3 comments/ 42324 views/ 4 favorites Roles By: techsan I hugged the wall next to the apartment door, my pistol held in my right hand tightly against my chest. I made sure again that there was nobody in the seldom used corridor, then reached over and knocked on the door. I had surreptitiously watched my prey enter the apartment a half hour earlier. I heard footsteps approaching the door and then a pause. I could imagine that she was looking through the spy glass but seeing no one she opened the door a crack. Instantly I jumped and shoved the door hard, pushing the door open and the woman stumbling backward, gasping. I slammed the door and quickly pointed the gun, held in both my hands, at the woman's head. "Do what I say, bitch, or I'll kill you" I spit venomously. "Make a sound and you're dead." Her hand flew to her mouth to suppress a cry. Holding the gun steady with one hand, I grabbed a handful of her long dishwater-blonde hair and steered her down the hall and into the bedroom. I shoved her toward the bed. "Please! Please don't hurt me" she pleaded. "Shut up!" I shouted. "You're mine and I'm gonna do whatever I want with you, fucking cunt!" "What do you want?" The words came out so softly I could scarcely hear them. "What do I want? Why, bitch, I want you. I'm gonna rip you a new pussy, bitch." I grabbed a handful of the thin baby-doll pajamas she was now wearing and gave a yank. With little resistance, there was a ripping sound as the cloth tore and fell to the floor, leaving her bare heavy breasts exposed to my stare. I grabbed one and squeezed mercilessly and watched her cringe and cry softly. "Please, please don't hurt me" she pleaded again. "I'll give you whatever you want. Just don't hurt me." "You'll give me what, bitch?" "I'll … I'll suck your penis. I'll let you fuck me if you want. Please don't hurt me." "And what else, bitch?" "What … what do you want?" "What else do you have?" "Oh" she said quietly. "Yes, I'll let you fuck my ass too, if you wont hurt me." "Oh, yeah?" I said suspiciously. "Let's see what you got." I pushed her backward toward the bed, then ripped my clothes off and let them land on the floor. I jumped on the bed and said "It better be good, bitch, 'cause if it ain't, I'll still fuck you and then kill you." Instantly she was on the bed between my legs and nursing my cock. Her hands roved my shaft while her mouth covered my glans and her tongue began exploring every inch of the purple raging head. She was good and she was very intense; she apparently didn't want to take a chance of displeasing me. After she had been at it a while, I made her change positions so that her knees were beside me and her head was toward my feet. Grabbing her flimsy panties, I yanked and heard three velcro fasteners rip open. I tossed the panties to the floor and began to slowly spank her naked butt, occasionally probing her crease and penetrating her pussy with two fingers. Finally I'd had enough head and told her to sit on it. She turned quickly and lowered herself onto my shaft. I squeezed both her tits this time until she cried out and told her "You'd better be good, bitch" as I pointed the gun at her head. She started rocking her bottom on my crotch and I could feel the head of my cock roving around inside her cunt. It was great. I ignored the fact that she had cum twice when I was fingering her pussy and that she came five times while she was riding my cock. She made no sounds but her closed eyes and momentary pauses confirmed that the shaking I felt were her climaxes. I acted as if I didn't notice them, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of recognizing her reactions. Just after her fifth orgasm, I exploded inside her, my balls shooting nine shots of cum high into her hot twat. No sooner had the last drop oozed out than I grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and demanded "Stop it, bitch! Its time for you to clean me up." She quickly twisted around and began to lick my cock and balls, removing all traces of my orgasm. Then her head started to bob up and down my shaft again while her hands gently kneaded my testicles. I let my fingers lazily explore her pussy while my thumb rested on her anus. She had licked me for nearly fifteen minutes and climaxed three more times before I said "Okay, bitch. Its time to fuck your ass. If you don't do it good, I'll turn you over and rip you guts out so you'll have to get a new ass hole. Get it?" She nodded vigorously as she scrambled back on top of me. Carefully she lowered herself onto my shaft while guiding my cock into her bowels. She didn't even wince as the big head popped inside her sphincter. She paused just a moment and then pushed down until her buttocks were resting on my thighs and all of my cock was in her ass hole. Then she began wiggling wildly in little circles, back and forth, up and down, and all sorts of odd patterns. I pinched both her nipples and pulled them hard away from her body until her mouth opened wide and I thought she was going to scream. Instead she paused a second and the shakes started again but she quickly resumed her movements. Six times it happened before I shot off my second load. Before my cock had even deflated, I rolled us over roughly, sucked one of her nipples into my mouth and bit it, vacuuming the globe as hard as I could. She sighed and I felt the shakes start for the last time. I gave her just a few seconds before pointing the gun at her again and said "Clean me up, bitch! Now!" Quickly she scrambled to the bathroom and came running back with a warm washcloth which she used to carefully clean me up. Then she nearly dressed me. Just as I was ready to leave, I said "If you tell anyone about this, bitch, I'll come back and kill you. This is our little secret. Do you understand?" She whispered "Yes, I understand." I headed for the door. She was right behind me and, with my hand on the doorknob, she clasped her hands behind my neck and kissed me, whispering "Good night, lover" as I stepped into the hall and then the door closed on my still-naked lover. At the end of the hall, I aimed the gun at the tall corn plant next to the stairwell and pulled the trigger, sending a stream of water fifteen feet into the pot, repeating the action until the squirt gun was empty. I whistled to myself as I walked to my car. Tomorrow night, the role was changed. I would be Daddy and she would be my naughty little girl who needed spanking, after which the sex would be even wilder than tonight's. All I had to do was paddle her bare ass until it was red enough and then she would screw the top of my head off. Every night the role changed, according to the schedule she had worked out. There was "forced sex with Uncle Al or somebody," or "her first time as a young teenager," or "a rough gangbang" where I played all the members of the gang although we had been talking about inviting a close friend to help me with my roles. There was a mother-son scenario and even a confession night that included spanking as punishment followed by the hottest sex of all. We purchased a number of props to help with the role plays. She bought the specially constructed baby doll pajamas with Velcro fasteners for the rape scene. For the gang bang, she bought a white sweater with red letter, pleated skirt, bobby socks and white-and-red saddle oxfords, while I got several big, numbered jerseys. For daddy's girl and Uncle Al, she wore short, light-weight summer dresses and pigtails. For virgin nights, she wore granny panties and bra, and a school uniform of long sleeve white blouse and plaid pleated skirt with oxfords. For mother and son nights, she bought a soft brown teddy that gave me access to all her delights and let us fuck but reminded her of a corset that her mother wore. On those nights she was very reserved … until it came time to show her little baby boy how much he had pleased her. I can't imagine how my sex life could get any better. Roles He has never ordered her - or even asked her - to do it, yet she kneels upon an oversize pillow placed on the hardwood floor beside His favorite recliner, simply because she wants to. The television is on; He watches a documentary about Abraham Lincoln. she does not focus on the images, nor on the sounds, emanating from the television. Instead, her mind drifts, thinking back on T/their relationship... she recalls how, after having dated for about a month, she finally found the courage to tell Him her innermost secret: "i am very much interested in BDSM," she had said simply, "and i enjoy being a submissive, and i want You to be the One who guides me through this realm and molds me into a good slave." In those five seconds or so which had followed her admission, her confession, the silence had been indeed pregnant, weighing her down as much as if she were attempting to balance a fully-loaded semi trailer upon her narrow shoulders. "I've heard of this before," He had finally replied quietly, "and I've seen a few pictures online, but I don't know much about it." "Then please allow me to teach You what You will need to know so You can best teach me," she requested, holding His hands across the table and looking deep into His eyes with a pleading expression, trusting Him immensely despite having known Him for all of six weeks at best. At the time, T/they had been living separately, in different apartment complexes separated by five large city blocks. she had provided Him with various resources - books, copies of letters from like-minded friends, links to Web sites and online journals, some of her "special" magazines, erotic tales revolving around the BDSM realm... As the weeks passed, she had noticed a subtle change within Him: He was becoming - or at least was portraying Himself to be - more confident in Himself, more in control of life in general. In lovemaking, He was slowly becoming more controlling, more insisting in how things were to be done, yet He had a natural knack for ensuring that her needs were also met, even if rather delayed (to her delightful frustration). Some three months into the relationship, He had stunned her. For the first time, He had prepared a true scene. Stepping into His bedroom, she had been pleasantly surprised to find Velcro-closing cuffs with tethers already attached to the bedposts, with a bottle of massage oil and a cheap-but-functional cat-o'-nine-tails upon one of the pillows. He had taken His time in securing the cuffs around her ankles and her wrists, constantly touching her throughout the restraining process, continually telling her how much He was looking forward to watching her struggle for Him, yet instructing her to never hesitate to use her safeword if necessary, especially as He was still fairly new to the role of a Dominant. And then He had left her, alone in the bedroom, alone with her thoughts with only His blue-light lamp providing a dim illumination of her predicament. she likely could have broken free of such cheaply-made restraints if she had truly fought against the cuffs, but the symbolism of her bonds combined with the fact that He was finally truly engaging her in her area of need and desire kept her as still as the dead upon the bed, until He had returned with a pot of hot water, set it upon a towel atop the dresser, placed the bottle of massage oil in the water, then took the whip into His hand and began to hone his skills upon her naked flesh. To her surprise, the restraints had held her quite securely despite the cheap method of their manufacture, and the warm oil massaged into her reddened body was indeed a most fitting way to end T/their first scene T/together. When her lease was about to end, she had announced to her landlord that she would let it lapse. He had taken a day off from work to help her move into His - suddenly T/their - apartment. And although He had never requested it, she had "made" herself a full-time slave to Him... and He did not do or say anything to stop her, which made her quite happy deep inside. her scant clothing (typically just a thong, and perhaps a light robe on cool mornings), her sudden "compulsion" with cleaning the apartment, the amount of time she spent in the kitchen, the way she attended to His needs as if she were a waitress at a high-class restaurant - all this and more had quickly become a key area of T/their relationship, and she knew from His every glance and touch and word that He appreciated her she had taken to her role as His submissive, as His slave. Now, on the first anniversary of T/their marriage, in the home which had belonged to His recently-deceased father, she kneels upon an oversize pillow placed on the hardwood floor beside His favorite recliner. she wears her usual black thong, as well as a black satin collar - T/their symbol of her status and of servitude to Him, a symbol which likely will not shock those who are unaware of T/their relationship. As the narrator discusses President Lincoln's reasoning behind freeing the slaves, she looks up at Him, proud that He has truly grown into His role as her Master. she wonders what He thinks, watching a documentary about the president who freed the slaves while His own slave knelt beside His favorite recliner. Then He reaches down unexpectedly and caresses her upturned face, surprising her pleasantly, and she realizes once again: This is where i belong.