He had been pestering me for almost a year, asking me to meet him again. But I just couldn’t. The memory of what he’d done to me was just too painful – the memory of his cock pistoning in and out of my ass like a knife. So I kept blowing him off. He asked me, once, if the truth was that I was just scared. But I couldn’t admit such a thing – not even to myself. So to prove that I wasn’t scared, I finally agreed to meet him again.
(Also, I needed the money. My last few dates had cost me a fortune in babysitting!)
He began to message me more frequently in the days leading up to our encounter, to ask if I was ready to be dominated and abused by him, to be his 3-holed slut again. I could feel the fear mounting in me. Then he proudly told me that he had put the booking through – a 4-hour booking! My blood ran cold at the thought of the torment this guy could inflict on me in 4 hours. Luckily he had agreed to meet me at a hotel, so there would be no ice-cubes or cucumbers at his disposal. Still, I knew the havoc he could wreak with his cock alone. Finally, the day before we were to meet, one fear overcame the other, and I decided to tell him the truth. Who the hell was he, anyway? Why should I care about some random guy knowing that he had over-dominated me? He wouldn’t be offended – he’d find it flattering, surely. And we lived far apart – it wasn’t like I had to worry about him crossing me in the street and thinking to himself, “Ha ha – she calls herself submissive! But I reached her limit!”
So I wrote to him, apologetically, but firmly, to say that he had been right all along, I was afraid to meet him again, so I was calling the whole thing off. I felt so relieved, once it was done. I wandered into the kitchen, humming a little tune to myself and devouring a large plate of potentially stomach-unsettling spicy food. And then he wrote back. To say no, please don’t cancel, I haven’t had sex in months, you know I’m a nice guy, a single parent who’s put his personal life on hold for the sake of his son. Oh!! How could I refuse??
I checked into the hotel before him and texted him the room number, waiting, my heart fluttering, for his knock. The room was so tiny, and the back-pack he carried with him so huge, that he could barely squeeze in through the door!
“Why did you bring such a huge bag?” I asked innocently. He put it down, with a sly wink, and ran his hands across my body.
“God, you’re still so thin,” he said, ingratiating himself to me forever with that remark. “Don’t you ever eat anything?”
Then he pulled out an envelope.
“Do you know,” he said. “I’ve never paid anywhere near this much for a girl before. Nor have I ever booked anyone for so long before.”
“Oh, about that…” I stammered. “I don’t know if I can stay that long…”
“Well, then you’ll have to give me some of the money back,” he said firmly.
“Can’t we just see how it goes and then you pay me at the end or something??” I suggested, unduly mortified by this base negotiation.
“But I always pay at the beginning,” he said, perturbed. He drew me to him and kissed me deeply, then disappeared into the bathroom. I quickly undressed to my underwear and perched on the edge of the bed to await him.
“I remembered you like polka dots,” I beamed, when he emerged.
“Indeed I do,” he affirmed, but didn’t seem all that impressed, just as he hadn’t been impressed by this same red polka dot underwear a year ago. Within a moment, he was completely naked. I stared at him in amazement. Men! They have no qualms about such things. He kissed me, first on the lips, and then in the crook of my neck, where I am most ticklish. I squealed in protest and tried to wriggle free, but he forced my head to one side and persevered, probing my sensitive skin with his tongue. I had no choice but to submit. Then pulled my legs apart and began to lick my pussy. I gasped and moaned obligingly. Then he rose and, standing in front of me, presented his cock to me, dripping in pre-come, for me to return the favour. I had forgotten his taste – it took me a few moments to adjust to it. Then I began to suck harder and I could feel him hardening in my mouth, little ripples of excitement running up the shaft.
“Can I come in your mouth?”
“Mm-hm,” I nodded, and a few moments later he thrust deep into my throat and filled it with warm come. There was so much, I barely managed to swallow it all. Then he lifted me up into the air, hurled me onto the bed, and began to fuck me. He held still inside me, keeping me on the edge, then fucking me slowly and deeply until I came.
“Will you marry me?” he breathed.
“What??” I gasped.
He pulled out, lay down on his back and made me suck him again, and then ride him. I rubbed my pelvis against him, grinding on his cock until my legs began to tremble. Struggling to hold myself upright, I noticed, for the first time, how blue his eyes were – not pale and watery, like My Beloved Cherry Popper’s, but deep and dark like the sea. He pulled me down towards him to suck my breasts, painfully hard, until he had drained them completely. I remembered him doing this the last time we met – it was one of several things I had to stop him from doing, because I couldn’t bear the pain. But this time it seemed more manageable. Perhaps my threshold has shifted.
“I brought nipple clamps,” he told me. “In that bag. Would you like to try them? They’re really painful.”
“Well, then, no. What else do you have in that bag?”
“The Hitachi wand. You loved it last time.”
“No, I didn’t,” I shuddered.
“Come on, you know you want to. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I lied meekly.
“Try one of these on first,” he said, pulling out a couple of costumes from the bag. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the first one – it was the kind of ultra-slutty, degrading outfit which Alcibiades had once suggested to me. But he chose the second – a maid’s outfit. It looked a little boring to me, but it fit like a glove – a frilly, lacy glove, with a cute little headband and garters. The moment I slipped it on, I felt somehow that I had always belonged in it.
“You look stunning,” he said. Then he handed me a mask. “Put this on and I’ll take photos of you for your new profile. I saw what you’ve put up there…”
“Not up to scratch?”
“Let’s just say there’s a man’s hairy leg in one of them.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Well, there shouldn’t really be another person in your photos. Unless it’s his big, fat cock going into your mouth…”
“So a cock going into my mouth is OK, but not a hairy leg beside me??”
He smiled enigmatically, picking up his camera, and told me to get ready. I took off the mask – it was too hideous – and dropped onto the bed on all fours. He took some photos, then sat down next to me to show me. Ignoring my protests of how unflattering they were and how he should delete them at once, he flicked rapidly through them, and then, at the end of the series, an unfamiliar image popped up on the screen. He quickly attempted to shield it from me, but realised it was too late.
“It’s my cock going into your ass,” he explained apologetically. “Last August.”
As I gaped at him in amazement, he flicked briefly through the set of photos, which I had never seen before. The strangest thing, however, was that these were the most recent photos on his camera, aside from the ones we had just taken. Or did he have a memory card just for me?
“Now get into the bathroom,” he said. “I want to make sure you’ve cleaned it properly.”
Giggling, I skipped into the bathroom, where he made me bend over the sink with my hands behind my back, binding them tightly with bright pink duct tape. All of a sudden, I heard a loud buzz from the bedroom. My telephone!
“Do you have to get that?” he asked.
“Er… I think I should!” I cried apologetically, wriggling around with my hands still tied behind my back.
“Hang on,” he said, and expertly pulled apart my ties, then stepping discreetly back into the bathroom while I answered the call.
“I’m sorry,” I told him afterwards, ashamed. “You know how it is.”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” he assured me. “Now where were we?”
He pushed my head into the sink, knelt down, and began to probe my ass with his tongue! I squealed and tried to squirm away, but there was nowhere to go – I just had to endure it. He stared up at me, puzzled and perplexed, then pulled me out of the bathroom, pushed me on to the bed on my stomach and mounted me from behind.
“Well, if you won’t marry me,” he grunted, driving into me deeply. “…at least spend a night with me.”
“Oh!! I would love to!”
“…but?” he paused dubiously, in mid-thrust.
“There’s no ‘but’!”
“Damn,” he remarked, picking up speed. “I could have sworn there’d be a ‘but’.”
As he fucked me, he wrapped one muscular arm around my neck and slowly began to tighten it. I felt my face flushing and little pin-pricks of darkness behind my eyes.
“No – no, don’t!” I cried.
“You don’t want me to make you pass out?”
“No, please, don’t!”
“It will make you come, harder than ever before. You’ll lose control of all your bodily functions…”
“Oh God, no!”
“I don’t want to lose control of my bodily functions! And, more importantly, I don’t want to die!”
“You won’t die. I know CPR.”
“No, please, don’t.”
I continued to struggle, fighting it, while a similar struggle took place inside myself, for I knew this was something I didn’t want him to do, and yet at the same time, I knew how much it would please him for me to let him do it. Finally he loosened his grasp, but continued to fuck me, untying my wrists and rolling me on to my back, pinning me down by my shoulders. I gasped and shuddered, clutching at his arms as I came.
“Take off that outfit,” he told me. “I want to see you naked.”
I did as he asked, scattering the pretty accessories on the floor. I would have liked to keep them, but I sensed he wanted them back.
“I brought all those toys, to use on you,” he said, indicating the bag bulging forlornly on the chair. “But now that I have you here with me, all I want to do is fuck you.”
He plunged deeply between my legs again, I gasped in ecstasy. He fucked me slowly, pausing every now and then to keep me on the edge, then pushing harder and faster, until I could feel him swelling and pulsating inside me, as he came.
“You really won’t marry me?” he asked wistfully. “We could do this day and night. We could have ten kids…”
“That would be the end of doing this day and night…”
“It would,” he agreed. “And anyway, as you told me last time, I can’t really afford another kid, now, can I?”
I smiled, as I recollected having told him that. And I was flattered that he remembered not just the wand and the ice-cubes, but these little trifles too. The months seemed to telescope behind us, as though we had met just a week ago. But I was starting to feel nervous again, for it was getting late – I had been gone too long. I had to leave.
“Not just yet,” he said. “Get me hard again, please, and let me fuck you one more time.”
He lay back while I sucked him, sure that there was no chance for another round, but he was soon erect again in my mouth. He rolled me onto the bed, on my back, gently rubbing some lubrication onto my ass. Then he held my legs apart and penetrated me there. As he fucked me deeper and harder, I could feel his pelvis rubbing against my clitoris. I began to sigh with pleasure again. He gave a great final thrust as he came.
“Now I really have to go,” I told him.
“Have a shower with me first.”
“I really can’t.”
“Come on… we’ll be very quick.”
He pulled me into the bathroom, in spite of my protests, and began to run a hot shower. I peeled off my stockings to join him. I never take showers with anyone. But it wasn’t so bad.
It had been almost 4 hours by the time we were done. But I took some of the money out of the envelope and gave it back to him.
“You really don’t need to,” he murmured. “You earned it.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him.
“Thank you,” he said humbly, his blue eyes glowing with gratitude.
“Don’t mention it,” I said. “Now come downstairs with me and help me find my ride.”
“You’re like a part-time girlfriend,” he smiled as we kissed good-bye outside the hotel, in front of the smirking Somalian driver waiting to take me home. Yes, I thought to myself, watching his retreating figure for a moment, before the car turned the corner. A very part-time girlfriend…