The superb rock-hard, yet sensitive penis meeting its passionate
equal in the exquisitely soft and sensitive, gloriously
seductive, warm and lusciously moist cave of love, the female
vagina. For more than twenty minutes this dance of life
continued, the participating couple oblivious the everything, but
each other, and the amazing activities of their bodies, no longer
in their control. All they could do was cling to each other in
rapture. His arms strongly encircled her lovely body, drawing it
closer and closer while she reached out to enfold him.
Desperately seeking to be one she arched her beautiful shapely
legs around his back alternatingly nearly crushing Jim and
relieving the tension. All breathing and motion meshed together
as one unit. Sandy and Jim were one in the eyes of all. The
only deviation from the erotic rhythm of their pumping bodies was
the ever so slow increase in pulse.

The turgid and unyielding shaft, mistakenly interpreting the
pause as submission, elatedly with his conquest, stopped his
stubborn laboring. For a brief second he retraced his path
toward the outside world again, but before completely removing
himself, once again began his relentless fight for home.

Frantically she tried to extricate herself from the weight of Jim
and the pinioning effect of the monstrous steel rod, the ruby red
head firmly lodged in place. Her desperate struggles were easily
contained by the advantage of position and weight and with each
movement to free herself of the rigid pole pulsing with blood and
lust the stark penis seemed to creep in slightly. A cry of rage
and dismay nearly escaped Sandy lovely lips, but a hastily place,
yet passionate, kiss muffled any further outcry.

This was not what she had wanted or expected, yet there was no
pain. A friendly and kindly path had been prescribed. Her
honey-juices, so amiably and free flowing minutes ago, did not
seem to wish to subside. A strange feeling, nearly released
twice before, moments ago, seemed to be taking over her body.
Not only was she being forcibly raped by a friend, but her body
was giving up the fight. Inch by inch the magnificent stallion
of a phallus surged forward to the task at hand as her muffled
gasps became quieter and less violent.

As the waves passed, a huge sign of relief escaped Sandy’s lips.
“God, that was good.” But before she could say more, Jim slipped
down and stuck his nose into Sandy’s moist, warm crotch. “Come
up here,” she said and tried to pull him back. But he was not to
be dissuaded. Skillfully his adroit tongue sought out the
blossom of release again. Her admonishments to join her were
abruptly curtailed when his sensitive wet tongue settled on her
clitoris again. As he delicately danced all around the passion
stalk occasionally darting up to the tip, then to retreat,
Sandy’s passion steadily boiled inside of her.

Apparently assuming that Jim would be satisfied with this she
reengaged him in another passionate kiss. After a seemingly long
time, but only a few moments, Jim’s, by now, expert hand gentle
crept up to the waste band elastic on Sandy’s panties and gentle
pulled them down.

As Sandy broke free again to prevent a further invasion, Jim
grabbed her with both arms again and rolled her over on top of
him. As she struggled to regain her balance he quickly hoisted
her skirt up to waste level and deftly lowered her panties in
practically the same motion. By the time she knew what had
happened, he again rolled her back to the seat. She could not
reach her panties to get them back, so she had to limit herself
to trying to extract herself from under Jim again. This just
allowed Jim’s hand to again search out the tempting warm spot
between Sandy’s legs.

“No, Jim. You can’t do that.” “Yes, Sandy, I can. You cannot
do anything about it, except enjoy it. There is no room in this
car to do anything, but explore, so don’t worry.” “I…I don’t
think we should.” “All right, just a few brief moments. It
won’t hurt.”

Gradually her snuggled closer to her. Her loose, flowing dress
allowed him to force his knees between her legs and apart a
little ways. The bulging mass between his legs desperately
searching for a safe haven.

Finally the kiss became too much. As they broke to allow the
breath of life to return, he slid down, quickly unbuttoning her
blouse. She was slow to recover and did not realize his actions
were more than a clumsy attempt to paw her breasts. Before she
knew it he had slipped open her blouse and had cupped each
luscious breast in his hands. His fingers searching for the
crown of beauty atop each lovely full breast. Her nipples were
unashamedly reaching out for him. As she tried to reach up to
grab his arms he slipped his hands underneath her bra and lifted
it above her full, ripe breasts. She clutched his wrists in
desperation and pulled them down, but this only allowed him to
firmly set his hot passionate mouth on one crown.

With that he pulled her to him. The gear shift was decidedly in
the way, but he slid past it. Desperately he sought her lips.
“Sandy, I am going to kiss you and you cannot stop me. I have
longed to kiss you, but I have not wanted violence. But if I
must force you I will.”

Sandy had slid down in the seat trying to get away, but it only
allowed Jim to use his weight to hold her. His arms were now
firmly around her, pinning her upper arms to her side. As his
face came near to her, she turned her face away from him. “No!
Don’t, Jim.”

“Sandy! Look at me!” She stopped and turned her head. She
looked up at Jim with fear and anguish in her eyes, “I can’t let
you do it. I can’t live with it. Suppose someone comes by?”
“Sandy, I love you. Those things matter to me, but I do love
you, dearly. I have tried to express my love for you with
things, with notes, with spoken words. You acknowledge the fact
like it is a notice on the 6 o’clock news. ‘Interesting, but it
has nothing to do with me.’ Well, it does!”

With that he bent down and kissed her. She struggled to break
free, but he held her in a vise grip. Violently twisting her
face away she practically screamed, “This isn’t fair! Let me
go.” “No, Sandy, I have wanted to hold you close to me and kiss
you for longer than you could imagine. I shall not let this
moment pass.”
He reached up and held her face, twisting it around so he could
look deeply into her lusciously fierce blue eyes. “Sandy, I love
you, so very much I love you.” And he kissed her again.

After the trash was picked up they both sat back and looked at
each other. “Would that it was the way it was,” noted Sandy with
down-cast eyes.

Their relationship essentially ended on Black Tuesday, a day to
be forgotten, but to them will forever live. True after a few
weeks they had gotten up the nerve to have a platonic lunch and
once enjoyed a brief outing to the Wonder Bread Outlet store.
You say, “What?!” But the significance was not the location, but
the fact that they were alone together. That was like the first
unaided step to a paraplegic. This time they decided they could
handle a real lunch together.

I have waited too long
for this moment, yet
I want it to be
quick and savage.
I am so hungry for you.
I want to feel
your warm, wet mouth
crushed against mine,
feel our tongues
dart and probe.
I want to love
your velvet skin
with my eager fingers,
trace the line of silken fur
from your chest to belly
with my tongue,
taste all your secret places,
take your warmth
into my mouth,
caress you with my lips.
I want you inside me
now now
so hard and fast
faster
faster
want to feel you deep inside me,
tear apart my very soul
with
your strength.

I am so hungry for you.

–

“I want you to come to the dining hall and have breakfast with me.
Also, I want you to wear a skirt today. Above the knee, I think. And your
stockings and garter belt.”

“Why?”
“You’ll find out after English. You can wear flats if you want, but
bring your heels along in a bag. Oh, and if you wear underwear, it has to be
something that comes off easily. Wear your silk ones with the bows.”
“OK, sir,” she said, wondering inside what he meant. She would be glad
in an hour for having eaten, but right now she wanted more than anything to
crawl back into bed and sleep. She had half an hour before class. But she
obeyed, wondering why all the while.
He was no more tractable at breakfast. He allowed her to get three
bowls of Captain Crunch, something he usually forbade on the grounds that it
was junk, but anytime she asked why he wanted her dressed that way he only
answered, “You’ll find out after English.”

English. Short Story Writing, specifically. The last class she had on
Fridays, the only one she had with him. So many times, that had been the last
thing she did before spending a weekend in erotic submission to him. The
simple thought made her belly turn over.

The whole day she was unable to keep her mind off it. What did he have
planned? A weekend of submission? Maybe. But that was hardly uncommon. So
why all the secrecy? And why the costuming? In classes, she found herself
writing his name and WHY? WHY? WHY? on her notes. She tapped her feet
incessantly and waited for the class to end. She supposed people were
looking at her. She didn’t care.

After lunch, which she ate with some friends, for he was on the other
side of campus, she headed back to her room and got the required heels. Patent
leather pumps, with a locking ankle strap and five inch heels. She wrapped
them in paper towels and put them in a shoe box, which she put in her backpack.
Three more hours! She would never make it.

Well, two more. Class started at two and ended at three. She had an
hour before her one o’clock class, so she tried to call him but the answering
machine picked up. Was he there, grinning broadly at the answering machine,
laughing at her curiousity, or was he really not there? She could picture
either. She wished he would let her see his schedule.

After trying for the third time she decided he was either not there or
not going to answer. She tried to read the short story someone had written
which was going to be discussed in class, but she couldn’t concentrate. She
was too curious about what he had planned for her.

She glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. Deciding she ought to
look nice for whatever he had planned for her, she applied some mascara and
blusher and lipstick. This took up most of the time remaining.

If he blindfolds me after the work I did on that makeup, I’m gonna be
pissed, she thought as she bounced across the quad.
In the last class before English she found herself looking out the
window. Was that him out in back of the building, watching her? It had to be.

No one else would lurk outside so boldly, as if they had every right to be
there. Was he looking at her? Smiling at her? She couldn’t tell.

The hour dragged on. And on. She was growing quite impatient.
Finally the bell rung and she was free.

English was absolute torture, she decided. She sat next to him as she
always did, and kept trying to whisper in his ear. He would merely grin
evilly, and conveniently stretch so that he wouldbe out of range of her
whisper. She passed him notes, as if she was a high schooler. He merely read

them and put them in his notebook. When she dared say something aloud, he
hushed her and suggested that she quiet down and pay attention to class.

The small, androgynous boy whose story was being presented that day
gave her a nasty look. She frowned back at him. Under the table, his hand
touched her skirt and pulled it up slightly, just enough so that he could feel
her leg.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, and he let her this time.
“I obeyed,” she said.
“Good,” he said, and grinned again, that annoying satisfied
cat-got-the-cream grin he had that he gave herwhen he knew something he did not
intend to tell her. Sometimes it made her want to scream and jump up and down.
Now was one of those times.

Finally, the class was over. He got up and headed for the door
immediately. She threw her things in her backpack and raced after him.
He was heading into an empty classroom. She ran in after him just as he was
closing the door and turned to face him, breathless.

“Okay, it’s after English. So tell me.” she said.
For answer he merely took her arm and spun her around so that she was

in front of him, facing away. His grasp was not painful but irrevocable. She

felt handcuffs clamped onto her wrists. Then the slight click of the double

lock being engaged on each. These were police handcuffs, and gave her very

little room. Then he bent her over a desk, got something out of his bag, and

spread her legs. She was surprised but pliant, not wanting to resist unless he

hurt her. First his hands untied the bows on the hips of her panties and took

them off.

She felt an assplug slip into her, and an admonishment; “Don’t let go

of that until I tell you you can.”

Then he was taking off her shoes and putting her feet into the

five-inch pumps, locking each ankle strap with a small lock. Afterwards he

scooped up his own bag and hers, took her wrists in the other hand, and marched

her neatly to the elevator. She was grateful he did not make her try the

stairs with these shoes and her wrists cuffed behind her back.

In the elevator, he hiked up her skirt and checked her; she was

already moist in the excitement and surprise.

“What are you doing?” she asked for the first time since after English.

“Don’t ask. Don’t say a word.”

His car was parked in the lot nearby. He got her in the passenger

seat, and then got in himself. He locked both doors, an unnecessary precaution

since she could not open the door anyway, and then put her seat belt on.

Donning his own, he started the engine and drove away.

Anytime she spoke, he immediately responded with an order to be silent.

He hiked her skirt up to her waist and fondled her freely. This was dizzying.

She was restrained, kept in a car, being taken to God knows where, and not even

allowed to speak. It was incredibly exciting.

When he got to the Interstate, he stopped for a moment to put a pair of

Gargoyle sunglasses on her. He had painted these with black paint, and she

could see very little, but no passersby in cars would have any clue.

Without being able to see, she had no real way to gauge time, since the radio

was not playing and he was being fairly silent.

After maybe an hour, maybe two, maybe ten years, he pulled off the

Interstate, and a short time later pulled over completely. He got out of

the car, went around and let her out, and led her forward. She felt gravel

clicking under her heels. Then, up three steps, and onto a porch of some kind.

It sounded like concrete when she walked on it. She heard him fumble briefly

with a key, and then she was being led indoors. Then he took the blindfold

off.

She was in a wood-paneled den, with a fireplace and a few hunting

trophies on the walls. There were two doors leading from the room. One looked

like it led to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom. She glanced around at

the place curiously.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Like it?” She walked around briefly. “It’s beautiful. But how did

you get it?”

“It was my grandpa’s house,” he said. “I’m in the process of getting

it. Some yap about probate. Some other people in the family want it, I think.

But it’ll be mine soon.”

Will it be mine too? she wanted to ask, but didn’t have the courage

to.

He came up behind her and unzipped her skirt, pulling it gently but

irrevocably off her. Then he removed the handcuffs, only to replace them with

leather cuffs. Then he buckled and locked a wide leather collar around her

neck. He removed her blouse and bra, and then locked her wrists behind her

back. Then he buckled another pair of leather cuffs on her ankles.

“Let me show you the basement,” he suggested, as if none of what he had

done before had happened. But she was very wet now, very excited as he forced

her down the rickety stairs to the basement.

There was a door at the end of the stairs. He pushed her through

this and locked it. Inside, the basement was finished. She saw a room on

her which he propelled her into, and she could see in the dim light several

toys up on the walls and a spanking horse and a bed in the corner of the room.

“You like it?” he asked, his voice betraying an edge of sharpness.

“Yes-oh God, fuck me-,” she choked.

“Not yet.” He took her over to the spanking horse, spread her legs and

fastened them to the legs of the horse, then freed her arms briefly to bend her

over the horse and attach her wrist cuffs to the legs on the other side.

She heard him shuck off his pants and then he had a fistful of her

hair, pulling her head up. In his hand she saw a riding crop. Her head could

not rise far with her body spreadeagled and secured down.

His penis was stiff and dancing about, and she was wet and ready for

him. But he forced her to lick it instead, lick it and suck it while he

whipped her ass with the crop. This was a game she knew. She was to suck him

while he whipped her until he came. Until he did, the whipping would get

steadily harder.

She did what she usually did. She delayed him so that he would whip

her harder. Eventually she passed into a sort of out-of-body experience: she

could still feel the whip striking her, but it didn’t hurt anymore. She felt

the cock in her mouth, everything seeming to happen very slowly, and she

thought, I’m a cocksucker. And it seemed very good.

Finally he came, and she licked him clean, feeling tired and limp.

He came around to her welted ass, and rubbed it gently.

“Why so tired?” he asked. She felt his cock slip into her from behind,

but was too well bound to fight it. It felt good, slipping into her dark and

wet depths. Her welts stung as he touched them. They had both broken out into

a sweat.

“So tired already?” He began to pump slowly. “It’s gonna be a long

weekend, sweetheart.”