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The Pen

By: KarennaC



It was certainly a unique pen. 

Sabine had collected pens since childhood, but she'd never seen anything quite like this. Her friend-with-benefits had given it to her as a birthday gift. "Use it for inspiration when you get writer's block," he'd told her. "I think you'll find it will work very well for that."

Sabine questioned that. It was just a pen. A strangely-shaped one, nearly six inches long and big enough around that she had trouble gripping it to write with. It had a button on one side of it that didn't seem to do anything. But just a pen, not anything particularly inspiring. At least not for the erotica she wrote.

The erotica she would be writing, that was, if she hadn't run into a writer's block big enough to qualify as a brick wall. Two weeks after her birthday, Sabine sat at her desk staring at a blank computer screen. She had a deadline on a short story for an online magazine and another for rewrites on a novella that had been accepted by an e-publisher, but she had no idea of what to do with either story. 

"Damn it." The advantage of living alone was that she could talk out loud to herself without anyone thinking she was nuts. Sabine switched off the computer without bothering to shut it down properly. The only thing that would be lost was a word processing document that contained only one word. She looked across the room at her pen collection. "Hmm. Inspiration, huh? Okay, weird-looking pen, let's see if Jack was right about you."

She went over to the collection and picked up her birthday pen. When she touched it, a shock went through her. "Damn static electricity," she muttered. 

She rarely wrote longhand anymore; typing was so much faster. But when she got really stuck, sometimes using a pen and paper helped her through the block. She wasn't sure that would be effective with this pen, though. It wasn't the right shape to hold easily in her hand, which would make it difficult to write with. But Jack had seemed certain that it would help her when she was stuck, so she would give it a try.

She sat on her bed with a notebook propped up on her knees. "Okay, magic pen, do your stuff."

She opened the pen and, expecting nothing, clicked the button on the side of it. This time, something happened. The pen vibrated.

Startled, Sabine almost dropped it. "What the hell? You never did that before. You must be one of those squiggle pens like my niece was telling me about." 

She made an experimental line on the notebook page. The line was perfectly straight. "Okay, so why are kids so excited about squiggle pens if they don't do anything?" Sabine shook her head. "Everyone has to have the cool stuff, I guess. Okay, forget the squiggly lines and just help me get something written."

Immediately an image of a man fucking a woman over the back of a chair came into Sabine's mind. Perfect! That was just what she needed for her short story. She started to write a description of the image, but the tingling between her legs distracted her. "I don't get horny when I write. What the hell is going on here?"

Apparently she did get horny when she wrote, at least with this pen. Her mental movie continued, with the man thrusting a huge cock in and out of the woman, while in reality Sabine's pussy moistened. Shit. Inspiration, definitely, but she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate enough to write anything down until she took care of her horniness.

Deadlines could wait. Sabine set the notebook aside and started to put down the pen as well, but something made her hold onto it. A new vision began in her mind, two men pounding a woman on a blanket in a field. Why couldn't she write this stuff down? 

Because a pulse beat in her pussy and she couldn't take the time. She had to touch herself. Now.

She slid down on her pillows until she lay on her back, and ran her hand over her crotch. Her body responded to the touch by increasing both the moisture and the tingling in her pussy. Still lying down, she shimmied out of her sweatpants and panties so her fingers could access her clit and opening.

Was it her imagination, or was the pen vibrating faster? She stared at the thing and could have sworn it had changed shape. It now looked less like a pen and more like a—

"That's ridiculous!" Sabine snapped. It was a pen, not a vibrator. She knew it was a pen. She'd written with it.

But it certainly looked like a vibrator now. Not even one of those plastic tapered ones; it looked like a real cock. 

The X-rated pictures in Sabine's mind came fast and furious now, and even without her touch she recognized the signs that she was nearing orgasm.

Fuck it. She needed to come, and if the pen wanted to pretend it was a vibrator, she would use it as one. She brought it to her clit and this time knew for sure it was vibrating faster. When it touched her, she cried out in pleasure; the vibrations sent jolts through her entire body, and more images of men and women fucking in every possible combination and position filled her brain.

Her orgasm built, but she wanted one more thing before it hit. Without giving herself a chance to realize how nuts the idea was, she thrust the pen inside herself.

And came instantly, so hard her back arched, so hard she thought she was going to fly off the bed.

Panting, she withdrew the pen and set it on the bed beside her. The vibrations stopped and so did the visions; the pen now looked like just a normal, albeit oddly sized and shaped, pen. 

"Definite inspiration," Sabine said. After a moment of recovery, she returned to her computer, turned it back on, and finished her writing in record time.

Rather than putting the pen back with her collection, she decided to keep it on her nightstand. Just in case she needed more inspiration someday.

The Pen In The Company Ink



The way you tuck my hair behind my ear brings a moan to my lips, the sensual simplicity of the action pulling arousal from deep inside. Your fingers trace my jaw, bringing my chin up towards you. Your lips are gentle, inviting and reassuring. You're so tall I stand on my toes, arching my back and falling against you. How we ended up here is hazy, I remember a parking lot and your long list of reasons we shouldn't be doing this and my nodding in agreement. Yet here we are, at my door and your kisses aren't of the goodbye variety. They're tender and testing, still holding back. I attempt to keep my composure, my passion has been building for weeks. I was shy at first, sneaking glances at you across the store. You were the forbidden fruit, yet your training position put us in close contact. I've been fantasizing about what your hands would feel like when I should have been focusing on the job. 

And here we are, those hands tangling in my hair, pulling me back to look me in the eyes. Yours are so dark, they almost match mine. Is my roommate home? I don't remember. We make it to my bed. You're looking more uncertain, I feign bravery and push you to the bed. Where this dominance comes from, I have no idea. I'm the one that wants to be dominated, but you don't know that yet. Maybe later. Now is for exploring, seeing what will happen. You look surprised when I straddle you, my hair falls around your face when I lean in to express my desire. I'm wearing the same gray dress I had on when you interviewed me, except now it's riding up and your hands are sliding down my body to meet the hem. 

Your tongue slides easily into my mouth, your lips feel as good as I imagined. Your hands reach my lower back and slide onto my ass, my reaction invites you to grasp each cheek and you rock me back and forth slightly, I grind down and feel your arousal. I groan into your mouth, but you're not to be rushed. Your hands reach the end of my dress and you push it up to cup my bare ass cheeks and your fingers brush the crevice where my panties should be. You pull away and your fingertips are covered in wetness. Diving in further you pull me apart, reaching between my legs to slip over my soaking lips. My dress has bunched around my waist and I throw myself up and strip it off over my head. The lacey bra I had teased you with earlier during our shift is now in full view, my nipples hard and aching for attention visible through the fabric. I'm dying for your hands on my tits, for you to leave a print from squeezing then soothe them with a gentle caress. I'm soon rewarded, your fingers finding the swollen apexes to tighten and I cry out. You bring my head back down and meet my pleasure with your mouth.

I'm forcing your clothes off, clumsily, drunk with excitement. I've fingered myself to body-wrenching orgasms to your face over the past months and my pussy is drenched. Somehow you are naked and on top of me. Your massive cock presses into my stomach and suddenly I'm not so sure. I push against you and roll on top, your hands in my hair again. I wiggle down your chest, kissing as I go. Lying between your legs I look up and hold your gaze as I put the thick tip to my lips. It's big, bigger than I expected, and my enthusiasm gets the best of me as I slide my lips down the smooth shaft gulping down your dick, feeling it fill my throat. I slacken my jaw to undulate the bottom with my tongue while I work the head in my throat, my eyes watering at my efforts. Your reactions encourage me, you have no idea how much I love the feeling of your cock choking me. Your hand on the back of my head pulling and holding my hair is making my pussy gush. 

You eventually pull me upward, again tucking my hair behind my ear, disheveled as it is. You lay me down beside you, exploring me. I am panting from my efforts to stuff as much of your dick as I could into my throat, you are slow and patient in your kissing, rubbing your hands over me. "You have perfect breasts, they fit just right in my hands." You squeeze and play with them, and quickly discover how much I love my nipples pinched. After an eternity, you bring your hand down, between my splayed legs where my clit is pounding with need. My smooth pussy is shiny with arousal and you comment on how wet I am as you touch my clit with your finger tip. I nearly explode right there. Your steady hands stroke my slit, forking over my clit and applying pressure with your two fingers on either side. My hips are pumping upward to meet your hand, urgent. Slipping two fingers inside, you grunt and withdraw one as you realize I'm smaller than you expected. My muscles clench down, gripping your probing finger and moaning. Your erection is rigid against me, dripping pre-cum on my hip. I'm not the kinda girl to give myself to someone without a commitment, but with you it doesn't matter. You make me feel important, and cared for. And fucking horny. 

I finally pull at you to climb on top of me, I don't want to wait anymore. You seem to question me one last time, hesitating long enough for me to change my mind. All I want is you inside me, I spread my legs wide. As you position yourself between them, I stare down at your huge cock, throbbing next to my waiting pussy. You press the tip to my swollen lips and I nearly cum, instead I gush more wetness to meet the thick head. Your eyes close as I stretch around you, my tightness squeezing around your pulsing rod. As it sinks deeper I arch my back to tilt my hips in order to receive the rest of you, my struggle catches your attention and you soothe me with your lips on mine as you sink the rest inside.

God I've never been so full. You're filling me and it feels so fucking good. I can't stop moaning, squirming underneath you as you hold still above me and allow me to adjust. I can tell you're aching to fuck me, to press my knees to my chest and pound my tight cunt. It's been a long few months of torturous flirting and here I am, moaning and gushing underneath you. Slowly you pull out and find a steady rhythm, pumping into me and I disappear into bliss. I grasp your arms and drive my hips up to meet your penetration and wrap my legs around your hips, pulling you in when you shove inside. 

At some point, I NEED you to fuck me from behind. I half-heartedly push on your chest and you get the message and quickly I flip onto my hands and knees, arching my ass high, hoping you'll smack it and spread my cheeks before you sink back inside me. Your big hands grasp my butt and I sigh in pleasure as you pull it apart, exposing my asshole that I absently hope you'll be playing with later. Your thumbs press into the flesh on either side of my sensitive anus, stretching it slightly open to spread me for your cock. You are less gentle now, after grabbing the shaft and guiding it in, you shove into me with a force that moves me from my hands to my elbows. I cry out into my pillow, bringing my hand up to stroke my engorged clit. I can feel with my fingers how obscenely wide you're stretching me, loving the feeling, you're giving me everything I've been wanting. I can feel the orgasm start in my stomach, my abs clenching and tingling as my clit presses into my fingers from your cock forcing it outward. The pleasure tears through me with a violence I was hoping for and your body answers all my pleas of desire. All of my muscles spasm, my pussy contracts uncontrollably, milking every ounce of pleasure off of your dick. My breath returns in a gush and I am weak. My body relaxes into you, and my cumming vagina seems to have pushed you to the peak. Your groan and at the last second you pull out, spraying warm cum all over my ass and back, coating me with release. I smile into the pillow, reveling in the pleasure while you hang onto my hip as your orgasm washes over you.    



The Pen is Mightier than the Sword



Last night I visited my friends Dino and Donna.

That might not seem unusual: I have often visited them. The visits have followed a familiar pattern. Donna would cook her Italian recipes, and I would enjoy it. In return I pretended to flirt with her and make a public show of appreciating her good looks. Of course, I have never made a serious play for her. After all, she is my friend's wife!

After supper, Dino would take me to one side, and we would talk about football or boxing. Or politics.

Dino is a great guy in every point except one: when he gets going about political issues he is the world's greatest bore. He loves starting meandering discussions on pointless topics. Somehow he believes that the cause of every crisis is "the bandit American Army." Fortunately I am usually able to distract him into more interesting issues, but there are times that he will not budge. 

That was the pattern till last night.

I really like Dino. Most of the time he is a natural guy, and his one flaw has always seemed harmless, if slightly infuriating to an American like myself.

Dino is the complete opposite to me. I am fit; he is quiet overweight. He is very much of a stay at home type; I love to party and meet women. He is strongly monogamous, and says that he does not even look at other women. 

I think that he might even have a point there: Donna, his wife, is a stunning woman. Even I might settle down if I had a woman like her. Not only is she beautiful; she has a sweet sunny, personality that makes one feel good. When you meet her she certainly does not give the impression of anything but a good, devoted wife.

I don't let Dino dominate the conversation. I have my favorite topic too: I am not shy about talking about my girlfriends. I tell him how I work with women, what they look like without their clothes on, and exactly what we do in bed. Dino seems to enjoy listening to me: his eyes stretch at each new revelation.

I suppose I like Dino very much. He has been a great friend. I even met my present girlfriend, Holly, at his house. 

I am sure that Dino is secretly more than a little envious of my conquests, but at the same time he is not always sure that I am not making things up. I know he thinks very carefully about my stories because he sometimes carefully questions me for weeks afterward trying to catch me out on some incorrect detail. For this reason I tell him nothing but the plain simple truth. I enjoy it each time he shakes his head in disbelief, having to concede that the story that I have told seems consistent and accurate.

In a sense my story started last week when I told Dino about my relationship with Holly: how we had sex the night we met at his house, how she moved into my place the next afternoon, and how good she is in bed. He quietly listened to it, shaking his head as usual. But when I told him that we have an open relationship, he could not credit it. 

"Conrad, do you mean that Holly allows you to have sex with other women?" Dino asked, his voice shaking with shock. "How can that be? Isn't she jealous?"

"That's not a problem." I said glibly. "She has my permission to have sex with whoever she pleases, so neither of us get jealous."

Dino was dumbstruck. Several times he started talking, stopped in confusion, and then closed his mouth with another shake of his head.

"I think I understand your question," I ventured after a while. "We have agreed that while we really enjoy the sex, we are not ready to commit to one another. Holly knows my reputation, and so she understands that she would not be able to keep me from other women. An open relationship was her idea, but it suits me."

"I would never have thought that of her," Dino mused. He has only met Holly as a professional woman, and has seen her purely as a hard working, competitive manager with real steel. That she might have a sexual appetite to match her drive at work had never occurred to him. "But don't you get jealous?" he asked.

"Oh no," I answered lightly, "She tells me all about her boyfriends. It's quite a turn-on for me having a woman tell me about how she fucked another man. Hasn't any woman ever done that to you before?"

Dino's jaw moved up and down like a twig waving in the breeze, but he could not say a single word. I quickly changed the subject to motorcycle racing. It was about that time that Donna brought us our coffee, if I remember correctly.

* * *

I did not plan for last night's visit to be different. To be fair, I asked Holly, to go with me, but she said that she had taken some work home, and gave me a wink.

This surprised me: a wink is our code sign that we use when we are planning a seduction.

"Have fun," I said without any anger or jealousy. "Just tell me what you did in the morning."

"Certainly, lover," Holly replied graciously. "Remember that you must tell me what you were up to."

"I am going to visit Dino. It's unlikely that I'll get much joy there tonight," I said slightly testily.

"I know, dear," Holly answered softly. "Have you forgotten that you have had some fun at Dino's house in the past?"

"How could I forget?" I said passionately. "Still, if you won't be there, I doubt that it will be repeated."

"You never can tell," Holly chimed in cryptically with a blank expression.

Thinking nothing further of her words, I greeted Holly, wished her well and left.

Donna and Dino live only a few houses away, and I was able to walk the short distance to their house within a few minutes even though I was taking my time.

As soon as I knocked, Donna opened the door, and as usual her beauty almost knocked me over. I could have sworn that her smile was just a bit broader and more mischievous than before. She greeted me warmly. "Hello Conrad, it is so good to see you!"

She then took me totally by surprise by giving me a welcoming kiss. Her kiss was sweet, firm and straight on my mouth.

I returned the kiss, knowing that no woman who has kissed me like that has ever refused me. A moment later she drew back, just before Dino appeared at the door.

Dino did not seem to notice that we were both a little shaken from our greeting. "Hello Conrad," he boomed, "how are you this evening?"

"Fine, fine," I said, trying to be cool.

"Today I am very angry," he boomed once more, before interrupting himself. "Donna, please get the food onto the table, we are hungry."

Donna obediently moved to the kitchen whilst Dino continued. "Conrad, my friend, you have heard the news of that war the Americans are in? The Americans and wars." He shook his head sadly. "Today I wrote a letter to the newspaper, and maybe you will have some comment on it."

"Sure, Dino," I said, unable to add any enthusiasm. I wondered why Dino had to get into the topic that most irritated me. I tried to deflect him, but he would have none of it. He gave me a full description of the reasons for his letter and where he had gotten his information and how clever it was.

After a while, Donna came in, carrying some things for the table. As I looked up, she winked at me. The table was behind Dino, and she knew that he could not see her. As she put the things down, she blew me a kiss.

For the next few minutes, I did not know what to do. Dino insisting on going to his computer and printing out a copy of his letter. He read it to me with gusto. "I denounce the outright imperialism of the American nation," he began pompously. "Their continued attacks on the rest of the world must no longer be tolerated."

He continued in this vein, darting fervent looks at me to make sure that he was indeed making his point. My growing antagonism to my friend's views were nicely counterbalanced by my increased attention to his wife. Unknown to him, she had seated herself behind him and was giving me fine views of her legs. I tried not to look, but it was all in vain. 

I have never been able to resist a pretty woman.

At last he cleared his voice and said in a proud voice, "Now listen carefully, Conrad, the end is a gem."

I nodded, thinking that his wife, not his letter, was the gem.

"Americans will soon learn that their military strength is puny compared to the moral superiority of their enemies. The pen is mightier than the sword."

I nearly snapped a correction to his ending, but held my peace at the last minute. I'm glad I did: it came in very handy when I left several hours later, as we shall see.

He turned to me in triumph. "Is that not a dramatic end to the letter?" he asked rhetorically.

He asked me my opinion, but before I could answer, he continued with his denunciation of all things American.

I would not have been able to answer in any case, because at the very moment that he asked his question, his demure little wife had moved her legs slightly further apart, giving me a grand view of her legs all the way to her lacy white panties. I had not realized that her dress was that short!

Before my eyes could pop out of their sockets, Donna returned to the kitchen. On the way, she turned around and winked at me again.

Suddenly I was glad that Dino was too busy talking to me to take note of what I was saying. I was convinced that I would not have been able to answer anything he said; I was simply too excited by the display his wife was giving me.

She came and went four times, each time giving me a more daring view. I wondered how I could show my appreciation for the views Donna was giving me, but could not think of a safe way of doing so.

At the same time, I tried to think what was happening. Donna had never shown any flirtatiousness towards me or anyone else. I had thought that she was unreservedly hooked onto one man. What was Donna doing?

Dino droned on. 

Mercifully he was interrupted suddenly. "Time for supper," Donna announced cheerfully.

Dino went on for a moment, before reluctantly moving toward the table. "Of course these things are not interesting to Donna," he said regretfully. "Her mind is set on more practical things."

Dino used the phrase 'practical things' as if they were below the level of contempt. I noticed Donna smiling dutifully but painfully. Dino was not even aware that he had offended her. I could not help feeling for her. 

We sat down to eat. The servings looked most delectable, tasted divine and had taken hours of preparation but Dino did not seem to notice. He was telling us about a philosophical discussion he had taken part in earlier that day. "The problem with people like yourself is that you think that you run the world. You forget that your military power can be overcome by words and ideas and forget that 'The pen is mightier than the sword.'"

Dino spoke passionately about the subject, never letting me say a word to show my true feelings on the matter. He seemed to be arguing with an imaginary foe, desperately trying to prove his point. He was not listening at all. I looked at Donna, and she looked back, shrugging.

That's when she surprised me again.

I am glad that Dino's mind was on his discussion otherwise he would have noticed the surprised jerk I gave when I felt Donna's leg brush against mine. I thought for a moment that it might have been an accident, but it was still worth investigating. I decided to see how far Donna would go. I carefully brought my leg against hers. She did move away, but smiled at me with big innocent-looking eyes that had a devilish twinkle that lit a fire in my belly.

I brazenly rubbed my leg against hers. Her smile broadened, and I knew that I had hit the jackpot. For a moment I thought about the ethics of seducing my friend's wife, but then she licked her lips sexily, her eyes straight on me. That was different: I was being seduced. How could I not take the bait?

My heart beating like a drummer in a rock band, I reached out to Donna below the table. My left hand found her leg and I boldly stroked it. I watched her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. She did not move away. I continued enjoying the beautiful leg, thinking about how often I had fantasized over it. With each moment I became bolder. Donna responded by moving closer and closer to me. Finally I was well up her thigh, almost to the level of her panties.

I think that Dino was a little surprised that I did not rise to take the bait by interrupting him at some point, and so tried to get ever more provocative and outrageous. Actually I was far too busy to make my voice be heard.

Donna seemed equally distracted. Every now and then our eyes would meet secretively. Her eyes sparkled with a promise of greater things to come.

This was a pleasant thought, but I had to be alert. Dino was keeping up his chatter, and somehow I had to find ways to keep him talking. This was harder to do than one might suspect because Donna was doing her utmost to keep my attention. My hand touched the material of her panties...

Suddenly my reverie was broken. "What do you say about this issue?" I heard Dino ask.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was not about to admit that I had not been listening to him. "Surely you know my views on that, Dino!" I said with pretended intensity. "I am always willing to listen to the opposing view though," I added, hoping that he would fall into the trap of telling me what was causing him to get so excited.

"If you will excuse me, I will make us coffee," Donna said, pretending to be bored. "Men can talk such nonsense. If you had any sense, Dino, you would go to sleep now. You have had such an exciting day, you are bound to fall asleep any moment."

"Nonsense, Donna," Dino responded. "I feel wide awake. You know that stimulating conversation is good for me. I am sure that I will not be sleepy for hours."

"I am not so sure of that, Dino," Donna said. "I can see that your tiredness is catching up with you far faster than you realize. You need a cup of coffee urgently."

Dino dismissed Donna's words and went off on his own tangent once more. While Donna was away I wondered about the meaning of her outburst. Why would she suddenly be so concerned about Dino's tiredness? And why did she move away just before I reached my goal: the treasure between her legs? Had I been too forward? Had I been too slow? I prepared myself for a long evening of the worst of Dino's company, steeling myself not to lose my temper.

Soon Donna brought in the coffee as promised. Dino took a sip, and kept on talking. Every few minutes he had some more of his coffee. After a while he started yawning, yet he kept on speaking. I could see that he was feeling very sleepy, but that he was stubbornly trying to stay awake just to prove Donna wrong 

This time Donna seated herself next to me. I immediately reached up between her legs, confident that Dino would not be able to catch me in anything untoward. Already Donna was red hot, her panties damp with excitement.

Suddenly Dino fell forward in mid-sentence, his head only just missing the coffee mug. A deep snore resonated through his body.

For a moment I panicked. I said, "Donna, what's happened to Dino? We must take him to a doctor."

Donna calmly smiled at me. "Don't worry, Dino's alright. I told him that he'd fall asleep, and now he has. Do you like the feel of my pussy?"

"Aren't you worried about your husband waking up?" I asked in surprise.

"Dino sleeps very well. Once he's gone he's very hard to wake up," Donna said reassuringly.

"He might be ill," I pointed out. "It isn't natural to just fall asleep like that."

Donna winked at me. '"I warned him that he was sleepy, but he was too proud to listen to me." She paused meaningfully and winked. "Besides, I accidentally slipped him a sleeping pill in his coffee. I'm sure he'll be fine in the morning."

"What do you want to do now?" I asked.

"As my husband has so rudely fallen asleep, I will just simply have to entertain you myself," Donna said. "Let's talk a bit."

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked cautiously.

"Holly tells me that the two of you have an open relationship. Is that true?"

"Yes, it is. Why do you ask?"

"Let's see if I understand this right. Do you have as many girlfriends as you like, and Holly does not mind?"

I nodded. The sexual tension in the air was thick enough to touch. I knew exactly where Donna was heading. I did not know why, but I was certain that I would discover that too. I did know that her plan suited me completely, and let her steer things in the direction she was headed.

"Does she have guys too?"

I nodded again.

"Doesn't it concern you that your girlfriend is-" Donna paused and then continued excitedly, with a heavy, husky emphasis on the next word, "fucking other men?"

"I'm fine with what she does. It's her body, and she is free to fuck anyone she likes."

"Can she fuck women too?" Donna spoke quickly and I could only speculate what triggered the question.

"She can choose her lovers as she pleases," I said, still wondering where this was going.

"Does she tell you about the people she has sex with?" Donna asked.

I had the feeling that she knew the answer, but answered as truthfully as I could. "Sometimes she tells me, sometimes she doesn't. I like it when she does. It's an incredible turn-on for me when Holly tells me of one of her adventures."

"Do you have adventures too?" Donna asked, holding in her breath.

"Sometimes," I said cautiously.

"Holly tells me that you are a very good lover," Donna said breathlessly. "Tell me about the women you have seduced."

"I don't tell," I said simply.

"You have told some interesting stories to Dino," Donna pointed out. "He told me some of it."

"What do you want to hear?"

"I hear you screwed Marcia Moreland, Carla Been and Stephanie Waite," Donna said.

"I might have."

"Is Marcia a genuine blonde?" Donna asked. "I have always wondered how much dye the bitch uses."

"She's genuine, believe me," I said simply.

"I don't believe that you fucked Carla Been. Prove it."

"Carla has a tattoo just below her bikini line with her husband's name on it. Satisfied?"

"You pass on that one. She bragged about her new tattoo for weeks, but she refused to show it." Donna paused. "But how did you get into Stephanie's pants? She must the most prissy woman I have ever met."

"I didn't seduce her. She seduced me."

"Really? How did that happen?"

I smiled at the memory. "Stephanie invited me to her house for tea. When I arrived there, her husband was out. That tended to make me feel a little suspicious."

"I should think so," said Donna, moving closer to me. "What did you do?"

"I decided to play it cool. I try to stay away from married women," I said.

Donna interrupted me. "Really?" she asked skeptically. "You seem to do quite well in that department if I may believe Dino and Holly."

"I don't go for married women, they go for me," I said stiffly. "For example, Stephanie told me that unfortunately she had run out of tea, and would I like something else?"

Donna laughed. "You can't be serious," she said giggling.

"I said I'd take coffee instead."

Donna whooped with laughter. "Are you always so slow-witted?" she asked.

I ignored her again. "Stephanie said that she had run out of that too, and sat down on my lap."

"I'm sure you did not chase her away," Donna said slyly.

"Oh no, I would never do that," I said. "It might hurt the woman's feelings. I decided to make the most of the situation. I ran my hands over Stephanie's body. She did not seem to mind. In fact, I am sure she positively purred as I discovered that wasn't wearing a bra."

"Amazing." said Donna. "I always thought that woman was so proper she'd wear a bra in the bath."

"I was happy enough having my hands all over her sexy tits."

Donna looked very upset. For a moment I thought I'd blown it by saying something insensitive. Then Donna quickly took off her blouse. "Well, are her tits any better than mine?"




The Pen is Mightier than the Sword



"Of course not," I said, uncertain where things were going.

"Get your filthy hands busy then," Donna said gruffly.

I pulled Donna closer and cupped her breasts in my hands. The entire situation was surreal: there I was, telling my best friend's wife about an intense sexual encounter while feeling her up. With him snoring away opposite us. And it was all her idea. As my hands rubbed her breasts, her eyes closed and her breaths came faster.

"I'm sure that Stephanie enjoyed your touch almost as you did," Donna remarked. "Tell me what happened next."

"I kissed her like this," I replied.

Our lips locked. Donna's lips, soft and full, hungrily brushed over mine. With one mind, our tongues reached out for one another. I opened my eyes, and found myself looking deep into hers. Her face was a picture of passion.

"Exactly like that?" Donna asked.

"No, you are far better," I said.

Donna sat up straighter. "Flatterer," she said, enjoying the compliment anyway. "What happened next?"

"Stephanie moved sideways onto the couch and I followed her. After a moment, she was lying on her back and I was on top of her."

"What was it like?" asked Donna.

"There is nothing on earth like being above a hot, horny woman who has given up any thought of resistance; a woman that can't wait..."

"That's exactly what I need," Donna said. "I want you on top of me right now." She stood up and took me by the hand, leading me to her bedroom.

Without any word or ceremony we stripped, looking one another in the eye. "Let's carry on with your story. You said that Stephanie was lying on her back." Donna lay down on the bed and I straddled her.

"Hmmm, I like this," said Donna. "What did Stephanie do next?"

"She didn't do anything. She was so excited that she could not move. I slowly forced my way between her legs. As I did so, she groaned with pleasure. As my hands got between her legs I could not believe the warmth and wetness that came out of her pussy. When I touched her, her whole body seemed to jerk in anticipation. That was enough for me. I quickly pulled down my pants and brought my cock to its target. I pulled aside her panties-"

"No, stop telling me about Stephanie," moaned Donna. She lifted up her hips and hiked up her skirt revealing her naked pussy. "I'm readier than she was." She looked me in the face. "Fuck me now," she demanded. "I've been waiting for this all evening. Don't play with me, just fuck me hard." She lifted her legs, hooked her legs around my waist and pulled me toward her.

I undid my pants and pulled out my cock. It was already hard.

Donna sighed deeply. "Your cock is beautiful," she said. "Hurry, give it to me."

As I slid into Donna she gasped with such excitement that for a moment I thought that she was in pain. This concern left me instantly when she threw her arms around me and pulled me as close as she could.

Donna's pussy welcomed me in like a fire on a cold winter's day. Like a poker, I stoked her fire. With each stroke she moved against me, eagerly trying to take me as deeply as possible.

Donna's excitement was contagious. Her shivering body caused my own to respond with a passion I have never experienced with any woman. The beauty of her body triggered a desire to touch every square inch of it. As I did so, it felt as if sparks of pleasure shot between us, giving me greater energy than I had ever dreamed of. As her legs curled around my hips, I felt as if we were becoming one living, breathing, grunting person. I felt as if I could feel what she was feeling, and she could feel my every sensation. As her vagina throbbed against my rampant cock, it was as if we were temporarily fused into a beautiful being that was far greater than the simple meeting of two people.

I did not let myself wonder what caused this deep connection between us, but instead merely let myself be carried by the experience, awed and almost fearful even as the ecstasy reached ever grater heights.

I have never had such a responsive partner, or one that was as spontaneous. At one point she put my hands on her breasts. "Feel my tits," she cried. 'Play with them like a naughty boy."

As I caressed her breasts, I kissed them. My tongue rolled across her nipples, and I was rewarded with a shout.

"I'm cumming!" Donna cried out. "I'm cumming!"

I could not hold back a moment longer; I heaved forward. My cock took on a life of its own as it discharged its load deep into Donna's body. I was completely out of control; I could feel my cock jerk backward and forward. Her pussy was clenched around it like a hand gently milking it. My balls contracted to the point where it was almost painful as every sperm in my body joined the exodus, and shot along my prick into the woman's welcoming waiting womb. Donna and I were two red-hot flames joining into one huge fire that could consume anything in its path.

My climax overpowered me, as the power of the moment drove me to heights of passion I had never imagined before.

Then the sensation slowly decreased. The fireball that had taken over my whole being slowly dulled. I rolled over next to Donna, overwhelmed by her presence. I felt numbed as if I had just received an injection, but with a great warmth that glowed through me.

"Do not fall asleep on me," Donna said quietly.

I pulled myself together. My satisfied body was as relaxed as a baby in its cot, but this moment was too good to be spoiled. "That was very good," I sighed softly. "You are the best ever."

"That makes two of us," Donna said. "I never thought that sex could be as good."

"What happened tonight?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Donna asked playfully, pretending not to understand.

"It was not my idea to bed you, it was yours. You invited me in tonight with that kiss. You showed me your body and brought me to your bed. What caused it?"

Donna lay back silently. "I think that I should stay silent," she said quietly.

"You do realize that after tonight I will not be able to visit here again," I said sadly.

"Why not?" Donna asked sadly.

"I will never be able to look Dino in the face again, knowing what I had done with you," I answered. "I have betrayed my friend, and that is no small thing."

"I have betrayed my husband," Donna pointed out softly.

"I still don't understand," I said.

"I told you that I should stay silent," Donna pointed out. It was a difficult moment. 

I kissed her softly, not with passion or lust, but to show her that my feelings for her went beyond sex.

Donna shrugged. "Maybe I owe it to you that you know a little bit more about what has been happening." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "When Dino started telling me about your adventures they awoke in me a desire to be free again. I wanted to be desirable and sexy. Whenever you visited, I was tempted to take you into a corner and kiss you and make love to you. Somehow I managed to keep my hands off you even when Dino was not around. But the desire grew. I became unhappy with my boring married life and some of Dino's loutish ways. I don't know how long that would have gone on."

Donna looked at me, tears in her eyes. "I don't know how I feel about Dino. I try to be a good wife for him, but I don't think he notices. He wants me to look after his house and his sexual needs. Does he not know that I need him to really love me?"

I thought back to how he had spoken so disdainfully of Donna only knowing about "practical matters." Did he not realize that everything that she did was out of love for him? I wished that I could say something to heal the bonds between husband and wife. I stayed silent. It is hypocritical to ask a woman to love her husband more right after screwing her most royally.

Donna went on. "This afternoon Holly came around. Somehow our talk went around to sex and she told me about how good you are in bed. I listened carefully, and started crying. Holly kissed me. At first I thought that she was trying to show her sympathy, but within moments I felt her hand on my thigh."

Donna looked at me, fearing that I would be angry. I squeezed her hand, letting her keep on talking.

"I felt this hunger for an intimate touch. I might even have fallen for her, but I managed to keep my defenses up just long enough to tell her that I did not go for girls. She tried to seduce me, but I managed to head her off. Are you angry with her?"

I laughed. "Not at all. I just feel sorry for her. You would have given her great pleasure."

She slapped me on the rump. "You flatter me again," she laughed. "Anyway, when Holly saw that I would not let her have her way with me, she suggested that I make love to you instead. She gave me permission to do with you whatever I wanted. I did not think I would do it. Then when you arrived, I looked at you and all my resolve disappeared. I wanted you bad. In that moment I decided that I would have you tonight."

"Now I understand why Holly did not want to come here tonight," I said quietly. "I will not be able to return."

"I know that you feel bad about what you have done with me," Donna said quietly. "Still, I will never forget it. Whenever Dino gets on my nerves, I will know that you and I bested him once before. That will make up for everything. Do you understand that?" 

"I don't understand anything about this," I replied. "Still, I do feel victorious in some strange way. What does the future hold for you?"

"I don't know," Donna said wistfully. "Tonight was wonderful, but now I see that what I did was wrong. Dino is no good in bed, but at least he cares for me in his way. He will still be here for me."

She cried a silent tear.

We spoke for some time afterward. During a pause in our conversation, Donna fell asleep and I thought about everything that had happened.

I felt touched. Suddenly my life of random sex seemed so shabby and superficial. I wondered whether I should settle down with an honest woman. I wished that I could grab Dino and show him the treasure that his wife is. I thought all sorts of other strange things too.

Finally I got up and dressed carefully in the dark then carefully padded through the house. When I passed the lounge, I saw Dino, still out cold, slouching over the table as we had left him. 

As I opened the front door I remembered my idea when Dino had told me about the punch line to his letter. With a smirk I turned around and went to Dino's computer. As I suspected, his masterpiece was still open. I scrolled straight to the bottom of the document and changed the ending slightly. 

I changed one letter, fixed the spaces a little and put in one punctuation mark, but the meaning of the sentence was completely changed.

I sneaked out quickly, wondering how much Dino would appreciate the new, rather more creative, conclusion. Where it used to read

     The pen is mightier than the sword.
it now ended with
     The penis: mightier than this word.
I don't think Dino will invite me in again. I'll miss him. 
And Donna, his sweet wife.




The Penalty for Being Tardy



She rushed to her desk as fast as her restrictive pencil skirt and 4 inch heels would allow. Glancing at the clock she winced, realizing that despite her best efforts she was 5 minutes late... again. Maybe he wouldn't notice, maybe he was busy with some email or paper work and just would assume she arrived on time.

She checked herself in her compact as her computer started up. The rain had taken its toll; her chin length chestnut brown hair was soaked and hung heavy and flat, looking almost black. The loss of volume made it look longer than it normally did, and she teased it as best she could with her finger to aid its drying. 

Her make up wasn't too bad. The mascara she used to frame her deep blue eyes needed touching up, as did her red lipstick. But all in all she looked incredibly well put together for the morning she had had. Leaving her apartment, the 22 year old recent college grad lost her umbrella to a gust of wind, only to approach her bus stop to see her bus pulling away.

The shelter at the stop hadn't provided much by way of protection as she waited for the next bus to take her downtown to her first "real" job. It wasn't much; she was an administrative assistant to a web designer named Timothy Reed. She wasn't particularly knowledgeable about computers or design , but her degree in French literature left her few options. 

She was, however, very articulate, very organized, capable of producing professional correspondence, and her facility with French aided her boss with an occasional international dealing. And she needed the money. With graduation came the new experience of rent, utilities, food, transportation, and the ever looming student loan repayments. The ability to read and interpret Proust wasn't going to put a roof over her head. But truth be told, the need for money and the lack of employable skills is not what led her to this position.

Her computer finished loading, her hair and clothes slowly drying, she began her first task of the day and breathed a sigh of relief at her tardiness having gone unnoticed. It was a full half an hour later when the door behind her suddenly opened and her she heard her boss's steely voice, "Ms. Welsh, would you please step into my office."

She stood and took a deep breath causing her chest to swell against the buttons of her white blouse. Pressing her palms against her thighs, she pressed out any wrinkles in her skirt before taking hold of a legal pad and pen and turning to walk into his office.

"Shut the door, please," he said as she entered the well decorated room. Her heart skipped a beat. Had he noticed she was late after all or was this something else? She moistened her lips with her tongue as she closed the door and turned back towards him. 

"You were late again," the words were cold, matter of fact. His stare cut into her and she lowered her chin to her chest and bit her lower lip.

"Yes Sir," she said softly before breaking into a litany of excuses, "but with the rain, I missed the bus, and then my umbrella..."

"What happens when my assistant is late?" he cut her off, uninterested in her excuses which he had heard far too many times in the short period she had worked for him.

Her head bowed, her voice small, she replied barely audibly, "She gets punished, Sir."

"And when she makes excuses...?" He asked expecting her to finish the sentence.

Obediently, and with little pause she almost whispered, "The punishment is worse."

He stood and walked around to where she stood. His height and strength towering over her small frame. Leaning down to her, he put his mouth next to her ear and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck as he said, "Raise your skirt and bend over the desk, Ms. Welsh."

As she wiggled her hips, raising her skirt to reveal that she wore no panties over her round ass and smooth and hairless mound, images from her first night with Him flooded into her memory. She hated that she was already moist as she moved to lean over the desk, gripping the near edge of the heavy metallic border that framed the modern piece of furniture.

She was sheepishly leaning over, waiting for Mr. Reed to act or instruct further. Her head bowed, short cropped hair falling forward and hiding the rising flush in her cheeks. She remember how he smiled at her when they met at the graduation party her father threw for her, how serious his eyes were, and how her heart skipped a beat as she felt compelled to return a shy smile of her own.

Mr. Reed went to his metallic locker and opened it. He pulled out a riding crop and sliced it through the air. She winced as a whistling sound filled her ears, remembering days past with its sting so masterfully guided all over her back side. 

Next a deep thud filled the room. That was the wooden paddle. If he was gentle, it wouldn't be so bad, but she knew better than to hope for such a thing during punishment.

"Ahh, here we are," he said, retrieving some unseen instrument from the cabinet. The sound was unfamiliar, like the crop, but not as strong. She turned her head slightly to see Mr. Reed brandishing a flogger, black, with enough strands that she couldn't count them.

Her eyes narrowed in curiosity as strands of hair fell across her face, she hadn't experienced that particular toy before. Was it new? Or was it special? The thought made her shudder because special meant especially punishing. 

He walked back to her and looked her over. He admired how well she had been trained so far. How the first transgression at work had been met with much resistance and a constant chattering and begging from her. He had told her when he offered her the position what it entailed, but at that moment the two of them had been lying in bed together and the most "punishment" she had yet experienced was a simple bare handed spanking from him as foreplay. He had tried to make things seriously clear what he demanded, but in her youthful optimism, she hadn't imagined exactly how deep her submission would go.

He shook his head as he looked over her sloppy form. "You know better than this, Ms. Welsh, spread your legs and arch your back." As she wiggled her feet into a wider stance and arched to present her ass more readily, he added, "You're being lazy today. I suspect though, after today, you will remember to be more conscientious for a while."

He brought the flogger down hard on the white flesh of her ass and red stripes immediately began to form. She gripped the edge of the desk hard and sucked in air through clenched teeth, but she did not cry out.

Again the leather strands struck her ass, and this time she let out a very short grunt, closing her eyes and riding through the pain as though she were a surfer on a wave. It spread through her body like warm liquid, up her spine and to her scalp making the follicles of her hair tingle.

In rapid succession three more swats with the implement, met first by her grunts and but the last elicited an actual high pitched cry. Her flesh was burning now, it glowed red and warm, and her body tingled from head to toe. The pain in her ass made her thighs shake as she strained to keep her feet in proper position.

At her cry he taunted her, "Do I need to get the gag? I can't have you screaming out like a hysterical child in the midst of a tantrum. If you can't keep yourself quiet, I can find a way to make that happen."

"No, sir," she panted, "Sir doesn't need to gag me. I can take my punishment like a big girl."

Her words made him smirk in self-satisfaction at how far he had brought her into this new role as his secretary and submissive. The first time he flogged her she had to be gagged almost immediately, and even though he was relatively gentle, by the end her face had been a mess of tears to accompany her silent squeals at the touch of the lash. Still, punishment is meant to be difficult to take, so when he brought the flogger down again, it was with a skill that made the leather talons bite hard into her soft flesh.

She squealed at the new pain and her ass shook up and down as she bit her lip, her whole body tense with the shock of the blow. But far more terrible than the blow, more terrible than the welts and small abrasions it produced was how, even as she cried out, she could feel her young pussy gush with moisture.

"What kind of person am I?" She thought to herself. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but somehow he always did. It wasn't enough that she was his to control and correct, he had to make it known how much she enjoyed it. This was not the image of the strong, confident, young woman her parents had raised her to be. She was a submissive slut, and what she craved most, was the discipline of her Sir.

The flogger stung her already sensitive flesh again and she whimpered as she fell forward against the desk, her legs shaking from the harsh sting in her ass. She managed to keep them spread; however, just as he had instructed, and in her new position, open and slightly up turned, he saw how wet she was.

He walked behind her and ran a solitary finger up her inner thigh, collecting the moisture of her drooling cunt on its tip. He never actually entered her; he didn't have to. She was so wet at this point, the dampness on her thighs was enough to make his point.

She felt his finger and closed her eyes. Despite her deep embarrassment at being so wet, she wanted nothing more than his touch with her folds of flesh. Hadn't she been good enough to deserve that? Even for a moment?

But no, before reaching its source, he pulled his finger from between her thighs and then maneuvered to hold it under her nose. "It seems that more than the rain is making you wet, Ms. Welsh, because that is not water, is it?"

In a soft, almost disappearing voice, she whispered, "No sir." He cheeks flushed as red as her abused ass when she spoke.

"What is it, Ms. Welsh, can you identify it for me?"

She hesitated, too embarrassed to speak, and not sure what she should say if she did. But hesitation would only make things worse.

"No?" he asked sarcastically, "Perhaps you should taste it then." And he shoved his already dampened finger into her mouth. True to her nature, she eagerly accepted it, sucking it hard and cleaning it with her tongue. 

When he removed it he asked, "Well Ms. Welsh, what is it?"

She mumbled something so low in response that no one could have heard her. The lack of clear answer earned her another lash with the leather.

She whimpered and cried and writhed at the new sting, and over all her commotion he growled, "I asked you a question, Ms. Welsh." And then, punctuating each word with another touch of the leather, he asked again, "What. is. That. Liquid?"

She cried and writhed and shouted in tormented, embarrassment, "My juices! My pussy juices! Oh God Sir. Please!"

"And why," he spoke coolly as she calmed down, "would your pussy juices be on your thigh? Are you turned on right now?" He asked with mock surprise.

"Yes sir," She whimpered, "Oh yes sir, I'm on fire."

"My goodness, Ms. Welsh," he mocked, "You must be quite the slut."

His words stung a bit, but they stung like the lash, a tinge of pain followed by a rush of excitement and desire. She moaned her dismay (or was it her approval?) but she moaned like a whore when without warning or prelude, she felt two fingers probe her wet cunt in search of her clit.

"Ms. Welsh," he began as he stood behind her, working his able fingers in circles over her most sensitive flesh, "you are embarrassingly wet." She writhed and pushed back against his touch. "And your clit is intensely swollen. Were you going to cum from being flogged?"

"No sir!" she gasped as she tried to protect a shred of her decency, but her quick response only made public her lack of confidence in the answer.

"Oh," he tormented, fingers probing inside her, "so you weren't even close to cumming? Well then you shouldn't have any trouble NOT cumming now."

It was his rule, common enough, but a rule so insidious and controlling. She wasn't allowed to cum without his permission. No matter how hard he pushed her, no matter what his fingers did, no matter how good it felt to have him finally rub her aching clit.

If she broke the rule, as she had the first time she introduced it, that meant only one thing: the cane. And as much as her clit ached with the delightful burn of the flogger, the thought of her first experience with the cane and the way its sharp sting cut into her soft flesh made her mind flash red with its image. She had made the mistake of not controlling herself once, and she had regretted it.

But he wasn't making it easy to obey. Expertly his fingers ran circles over her aching clit. The sound of her sloppy wetness was broken only by her occasional moan. Her thighs tensed, and she breathed deep and steady, trying hard to keep control.

"You see, pet," he said, "I suspect that you are big enough of a slut that just being bitten with the leather would have gotten you off. Sure you don't want to change your mind about that?"

She whimpered as much at his insinuation as his touch, but she just couldn't admit that being flogged alone was enough. "I'm not that big a slut," She protested even as she stuttered and cooed. Bent over her boss's desk, skirt hiked up over her waist, her boss's fingers inside her.

"Oh no?" He mocked. "You think lots of secretaries find themselves in this position? My goodness, I didn't even have to tie you down, you offered your ass up to me like a common whore."

Her entire body shivered at his word, her legs began to shake violently as she fought off the building orgasm, but she knew she was losing, a meeting with the cane growing ever closer.

"Please," she whimpered, "I can't... please..."

"Please?" he teased, rubbing her clit harder.

Breathlessly she babbled, "Please sir... permission... don't make...me disobey... oh please Sir."

She grunted as she gritted her teeth trying to fight off the coming explosion. It felt so good. It would be so good to let go. Maybe even worth the cane? No, not worth the cane. But maybe...

He gripped her hair with his free hand and pulled it back tight, stretching her neck and arching her back. Growling in her ear he chastised her, "I am not making you disobey. If you cum, then it is your fault alone for being a weak-willed little slut. Understood?"

She whimpered, tears in her eyes as she felt herself slipping, not knowing what else to say. His hand in her hair had momentarily allowed her a respite from focus on her throbbing clit, but now, the added stimulation was too much, she was on the verge of disobeying.

Suddenly she cried out, "NNnnnnooooo!" but it was too late, her cunt spasmed and her legs quivered and her entire body went into convulsions against his hand as the power of the orgasm she had been holding back washed over her. 

She whimpered and cried as tears flooded her eyes, the delicious feeling of release tempered by the knowledge that disobedience is always punished. Still, determined to get every last ounce of pleasure, she ground back against his hand like a whore as the sound of her tormented joy flooded his ears.

For his part, as soon as he felt her release, he merely held his hand still against her, her bucking hips doing all the work of getting her over and through her ecstasy. He suppressed a smug smile as he watched her give in to the pleasure of his touch despite herself. 

Letting go of her hair, her head fell forward, cheek pressed against the cool material of his desk, eyes closed, panting and mewling as her hips still ground out the last of her orgasm. She had expected him to pull his hand away as soon as she was done, but he hadn't and the involuntary rotation of her hips saw a new wave of pleasure rising over her. More quickly this time as she didn't fight against it, and instead eagerly pursued it.

Like a hard wave the second orgasm hit her and she cried out into the room "Ffffuucckkk," as it crashed over her lithe body. Her pussy having soaked his hand and wet her own thighs, she wasn't thinking of the permission she lacked. Instead she was thinking only of how delicious it was to cum, how no one had ever made her cum quite like he had. Her face contorted as sigh and gasp and moan escaped her red lips. And through it all, he neither moved, nor said anything.

When she began to settle with only the occasional twitch from her hips to push herself back on his hand, he removed his touch. He pulled an expensive silk handkerchief out of his pocket andused it to wipe off the juices that had drenched his hand. 

Suddenly feeling very exposed and aware of her transgressions, her eyes darted open and she guiltily fixed on him without moving from her position bent over the desk, cheek pressed against it. She saw that he was shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Ms. Welch," he began evenly, "you have proven that you are a weak-willed little slut. And I cannot abide weak-willed little sluts."

She raised her head slightly off the desk, "But Sir, you..."

In an instant his hand had forced her head back down against the desk, the hard material slapping into her cheek and cutting off her speech.

"I think," he said with an edge of hostility, his hand pushing her cheek into the desk, "I think it is best if you stop speaking."

He brought the handkerchief he had used to wipe his hands to her mouth. It was thick with her scent which flooded her nostrils. When he simply said, "Open," she did not hesitate to obey, at which point he shoved the soaked rag into her mouth.

She whimpered into the cloth and her eyes moistened. She knew she was in trouble, and she dared not move even when he finally removed his hand from the side of her head.

She watched as he moved away from her to his closet where he kept all of his implements. The sound of his shoes moving in slow purposeful steps filled her ears. A chill ran over her entire body. She thought about running away, quitting, and never coming back. He had told her she was free to do that at any point. But if she did, she couldn't be his anymore, and more than anything she wanted to be his.

As he took his time inventorying the closet, he laid out her transgressions. "So, Ms. Welsh, after being late this morning, you disobey me while being punished and let yourself cum not once, but twice." Looking over his shoulder at her bent form and fearful eyes, "And then you tried to blame me for your failure." 

Unable to speak, by instinct she shook her head "No," with pleading eyes. She should have known better.

Immediately he said, "Still correcting me? Still thinking you know best?" He turned back to the closet shaking his head in disappointment.

"Have you ever heard of the phrase," he began again, seemingly ignoring her latest transgression, "'rule of thumb' Ms. Welsh? Do you know its origins?"

Unable to speak, she did not respond, but when he turned back toward her with what appeared to be a long thin stick her eyes went wide with fear of what she already knew was coming.

"You see, Ms. Welsh," for effect, he slashed the cane through the air a few times, making the room fill with the high pitch sound. "In less advanced times simply being married gave a man permission to discipline his wife. But," he continued as he closed the space between them, "he wasn't allowed to use anything thicker than his thumb."

She tried hard to keep her composure as he held the thin piece of wood up in front her eyes and let her compare it to his thumb for herself. 

"In all honesty," he continued, "that story may not be correct, but just in case, I can follow rules. Maybe soon you will learn how to follow rules as well."

She whimpered as she stayed bent across the desk. Her eyes wide with fear, her heart racing in anticipation of the punishment to come. She debated whether she should say anything, but the words bubbled up to the surface so quickly she couldn't stop them.  




The Penalty for Being Tardy



Muffled by the handkerchief shoved in her mouth, the words "Please, mercy," struggled to be heard.

"Mercy?" he mocked. "No, I don't think so. I may have forgiven your first orgasm. But the second... oh the second was a willfully disobedient act. I cannot have that from my secretary. Willful disobedience must be met with a harsh response. You took the pleasure, you can take the punishment."

And with that he brought the cane down hard against the soft flesh of her ass and the pain shot through her like a bullet. A scream caught in her throat as her eyes watered and mouth hung open. Her arms which had been stretched out in front of her shot up, palms stretched open, fingers spread as if trying to spread the pain through as much space as possible to minimize it.

A second and third blow fell on her, and her legs quaked, knees buckled and she began sliding to the floor, until his strong hand reached between her legs and cupped her mound, pushing her back up onto the desk.

"Don't you dare whither on me on you disobedient slut," he growled. "Take your punishment or it will double."

Her sobs were now as uncontrollable as her orgasm had been. He ass burned, and she wasn't sure how many more she had to endure, or if she could endure it. She could always shout out one of her safe words, and a part of her begged her to do so. But another part wanted to take everything he could give, show that she could be his obedient girl, make her Sir proud. 

The smacks of the cane became almost indistinguishable, the sharp jolts of its impacts moving through her body like waves. The pain so intense, that her entire body clenched and even her cries stuck in her throat until a moment had passed and she wailed until a new pain befell her punished ass. Her eyes were a mess of tears and smeared mascara. Her head lay on the desk, on her cheek, mouth open, the handkerchief unable to catch the puddle of drool forming beneath her head as she sobbed her regrets.

But through it all, with every new strike, the clenching and relaxing of her thighs and ass, and her own thoughts of service and submission, kept her pussy wet. Her thighs gleamed even as the welts and bruises formed. 

Between the pain and humiliation, she suddenly realized that she was close to cumming again and her eyes shot wide in fear. Gritting her teeth through the cloth in her mouth, she held on as the blows kept coming, but now, the struggle was between her concentration and the interference of the pain. She couldn't let it happen again. Who knows what he would do? And the worst thought that passed her mind is that he would dismiss her and want nothing more to do with her.

Suddenly the blows stopped. Had there been 10? 20? Her face and pussy both a sloppy mess, she held still as she waited for some instruction, thighs quivering, ass burning from the brutal attention. She remained bent over the desk, her hands stretched out before her gripping the other edge. Then she heard his zipper lower.

"Ms. Welsh," he spoke calmly as she felt the cool slickness of an oil slide over her wounded ass and slip down between her cheeks. "You are a disobedient little bitch, and I cannot abide disobedient little bitches."

She felt his hands take firm hold of her hips and the head of his cock press against the tight opening of her ass. He had taken her ass before, but only when he wanted to show her that she was nothing but a collection of holes for him to fuck at will. The thought made her dizzy with desire.

As the head of his cock pressed into her, his hips brushed her tortured ass and she clenched, gripping his cock like a vice. He stopped for a moment and said. "Whether difficult or easy, whether clenched or relaxed, I am going to fuck your ass. So I suggest you relax."

She did her best to open herself, but true to his word, he held her hips and pressed forward. She was tight, but the lubrication allowed him to pry her apart, and her tight little hole stretched to accommodate him. Soon her ass was obscenely distended as the length of his thick cock opened her and she writhed under him at the not too unpleasant feeling.

Buried deep inside her, he reached forward and grabbed a fistful of her short blond hair, pulling her back onto him, stretching her neck and making her arch her back. She let out a squeal as she gave herself over to being taken. Each thrust reminding her of her caning, each thrust reminding her that she is his. Every part of her body is his. Every orgasm welling up inside her is his.

She winced as he thrusts, not from pain, but to fight off the growing need for her own release. When he had first taken her ass, she didn't understand how any woman enjoyed it, but now, accustomed to the invasion of his cock, she relished the feeling and ached to touch her clit and finish herself. But she didn't dare ask. Two stolen orgasms were more than she deserved, and if she asked, she feared he would just torture her with the edge.

Soon she felt his cock swell inside her, the tell-tale sign that only a few months before she would have never recognized. Her eyes lidded as she reveled in the feeling of his hand in her hair, forcing her back, the pleasurable soreness building inside that would soon be washed over and away with his hot seed. She moaned whorishly as she wriggled her hips as he slammed into her. She was his demure little kitten, now. The obedient fuck toy he wanted her to become.

His cock exploded inside her, filling her ass as he pumped into her. The size and girth of his cock forcing some of his cum to spill from her ass as he emptied himself. She remained wet and now his seed added to the sticky, sloppy wet that was her thighs. 

When he pulled out of her, a river of semen flowed from her gaping ass, and when he released her hair, she slumped forward, panting hard and heavy, her ass sore and well fucked, unfulfilled again, but nonetheless happy to have been used by this man who signed her checks. 

He took the handkerchief from her mouth, and again used it to clean himself, before tossing the expensive silk carelessly in the trash as though it were a common tissue. He put his cock away, zipped up his pants, checked himself in the mirror and straightened his tie, all while his secretary remained bent over his desk, naked and sloppy wet from the waist down, her skirt bunched around her waist, her mascara a teary mess, her ass striped with welts. 

She was quite the sight.

He reached into his desk and returned behind her. Using all the various fluid already there, he shoved a vibrating plug into her well fucked ass, and she winced and grunted at the unexpected invasion.

"There you go," he said, helping her to her feet, "That should keep you nice and filled for the rest of the day. Pull you skirt down, use the restroom to fix your makeup, and return to work Ms. Welsh. We have a busy day."

She was about to protest. The mess on her legs, the soreness of her caned ass, how could she work like that? But she instead dutifully smoothed her skirt down her legs and stepped into the restroom. Looking at her tear and mascara stained face, she felt herself moisten anew as her ass squeezed the plug inside her.

As she fixed her makeup she smiled wickedly and thought, "I wonder what he'd do if I came at my desk today?" And then walked gingerly back to her desk and responsibilities.