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What Are You?

By: LevelHeadedCatalyst



"It's not me, it's you."

I couldn't believe this! Shane was really breaking up with me. We'd been going out for about a month now, and tomorrow was my birthday. 

Not that it mattered, I was going to dump him as soon as I lost MY FREAKIN' VIRGINITY. Isn't it supposed to be easy? Aren't men supposed to have one track minds? I'll admit that I might not be the prettiest thing, and I am kind of boyish, I have short hair, a too round face, I'm shorter than average, smaller than average breasts, hips that look too big for my body... nevermind, I understand why boys won't sleep with me.

"Cut the bullshit Shane. We all know that's the most used breakup line on television. What did I do now? I'm sure I can make it up to you." I said without looking up from his piano, which was turned down low.

"Okay, Alex, I'll be honest. You're too cynical. You act like you don't care and you make too many jokes. I get that they're jokes but they sound so serious! I just don't think our personalities can work together."

Well duh, you have the IQ of a brick. I snicker aloud. Shane's body is smoking hot and everyone is aware of his particular skill set. He's the best choice I have to get rid of my virginity.

"Shane, sit down and shut up. We both know you're just trying to pick a fight."

"Alex, you're a real bitch. I'm glad I didn't sleep with you, who knows what kind of diseases I'd be affected with by now." He slams the door on his way out. It's his apartment and I know he'll figure it out soon enough.

I go to his room and grab my coat. I look up in the mirror and see a tinge of redness in my eyes. I snort at myself and leave the room.

~

I sigh as I return to the paint-chipped, off white door. Home sweet home. It's locked, as usual. I lean over and pull out a pick from my back pocket. 

A quick glance side to side tells me no one is looking. I jimmy a few things and I'm in. The pick is replaced and I shut the door and lock it behind me.

"Hello?" I call into the silent apartment. In the week I've been gone I call tell things haven't been going too well. Take out boxes and beer cans litter the floor and coffee table. The lamp is busted and the couch has new, mysterious stains. My nose crinkles in disgust at an unknown smell.

I head to the closet that is my room and turn on the light. My solitary mattress in the corner is the only "bed" in the apartment with clean sheets. I have a plastic tub for my clothes, and a small table for anything else I may possess. A single outlet and a small wooden box shoved behind the plastic tub are the only other things in my room.

I take off my clothes and search for a clean towel. No luck. Hopefully no one comes home for a while so I can drip dry.

My shower is too cold and unpleasant, but at least it's running this week. I get through it as quickly as possible and shake like a dog to dry faster. I'm in my room trying to tame the fluffy mass of blonde that is my hair when the door has a solid knock shaking it on it's hinges.

I curse loudly, pulling clothes over my still wet skin, making them stick to my body. I stomp to the door and sling it open, prepared to yell at the unwanted intruder.

"You dropped these," says a very masculine voice that I know belongs to this broad chest in front of me. I look up and see a fantastic jaw, inky black, mussed up hair, smooth dark skin, raised eyebrows, a smirk, and a pair of the most alarmingly green eyes you've probably never seen. Upon closer inspection, there are definitely violet specks in them.

I realize he's holding up a pair of my underwear that I must've dropped on the way back from Shane's. I did stay there for 4 days, after all. They're the most sexual pair I own, blue lace with mostly strings. A deep red blush colors my face.

"Cute," he says, leaning in close. "So do you have a name, little lady?"

I hear a loud smack and I see his eyes widen in amusement and a little shock. I realize I've slapped him. It makes my embarrassment worse.

"I'm not fucking little," I say.

"And it appears you're not a lady either."

I try to snatch my underwear so I can go revel in my mortification alone, but he pulls back. He lifts them above his head. Damn his 6'4" height.

"I believe you owe me an apology," he says with a smile. I contemplate punching him in the stomach to see if he'll still be smiling after that. 

"What do you want?!" I yell up at him.

"How bout a kiss?" He says, not even trying to contain his laughter. I try to knee him in the groin, but he sidesteps it. I turn around and let him keep my panties, slamming the door in his face. 

~ 

I wake up to the sound of yelling and someone banging on my bedroom door.

"Wake up you stupid slut!"

Great, my uncle is drunk again. I dress quickly for work and try to compose my fear. I hate that the old man can instill fear in me, I hate it a lot.

I step out of my room and try to head for the door. I'm almost out when I feel a strong grip around my arm.

"Where were you last night? Fucking someone for money? No wonder your daddy left you."

I yank my arm out of John's grip. He's feeling particularly nasty today. I expected that though, considering it's 7:30 and he's drunk.

"I have to go to work," I say quietly. His eyes narrow on his doughy face.

"Why isn't this place clean? I keep you around and feed you and this is the thanks I get?" His words slur together as he grabs my arm again and he squeezes painfully hard.

"John, let me go," I say, my voice raising. My head snaps sideways from the sting of the blow from the slap he's just administered to my face.

"You think you're big, don't you slut?" I bite my tongue until I taste blood, willing myself not to cry. He shoves me on the ground, slamming my shoulder. He stumbles away laughing to himself. I get up and leave as quietly as possible.

~ 

Work is slow, painfully slow. Cashiers at general stores don't exactly get much pay either. But the box in my bedroom has slowly been filling up with funds to get away from here. Things could've been so different if my dad hadn't left when I was 7 and if my mom hadn't been killed in a car accident when I was 13. But I've been trying to work with what I have.

Around 3 in the afternoon, the whir and ding of the automatic doors opening alerts me to a customer coming in. I sit up quickly and try to look like I wasn't guilty of almost falling asleep. I look over and it's him. The annoying guy with my underwear.

I turn and try to hurry to the bathroom and let one of my coworkers deal with him. But it's too late.

"What a coincidence." "Go play in traffic." "I missed you too."

I keep walking to the back, where my boss' office and the faculty restroom is. I ignore the footsteps behind me and walk in. "Oh Alex, come here."

I walk to my boss, a pleasant, balding man in his early 40s.

"Oh, is this your boyfriend? Introduce me Alex!"

I realize with a start he's followed me in here and I almost growl with annoyance. I grit my teeth and manage to smile.

"This is..." I realize I don't know his name.

"Just call me Salt."

"And he's NOT my boyfriend."

"Yet," Salt adds with a smile.

Mr. Brok smiles and says, "it's nice to hear you talk so much, Alex. I'm letting off early to spend time with your...friend and more importantly because it's your birthday. Have fun!" He leans over his desk and continues working.

"Mr. Brok that's really not necessary," I start to say, but Salt grabs my arm and yanks me out of there. I wince as a look of pain crosses my face.

Salt gets an inquisitive look on his face before he grabs my hand instead and pulls me outside.

"I really appreciate that intrusive interruption but I really have to go now, Salt." I say with a scowl.

He ignores me and pulls up my sleeve.

"What the fuck is this," he almost growls, looking at a bruised, black handprint on my arm. 

"My boyfriend and I were having rough sex in his car and he got carried away."

"Alex, I know you're lying." "Salt, I know you're invading my personal space."

He grabs my chin and gets very close to my face. 

"You're playing with fire, Alex. I've been very nice to you so far but my patience is running thin. Others of my kind would have killed you at this point. Now tell me who did this."

The purple in his eyes started to eerily glow as he said this, and suddenly I can hear my heart beat in my ears. No. No, no, no! There's no way I'm afraid of this asshole. 

I lift my chin up in defiance and I'm looking at the ground in the same moment. He actually threw me over his shoulder! I begin to slam my fists into his back and yell, but a hand covers my mouth. The other grabs my butt and I squirm in irritation. He chuckles and throws me in his car.

"Let's have a little conversation, Alex."

The flirtatious, arrogant, young asshole is gone, and in his place is a terrifying, powerful man. I try to escape but his eyes glow violet and the door is locked and my hands are held before him against my will in an instant. Hysterical laughter begins to bubble up inside of me.

"What are you?" 

What Are You? Ch. 02



"What are you?"

I look at him incredulously. What am I?! What is HE? He just shut the door with his mind.

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't control things with my mind."

"Then how did you just read mine?"

"You're speaking out loud."

I blush. I do have that tendency. I feel tears well up and I get angry at myself. Why am I so weak? My whole life, all I can do is cry. Not right now. I lift up my thumb and bite it.

"Hey, stop," he says, yanking my thumb down.

"If you don't have mind control powers, how did you do that?"

"Well, I guess you could say I have mind control powers to a degree, or maybe it's what you humans consider magic. I can control the elements."

I burst out laughing. I feel hungry. "Can we get some food. I want some ice cream." The tears start flowing. What do I have to be sad about. My breathing is becoming short and panicked. I look out the windows, "is anyone coming? We have to go." 

"Alex, calm down. Take a deep breath. You're very hot." I feel a light breeze in the car. He starts the engine and pulls out. "Let's go get you some ice cream."

My body starts shaking and I realize I'm having a panic attack. I look outside and I realize how OPEN this vehicle is. I need out. I start yanking my hair and banging on the windows. I hear Salt saying something in the background. He sounds upset and it's worrying me more.

I'm hyperventilating. But then I feel fingers probing at my opening. Salt has his hand down my pants and is rubbing my clit. No one has ever touched me like this before.

Liquid fire is shooting from his fingers to the bottom of my stomach and out through all of my veins. A loud moan escapes my lips. Who knew it felt SO good? My hips buck in the seat and my tears cease to flow, liquid coming out of another part of me instead.

Another moan leaves my lips as one finger enters me. I feel a buildup in the pit of my stomach and I start to worry.

"Something's happening," I start pulling at his arm. Shock crosses his face. He composes himself quickly.

"Shh," he says, trying to push in another finger, "you're so tight," he groans.

The feeling gets heavier and I want more. My hips start to move again without my permission. With one last thrust, I'm flying. In some far away place I'm screaming something unintelligible.

I come down from my high, feeling little aftershocks of pleasure. Salt pulls his hand out slowly, his eyes never having left the road, his left hand on the wheel the whole time.

I'm so tired, I feel satisfied. Salt doesn't say anything. I know I should be furious, but I decide it can wait until I feel more awake. I drift to sleep.

~

"Your ice cream is melting," Salts voice gently pulls me from unconsciousness. I sit up quickly.

"Where are we?" My eyes are blood shot and I feel strangely rested.

"Getting you some ice cream," he hands me a waffle cone. I look and vanilla rivulets are running down the sides. I begin eating it quickly and he chuckles in response.

Memories flood back to me of my anxiety attack and how he took advantage of my vulnerability. My gaze turns icy and I feel the tension ratchet from 0 to 10. He sighs. Loudly.

"Alex, listen.."

"No, fuck you Salt. I can't believe you did that shit."

"If you'd just let me explain,"

"Explain nothing! How could you do that?! What do you take me for? You think I'm some cheap whore? You can't just-" all of the wind is knocked out of me and I can no longer breathe.

"If you'd just calm down and talk to me like an adult this would go smoothly. Shake your head yes if you understand."

Instead of being angered further, I calm down. Why am I acting so strange around this guy? I nod yes and the air flows back to me. My scowl hasn't left but I am quiet and listening.

"You weren't breathing right Alex. I thought you were hurt and I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't listen to me and I couldn't get through to you and I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry."

He looks genuinely worried and I realize how cute he looks without an arrogant smirk. A giggle escapes my lips at the ridiculousness of my situation. I should be upset but I'm not. I've been kidnapped, dumped, and I just turned 18. But it's not like I had anything better to do today.

"What?" He looks over, worried that I'm about the panic again.

"Do you realize how much better you look without arrogance stamped all over you and coming out of your mouth?" I say, containing my giggles but not my smile.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile," he says, the smirk coming back, "it suits you." I blush.

"I'm still mad at you," I say, unable to put any heat behind it.

"Are you a virgin?" He asks. My blush gets deeper.

"Go to hell," I mutter, looking out the window and eating french fries. I turn back almost as fast as I looked away. "Where are we going?"

"I just wanted to take you somewhere for your birthday." 

"How long have we been driving?"

"An hour and a half."

"You do realize you don't know me."

"I'm trying to change that."

"Are you gonna give me answers?"

"If you can do the same."

I fiddle with his radio and go through his glovebox, anything to irritate his nerves. He ignores me completely, making phone calls and speaking in riddles, which makes me want to annoy him more.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and start to climb into the back seat. I roll the windows up and down. I strum my fingers. No reaction. I start to sing loud. Obnoxiously loud.

I lean into the front seat and grab the wheel and swerve around.

"Goddamnit Alex!" I feel a breeze and all 3 seat belts pull me down on my side in the backseat and wrap around me. My arms are pinned at my sides.

"What is wrong with you? You could've gotten us killed!" He's yelling. I'm laughing.

"I was bored." 

"Well you're gonna have a hard time entertaining yourself alone back there."

"Ha. Ha. Let me up."

His silence tells me he is serious. I swallow my anger and decide I should ask some questions.

"How old are you?"

"Don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"My parents were killed when I was very young. But if I had to guess, I'd say around 400 years."

400. I don't believe him. His information won't sink in.

"Are you gonna tell me what you are?"

"Sure. I'm a fey."



What Are You Doing?



Becky and I had been working for the same company for over five years together. She worked in the business office and I worked out front with the sales staff. Our paths crossed several times a day, but usually for only a minute or two. She would come up front to ask questions about some of the specifics of a recent sale or I would need some documentation of a previous customer. We got along well together, like most everyone there did, but it always seemed to me that she had a smile for me even on the days that it may not have been there for someone else. Maybe it was my imagination, but regardless it always kept my mind spinning with thoughts of her having a thing for me.

Becky was my age, or maybe a year or two younger. She stood about five foot tall where I am a bit over six. Her eyes were brown and usually protected behind a pair of big librarian glasses; she kept her haircut in a pageboy style and was always dressed quite conservatively. She wasn't anyone's beauty queen; as a matter of fact, she was probably fairly plain, but I always found her to be quite interesting.

Back near the office was a filing room. One wall was just a long row of filing cabinets and the opposite was a table with a fax machine, paper cutter, telephone and a few other office gadgets. The room was about twelve feet long, but had very little room between the filing cabinet wall and the table on the other side. One person could easily get in and out, but if two people needed something at the same time it just might be a bit of a squeeze. It wasn't bad; most of the time one person would just step out and let the other person finish what they were doing. While on occasion one would excuse himself and pass behind the other as he entered or left.

This past December, just a week or so before the holidays, things around the office seemed especially light. It seemed that smiles around the office were easier to come by, and even office flirtations were a little bolder than usual. Everyone was enjoying the season. Becky and I strolled past each other several times a day. We always smiled and said hello. On occasion we both happened upon the file cabinet room at the same time. I usually excused myself and let her have the room to finish her filing before I went in to get whatever papers I needed. 

Late in the afternoon, after most of the office staff had gone for the day. I needed a few customer files and quickly stepped into the filing room to get them. Becky was already inside trying to fax some papers. I excused myself and slipped behind her to the cabinet where my files were. I grabbed the packet that I needed and moved back towards the door. Just as I tried to step behind her to leave, she had apparently finished what she was doing and stepped back at the same time. I bumped into her from behind and pushed her forward. Becky had to catch herself on the tabletop. 

She turned and looked at me in surprise said, "What are you doing?" 

I felt so bad that I couldn't do anything but apologize. At first she gave me this mean stare, but then she started laughing and said that it was no big deal and I had better get done with whatever I was in there for.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, I couldn't think of anything else. I felt so bad about almost knocking her down, but at the same time I couldn't get the thought of her leaning over that tabletop as she caught herself out of my mind. The thought of pushing her over that table, and her butt as she leaned over it gave me a hard-on that wouldn't go away. But at the same time I felt bad and walked back to her cubicle to apologize once more. She wasn't in her cubicle; she was in the file room again. I stepped up to the door.

" I am sorry for being in such a hurry and just wanted to apologize again for knocking you down."

She looked at me, smiled, and then shook her head. "It's no big deal! Don't worry about it!"

With that, I said "Well, maybe we can knock each other around in here again sometime."

As soon as I said it, I couldn't believe the words that had come out of my mouth. I started to blush and was about to apologize once again when I saw her startled look.

She recovered quickly and replied, "So you enjoyed it that much, huh?" I couldn't say a word. I stood there blushing and felt my dick begin to swell in my pants again. She noticed it too, and her face turned red. Once I realized what she had seen, I bolted back to my office and pretended to be busy until it was time to go home for the day.

The following day I tried to avoid Becky. If I saw her coming, I would go the other way, but it wouldn't last forever. We passed each other in the hallway; we made eye contact, smiled and said hello. My face had gone red before the word hello could come out of my mouth and noticed her grin as we passed. Damn I was embarrassed. The day rolled along as usual until the end. Once again I needed some documents from the office and went back to pull them from the cabinet. Once again Becky stood there by the fax machine as she too tried to wrap things up before the day was over. I excused myself and carefully slipped in behind her, grabbed the papers I needed, and started to slip back out again. Being more than just careful this time, I was surprised when she leaned back into me and pushed me into the file cabinets behind her. I wasn't hurt or knocked down, but I was startled. I think she did that on purpose.

She turned and looked at me said "Sorry," with a smile and a blush. Startled, I looked at her said, "I don't think you are." 

Her face turned brighter as she grinned and looked away. With my best John Wayne voice, I said to her, "Well, I guess this file room just isn't big enough for the two of us."

She looked over her shoulder at me, grinning, and said, "Yup, that's what's fun about it."

The following day we passed each other in the hallway and smiled. We brushed past one another a couple of times in the file room as the day rolled along. It seemed that each time we passed by, we got physically closer and the tension got heavier. Near the end of the day I sat at my desk wondering if she just might be at the fax machine. I had nothing to pick up from the file room and otherwise had no reason to go back that way. But the thought just wouldn't leave my mind, and neither would the hard-on that I tried to hide in my pants.

With a couple of file folders in my hands as a disguise, I walked back to the file room. There she was, standing in front of the fax machine. I noticed her grin as I walked in behind her. I gently laid my hand on her shoulder and excused myself as I slipped behind her to the other end of the room. I pretended to go through one of the cabinets for a few seconds, as though I was looking for something, before I closed the drawer and started to leave. As soon as I stepped behind her she pushed her butt up against me and pushed my back against a cabinet.

She said, "Oops, I'm sorry," just before she let out a cute giggle. I didn't say anything. But I did push forward with my hips and shoved her back towards the table again. I stood there without moving for a few seconds before I said, "I don't think you are." Because of our heights, her round butt pushed against the tops of my thighs while my swollen cock poked towards the small of her back. "What are you doing?" she asked. 

I didn't say a word, but I put my hands on her waist and leaned even more tightly against her. She said it again, "What are you doing?" But she didn't try and move away. She just stood there as we pressed against each other.

I slowly moved my hands up her sides, onto her back and up to her shoulders. I moved my hands and fingers in a gentle massage across the material of the blouse she was wearing. My hands slowly made their way back down her back and to her hips as I slid them across her round bottom and cupped the cheeks of her ass. Again she said, "What are you doing?" but she didn't move away. I only felt her pushing back towards me even tighter.

I spread my feet outside of hers. This allowed me to stand directly behind her so her ass and my swollen dick were at the same height. Squeezing the cheeks of her butt with both hands I leaned against her ass tightly, feeling my cock poking against her soft round bottom for the first time. She moaned softly and in a soft breathy voice she asked yet again, "What are you doing?" I moved my hands upward and firmly held onto her hips, and I began humping firmly against her soft ass. The feel of her round butt against my cock and the sight of this petite lady bent over this table had me going. The more I humped against her butt the tighter I held onto her hips and the louder I moaned. Again she said, "What are you doing?" This time the sound of her voice seemed a bit more anxious and just a bit sultrier. She leaned over the tabletop with her hands towards the other side of it for support. She pushed back into me even tighter. I moaned again as I continued poking tightly against her butt. As my hands squeezed her hips and my cock pressed into her soft ass I leaned over her back as I humped and grunted. She turned her face, trying to look over her shoulder at me and again said, "What are you doing?"

I tried looking into her eyes as I let out one long and growling moan. I felt myself releasing all of my weight right on top of her and said, "I'm cumming!"

I laid over her for just seconds then heard her cute giggle once more. I stood up and quickly left the file room. I didn't look back. Besides it was time to go home for the day.



What Are You Doing New Year's...



"New Year's Eve?"

The question had to have been rhetorical as it popped, unbidden, into his mind. After more than ten hours driving along mountain highways, even rhetorical questions commanded his attention.

The radio sidetracked his thought train with a weather warning. "An unexpected snow and ice storm is moving rapidly this way. If you are driving south you may expect hazardous driving within the hour. Major highways, including the interstates, south from Georgia and the Carolinas are already closed. Stay tuned to this station for..." 

(Click) -- Irritated, Will snapped off the radio. "Damn weather. I'll never leave the friggin' snow and ice!"

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Will suddenly found himself driving through the advancing storm. He had almost decided to pull over and take his chances when he made out the flashing red glow of a neon sign: "MOTEL" above " VACANCY".

He guided his van into the nearly full parking lot, shut down the vehicle, gathered his meager belongings and hurled himself out into the blowing storm. His slow, determined trek through the freezing weather was rewarded as he opened the door and barely stumbled into the warmth of the motel's well-appointed lobby.

"Room for the night, Sir? Or, for the duration?" The smarmy little clerk chuckled under his breath. Paying for two nights, Will picked up the key and his bags and climbed the stairs, looking for number 215.

By the time Will had unpacked, surveyed the room and took a shower, it was only six o'clock. Dressed in a white turtle-necked sweater, gray slacks and a Navy blazer Will descended the stairs and re-entered the lobby. The smarmy clerk greeted him once more. "Oh, Mister 'Wilson.'" Will could hear the clerk's disbelief at his name: Will Wilson. And, yes, that was his "real" name. "You'll find a New Year's Eve buffet and dance in our Pioneer Room. I'm sure you'll be able -- heh, heh -- to satisfy your appetites there."

Without acknowledgement, Will strode into the recommended room. A roaring fire, a smooth 'Fifties band and a heavily laden buffet provided warmth and amazing smells, Will filled a plate, two as a matter of fact, and settled himself at a small table in the far corner of the room, The waiter brought a complimentary carafe of red wine and poured Will a glass. For the first time since leaving Fort Wayne, Will relaxed, sipping the wine and gazing into the tire across the room. With the wine and the food and the fire--well, Will felt complete. Almost.

* * *

She was a vision--an absolute vision. Tall. Slender. Leggy. Sensuous. Desirable! Smooth white skin and jet-black hair. The whole "package" wrapped in silky red satin. She must have felt Will's eyes on her for she turned towards him, the fire at her back silhouetting her curvaceous form against her dress, and smiled. Will held his breath as she approached his table.

As she neared, Will could see she was maybe ten years older than he, probably near his mother's age when ... With an effort he shut off his maudlin thoughts and returned to the joy of watching her approach.

"Are you going to ask me to dance? Or, are you just going to look at me all night, and regret what might have happened?"

Will couldn't breathe let alone answer. "Unh. Ah. Um."

"Well, if that's your answer." Will just stared and nodded, "Okay. Then stand up and dance with me!"

Will struggled to his feet. And just stood there.

"What's the matter, Will? Don't you care for older women? Well. We don't bite. Unless you ask... We don't break, either. And I'm very attracted to fine, handsome young men. They give me life and joy and peace. C'mon, Will. Willy. Willy-Boy. Hold me. Dance with me, Will. I've waited so long for this."

He opened his arms and stepped towards her. She in turn extended her arms. As he willingly imprisoned himself in her embrace, she stroked his face with her fingertips. Dropping one arm about his neck, she fitted her body against his. Will's hands touched her waist, pulling her even closer; he felt an almost electric shock, as they swayed together in time with the band's soft music.

"That's it, Lover. Hold me tighter, Hold Margaret closer, my sweet Willy-Boy. Oh, yesss . . ."

* * *

It was one in the morning when Will took Margaret by the hand and led her to the stairs. He stood to the side, giving her the opportunity of returning to her own room, or ascending to the next floor and his room. Will glanced at the desk clerk, "I certainly hope you've no objection!"

"No, Sir. I see nothing. Enjoy your night."

Will followed the swaying hips in tight red satin as Margaret led the way. Arriving at Will's room, she didn't wait for him. Opening the door, she strode into the room. Seating herself on the couch, she leaned back and patted the cushion next to her. "Here, Will. Take off that hot coat and sit next to me." Will shed his blazer, sat next to Margaret and kicked off his shoes. 

Margaret turned slightly and leaned in to kiss him. A soft, feathery kiss on his temple as she raised her hand to brush his sandy hair out of his eyes. Then, another on his cheek. More kisses traced his jaw line. Will slid an arm around her shoulders and took her lips in his.

As his tongue parted her lips seeking her tongue, he slid his free hand down her shoulder and to her breast. Through the satin, he could feel her brassiere-covered breast. As he caressed her breasts, her nipples hardened and thrust outward. Her soft moans grew louder as their tongues dueled. His questing hand slipped through the neckline of her dress, as hers slipped under his sweater, mimicking his actions. He cupped her breast through her brassiere, feeling the soft silk and lace. As her nipples responded to his touch, and her moans intensified, she toyed with his nipples drawing accompanying moans from Will.

Without breaking his kiss, Will sought, found and opened the fastener in the front of her bra. He spread the cups to either side of her smallish breasts. "As my daddy always said, 'Anything over a mouthful's wasted.'" He bent to take her nipple into his mouth. His mouth and tongue paid homage to her other breast forcing Margaret to forget everything and focus on long forgotten feelings surging through her.

"Stand up, Margaret," he ordered. As she complied, Will swept both brassiere and dress from her shoulders, to fall at her feet. Margaret kicked the discarded clothing aside and stepped back. She looked at Will through slitted eyes as she stood before him in a white satin half-slip, thigh high black stockings, and black strapped stiletto heels. "Damn, Margaret, you are absolutely gorgeous.  I thought ..."

"Women didn't wear slips and stockings anymore," she finished for him. "Well, in my day, a lady always wore a slip when she dressed up. And, most of us wore stockings." She turned slowly in place as she continued, "Some of us even wore stockings with seams!"

Grasping Margaret by the hips Will pulled her closer until her satin-covered ass pressed into his crotch. He moved gently against her buttocks allowing his erect cock to caress the cleft between her rounded cheeks. Will slid his right hand from Margaret's hip to her soft belly and then down until he was able to stroke and cup her pubic mound.  He pulled her body closer as his mouth trailed kisses from her ear to the junction of neck and shoulder.

"Oh, God. Willy. Sweet Willy-Boy," Margaret moaned. Briefly stopping Will pulled back, looking up to see Margaret--head thrust back, eyes closed, mouth open. Her arms hung loosely beside her body. "Damn it, Will! Don't stop now. I've waited for this for so long," as she tried to force herself back onto his cock.

Will slipped to his knees. He turned his willing partner until her silken loveliness was before him. He pressed forward gently kissing his way from her waist to her crotch. He pushed her slip to her waist and paid lusty attention to her pussy through her soaking panties. Her knees no longer supported her. Will was forced to support her body to keep her from falling. With a hand on her breast and an arm about her waist, 

Will laid Margaret's limp body onto the couch behind her. He arranged the compliant woman for his pleasure. First, he slid her panties down her stocking-clad legs, and off her feet.  He left the slip on and above her hips. He rearranged her arms above her head and her legs extended along the couch--one against the couch back, bent at the knee. Her other leg was on the floor, spreading them and making her pussy fully accessible. Will removed the remainder of his clothing and knelt, nude, beside Margaret's face.

He leaned forward and pressed his cock against her lips. As he moved his rigid sperm pole from side to side, he pressed forward into her mouth until he felt his glans enter her throat. Moving in and out with increasing speed, Will fucked Margaret's unresisting face. Margaret's eyes opened just before Will tensed. She didn't try to avoid him as he began to cum forcefully into her mouth. With neither hesitation nor resistance, Margaret took all Will had to offer.

"Umm. Yes. Oh, yesss!" Will screamed his passion. "Take it all, Margaret, my sweet cock-sucking slut! Oh, God, yesss. Argh..." With her head held tightly, Will moved it from side to side, back and forth on his spewing cock. "God, yesss."

As he finished and Margaret begged him, "Please, Baby. Put it in me. Fuck me Sweet Willy, Put it in me. Put it in me. Put that cock into my pussy. Fuck me, Will. Fuck your sweet cock-sucking slut."

Will never really noticed what Margaret was saying. He only knew he was fucking a sexy woman. A sexy passive woman. A sexy passive woman who wanted him to fuck her and fuck her deep and hard. He didn't care who she was, or who she claimed to be. He wanted her; he wanted to fuck this slut. Will wanted the three of them-- New Year's Day, Margaret, and him--to cum at the same time.

Some time later, as Will lay satiated, atop Margaret’s well-fucked body, he asked her, “Now, tell me Margaret, who are you?"

"Well, ten years ago I left my family after years of abuse. I just couldn't--wouldn't--take it any more. My husband began hitting and kicking me. He even offered my body to his drinking buddies. Then, when even my son William turned against me..."

It dawned on him. "Mother? You're my Mother?"

"Yes, Sweet Willy. My sweet, sweet son."

"But.. I thought... I thought you were dead. When you left us, I thought you... I mean... I was told you had died."

"Do I look dead to you, Baby? I've waited so long for you to come to me," she chuckled at her own pun. "Come to me. Cum to me."

With the awareness of what he had done drilled through his brain, Will fainted into a dreamless sleep. He thought he heard Margaret whisper, "Good night, Will. My sweet Will-Son. I'll be here when you waken. Right here in your arms."

* * *

"Hey, Joey. There's the motel."

"Sure enough. Good ol' Hilltop Hotel. Don't they usually close this time of year?"

After parking the cruiser, the two troopers entered the motel lobby. The same clerk that greeted Will several nights ago was again on duty.

"Hi, guys. What's up?"

"Just stopped for coffee and to make sure all's well."

"Right, George." said Joey. Then, to Lem, the clerk:  "Everythin’ ‘s Okay, Lem. Ain't it? Nothin' out the ever day shit?"

"Don't know about that. We gots a live one up in 215. Checked in New Year's Eve. Partied some at the buffet/dance. Wandered upstairs sometime around midnight. Ain't seen him since."

"Damn! 'S three days ago. Room 215, then. You checked it out, Lem?"

"Nope. 'S long he's not causin' a fuss, I don't care if’n he never come out. Credit card's good. Fer a whiles more. M'be 'nother day nor two, anyhow."

"Phone calls? Visitors?"

"He don’t get no calls. Don’t make no calls. And no visitors neither. Know what I mean?"

"Damn it, Lem; get your keys an let's see."

The brothers, George and Joey Gregg, followed Lem to the second floor. "Here 't is. Good ol' 215. Y'all goin' in?"

"Bet your ass, Bubba." Joey took the key and unlocked the door. George listened intently. A low moaning could be heard. "Joey, on three"

George held up a fist. He raised three fingers as he mouthed "One. Two. Three." and pointed to the door. Joey kicked it open. George, pistol drawn, rolled into the room. Coming to his knees, George took in the scene in a single sweeping glance.

“Gaaahhh," Joey almost lost his breakfast.

“What the fuck..." was Lem's comment as he stood in the hall outside the open door. Paralyzed.

In one corner of the room was a pale, staring Will Wilson. Dragging down his pale face were the bleeding marks of his own fingernails. His once sandy hair had turned stone white. With bulging, bloodshot eyes he was staring, unseeing, at the occupied bed. The corpse, for corpse long dead it was, lay desiccated and shrunken, wrapped in red satin rags--legs spread obscenely.

Will was softly keening, over and over, "Ohhh, Mommy I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Oooohhhh. God. GOD. GGGGOOOOOODDDDDDD!"



What Are You Going To Do About It?



My coworker Paul is an asshole. Paul and I both work as electricians at a manufacturing plant. It is dirty hard work but it pays well. Technically I'm Paul's boss, but we work pretty independently. Paul enjoys ridiculing people and, because he is a huge guy, they just take the abuse to avoid getting pummeled.

During his first month on the job Paul was pretty respectful to me, but once he realized that I wasn't really the boss type things changed. One day after our shift, we were both up in the locker room. I had just stepped out of the shower and Paul was standing there with a grin on his face that made me feel like a complete fool.

"That has to be the smallest little prick I've ever seen." He said with his arms crossed in front of his over-developed chest. I was so humiliated; I felt my dick shrivel up even more. Paul was standing there confident I wouldn't be able to do anything, and he was right. I'm not a big guy. I stand 5' 8" and 150 pounds with a penis that strains to reach its fully erect 5 inches. Because of my job I'm wiry and strong, but next to him I look 12. Paul is 6' 4" and weighs in at over 230. The lucky bastard was also on the preferred list when they handed out cocks. While I stood naked, and humiliated with my dick betraying me as it shriveled close to my torso, his dangled limp and heavy. The thing had to be 6 ½" long flaccid and thick in proportion to the rest of his body.

From then on Paul has made a point of calling me "boy" or "pin-dick" or any number of degrading names. He also spread news of my shortcomings around the shop. As I'd pass fellow employees they'd shoot me knowing grins or giggle as I passed. Of course, it doesn't help that my wife prefers that I keep my pubic hair cropped close, and my balls shaved. It only adds to the pubescent boy remarks. I came out of the shower one night to find that someone had used bolt cutters on my locker and replaced my clothes with frilly pink lingerie. Paul snapped a picture as I opened the locker. I went home that night wearing my work uniform.

One Friday night I stopped off at the pub after work. Paul and a group of our co-workers sat at a table and waved me over. I just shrugged and sat at the bar. I heard them all laughing over something Paul had muttered. I had a few beers and then gave a call home to Deb.

Deb is the best thing that ever happened to me. We met when we were in our early twenties and everything just clicked. She had the greatest sense of humor, and was the most beautiful girl to ever give me serious consideration. She was a poster child for German genetics; 5' 9" tall, 120 lbs, a long-limbed blonde with a great figure and breasts that plastic surgeons could use as a template. Our first few years together were intensely sexual. There was no place or time too sacred. We had sex in public places to satisfy her exhibitionist streak, even though I was a bit uptight about it. The sex leveled off to normal proportions after we were married for a while, but lately had dropped off. Paul had managed to make me self conscious about my body. I explained it away as stress on the job, and Deb seemed to understand. After all, I didn't want to tell her that the bully at work had made fun of my little dick. I felt my heart drop when she said, "I could go for a few drinks. I'll be right up."

I wasn't the only one to notice when Deb walked into the bar. Her exhibitionist instincts hadn't abandoned her. She was wearing tight black Capri style pants and a white halter top without a bra. Her legs and ass were gorgeous, and there must have been a chill in the air because her nipples were erect and pushing at the fabric of her top. Nearly every guy in the place had his eyes fixed on her – not to mention Paul. I could see the look of astonishment on my coworkers faces as she came and gave me a kiss before sitting down. I enjoyed a smug feeling of satisfaction. Deb had obviously come out for some fun.

We enjoyed a few drinks and Deb started rubbing my thigh. I suggested going home for some recreation. She said, "Don't be in such a rush. And quit being so uptight." I relaxed and smiled, knowing I had a great night ahead of me. That is when Paul took a seat on the bar stool beside Deb.

"Hey buddy! I didn't see you sitting over here." Paul said. Then he looked over at Deb as though seeing her for the first time and said, "Hello. I don't think we've meant. I'm Paul. Your husband and I work together."

I know. It sounds friendly and harmless enough, but that is what bothered me. Here was Paul, the bully, saddling up next to my wife like he was the most amiable guy in the world. It was as though he was daring me to tell him to go away. I should have. I didn't. She smiled and said, "Hi Paul. It's nice to meet you." They shook hands and Paul held her hand just a little too long. Paul ordered a round for us and started to chat her up and would occasionally include me in the conversation with phrases like, "Isn't that right, Boss?" or "You know what I'm talking about. Right, buddy?"

Before too long I was getting pretty jealous. Deb had obviously had a few too many and wasn't showing signs of stopping. She was twirling her hair around her fingers while she and Paul talked. Her nipples were standing tall beneath the thin white fabric of her top, and it wasn't from chill air this time. I felt like a third wheel. When Paul got up to use the bathroom I asked her if we could go and continue where we had left off. She chastised me for wanting to ditch my friend and said we had the rest of the weekend for us. Paul came back and things picked up where they had left off. The conversation turned to teasing flirtation before too long, and I sought refuge in my beer.

Last call came like a savior. We were finishing up our drinks and saying our goodbyes. Paul mentioned what a great time he had had with us, and how sad it was that the night was ending so soon. That's when Deb suggested that we go back to our place for a few more. I wanted to argue, but couldn't find a way to fill her in on Paul's and mine relationship without completely emasculating myself. We rode to our house in Paul's truck. He suggested that I had had a few too many. What a great guy, huh? I ended up in the cramped back seat. Paul had turned the radio up just enough that I was having trouble hearing their conversation. Paul said something to Deb that made her turn her head away and blush, then she turned back to face him as he stared at her confidently until she finally smiled and blushed again.

When we finally arrived back at our house, Deb suggested that I make us some drinks. When I came back to the living room, Deb was sitting on the couch laughing with Paul who had positioned himself on the couch next to her. He wasn't so close to her that it would seem inappropriate, but it stopped me from joining them on the couch without feeling awkward. Paul was telling her about how he had just been dumped by his last girlfriend, but was lighthearted about it. She asked him what had caused the breakup, and he just smiled and said he'd prefer not to say.

She gave him a playful push, "C'mon. Did you sneak around on her?" she joked.

"No, nothing like that," Paul said. "It was my, um, that is, it was a physical thing." Paul looked down into his drink like he wanted to avoid the topic. He had stopped trying to include me in the conversation. I sat on a chair opposite the couch, trying to look like I was enjoying the night.

"Oops! I'm sorry Paul." Deb looked serious for a second, and then she grinned mischievously. "You know they make pills for that now."

They shared a laugh. Then Paul said, "That has never been a problem for me. It was an issue of size." He paused to let her mind go to down the obvious route and then added, "She said I was too large downstairs, if you get my drift." Deb's eyes widened. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment and then gave him a teasing punch in the leg.

"Oh please. Like women ever worry about that." She laughed nervously and glanced down at his crotch. There was an obvious bulge growing down his thigh. Then Deb glanced over at me and said, "Baby, you don't ever have to worry about that. You fit me just right." I smiled and looked over at Paul who had spread his legs a bit so Deb could get a better look. He was giving me that 'What are you going to do about it?' grin I'd come to know so well. Deb and he continued talking. She kept accusing him of bragging or just overcompensating for his insecurity, but she couldn't quit staring at the long pole working its way down Paul's thigh.

Finally Paul said, "Well I guess there is only one way to prove my point." Deb thought he was joking, but I knew better. He stood, obviously having trouble with his erection and asked, "Do you want me to whip it out?"

"Yeah, let's see this thing!" Deb said. The alcohol had worn away all of her inhibitions. Her nipples were threatening to rip through her shirt and a darker patch of dampness was evident at her crotch. "Take it out."

Paul took his t-shirt off and threw it toward me. Deb hadn't even glanced at me since Paul asked his question. She glanced at his muscular torso admiringly and stared at his zipper with anticipation. Paul removed his jeans and stood in front of Deb in just his boxer shorts. His cock was so hard that it had lifted the leg of his boxers and more of his cock was exposed than I had cock. He was angled in such a way so that I could clearly see his enormous tool and Deb's expression of awe. She never looked away from it.

"Still think I need pills?" He asked. She didn't respond. She just stared in awe. "Take off my shorts." He ordered. Deb blinked, as though her trance had been broken. Then she reached up and grabbed his shorts by the waist. As she pulled them down they caught on his long cock. Without thinking, she reached inside and pulled his cock inside his boxers so she could finish. When his shorts fell to his feet he kicked them back toward me. Deb still had his cock in her hand. She could have fit two more hands on it, but she only had the other hand so it joined the first. She stroked it slowly and slid off the edge of the couch to her knees. I knew what was going to happen next.

I was jealous and sickened, and I felt betrayed. I also had a raging hard-on. I felt as powerless to stop this from happening as I had whenever Paul humiliated me. Deb lifted Paul's giant cock and started sucking on his balls. She glided her tongue down the length of his veiny throbbing erection. Paul held her by her hair at the back of her head and slowly pulled her away. She looked up at him with an injured look in her eyes. Then Paul reached down and pulled her shirt off and tossed it at my feet.

I was simultaneously devastated and aroused. The sight of my beautiful and, up until now, faithful wife kneeling topless before another man's hard cock with her perfect breasts pinked up from arousal and swaying as she furiously sucked it was too much to take. I pulled my pants down to my knees and started stroking my dick. Within a few minutes Paul's deep laugh filled the room. He was watching me pull at my dick. Deb looked over at me, startled. For a split second she looked guilty as though she had been caught in what she thought was a perfectly private moment between her and Paul. Then she laughed.

I came immediately, a miserable drizzle poured over my hand, my little prick must have been totally obscured by my fist. My hairless balls were a tiny pouch beneath it. "Give me that big cock!" Deb said. She continued slobbering on his cock. I ran to the kitchen to clean up my mess. My arousal replaced with the sickening feeling that had accompanied it. I started to cry. My beautiful wife had laughed at my dick and was giving a blowjob to my archenemy. She had begged for his cock. I walked sobbing back to the living room, somehow feeling that I had to watch the rest of this scene.

Paul had managed to get Deb out of her pants and they writhed on the floor as his fingers played with her pussy through her sopping white satin panties. He was kissing her lips, neck and tits, pulling at her nipples with his teeth. She moaned and sighed, saying, "Fuck me Paul! I want your giant cock inside of me. Please baby. Oh that feels so good!" 

Paul sat up and roughly pulled her panties off. He started going down on her, spreading her legs and bearing his face in her wet, neatly trimmed pussy. "Do you want a real man's cock, baby? Are you my slut?" he asked, coming up for air.

"Yes Paul! Oh yes!" she screamed.

"Say it!" Paul commanded.

"I want a real man's cock! I want your cock! I'm your slut!" she screamed. My own dick had crept back into itself. It was the cock of a prepubescent child. It was a pitiful example a man's pride. And now Deb knew that.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you slut! Tell your husband what you want me to do to you!"

"I want you to fuck me with your giant cock, Paul! Please fuck me now!" Then she whimpered.

"Tell him!"

"I don't ever want your pencil dick to come near me again! I want this cock. I belong to this cock! You are nothing compared to him! Look at your pathetic baby dick." She said while looking at my ever-shrinking penis. She had a look of intense pleasure from Paul and a look of disgust for me. It wasn't feigned. I was crushed.

Paul positioned the bulbous purple head of his tool on Deb's pussy lips. She pulled her legs back in anticipation. Paul worked a few inches in and she moaned in ecstasy. Paul positioned his arms so that Deb's legs hovered above her head and said, "Is that about the size of hubby's prick, baby?"

"It's more. It's huge. Give me more, Paul!" She thrust downward to take in more of Paul. Paul eased his cock deep inside her pussy until she gasped. Then he retreated and pushed forward again until his entire cock was impossibly buried in her pussy. He began riding her hard. Deb squealed and yelled out Paul's name and begged for his cock until it sounded as though she was breathlessly chanting "Paul! Cock!"

After an improbable length of time, Paul began to tense up and he pulled his cock out Deb's hammered pussy. He edged up to straddle above her tits. Deb raised her head to catch his cum. But the first blast shot across her face and into her hair. She quickly took his cock into her mouth to swallow blast after blast of Paul's jizz.

Paul rolled off of Deb who was licking the cum from her face off of her fingers. She turned on her side and they spooned for a time giving each other little affectionate kisses and hugs. They turned at one point to look at me. My dick was once again betraying me by standing erect. Paul just shook his head and they laughed to one another.

They spent the rest of the night in our wedding bed. Paul came down the next morning, half undressed and said, "See you at work baby dick."

Things changed between Deb and me after that night. She says she still loves me and apologized for letting this happen, but Paul still comes over on a regular basis and fucks my wife right in front of me. Lately he's been having me take pictures of them which he passes around the break room at work. I'm looking for a new job. After all, what can I do about it?



What Are You Looking At?



"What are you looking at?" The voice rang out above the background noise of the fairgrounds. It was aggressive, angry, almost threatening. Mike hunched his shoulders a little trying to blend into the crowd, eager to get away from whatever scene was about to play out.

"What are you looking at?" The question was repeated again, this time closer to him, louder. Mike blushed and hastily looked down at the ground. He hadn't meant to stare, not really. Sure, he'd been glancing round at all the pretty girls in their tight tops and short skirts, but he hadn't meant to stare.

"I saw you looking." There was an aggressive tone to girl's voice that made Mike very nervous. He glanced around, hoping for some way out of this situation and found himself looking directly at the speaker and her group of friends.

The blonde girl's eyes sparked with anger as she bore down on him. He found his eyes drawn automatically to the girl's chest, thrust forward by a tight fitting t-shirt. He hastily ducked his head again, but it was too late

"Were you staring at my tits?" The question was loaded with hostility. Mike felt his mouth go dry. The blonde was standing right in front of him now, only inches away from him. His cheeks started to redden with embarrassment.

"Well?" She asked impatiently. Her friends were crowded round him now too, leaving him no easy escape route. Struggling to gain some control of the situation he raised his head, forcing himself to look directly at her and answer her accusations.

"No." He choked out, trying to ignore the redness of his face. He mustn't let her aggressiveness overwhelm him.

"No? You weren't looking at my tits?" The girl smirked at him. "Why, you a fag or something?" Her friends laughed at her crude joke and Mike fought the urge to squirm. He could feel his face flushing redder and redder. He didn't dare look around to see how many people were looking at him now.

"No, I'm not gay." He steadied his voice and looked her directly in the eyes, trying to ignore the others crowding round him.

"So you were looking at my tits!" The girl exclaimed triumphantly and her friends laughed louder. "That how you get off perv? Staring at girls?" She moved even closer to him, increasing his discomfort.

Mike shook his head, desperately trying to find a way out of a situation spinning further and further out of control. He was uncomfortably aware of the girl's body so close to him. His eyes did an involuntary sweep. Lush was the word that best described her. Her body was fleshy and ripe. Squeezed into a low-cut t-shirt and mini-skirt, she oozed sex and confidence. He was sure she knew exactly how his body was reacting to her.

"He's staring at you again Kim!" One of the other girls sniggered and Mike hurriedly ducked his head, only to find himself staring and Kim's smooth legs. Shutting his eyes he swallowed slowly and tried to calm himself, to clear his mind.

"Fucking pervert." Kim sneered. "Guess he'd have to look. Not like he's going to get any." Her comment brought renewed giggles from her friends. Mike felt beads of sweat form on his forehead as the laughter washed over him. Even with his eyes shut he could feel how close she was to him. His cock twitched in his pants.

"Come on. Let's go." A new voice spoke up, this girl sounding bored and impatient. "He's not worth it." 

Mike shivered with relief as the girls turned and walked off. He watched them go, feeling the cool breeze of the night air against his still hot cheeks. His eyes tracked Kim's fleshy ass, swaying in that tight skirt as she left. She turned her head suddenly and stared right at him before he could react. He stared into her eyes, caught like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the inevitable comment. But she just smirked at him and turned away leaving him trembling, sweating and painfully hard.

* * * * *

Suddenly the atmosphere of the fair seemed unwelcoming to Mike. The bustle and movement and sounds around him made him jumpy and nervous. He ducked along the side of one of the tents, moving away from the activity and noise. Light was fading and here, away from the crowds, it was dark and cool. No one was staring at him; the quiet was soothing to his jittery nerves. He wasn't sure what had scared him more, the girl or his reaction to the girl. He could still feel his cock pressing against the stiff material of his jeans. The girl's scorn and laughter lingered in his mind. At the very least, he wasn't going back out there until he had calmed down.

Mike wandered slowly along the back of the row of tents, glancing over at the crowd from time to time and enjoying the quiet of the evening. Growing tired, he sat down, leaning back against a flagpole, content to watch people from a distance. His eyes idly scanned the crowd as they went on their way, lingering briefly on a group of attractive girls.

"Still watching girls perv?" The aggressive voice was unmistakable. Mike felt his heart start to pound, as he looked round to see Kim walking towards him. This time she was accompanied by two guys. They were maybe a year or two older than him, he guessed, but much bigger and their movement was almost ape-like. He shook his head in response to her question, hoping futilely that she might leave him alone.

"Told you he needed to be taught a lesson Jim." Kim spoke to one of the two guys following her. "Fucking pervert, drooling on girls. Probably sitting here rubbing his little dick." Jim, the taller of the two apes, blonde haired and with a shirt unbuttoned to show his chest nodded.

Mike saw where this was going and jumped to his feet just as Jim and his equally ape-like friend moved towards him. He wasn't quick enough though. Before he could make a run for it, Jim grabbed his wrist, yanking him backwards. Mike struggled to pull free, but he wasn't nearly strong enough and Jim's friendly quickly got a grip on his arms too, forcing him back against the metal flag pole, pulling his arms backwards and down, forcing him to crouch so that the pole was pressing into his back.

"Pathetic fucker." Kim sneered, moving closer to him now that he was firmly restrained. "I saw you looking at my ass earlier? Like the look of it did you perv? Think I want you staring at me?"

Anger over-riding any other emotion, Mike stared back at her, holding her gazes for several seconds before her sneering confidence over-powered him. His eyes wandered downwards, focusing briefly on her breasts before he hastily looked away. Once again, he was too slow. Kim immediately saw where his attention had been. She leant forward and thrust her chest against his face.

"You don't fucking learn do you perv?" She mocked, pulling away again. "First its my ass, now its my tits." She emphasized this with a wiggle that drew Mike's eyes despite himself. And she saw it. He knew she saw it.

"Like looking at my tits do you freak?" She mocked, wiggling her chest again. Mike bit his lip, his cheeks now bright red, not wanting to say anything that would egg his tormentors on. Unable to deny it when his eyes were still firmly focused on her chest.

"Bet that's the closest you've ever been to real tits isn't it loser?" Kim smirked, her certainty all the more humiliating. Mike ground his teeth, saying nothing. But he wasn't going to be allowed even that much dignity.

"Answer her." Jim grunted, wrenching Mike's arm, causing him to gasp in pain.

"Yes." He whispered, his cheeks flushing an even darker red at Kim's peal of laughter.

"Bet you'd love to see more too wouldn't you?" She giggled, thrusting her chest forward again. "Why don't you show me how much you like staring at my tits?"

Mike glanced up at her face, confused. He couldn't help his body's reaction; his stiff cock was desperate to see more of this luscious girl. But she had been so hostile till now. Kim stared back at him and giggled, stretching out her hand and running it over his crotch.

Mike groaned, feeling his cock twitch. Kim laughed louder, her hand moving up to his belt buckle, deftly loosening it and pulling the belt free. She stepped back, swinging the belt loosely from her fingers, grinning at him.

"Are you ready to show me?" She teased, grinning. Mike nodded, he couldn't help himself. He knew it was probably a trick. But he needed to feel her touch again. Just a little more. Kim laughed again; there was a knowing look in her eye as she handed the belt to Jim. She sensed her control over the situation.

Mike gasped as his arms were wrenched even more tightly round the metal pole. He felt the belt being wrapped around his neck and pulled tight so that he could barely move. Hands pushed his shoulders down until he was forced to sit on the ground, the belt keeping his back rigidly upright.

"That's better." Kim cooed, obviously enjoying her position of power. "Don't want you getting your pervy hands on me do we freak? Now let's see just what a horny prick you are." She laughed again at her own joke, and the two apes joined in.

Mike stared up at her as she stepped closer, wiggling her chest in his face again, giggling at the way his eyes followed her movements. Leaning down, she let him ogle her cleavage for a moment before unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them down to his ankles. Her giggles turned into peals of laughter as she exposed his boxer shorts, his rigid cock tenting upwards from his crotch. Mike shuddered with humiliation as she so casually exposed him, her laughter ringing in his ears.

"Oh... my... god." Kim giggled, bringing her hand to her mouth. "He looks like he's going to cum in his pants any moment." Finished securing Mike to the metal pole, her two friends moved round beside her, sniggering at her jokes, reveling in Mike's embarrassment. Mike sat their helplessly, his cock twitching as their laughter continued, still unable to take his eyes of Kim. And she knew it.

"You wanna see my tits, don't you perv?" Kim cooed, wiggling them at him. She oozed confidence, knowing his answer before he responded. Mike nodded again, causing another wave of laughter to erupt.

"Tell you what..." Kim leant in close, brushing her chest against his nose as she whispered in his ear. "I'll let you see them... if kiss my ass." She stepped back, laughing in amusement at her joke. Mike shuddered, his cock painfully hard, begging for release. He stared up at Kim's chest, still feeling her hot breath against his ear.

"Okay." He whispered, hardly believing it himself as he spoke.

"What was that perv?" The anger had returned to Kim's voice. Maybe Mike had finally surprised her. "What did you say?" Her tone was threatening. Mike shivered, but the fear just added to his need.

"I'll.. I'll kiss your ass to see your breasts." Mike gasped, feeling strangely short of breath. He was lost in a haze of humiliation and excitement. Kim stared down at him for a moment, a calculating look on her face. The she shrugged and laughed.

"You're serious, you pathetic prick." She grinned contemptuously. She paused, studying him for a moment in amazement, suddenly turned around and pulled up her mini-skirt, revealing her lush, thong-clad ass.

"Sure you wanna kiss it fucker?" She teased, swaying her ass, giggling as her confidence grew.

Mike swallowed and moaned, nodding eagerly. The apes just sniggered again. Kim moved slowly back towards him, until she was standing just in front of him, her ass close to his face. She paused again, and Mike whimpered. Reaching back, she pulled her thong to one side.

"Kiss it properly perv." She smirked down at him, so certain he would obey, pressing backwards so that her full ass was pressed against his face, burying his nose against her ass crack and then rubbing against him.

Mike let out a muffled moan, struggling for breath, realizing his only hope was to obey. Reaching out his tongue he gave a quick lick, tasting Kim's sweaty ass. Reminding himself of his reward for obedience.

Kim shrieked with laughter, moving away, hastily pulling her skirt back down and walking away. A wave of laughter from the apes hit Mike as he gazed in shock at Kim's receding ass, taking huge gasps of air into his lungs. Then they too turned and walked away, leaving Mike still tied to the flagpole by his own belt.

Mike stared in confusion. His cock was still throbbing, He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Kim's lush ass pressed against his face, hearing her laughter in his mind. Groaning he reached down and pulled his hard cock free from his boxers squeezing and stroking it. He shuddered and gasped, stroking faster, barely aware of the voices as he jerked his throbbing cock.

"Oh my god!" The shocked female voice penetrated his fogged mind and he opened his eyes staring back at a growing group of onlookers. Boys and girls around his age. Some from his class. With a groan he squeezed his cock one last time squirting his cum over his hand and onto his clothes as the crowd watched. 



What Are You Saying?



"So, I get this package... It's weird because it was just left on the hood of my car. It's like someone left it accidentally on the hood of my car... like they were looking for their keys, and they left this little shoe box type-of-thing on my car and drove away and forgot about it."

"This was in the parking lot at work?"

"Yes."

"So you opened it?"

"Yes."

"And...?"

"Inside I found this pair of shoes."

"Wait - was it wrapped, like a gift?"

"Yup... like a birthday gift, but no name, or anything... They were – are - really pretty... Sorta' sexy high heeled things."

"Huh...? You sound like you liked them."

"Yes, actually..."

"That's funny... You never wear shoes like that, which – by the way – we really need to talk about. For someone with your curves, you really do a good job at hiding your body."

"And there was this note, too..."

"Oh, wow. So what did you do?"

"Well, I was looking around, just to see if anyone was watching – it was just me – you know how I'm always the last person to leave and that parking lot is deserted at night, right? And, anyway, I read the note."

"What did it say?"

"It said: wear these shoes if you want to be used..."

*************************

"What?"

"That's all it said: wear these shoes if you want to be used... Well, the word wasn't actually 'used', if you know what I mean. I can't even say that word."

"Oh good Lord."

"But this is where it gets really weird. The shoes fit me perfectly."

"You tried them on? Let me get this straight: There's a note - threatening you with something if you put on these shoes - and of course, you put them on! You are crazy!"

"Oh, please, it wasn't like a black helicopter was going to appear all of a sudden and take me away... Not right then, anyway."

"Still..."

"So here's the thing. Well, a couple of things..."

"Okay."

"I wore the shoes to work today..."

"Oh, Lord, you are so stupid. What happened?"

"First, let me tell you, I think I know who it is... Well, I'm not one-hundred percent sure, but, you know... Sometimes you can tell."

"For the love of... what's gotten into you? You have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Him? Oh, that's funny. Do I need to remind you about our last conversation on that topic?" 

"Okay, yes. I remember. You want to be 'fucked'... and he definitely won't 'fuck' you. That's what I guessed, anyway, because - apparently - that's another word you can't say. For a girl that dresses and acts so conservative, you really do have some surprisingly strong feelings on the subject."

"I know. Look, I have some issues... I dress like a typical suburban mom... even I know that. I have a square job and a boring life. I know that nobody – except you – has any idea of what I'm really like... what I really want."

"It's the same for a lot of people... I just think with you, it's..."

"More obvious?"

"Yup. Kinda'... Well, completely obvious, actually... I see you checking out other guys, and I see where your eyes roam to... You just never act on it." 

"Sometimes I feel like a freak... like I shouldn't think about it so much. Like there is something wrong with me."

"So you said you think you know who it is?"

"Yes... I was sitting at my desk a week or two ago, and I had one of my shoes off – I was rubbing my foot – and I know I had this look. It was probably pretty weird."

"Like you were enjoying your foot rub too much?"

"Yes... exactly." - Laughs. "And he happened to walk by at just that moment... we talked for a little bit, and I swear I saw him take a big long look at the inside of my shoe..."

"Where the size is printed?" 

"Umm hmmm..."

"But that doesn't mean... "

"I know, but I can just tell. I really like him, actually."

"Oh, Lord."

"And today when I wore those shoes, I watched him. I made sure I sat down right in front of him, and I crossed my legs, and did that little bounce with my leg and made sure it was obvious what I was wearing."

"What did he do?" 

"He tried to keep his eyes on my face, but I swear I saw him take a big look..."

"You wore those shoes too work? In your normal – I'm sorry to say this – dowdy clothes?"

"I know. It looked weird, probably."

"This story isn't going to end good - is it?"

"I guess it just depends on what you mean by 'good'?"

"Why is your voice cracking? What happened?" 

*************************

"Hey – you know I just remembered – I didn't even ask if you had a few minutes to talk!"

"Oh, please... You know how I am... I wouldn't have answered if I was busy... I knew something was up: You sounded a little funny at first... are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine... I feel like I only call when I have something... I don't know – heavy - to talk about. I don't mean to treat you like you're my psychologist. It's just that you're a fabulous, amazing girl too..."

"Ha! I'm the only one that gets to hear your secrets?"

Laughing - "Yes."

"I'm glad to hear it, but this time I want juicy details."

*************************

"I did my usual day. I tried to be normal, but I felt like everyone knew... like I was being set-up for some big practical, humiliating joke."

"Nobody would do that to you... you're the sweetest girl ever... But something happened... right?"

"Yes... I was walking out to my car – as usual – the last person to leave... You said you wanted details?"

"Sure, but only if you want to give them."

"I was walking pretty slowly, probably... you know I'm not used to heels. I was looking down at those shoes, thinking..."

"Oh, boy... What were you thinking?"

"I was worried – worried that it wasn't going to happen. I know this is crazy and screwed up... Worried that I just wasn't sexy enough – not hot enough...whatever."

"What? You could have any guy... You just need to step out of your shell... You really need some perspective if you think..."

"I know."

"He wasn't there, was he there...?"

"Yes. Well, I don't know if it was him, for sure... I was just walking up to my car, about ready to put the keys in the lock..."

"Oh, Lord."

"He said, 'Don't turn around'... he was trying to disguise his voice. All of a sudden he was right there behind me. He said, 'You wore the shoes, didn't you?' I said, 'Yes.' I remember the words exactly. He took the keys from my hand; he unlocked the back door of my car and then fixed a blindfold over my eyes... He tied my hands behind my back... He sat me in the backseat and then gently pushed me on my side... so other people wouldn't be able to see what was going on when we drove down the streets..."

"Oh, Lord. This really happened?"

"I know." 

"You said, 'gently'?"

Well, it was more like he didn't want me to be scared... like he wanted to tell me something. It wasn't gentle, exactly..."

"What were you thinking? This happened tonight? How are you so cool and collected? Did you call the police? Are you okay?"

"Do you promise not to judge me if I tell you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"I made like I was struggling in the backseat of the car. I begged him to let me go..."

"But?"

"But, I wore those shoes..."

"Oh, good Lord... What are you saying?"

*************************

"We drove for a while. I thought I could maybe figure out where we were heading based on the stoplights, and that sort of thing, but it was impossible."

"Did he say anything?"

"No... nothing. I wanted him to... But his voice, you know... it would give him away."

"Oh, Lord."

"We stopped. He walked me into some place... it must have been a house. He sat me down on a chair. I heard his zipper undo..."

"Oh, no..."

"I heard a belt buckle undo... His..."

"What happened?"

"He forced his cock into my mouth."

"No. Oh, Lord."

"He was already hard – big – and very hard. He said, 'You wore those shoes, didn't you?' I tried to move away, but he grabbed my head and my hair. He held me right there. I had no choice. He moaned and sighed while he did it – while I did it..."

"I can't believe this..."

"After awhile he positioned me on the floor... I could hear him moving around. My hands were still tied behind my back, and it was really difficult to keep upright – he put a pillow under my knees... like he wanted me to be comfortable, to a point..." 

"What happened?" 

"It was like he was telling me – with that pillow under my knees – that I was going to be doing this for a long time."

"Doing what?"

"You know what I did, I'm sure. He had me, right there. I just accepted it... I gave in."

*************************

"He undressed me completely, aside from those shoes. He kept my blindfold on, but undid the restraint around my hands. I could tell he was admiring me – looking at me. He guided me around. He put me on the floor and spread my legs wide. He kissed the inside of my legs and I could tell he was smelling my..."

"Oh, Lord..."

"I told him 'No,' a hundred times, at least."

"What did he do?"

"He put his mouth on my pussy... there is no other way to say it. He put his mouth right there. He licked me and tasted me, and..."

"Oh, Lord... Did you...?"

"Yes, over and over. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to... God, I didn't want to, but it just happened. I was so hot and just dripping. I know. It's horrible. It was so bad of me to... He kept on spreading my legs wider and exposing me more and more... he would barely let me recover and then he was down there, playing with me again. Putting his fingers in me, licking me..."

"Oh, I don't know..."

"He pulled me up, after awhile... he put me back on the chair. He rubbed his cock on my cheeks and by my lips. I could feel his precum leaving a trail on my face. I opened my mouth and sucked him off."

"What were you...?"

"Thinking?"

"Yes."

"I don't know... Maybe this: He didn't actually 'fuck' me. He spread my legs and fingered me. I gave him four blow jobs, and he licked me into oblivion. But he didn't fuck me. Is that actually...?"

"I can't believe you... Yes, of course it is..."

"But I wore those shoes - so is it?"

"That doesn't matter. You said 'No' – you were blindfolded and kidnapped. God, I can barely believe it – and you are so calm. Your voice gets a little wobbly, and there is something different about you now... but..."

"I'm wearing those shoes tomorrow, again..."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"I know - I've got some issues... You want me to call you afterwards?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this – but, yes. I want to know everything... I want to..."

"Do you want to have it happen to you, just like that? Just like it happened to me?"

"No. Of course not! Well, I don't know... I just don't know... Maybe tomorrow it will make some sense. I don't think I've been a very good psychologist this time... I don't have any answers."

"You did fine... You know what I think? Sometimes things remain secrets - even when we share the whole story – there is, I think, just some stuff that we can't explain... You know what I mean?"

"Maybe..."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow night... afterwards... Maybe then it will make more sense." - Laughing - "I just know that I really like those particular pair of high heels...!"



What Are You Thinking



This article is my out loud thoughts about African American women in the United States, written from the perspective of an African American man. I in no way say that this is a definitive guide or that these observations hold true to 100% of the AA female population. However in my experience and those of my male counterparts we have observed that more times than not a few things hold true.

I.

"I don't need a man to do anything for me" This is the mantra and the theme song that African American females seems to sing from the rooftops. I fundamentally believe that they are not trying to convince us (Men) of this fact but rather to fool themselves into believing its true. Keeping in mind of course the contraindication between word and action. As any African American man can attest to even while screaming at us about how much we are not needed we are usually asked in the same breath to buy them something, pay bills for them, ect.

II.

"There are no GOOD Black Men anymore" Once again a phrase I have heard time and time again. Keep in mind you hear that not only from today's generation but we grew up hearing it from past generations of African American women. What that would leave you to believe is that there never was a good black man. Now we all know this to be very untrue. Fact is these confused and self deluded women have a very warped standard of what constitutes a "Good Man." What I have gathered about what makes up a "Good Man" is that while they are expected to be a leader by these women, the women will not tolerate him leading her. While he is expected to retain and indeed excel in gainful employment he is also never expected to enjoy the fruit of his labor because that fruit is to be enjoyed by the woman exclusively. While he is expected to be a contentious father to his children he is not allowed to instill any values or knowledge into his children, in fact he is only there to provide financial support for said children. While he is expected to be a giving lover to his spouse, it is at her sole discretion as to whether he is to receive any sexual gratification from his woman.

III.

"I don't do that anymore, I am married now" This is one that never fails to blow my mind. These women are very quick to tell you and indeed show how kinky, sexual, and downright slutty they were and can be. This is a side that you only see while in the process of courtship. Once she feels she has you secured, be it involved in a exclusive relationship or you have actually married her these actions are gone forever. And the excuse that is given is that she only did those things because she was single. Now maybe I am missing something in the translation but that seems to me to be completely backwards. My belief is that in fact your spouse is the only person that you should be free enough to share the entire extent of your sexuality. 

IV. 

"White women are stealing all our men" Once again another lame excuse passing blame about the failures of these women. No one is stealing the black men. We were discarded by our women as useless and not meeting the standards set forth in this article. Therefore somewhere in that warped mentality of the "modern black woman" they firmly feel that even though we (black men) are useless and not worth there time and attention, we have to keep trying to please that which is un pleas able and not look for fulfillment or happy healthy relationships outside of what they decide we should be happy with. IN other words, the thought is I do not want you but I will be damned if anyone else has you either. 

V.

" I am not a bitch, whore, ect" I submit that if you were to ask the random black female what there favorite song is most times it will involve lyrics that in fact identify them as said bitches, whores, ect. My thinking, if you respond to a whore anthem then you identify yourself as said whore. Once again maybe I am just missing the translation in thinking. But let's look outside of music and into fashion. Most love to dress in the manner of what would be termed as a very overtly sexual manner. However what is said is that I love to dress with my tits and ass showing and act in a loose manner but I am a lady of class and substance. Am I the only one confused by this?

VI.

"I am a independent Woman" I saved this one for last but in no way mean it to be least. I do not believe that most would be able to define independence if quizzed. As I stated earlier from the time you meet them they give you a list of things you must take care of on their behalf before they could consider spending the time to get to know you. If you do not believe me pick any ten songs by black female artists at random and I assure you that the lyrics of at least 5 out of the 10 list in detail what a man must do for them in order to be with them. That is NOT independence. The closest definition would be extortion. 

In closing I will once again say that the generalizations indeed do not apply to all black women, however the vast majority do fit into one or more of the subcategories in the preceding article. I am not saying by any means to give up on the "modern black female" But I am saying that the way of thinking in the modern black female needs a drastic overhaul. Healing is not a destination but in fact a process. To change the world we live in means changing the people that inhabit it on a very internal and individual basis. 



What Are You Worth



Mara Jones scanned the files on her desk, making sure there were no errors. Her boss, Michael Smith, was efficient and demanding. He was fair, but had no patience for incompetence. In her six months here she'd seen two people summarily dismissed for repeating mistakes. She prided herself on her attention to detail and had yet to be reprimanded for anything. Prior to this, she'd been between jobs for far too long and had jumped at the opportunity for the entry level filing work. She'd been quietly efficient up until the last month. Working tirelessly day after day for the last six months she'd gotten more done than any two of her peers. Her diligence had paid off. Monday morning, Mr. Smith had commented at the weekly meeting on how well she'd done and how it would behoove everyone else in the office to take note of her example. That was her cue that it was time. Six months of entry level filing was long enough. It was time to move up. 

Now it was Friday. Once again she was one of the last people left working in the office. Smiling, she gathered up the files and shuffled them neatly into a folder. Rising from her desk she made her way to the back office where Mr. Smith would still be working. With each step she felt herself grow slightly more nervous. It was risky, asking for a promotion so soon, but her work ethic spoke for itself. Pausing just outside the door she took a steadying breathe. 

"Now or never." She whispered. Heart racing she knocked once and waited to be called in.

"Enter."

Opening the door, Mara strode confidently into the office. Mr. Smith was facing away from her, his nose buried deep in financial reports. 

"Mr. Smith, I have the files you requested."

"Thank you Miss Jones." He replied without looking up. "Just leave them on my desk. "

Mara hesitated just a moment before placing the files on the desk. Taking a step back she clasped her hands in front of her and waited patiently.

After several moments Mr. Smith looked up, as if noticing her for the first time. Glancing at his desk he spied the folder she'd place there. "Was there something else?"

"Yes."

Mr. Smith set the financial reports aside and turned to face her. She could feel his intense scrutiny as he tapped his fingers expectantly on his desk. "Well?" He asked patiently. "Were you going to tell me, or are you expecting me to read your mind?"

"I've been here six months now." She said.

"And?"

"I want a raise."

Mr. Smith arched an eyebrow at her but didn't smile. "Excuse me?"

"I'm your best employee." Mara stated. "I'm the first one at work, and I'm the last one to leave. I do twice the work of any of your other employees and I've never made a single mistake or needed any supervision."

"So you don't think I'm paying you enough?"

"No."

Mr. Smith nodded thoughtfully. "When you were hired, was there anything in the employment agreement that was unclear?"

"No."

"So." Mr. Smith continued. "You understand that raises are granted annually and only after a performance review?"

"Yes."

"And yet here you are."

"Yes."

"You're very confident." He said with a faint smile. "You've still got three months left on your probationary status. I could dismiss you for any reason."

"You won't." 

"You're right." He admitted. "I have no reason to dismiss you. You are smart, professional, and efficient. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have a raise. After your annual review, that is."

Mara frowned. That was six months away which was unacceptable. "I can work extra hours then."

Mr. Smith looked amused. "You're used to getting your way, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You do excellent work." He replied. "But I need more of a reason to make an exception for you."

"What do I have to do?"

Mr. Smith looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you single?"

Mara flushed in surprise, her mouth dropping open. "I'm not going to fuck you for a raise!" She replied indignantly before she could stop herself.

"No." Mr. Smith said evenly, un-phased by her outburst. "You most certainly are not. And I didn't ask you to. I asked you a simple yes or no question. You can choose to answer it or not."

"And if I don't?"

"Then this conversation is over." Mr. Smith replied. "If there's nothing further then?"

Mara bit back her irritation. "Yes, I'm single."

Mr. Smith nodded thoughtfully. "So you have no problem working extra hours then?"

"Not at all."

"Then just submit the request through the proper channels." He said dismissively, turning back to his reports. "I'm sure you know which form to use."

Mara stood in shock, her mouth still hanging open slightly. "That's it?"

"Yes."

Frustrated, Mara turned to leave but paused. This wasn't acceptable. "No."

Mr. Smith looked up. "No what?"

"I'm not going to work overtime. I'm already doing twice the work for half the pay."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Smith replied. "Unfortunately, unless you can give me a good reason to make an exception for you then there's nothing I can do. You'll just have to wait until your annual review."

"What would be a good reason?"

Mr. Smith looked at her with amusement. "Are you asking me because you can't think of anything, or because you want me to tell you what a good reason would be?"

"What do you want me to do?" Mara asked.

"I've already told you what you can do." Smith Replied. "File for overtime."

"What else can I do?"

"I don't know." Smith said. "What can you do?"

"I'm not going to fuck you." Mara repeated, feeling irritated, she could tell he was toying with her now. 

"You already said that." Smith replied. "And I told you I wasn't asking you to."

"What do you want then?"

"You want a raise?" Smith asked. 

"Yes."

"Beg for it."

Mara felt her mouth fall open in shock. "What?"

"Beg." Mr. Smith repeated. "You want a raise, beg me for one."

"I'm not going to beg you for a raise." Mara snapped. "I'm better than that."

"Then stop wasting my time." Mr. Smith replied. He glanced at the clock behind her, he waved dismissively. "It's late. You should go home. I'll see you Monday, bright and early as always?"

Mara gritted her teeth. Part of her wanted to stomp out of the office and slam the door. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to play a game, fine. She'd call his bluff."

"Please."

"Please what?" Mr. Smith asked. "What are you asking me?"

"Please." Mara repeated, bowing her head slightly. She slumped her shoulders forward a little and raised her voice an octave. "Please, Mr. Smith. I really, really need the money. Please, I need a raise. Please, please, please."

"No."

Mara's head snapped up, her eyes wide with anger. Stifling an angry curse she turned to leave his office. 

"That was playing." He called after her, his voice quiet. "Do it right."

"What?"

Mr. Smith stood up and walked around the desk until he was standing in front of her. He looked her in the eyes, his face unreadable. "If you're going to beg, do it right." 

Mara hesitated, she'd never noticed how intense his eyes were until now. She could feel the heat of his body, just inches from hers, smell the faint scent of his cologne and something else, something indefinable. To her surprise Mara felt her anger seeping away, being replaced by something else. 

"This is harassment." Mara said, trying to regain her composure. 

"No. It's not." Mr. Smith replied. "You came to me. I'm not holding this over you, I'm not threatening you, or promising you anything. You asked me what you could do. I told you. You have the option of saying yes, or no. And that's it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Do it right." He repeated, emphasizing each word. His gaze flicked towards the ground. "Kneel."

"I'm not going to blow you for a raise." Mara replied weakly, feeling her heart race.

"I didn't ask you to." Mr. Smith stated, his eyes penetrating her. "Did I?"

"No." Sinking to her knees she stared at the floor. Her cheeks flushed bright red from embarrassment. Her body trembled. Her face was now level with his crotch and she couldn't bring herself to look up. "Mr. Smith..." She said weakly, barely able to find her voice. 

"Sir." Mr. Smith said, cutting her off. He placed his index finger under her chin and raised her face up until she was looking at him. 

"Call me, sir." He said. "Clasp your hands behind your back, and beg."

Mara put her hands behind her back and gripped them tightly, she could feel her body trembling still. "Yes. Yes sir."

"Good." Mr. Smith said, his voice resonating with approval, his tone striking a cord deep within her. "Now, beg."

"Please sir." Mara begged, her breath coming in gasps. "Please. I need a raise. I need the money. Please sir. I'll... I'll do anything."

"Good girl." Mr. Smith smiled and patted her face gently. "I know."

Still panting Mara leaned back; she could feel her head spinning. "Please, sir." She repeated. "Tell me what to do."

Mr. Smith stepped back and looked at her appraisingly. "Stand up."

Mara pushed herself shakily to her feet. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. No one had ever had this effect on her before. Part of her wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't. Unsure of what to do, she held her hands together in front of her and bowed her head slightly, looking at the floor. She could feel Mr. Smith staring intently at her. 

"Tell me." Mr. Smith said finally. "What color panties are you wearing?"

Mara blushed. For a moment she couldn't find her voice. Finally, she answered. "Blue."

"Take them off."

Mara looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Take off your panties." Mr. Smith repeated. "Fold them up, and hand them to me."

"I'm not going to fuck you." Mara said, feeling her pulse quicken.

"I didn't ask you to." 

Swallowing back her fear, Mara reached behind her and hiked up the back of her skirt. Still blushing, she hooked her fingers into the waistline of her panties and slid them off while still preserving her modesty. Hands shaking, she folded them into a neat square and held it out.

Smiling, Mr. Smith took the small bundle of silky cloth and caressed it between his thumb and forefinger. He could feel the lingering warmth of her body radiating from the material. 

"Stand a foot away from my desk." He ordered, still stroking the material. "Bend forward at the waist, and place your hands on the desk."

Mara took a hesitant step forward, her knees feeling weak. Reaching out, her fingertips lightly brushed the cool surface of the desk. Bending forward slightly, she started to shake. Trembling, she leaned forward until her elbows were resting on the desk. She could hear Mr. Smith off to her side as he walked a slow circle around the office to stand in front of her. Sitting in his chair, he looked across his desk at her, a faint smile dancing across his lips. His eyes though were burning with an intensity that she'd never seen before. His fingers were still caressing the soft fabric of her panties as he gazed at her. 

Reaching out with his other hand, he placed his finger under her chin again and raised her head slightly. "Reach back with your left hand." He ordered. "Raise up your skirt until it's over your waist and then place your hand back on the desk."

Mara felt her lip quiver. "Please don't fuck me."

"Sir." Mr. Smith said gently, his thumb tracing a slow circle on her chin.

"Please don't fuck me, sir."

"I didn't ask to fuck you, did I?"

"No sir."

"Spread your legs should width apart, and lift up your skirt." Mr. Smith repeated.

Nodding weakly, Mara reached back with her left hand and pulled her skirt up. Shivering slightly, she felt goose bumps rising on her exposed backside. Embarrassed, she placed her hand back on the table and tried to avert her eyes, but he held her fast. 

"Open your mouth."

Breath coming in rapid gasps, Mara opened her mouth slightly.

Mr. Smith held the folded square of cloth just in front of her face and brushed it gently against her nose. Sliding the silky fabric up and down her nose, he teased her open lips with it before shoving it gently into her mouth. 

"That stays there until I tell you otherwise, do you understand?"

Teeth clenched, Mara nodded. "Yth thr."

Mr. Smith stroked her check affectionately. "Good girl."

Standing up, he walked around the desk until he was standing behind her. "Put your head down and clasp your fingers together behind your neck."

Still shaking, Mara obeyed and made a quiet mewling noise as she felt his shoe tap her feet gently apart until her stomach was resting on the edge of the desk. His strong hand gripped her fingers at the back of her neck firmly and pushed until her face down on the cool desk, pinning her helplessly.

Whimpering slightly Mara felt her hips shifting from side to side. 

"You have a lovely ass, Miss Jones." Mr. Smith said pleasantly, his fingers sliding across one side of her ass to the other. "But you are insolent and your attitude needs some adjusting."

Without warning he drew his hand back and smacked her firmly across the ass.

Squealing in surprise, Mara felt her hips buck helplessly, but Mr. Smith still held her firmly. 

"I'm going to punish you for your insolence." Mr. Smith continued, still stroking her ass. Mara could feel the heat rising from where his hand had stung her and shivered from where his fingers brushed over the tender spot. "I'm going to spank you." He said quietly, his voice lowering an octave. "Feel free to struggle all you want. But don't hide from it. If I feel like you're holding back, I'm going to spank you harder. I want to see how long you can last. When you can't take anymore, all you have to do is say 'please'. Do you understand?"

"Yth thr." Mara whimpered through clenched teeth. 

"Let me hear you say it then." Mr. Smith said. "Say 'please'."

"Plth."

Without warning, Mr. Smith brought his hand down across her ass, the sound of his hand smacking her tender flesh echoed through the office. Mara writhed and twisted, but couldn't escape his grasp. Tirelessly, he slapped her ass again and again, wrenching a pitiful cry from her with every stroke. Every swat seemed to vibrate through her whole body with a rising intensity, the stinging warmth suffusing her backside as she struggled helplessly. The heat radiated from her ass to between her legs, and she could feel warm sticky juices flowing down her thighs. Finally, the intensity of the sting began to overwhelm her, choking and gasping as tears sprang to her eyes she struggled to find her voice. 

"Plth." She sobbed through clenched teeth, a puddle of drool tracing from the corner of her mouth. "Plth. Nw Mwr. Plth."

"Good girl." Mr. Smith purred, admiring the red marks glowing against her pale skin. Gently he stroked her ass, massaging it firmly with a gentle pat. "You did very good."

Reaching across his desk, he pulled a tissue from the box sitting on the corner of his desk. She was so wet her juices had trickled down to her knees. With surprising gentleness he cleaned her legs. With slow, soft strokes he worked his way up her legs. Getting a fresh tissue, he dabbed gently at her pussy. She could feel his fingers stroking her labia through the soft tissues. He cleaned her gently, making sure every bit of her was dry and clean. Hips still twitching, she could feel the dampness deep inside her oozing out. 

"You're a very good girl." Mr. Smith purred, his fingers tracing up and down either side of her pussy. Gently he gripped the hood of her clit and squeezed, causing her to gasp in surprise. "You were very, very wet."

Writhing and twisting, she tried to close her knees but was too weak. She could feel his thumb and forefinger clamped down firmly on her clit as he rolled his fingers from side to side. After what seemed like an eternity, he released her. His fingers slid up the length of her pussy, teasing her one last time. Reaching for another tissue he dabbed her sex gently, getting up every last bit of moisture. 

Still gripping the back of her neck, he moved to stand directly behind her. Pulling back, he lifted her head off the desk and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. Releasing her hands, Mr. Smith slid his grip from the back her neck to her throat. Mara moaned as she felt him pressed against her, his rock hard cock rubbing through the fabric against her pussy.

"You are mine." He growled into her ear. "I own you. You do not tell me what you will and will not do. I will fuck you how I want and when I want. Do you understand?"

"Yth thr." Mara moaned, still gripping her panties with her teeth. 

"Good girl." Mr. Smith whispered, releasing her. 

Mara stumbled forward and caught herself on the edge of his desk, legs shaking. She felt his hand tug her skirt down and turned her head in askance. Smiling gently he reached up and stroked her face. Gripping the edge of the fabric, he tugged at the panties still in her mouth until she let go. 

"Good girl." He repeated. "You should go home and get some rest. We're done for now."

"What?" Mara asked weakly. "I don't understand..."

"You did well." Mr. Smith replied, still smiling. He stroked her hair gently. "I can't give you a raise though."

Mara felt as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice water. "What?"

"You're still on probation status." Mr. Smith replied with a wicked smile. "So I can't give you a raise. However, I need a personal assistant."

"Personal assistant?"

"Yes." Mr. Smith said. "I like the way you conduct yourself. Your performance since you started working here has been nothing short of exemplary. I think you'll do quite well. So in three months, when your temporary probation expires, submit the application. You will be approved. The pay increase should be significant, as well as the benefits."

"Benefits?" Mara asked. "But what about..."

"This?" Mr. Smith asked, still smiling. "This will be part of your regular duties as my personal assistant. Consider the next three months your training period."

"Training?"

"Yes." He replied. "I like your outfit. It looks very good on you. For the next three months, you will wear this exact outfit, minus panties once per week." He held up her panties. "I'll be keeping these."

"Ok..." Mara replied weakly, still feeling her head spinning from what had just happened.

"On those days, you will stay after hours. For training purposes, do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Mara nodded weakly, her knees were still shaking. 

"Good girl." Mr. Smith said. "Until next week then?"

"Yes sir."