnny could feel his passion begin to wane. She was just a kid and this was her first blow job. He wondered if she even understood how to make him ejaculate. He put his fingers at the base of his cock. Even this tiny bit of pressure helped to revive his flagging lust. Dominique had her eyes closed and worked her mouth and head earnestly. She wanted to give good head. Wanted her mouth to be the perfect pussy. Johnny considered coming in her mouth and his dick swelled a bit. He knew it was bad form to come in a girl's mouth without warning, especially this girl, who couldn't possibly expect it. He felt a mild pang of shame. But once the thought of ejaculating into her mouth entered his mind, he found it too intoxicating to let go. Dominique was a good girl, from a good family. Johnny thought of her sisters, the greasy meal they'd prepared for him this afternoon. What would they think if they could see their little sister now, kneeling on the bed, eagerly working his cock, soon to receive a salty meal of her own. "Good girl," Johnny whispered. She liked the encouragement. Responded eagerly to his praise. She contorted her lips into a smile, despite the fat cock stuffed into her mouth. He wanted her to use her own hands and mouth to call the cream from his dick. He found this thought so lusty he softly groaned and his dick swelled. Any remorse he may have felt about filling her mouth with his semen disappeared, wiped away by his own needs. He was close. Reaching below and just behind his balls, Johnny applied gentle pressure. He felt his nuts contracting, his orgasm rising. "Good girl," he whispered. She tilted her head to the side and took as much of him into her mouth as she could receive. Her hands lightly rubbed his thighs. The muscles in his ass and abdomen clutched, and Johnny felt the jism jet from his groin. Even as it was happening, he regretted his choice. He looked down and saw Dominique had that same earnest expression on her face, her eyes closed. Such innocence, such beauty. Truly a good girl. Ashamed with what he had done, he opened his mouth to silence his groan. The ridiculous idea that maybe she wouldn't notice passed through his mind, just as another load of sperm gushed up through his shaft. He involuntarily ground his hips forward. Clenched his bottom. Felt himself empty. Drain. Again he opened his mouth to mask his groans, to hide the orgasm racking his body. His eyes rolled back into his head. He licked his lips. Felt himself bathed in a warm wash of shame. Dominique let his dick fall from her mouth. When he opened his eyes, he saw she had her hands clasped to her chest. She was breathing heavily. "I came in your mouth," Johnny said. He wanted to add I'm sorry but he didn't. He couldn't. There was something both powerful and weak about ejaculating in an unsuspecting girl's mouth. He knew this. If he apologized, he acknowledged his weakness. Lost any trace of power he may have won in the act. "You certainly did." Dominique said. Her voice had a shaky quality. Johnny felt selfish, terrible. Some small part of him had died. He wasn't much different from his own father, really. For a moment Johnny wasn't sure what she would do, but he resolved to take whatever she decided to dole out. She was still kneeling, clutching her hands to her breast and breathing hard. In the next instant, she threw her arms around his hips, rested her head against his waist, and held him tightly. Johnny wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Her arms were locked around him, her head pressed firmly into his groin. She sighed. Johnny made a luxurious exhale himself. The further he got from what he had just done, the easier it seemed to bear. Maybe being just like his father wasn't such a bad thing after all. More than anything else, he wanted to reach between his legs, milk the last vestige of orgasm from his spent cock. Instead, he petted Dominique's broken helmet of brown hair, crushed now, a pretty flower ruined. He wanted her to feel better. In making her feel better, he felt a little better himself. "Good girl," he cooed. "Good girl." A Good Girl's Fantasy I have always been afraid of my dark side. I have always denied it even to myself, because good girls aren't supposed to want THAT kind of sex. And good girls who use a wheelchair damn sure aren't supposed to want any kind of sex, let alone THAT kind of sex. It's harsh and rough. Edgy. Maybe a little bit painful. But fascinating. And so damn hot. So for all of my adult life and all of my everlastingly vanilla sex life, I denied it. And patted myself on the back for being a good girl. And wondered why, if this was supposed to be what good girls wanted, why was I so dissatisfied? Sadly, our society being what it is, we who don't look like supermodels, or those of us with disabilities can sometimes become sexual "wallflowers", thankful for whatever sexual attention is cast our way. Over the last few months, I have come to the conclusion that what I really want is okay. We are all sexual beings and it's okay to want what you want. Good girls sometimes want to lose themselves temporarily in the rough stuff. The truth is, just once before I die, I want a man to look at me and lose control. I want a man to say to me, "Baby, I want to fuck you so bad, I don't think I can be gentle. All I can think about is burying myself in your pussy and giving you what you really want. What you need." How I yearn for that! Then I want you to do it. No finesse, no thought to whether it will hurt me. You can kill me with gentleness afterwards. Right now, I want you to rip my clothes off and consume me. I want you to mark my neck because you can't keep from biting me, from marking me as yours. I want to feel the sting of your teeth. You want to tie my hands? That will make me feel twinges of fear, uncertainty about what is to come. But isn't that part of the excitement? Go ahead and tie them. But… you won't hurt me, will you? …"Only until it feels good, baby. Only until it feels good." I can feel your hands in my hair pulling tighter and tighter. Just this side of pain. Enough to make it clear that I won't be able to get free unless you allow it. God, give me your tongue. Search out the recesses of my mouth. Kiss me so hard I can feel the sharp edges of your teeth. Oh, my God. I can feel reality start to fall away. You seem enthralled by the size and softness of my breasts. Your hands stroke and caress my skin, teasing me by avoiding my nipples. I've always been self-conscious about the size of my breasts, but you make me feel beautiful. Your touches are growing more insistent, and as you lower your lips and begin to suckle, I groan with pleasure. Oh God… Bite them. Please. Bite them! Yes, oh yes. I never knew pain could be so delicious! As you move down my belly, I can feel you breathe, taking deep pulls of my scent into your lungs. I want to share everything with you. I want you to take what you need. Your hands slide nearer to my pussy, and I tense. You can't possibly know how badly I want to feel your mouth. Yes, now! But no, you have other ideas. You pull my thighs apart. Mindful of my limitations, you hold them wide, and then I feel it. No preliminaries. Your tongue directly on my clit, stroking, licking, suckling it like a tit. You growl out your pleasure and I hear mindless words of lust and need. But whose voice is it? Yours or mine? I can feel every muscle tensing as you continue working your magic. The heat is intense, every bit of me is on fire. Finally centering in on my clit. God, I have never in my life wanted to cum as badly as I do now. Please. Oh please, now… "Hold on, baby, not yet," I hear you whisper. "I want you to scream for me…" Suddenly I shatter, as I feel my pussy being filled by two fingers and your tongue hard on my clit. I scream out my orgasm, not caring if the whole world hears what you're doing to me. Ohhh…Oh God! Before I can recover, I feel you climb up my body, poised at the entrance of my pussy. Drenched now with my juices, I know that all you have to do is thrust forward. My hips move frantically, trying to draw you in. I whimper in frustration. Please. Untie my hands! I need to hold on, I need to stay anchored... The cords fall away, and I immediately reach out for you, my nails digging into the skin of your muscular shoulders. Now, dammit! I want you to fill me. I want your hard cock in my cunt now! Mama knows what you want, baby. What you need. I want every drop of your cum. I want to feel it jet into me. Then I want to feel it trickle out, so I know. So I KNOW what I can make you feel. "Is this what you want, baby? My cock is so hard, so ready to fill you. Now? Tell me what you want..." God, yes, now! I am practically screaming in frustration, real violence welling up inside me. Suddenly the edges of fear sneak in, but I push them away. NO! This is what I want! Then my whole world telescopes down to one cock and one pussy as you thrust into me. No gradual gentle penetration, but hard. Fast. I feel nearly split in two by the size of your erection. You pull my legs to rest over your shoulders so you control the movement, the depth, the speed. I love it. I love it so deep! Yes, baby, move faster, harder. I want all you can give me. Feel my pussy. Is it wet? I'm so hot, burning up for you… It lasts seconds, minutes, hours. Time becomes meaningless as your thrusts become faster, and harder. Raw, animal fucking, the only thought is reaching climax. Giving me your seed. I hear your muttered litany of lust. The words are garbled, but I recognize their meaning. Yes, baby, yes. Take what you need. Give me all of it. Cum for me, now! Fill me! Every muscle in your body tenses as you near your peak, your face a grim mask of passion. You are lost in the sensations my body is giving you. One thrust. Two. Then a low moan announces the beginning of your climax. At the crescendo you cry out, the only reality in your world the intense, almost painful pleasure of your orgasm. I can feel your semen filling me in endless pulsing jets. All I can hear is the sound of our labored breathing. Our bodies are so close I can feel the tandem slowing of our heartbeats. I feel you smile against my neck, and I answer in kind. I close my eyes. I don't want reality to intrude. Not yet. Your muscles tense as you begin to move away. I automatically try to gather you closer. "No, baby, let me up. I'll be right back." I hear faint sounds coming from the bathroom, as I begin to doze. The next thing I feel is your hands, gentle on my thighs as you move them apart. Your touch is comforting as you begin to use a warm washcloth on my pussy, soothing the swollen tissues. I think hazily that I should be embarrassed by what you are doing, but your gentleness and caring are so sweet. I crave this. There is silence as you dress. I am almost asleep when I feel you stroke my hair and whisper in my ear, "I'm so proud of you, baby. And I expect you to be right here when I get back." The door opens and closes quietly. I know that physically, there is a price that I'll have to pay. So be it. Mentally, I am so fulfilled, so complete. I feel like a desirable woman. I am a good girl. And sometimes good girls like it rough.