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A.L.S.O. OUT
By: Charles E. Campbell
It was my intention with this story to write a slow developing tale, in one chapter. If there is interest, I might continue and add further chapters of Frank and paula.
I sat in the fifth row back from the raised podium, just one seat left of center. Innocuous, incommunicado, unnoticeable. Blending in totally. Nothing remarkable, noteworthy, or memorable. Incognito. Just what I wanted. For all intents and purposes, everything resembled a stereotypical freshman level lecture hall. Small stage, maybe fifteen rows of seats, all bolted to the gently rising floor, each with one of those small folding desk tops attached to the right arm rest, as if all the world should conform to the notion of right handedness; gently rising floor to provide each seat with a minimal view of the lectern.
Patiently waiting, I leisurely paged through the pamphlet provided at the door. A.L.S.O. OUT, a clever acronym for “Alternative Life-Styles Options” Out, (in the open). My mind drifting back in time, almost one year, recalling how I first met Paula, as she was known at that time.
I had gotten a rather severe cut on my hand while installing a new exhaust system on one of my motorcycles. Having passed through the triage unit at the local hospital’s ER, I was sitting on a Gurney waiting for the on call physician to stitch me up, when the curtain parted and in walked a thin and extremely pale young girl, a waif really, dressed in overly large loose fitting blue scrubs. “Oops, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, eyes looking at the floor, startled to find that someone was in the room.
“Not a problem,” I replied, taking in the striking features of her chiseled, angular face.
“I was.....was just cleaning up,” she explained, raising her head slightly. “I......I’ll come back later.”
“No need,” I answered, smiling at her. She couldn’t have been much more than twenty, I remember thinking, (actually she was just barely nineteen). “Do what you have to do, it doesn’t bother me.”
“Are........are you sure,” she stammered, looking down at the floor again, seemingly afraid to look me in the eye. “I.....I could get in trouble. P....privacy things. I.............I really should come back later.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. She was stunning! Long straight chestnut hair, pulled back into a high pony tail, china blue eyes, pale white skin, full pouting pink lips. Natural beauty, and not even a touch of make-up on that sweet innocent face.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I’m just waiting for the doctor to put some stitches in my hand. Do what you have to do, I don’t mind. What’s the privacy issue with a few stitches in my hand?”
“O....okay. Th....thanks,” she replied, picking up the wastebasket and dumping it into her trash bin. “I’ll fall behind if I don’t get this room cleaned up now.”
Just as she started to put down the wastebasket, an Indian Attending came in to sew up my hand. “What are you doing in her, Paula,” he said in an too loud harsh tone. “You know better than to be in a room with a patient. Get out!”
“Ye........yes, Dr. Patel,” she said meekly, gathering her things and pushing through the curtain.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” he said to me. “She knows better than this. I will have to fill out a report on her.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I told her she could do what she needed to do. It’s not her fault. She was going to leave, and I told her she could stay.”
“That’s not the issue,” he countered. “This hospital has strict rules about patient confidentiality, and they are not to be treated lightly.”
I didn’t see Paula when I left, six fresh stitches neatly sewn into my bandaged hand. I sent a message from my Blackberry to my assistant, Mark, to find out what he could about a young girl named Paula who worked evenings in housekeeping at St. Luke’s Hospital.
The following afternoon, Mark sent me an email telling me that there was one girl who fit the description I had sent him. Her name was Paula Timms, she was nineteen, and she had just been fired from the hospital.
I emailed him right away and told him to get an address for her. (Over the years I have donated generously to St. Luke’s, and a little thing like an ex-employee’s address shouldn’t prove too difficult to obtain).
Within a few hours I had her address. It was an old motel on the outskirts of town. Twelve small units desperately in need of modernizing. The kind that was once a staple of Americana, until the Interstates and large chain motels passed them by, rendering them obsolete. Like many of its kind, it had been converted into a series of Spartan one room weekly rental apartments and hourly rentals for trysts.
It was a beautiful day, and I reckoned that since the stitches were in my left hand, riding a motorcycle wasn’t completely out of the question, so I hopped on my vintage 1967 Triumph Bonneville and took a run over to the motel.
I stopped at the office and got the unit number from the owner, prodding him with a sawbuck, and strode across the dirt parking lot to number 8. I knocked on the door and only had to wait a few second before a timid voice called out from behind the locked door, “Who is it?”
Leaning closer to the door so I wouldn’t have to shout, I replied, “I’m Frank. Frank Tompkins, Paula. I met you last night in the ER? I’m the guy with the cut hand?”
I heard the deadbolt moving, and the door opened only as far as the security chain would allow. Her highly memorable eyes peered around suspiciously to see if I was who I had claimed to be.
Recognition covered her face, but wariness prevented her from removing the chain.
“What do you want,” she asked, her eyes looking straight ahead towards my chest, still avoiding mine?
“I just wanted to talk with you, Paula. That’s all. I heard you got fired last night, and I’m afraid it was because I insisted you could clean that room.”
She didn’t answer me. She just closed the door. A moment later I heard the chain being slid from it’s position, and the door opened a crack.
I pushed it open, and saw her sitting on the unmade bed. A shabby yellowed men’s tank top and a pair of over sized men’s boxers covered her frail bony body. Her feet were bare. Her long hair hung down, free, and covered her face as she looked downward at the threadbare and hideously stained carpet.
The musty smell in the damp room was over-powering. One lone battered suitcase half filled with old clothes lay open on a table. Her scrubs were hanging from the curtain rod in the small bathroom.
I closed the door behind me, standing still, but did not approach her. “I’m so sorry about last night,” I began.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she interrupted me. “I know what the rules are. I just wanted to get everything done on time. They keep writing me up ‘cuz I don’t work as fast as they want.” There was more than a hint of anger mingled with the sadness in her tone.
“It’s ju.......just that I ca....can’t find a job.” She was crying softly. “I ne....never fi.....fi....finished hi....high school,” she said, crying harder now. “I have n.....no where to g.....go.”
She fell silent. I didn’t speak. I waited, and watched.
“I’m afraid,” she declared, sobs racking through her skinny boyish looking body.
“Let me help.” I offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
I walked over and sat down on the bed, carefully choosing a spot more than an arms length from her.
Her head came up slowly, and for the first time her red swollen puffed up eyes met mine. “C....can y....you he.....he.....help m......me,” she asked, furtively?
“Yes, I can,” I said confidently. “I would be happy to offer you a job. Right now, in fact.”
“R.....really,” she said, shocked that someone, anyone, would come to her aid?”
“What was your salary at St. Luke’s? How many hours did you work per week,” I asked?
“They were paying me $8 per hour, and I had two eight hour shifts one week, and three the next week.”
“They do that so they don’t have to give you any benefits,” I told her, inwardly amazed at the lack of concern that administration had for it’s employees.
“Can you work more hours than that?”
“Yes. Yes, I can. I want to,” She said, seemingly excited at the prospect. Her head dropped again, “I need to.”
“Okay. What I can offer you requires forty hours per week. Tuesdays through Saturdays. Starting pay is $14 per hour. There is a three month probationary period, after which you will receive health benefits and paid vacation time.”
She didn’t reply. She looked like a doe eyed deer caught in the headlights. Fresh tears were beginning to well up in her blue eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know what the job is,” I asked, more to get her talking and hear more of her soft airy voice?
“I don’t care,” she said, looking at her pale bony feet. “I’ll do whatever you want.” Resignation. Dejection.
I slid over on the bed next to her and put my arm around her fragile looking shoulder, hugging her close to me. “It’s not like that,” I assured her. “I have an antique motorcycle museum a few miles outside of town. I need someone to be there when it’s open. Collect visitors fees, keep the rest rooms clean, run the gift shop............that sort of thing.”
She said nothing, but her body started shaking noticeably as her eyes opened up and she turned and cried freely into my chest.
When she had collected herself, she whispered meekly, “I don......don’t......don’t know how......how to th....thank y.....you, Mis......mister Tom........Tompkins.”
“It’s Frank, Paula. No body calls me Mr. Tompkins.
“Now, do you have a car?”
“N...no.”
“How did you get to work?”
“I walked.”
“Well you won’t be able to do that now. Its too far from here. There is a small apartment at the museum. It’s small, but its bigger than this place at least. Two rooms and a bath. It’s furnished. You can stay there. That way you won’t have to worry about getting to and from work. Also, when the museum is closed, there is an alarm system, so you’ll be safe. I don’t like the idea of you being in this place anyway. Too many lowlifes and transients in and around.
“In fact, let’s get the hell out of here now. Get dressed and I’ll take you out to the museum now, show you around the place, get you set up in your new apartment. What do you say?”
She didn’t answer me. She wrapped her arms around me, and hugged me tightly, as she cried some more.
She put on her only pair of faded Levis, pock marked with frayed holes that were earned by wear, not purchased to be trendy. “Leave your suitcase here, I’ll send someone for it later,” I said. She tied her hair up in a ponytail before climbing on the back of my Bonnie. “Ever ridden on one of these before,” I asked as I kicked the motor to life?”
“No. Never.”
“Well, just relax and lean with me.”
Her arms around my waist felt good as she leaned forward, pressing her flat chest against my back.
“Dr. Howard is running a little behind schedule, due to a delay with his train,” a woman announced from the lectern, drawing me back from my reminiscing and into the here and now.
“He should be here within about twenty minutes,” she added before walking away.
I glanced at my watch, and then let my mind wander back again.
Paula had worked for me for a bit over four months before I asked her out. I wanted her to get through the probationary period without thinking that an affair with me would be a pre-requisite for her keeping her job. I took her to a nice restaurant in the next town, as I wanted to be left alone with just the two of us.
She was underage, and I don’t drink, so we sipped water while nibbling at salad. She didn’t seem put off by the difference in our ages, ( twenty years: my 39 to her 19). She asked a lot about my interest in motorcycles, how I had accrued my collection, what I bikes was looking for, things like that. Never asking a thing at all about my personal life.
I, however, delved right into her background, eager to uncover all I could about her, learning that she had been in the foster child system for most of her life, being the only child of an absent father, and a drug addict prostitute mother. She had been with a total of seven families until she turned eighteen and set out on her own. One family she had lived with had left an indelible mark on her. She had been with them from the age of six until she was fourteen. Strict Roman Catholics, they had instilled a zealous fear of sins of the flesh and wickedness in her. She had never had sex, kissed a man, or even dated! I couldn’t believe my ears. I now wanted her even more intensely knowing what I had just learned.
I didn’t push myself on her at all, but our dinners together gradually became thrice weekly, then daily. Still I didn’t even attempt to kiss her. I would hold her hand when we walked together, or put my arm around her shoulder, almost fatherly, but that was the extent of our physical contact. I wanted to set my hook deep before making my move. There was no way I was going to loose this girl by moving too fast, or exposing her to the real me too soon. Patience is always rewarded I reminded myself constantly.
The first step was to kiss her. It had to be timed right, making it an unforgettable experience for her, making her want more. It was her twentieth birthday. We were going to dinner at her favorite restaurant. In the car I presented her with her gift, a solid gold dolphin pendant on a delicate chain of braided gold. ( She had told me of her lifelong love of and fascination with dolphins and how they represented happiness and freedom to her).
She was totally floored. “I love it,” she shrieked in unrestrained joy!. “Please put it on me!”
She bent forward as I leaned over in the tight confines of my 1960 Austin Healy bug eye Sprite and fastened the clasp behind her neck. Her eyes met mine and she kissed me full on the mouth. She didn’t recoil when my tongue pushed through her lips deep into her mouth, exploring her at will. Our arms were entwined, holding each other tightly, hands not roaming, just clutching, as if afraid to break the embrace and lose the moment.
Over dinner, she kept on about how much she loved the necklace, how beautiful it was, how no one had ever given her a gift like this, and how she would never take it off.
I told her that keeping it on all the time wasn’t practical, and that if she wanted to proclaim her love of dolphins, she should do it in a more openly significant and meaningful way.
“How,” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed?
“Get a tattoo of a dolphin. On your shoulder blade, our maybe on your hip,” I suggested. “They’re a proclamation of something.”
“I heard they hurt a lot,” she returned.
“Not too bad,” I countered.
“And how would you know,” she chided me?
“Because I have one,” I told her.
“You do? Where is it? I haven’t seen it.”
“I have it someplace you haven’t seen,” I answered, intentionally avoiding the word ‘yet’ at the end of the sentence. “If you like, I could bring you to the girl who did mine. She’s very good. A real artist.”
After dinner, she asked sheepishly, “Could I really get a tattoo?”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
We drove to the tattoo studio. Paula was bubbly with excitement one minute, then suddenly quiet and reflective the next. I introduced her to Anya, the tattoo artist and she showed Paula some sketches she had drawn of dolphins. Paula selected one about three inches long jumping out of a white capped wave, with a bright, colorful rainbow arcing above. She decided to have it placed on her right shoulder blade.
The tattoo took about ninety minutes to do. Paula was stoic throughout, never flinching or even complaining about the burning bee stinging sensations.
In the car, as I was driving her back to her apartment, she announced, “I’d.......I'd like it very much if...........if y..... you would show me your tattoo.” She sat face front, eyes looking straight out through the windshield as she said it. The implication of what she was suggesting tantamount in her mind, conflicting with the teachings that had been ingrained into her
“If you’d like,” I said with a flat tone, no pressure. I wanted her to come to me, not the other way around. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Y....yes. I’m........I’m sure.”
“As you wish then,” I said. “But I think it best we go to my house rather than your apartment. Is that alright with you?”
My cock was straining in my slacks as my mind raced through what might be about to happen.
“Yes. That’s alright.”
Paula was silent for a few miles, then she half whispered, “I’ve never done what I think we’re about to do. I....I just want you to kn.....know that.”
Her habit of stuttering when she was nervous or afraid was a trait I found particularly appealing in a very submissive fashion. “I will not do anything you don’t want me to do,” I reassured her quietly. “ I will go slowly and make this night one you will long remember.” I reached over and grabbed her hand. She squeezed mine back as hard as she could, and she didn’t let go, except when I had to shift the transmission.
I parked the Sprite in the garage and walked through the door into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything,” I asked her?
“N.....no. Nothing. I......I’m fine, thank you.”
“We don’t have to do this, Paula,” I offered, presenting her with an escape route, insisting it be her choice, (still avoiding the word ‘yet’).
“No. No, I mean, yes. Yes we do. Yes we do. C...can I use your bathroom first, please?”
“Yes. Of course. Come upstairs with me and use the one off the guest room.”
Taking her hand, I lead her up the stairs and showed her where the bathroom was. Cupping her chin in my right hand, I turned her face to mine and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you. Come to me only when you’re ready.”
She closed the bathroom door behind her and I walked down the hall to the Master bedroom, took a seat in a chair, and waited.
It was a good ten minutes before I heard a timid knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I called out.
Paula came in, fully dressed. Her beautiful chestnut mane hanging free, freshly brushed.
She came over by where I sat and stood stark still before me.
“I.....I’m frightened,” she said, looking at the floor.
I stood up and took held of both of her hands. “Look at me, Paula,” I said with a domineering edge to my tone.
She raised her eyes to meet mine.
“I have two questions you must answer, right here, and right now. If your answer to either one is in the negative, or you are slow in responding, then I will take you home right now. And we will continue as we have been. Do you understand me?”
“Y.....yes.”
“Alright then. Question number one. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, I do. I.....I've never trusted anyone in my life before I m....met you. I.....I trust you completely.”
“Very good. Second question: Do you want this?”
“Yes,” she again replied quickly. “I do want this. I.....I do, but..........It’s .......it’s just that........I’m afraid.”
“Well then, what I suggest is that you keep remembering those two things. First, and foremost, that you trust me. I will do nothing to abuse or jeopardize that trust. Ever. Secondly, this is something that you want. You just told me so. You’re twenty years old, past the age of consent. What we are about to do has been done by countless millions of people forever. Its about time you joined their ranks. Alright?”
“Y...yes.”
“Very well. Now.......I wish to watch you undress. Please, take off your clothes for me. Do it slowly. I want you to take your time. Make it last. We have all night together. Just the two of us. No hurry, No rush.” I sat back down, acting nonchalant, making what I just asked her to do seem like nothing to me.
I saw her shudder as my words hit her brain.
She didn’t move for a few seconds, her mind fighting over the choice she had to make, then her hands slowly rose and began to unbutton her blouse.
“You should look at me when you disrobe. Remember that you are doing this because it is what I want of you. You are doing this for me. For me alone. You must watch me to see that you are pleasing me with your obedience.”
“Ye...........yes.”
“Yes Sir,” I corrected her quickly.
“Yes Sir,” she repeated, gradually lifting her head and looking at me with those stunning blue eyes.
She unbuttoned her blouse slowly and let it slip off the back of her shoulders and onto the floor at her feet. She wore no bra. There really was no need for one. I had never before seen such a flat chest on a woman. An ever so faint hint of swelling bosom was all she had, like a pre-pubescent girl, nowhere even near womanhood. Her areolas were small but remarkably dark, a purplish brown color, a slight bit larger than a dime, but then in contrast, her equally dark nipples were almost the size and thickness of thimbles, jutting out from her non-existent chest proudly, at least a full three quarters of an inch!. (Instantly my mind pictured thick metal rings pierced through those nubs).
Her hands moved to the button on her slacks and she let them drop to her ankles before stepping out of them. She bent down and picked them up, folding them neatly before placing them on the bed. Her simple matronly white cotton briefs were all that remained of her modesty. I could see the hesitancy in her eyes, but she seemed to read something in mine at the same time, as her fingers hooked the elastic band and she pulled them down to her feet and stepped out of them.
Naked before my gaze, I could see her nervous hands fidgeting about, unsure what they should try to cover up first.
I helped her out. “Hands behind your head, Paula. Interlace your fingers, shoulders back. Make a display of yourself. Show your proud nakedness to me. Turn for me slowly, I wish to see your body.”
Her head dropped instinctively to the floor as she began a slow rotation.
“Look at me,” I barked. “You’re doing this for me, remember? You should feel proud of your ability to arouse my most basic and animalistic needs.”
She raised her head as she pivoted around slowly on her bare feet, letting me drink in the sight of her naked body, that I had only fantasized about for the past months. Pale, almost ashen milk white skin, a full firm prominent ass sitting atop her long slender legs and narrow hips. Dense copse of trimmed hair covering her slit, but her labia were much larger than average, and hung down far below the thicket that hid their origins. Tiny waist, with a wisp of hair trailing up from her pubis to her navel.
She stopped and faced me when she had finished turning. I stood up and approached her.
“You said earlier that you wished to see my tattoo. Do you still wish to see it?”
“Y....yes, pl....please.” Her head dropped for a split second, but then she caught herself and raised it so she could look into my face. “Please, Sir. I wish.......I wish....... t.... to see your tattoo.”
I took two steps back from her and removed my shirt, revealing no ink. A puzzled look came across her face. “Not here, My pet,” I smiled.
I undid my belt buckle, undid my jeans, and sat down on the edge of the bed to remove them. I took off my shoes and socks and slid out of my jeans. I never wear underwear, so once my jeans were off, I was naked. I stood back up, and said, “Here it is, My precious.”
She let her eyes drift down my body to the smooth area right above my cock. There, in bold one inch blue, red, and golden Gothic letters were the words: “Kneel before your Master.”
Paula’s eyes shot back up to mine, then back down to my hairless groin. Then, without any prompt from me, she knelt down obediently in front of me. Her face less than a foot from my thick pulsing cock which was standing proudly at attention in high anticipation of what lay before us. Paula just looked straight ahead at it.
“Receive me into your mouth, My pet. Worship me.”
She started to look up at me. I could see tears forming in her eyes.
I bent over slightly and put my hands on either side of her head, pulling her towards my cock. “Accept my gift to you, My sweet. Trust in me. You need to do this. Take me. Suck me.”
I felt the tension slightly ease in her neck as she let me pull her face forward to my waiting cock. Her mouth opened and she tried to engulf my thick rod, almost 1 3/4 inches in diameter and six inches long.
“Where should your eyes be, My pretty,” I reminded her gently?
She looked up at me, tears cascading from her eyes, her face stuffed, stretching her mouth into a grotesque shape. I kept my eyes fixated on hers, my hands firmly behind her head as I slowly pumped in and out. I had decided that her oral virginity was to be my first thing I would take from her, to be followed later by her both her vaginal and anal deflowering.
I kept a steady, unrushed pace as I fucked her mouth. I was in no hurry. I wanted to savor this event, while at the same time, to ensure that I did not frighten her either. She fought hard, struggling with the myriad of new sensations and raging conflicts in her head and mouth, all the while trying to focus her concentrating eyes with mine. I resisted the temptation to pinch her nose and control her breathing with my cock. (There would be ample time for that later).
The familiar sensations started to well up deep in my core and I knew my time was now. “Accept the gift of nourishment I give you, My pet. Let if feed you. Sustain you.”
I grunted as thick squirts of jiz shot from my cock to the back of her throat. Her gag reflexes kicked in, and she pulled back away from me quickly, but I had a firm hold of her head and would not allow her to, making her receive every drop of salty cum I had stored up in my body.
When my cock had gone soft, I pulled back from her. Her head sank to her chest and she began to cry. I pulled her up and hugged her tight to me. Reassuring her, telling her how beautiful she was, it was, how she had shared my life’s essence, my seed. Her arms reached around my back and she hugged me tightly, even as she cried aloud.
When her crying had stopped, I scooped her up in my arms and laid her on my bed flat on her back. Laying down next to her, I began to softly kiss her face, her ears, her throat, her shoulders, her arms, nipples, and flat stomach. Ever so gradually working my way down to her belly. Gently parting her tightly closed legs with my hands, spreading them apart, opening her, I gave her her first kiss on her clit. “Oh no,” she stiffened, as she realized what it was that I wanted from her. “Don’t! N......no......no. P.....please......please, d.....don’t! Don’t do that. Its........it’s a ssss.......sin It’s wrong!”
I paid her protests no minds, and continued to explore her feminine portal. It didn’t take very long before I felt the tension and resistance of her highly brainwashed mind begin to ebb from her. A moan escaped from her lips as she gradually awoke to the warming sensations long dormant deep within her.
There was no rush, I had no train to catch. We had all night. I was able to read her body like we had shared a lifetime together, bringing her to the edge, and then backing off, making her wait while she learned of all the secret pleasures contained so deep within her. I was relaxed and comfortable lying between her wide spread legs. My mouth tasting her freely flowing juices, my hands massaging and pinching those stone like nipples, my mind imagining the rings I would hang through them.
I made her cum several times during the next half hour or so before taking a short break prior to starting round three, the next destination on her “Round The World” initiation. I wanted her fatigued and sated, relaxed, in a dream like state. We lay together, a tangle of arms and legs entwined. I massaged her back, bringing soft cooing sounds from her as she drifted lazily in the warm afterglow.
Rolling her onto her side, I slipped my again hard cock into the furrow between her ass cheeks. Letting her feel the stiff invader that was about to plunder the uncharted territory of her soaking wet pussy and take her virginity forever from her. Pulling my hips back a little bit, I positioned the tip of my cock against the moist pouting lips, wanting her mind to fully comprehend what she was offering up to me, what I was about to take away from her. She didn’t resist, instead, she started to push back against me, and I against her, with some difficulty, entering into the tight hole. Slowly I began to plow the furrow, deep thrusts combined with pulling almost all the way out. Paula ,paned as she nestled closer to me, pushing her ass against my crotch, matching the rhythm of my thrusts, taking me as deeply as this position would allow.
I let my hands roam freely across her stomach, chest, thighs and ass, soothing her, calming her, allowing her ample time to enjoy these new sensations emanating from newly discovered recesses within her. My hands took several detours before reaching my intended target; her tightly puckered brown ring. That defiant guardian and protector of the last bastion of her most basic privacy. A guardian which I fully intended to conquer and vanquish!
She tensed up the instant my finger touched the tight ring. “N.....no,” she whispered. “N....not th....that. Pl....please. N....not that. I b...beg y....you, pl....pleeeeeeease.”
I picked up the pace as I kept fucking her but didn’t stop massaging the hole with the middle finger of my right hand either. “Don’t you trust me,” I asked her?
“Y.....yes,” she cooed, the sensations in her womanhood clouding her brainwashed religion restricted mind.
“Don’t you want to please me?”
“Yes......yes. I w....want to p.....pl...please you.” She had stopped pushing back against my pelvis.
I stopped pumping her, as I wanted to make her focus on what I wanted from her, what I expected her to give up to me. “It has been said,” I started, “That when a woman gives up her backside to a man, that it is that man who truly possesses her.” I let that sink in a minute, and then added, “I wish to possess you, Paula. In every manner of speaking. Right now. Become my possession.”
I felt her shudder, as if a sudden chill overcame her. “Pl......please don’t ask me to do this. Please. I.....I can’t. It's forbidden. It’s so wr.....rong.”
“You’re mistaken, Paula. It’s not wrong. Not at all. In fact, quite to the contrary, it is a beautiful thing, really. Giving yourself, offering yourself up to the desires of another. What more can there be than that? And it is made all the more meaningful when it is so difficult to agree to.”
She lay still a moment, silent.
“What is your decision, Paula? Will you give yourself up to me? Will you let me possess you?”
“Y.....yes,” she whispered, so softly I almost didn’t hear it. Her body suddenly felt relaxed in my arms.
I had her! I knew that once this barrier was breeched, she would be ready to start the training that I had been envisioning for her all these months.
“I’m happy that you want to please me in this fashion, Paula. But I want more from you. I want to hear you ask me to do it. I want you to convince me it’s what you want.”
“I......I don’t understand,” she confessed.
“I want to hear you ask me to take you in your ass," intentionally using coarse language. "I want to hear you say it yourself.”
I felt her body stiffen, but she didn’t respond. She just lay there still, on her side for a moment, my cock still deep inside of her. I knew she was on the verge of crying, but this was the point of no return. This decision I was asking her for was enormous. It was contrary to everything she had been taught to believe to be true. This was it. Either she would acquiesce to my demands and she would become mine, or she would balk, and it would all be over. It was all in her hands now.
“I need to have you ask me, Paula,” I prompted her, “And you need to ask me, just as much for me as for you. Only in this way will your offering to me, as well as my possession of you, be truly meaningful to us both. You know what I’m saying to you is true, Paula. Look how far you’ve come. Search inside yourself, channel that inner strength that has kept you going all your life. See that this is want you want. This is what you need.”
She nodded her head slowly. I felt her take a deep cleansing breath, exhaling as she said, “Please take me.”
“And.......?”
“Pl.....please t.....take m.......me...........me...........me i........in my.....................my ass.”
I hugged her tightly. Arms crossing across her chest, pulling her body close to mine. “Say it again, Paula,” I pushed her. “Beg me to fuck your ass!”
She was shaking as she said, “Please.......pl.....please...................I........I b.......beg... Y......you. Please........fuck m.....me in the ass.”
I had her! I felt the smile cover my face. Now it was time to push her beyond what she thought she had agreed to, what she expected was about to happen. She had to have complicity in her sodomy for this to break her completely.
“Get on your hands and knees, bitch. All fours, like a dog!”
Resigned, Paula pushed herself up as ordered, presenting her firm round ass cheeks to me.
“Use your hands and spread yourself open, so that I may see where you want me to fuck you.”
She was crying now, but she leaned forward, resting her head on the pillow, and using both hands, she pulled her buttocks apart, giving me a stunning view of her swollen pussy lips, dripping with her wetness, and her tight little ring, about to be sacrificed to me.
I mounted her, driving deep into her cunt. So hard, in fact, that she lost her balance and fell forwards on the bed. “Get up, bitch. Get up and prepare to be ass fucked!”
She obeyed. I pumped her pussy, periodically pulling out and rubbing my cock back and forth around her anus. I wanted to use her own moisture for a lube, and I wanted to prolong her mental torture and anxiety of what she was about to give up. I wanted her mind centered with a fixity of purpose on the pending loss of her anal virginity.
Finally deeming it time, I pushed her roughly forward onto her face, and lay down on my back next to her. “Sit on my cock, you little slut whore,” I said.
She got up, straddled my body and began to sit down, as I stopped her. “Turn and face me, cunt. I want to watch your face as I take your ass!”
Turning 180 degrees, she squatted as I slipped my cock into her pussy. “Ride me, whore,” I ordered.
Paula began to push herself up and lower herself down my cock. I could see from her expression the uncomfortable increased pressure this new position was causing her, as I felt my cock bottoming out, hitting her cervix with each penetration.
“Sit up,” I said.
She slipped off me.
“Take hold of me, and guide my cock to the hole you are offering up to me, slave.”
I saw tears drop from her eyes as she gently took hold of my cock and lowered herself down just enough so that the tip of my straining cock pressed against her last remaining virgin hole.
“Ask me again, cunt. Tell me you want me to fuck your little whore asshole!”
The tears were falling free now, running down her cheeks and dripping onto my chest, as she resigned herself to losing what little dignity she still had.
“P.....please, Sir. I........want...y......you...........” She stopped a moment, and I suddenly feared I had lost her. Pushed her too far too fast!
“I.......I need y......you to..........to fuck my whore asshole!” The last five words streamed from her mouth quickly, but they were also spoken quite loudly as well.
“You do it, slave. Fuck your ass with my cock!”
I felt her body relax as she began to sit down on my rigid and eager cock. My eyes stared, transfixed, at her facial contortions as the burning, searing pain grew in intensity and registered on her face.
Ever so slowly, seemingly millimeter by millimeter, my cock began to stretch her tight sphincter wider and wider, as she fought to relax the strong muscle against this foreign invader. I was sure I was tearing the fragile skin as I knew my thick cock was a challenge for even the most experienced ass.
Paula was still crying, but a slight hint of relief came upon her as she got me in past the struggling defenses of the virgin muscles. Her tears slowed a bit as she sat down fully on my cock, her ass cheeks resting on my pelvis. Her mind flooded with the sensations and pressure of my invasion. I allowed her a few moments to calm down, regain control of her breathing, and accept the reality her impalement. Then in a stern commanding voice, I said, “You asked for this, cunt. What are you waiting for? Fuck my cock with your whore asshole!”
A slight smile on her face as she looked down at me and said, “Thank you, Sir. Th....thank you for fucking my little whore asshole!”
Gradually, she began to rise and fall on my cock, grimacing as she took me in, relaxing as she pulled up. The tears had completely stopped now, and her face showed clearly the newfound pleasure she was receiving.
“Play with yourself, slut. I want to watch you cum as you fuck my cock with your asshole.”
Her right hand went to her pussy and began rubbing her clit furiously as she reamed herself on me.
Over the course of my sexual lifetime, I have learned to control myself quite well, and am able to prolong my release for extended periods, but this was too much stimulus, even for me. I held out as long as I could, focusing my mind on anything I could think of, as I felt her muscles contract, and she began to shake in the throes of an explosive orgasm. I let myself go at that same instant, and shot hot sticky strands of cum high up into her bowels.
Paula fell forward onto my chest, exhausted, my slowly softening cock still buried in her. We rolled over together as I pulled the covers up over us, and fell asleep, spooning, content.
“Hi everyone,” the woman was back in the spotlight at the lectern. “If I may have your attention. We are very sorry for the delay, but here, at long last, may I present Dr. Edwin Howard, well known psychologist, researcher and author of six books and dozens of articles in renowned journals.
“Dr. Howard.”
There was polite applause from the assembled group, which had grown to almost thirty while I was reliving the past fifteen months, as Dr. Howard approached the lectern from the darkness in the wings. A willowy shadow figure trailed about eight feet behind him, and stopped while still masked in the darkness. It was impossible to identify anything at all about the shadow, as the person was dressed in black and was out of the spotlight.
“Thank you. Thank you, all.” he began.
“So sorry I’m late. I don’t wish to make you all late as well, so let me skip my background, its all there in the program anyway.
“I would like to begin by telling you that what I wish to discuss with you is the world of ‘A. L. S. O.’ Which is another way of saying, ‘Alternative Life Style Options.’
“It has only been in the last decade or so that these alternative lifestyles could even be spoken about in public, as our world has become more open and forgiving, we see these different ways of living being illustrated in movies and even on mainstream broadcast television.
“There are numerous alternative lifestyles that people follow that have only recently not been considered to be the devious and dangerous perversions that only sex maniacs and rapists had. I’m talking about Gay and Lesbian relationships, even including marriages and adoptions. Cross dressing, Transgendered people, Transexuals, all are no longer jail able offenses. Dominance and submission, or D/s, sexual slavery, Pony play, Bondage and Discipline, also known as BdSm, are all also far more commonplace than many people would admit even a few years ago.
“I hold that these alternative lifestyles aren’t aberrations or evil deviant perversions at all, but rather to the contrary, they are valid, healthy alternative means to relationships for many consenting adults. And here, is the most important tenet of my belief, consenting adults. None of these alternative lifestyles should involve anyone against their will. No coercion, no threats of violence or other means of extortion. Total free consent is required, and the people engaged in these activities must be adults, past the age of consent.
“If those two singularly important criteria are mutually satisfied, then I believe there are no such things as perversions, or sexually deviant activities. All one must do is remember ‘SSC’, and that stands for ‘Safe, Sane, and Consensual.’ Things such as taboos, limits, safe words, and the like are left up to the consenting individuals.
“Now, before we take a short break, I have something I want to leave you with to mull over until we reconvene in, say, fifteen minutes.”
A spotlight came on, illuminating the previously shadowy figure that stood to Dr. Howard’s right. It was Paula, dressed in an ankle length tight black sheath dress. She was barefoot, and her gorgeous waist length hair hung straight down on either side of her head, just the way I preferred it.
“This creature here to my right,” Dr. Howard pointed, “Is an excellent example of a person living an alternate lifestyle, because she is a slave. Yes, I said a slave. In every sense and definition of the word, she is a slave. The personal private property of her Owner, who is free to do with her as He pleases, where, and when, and how He pleases. Property, like a pet dog, or cattle. Nothing more.
“This slave has given up all rights to anything. she has no possessions of her own, no money, or anything else. she has forsaken the name that she received at birth, and now she is known simply as ‘p,’ which is how her Owner refers to her. she has signed a contract with her Owner which stipulates the conditions of her enslavement. This contract spells out his responsibilities in ownership and care of her, and bequeaths herself to him to be used in whatever manner he sees fit.
“ ‘p’ has entered into this agreement freely, willingly, and openly. It is, quite simply, what she wants for herself. If either party wishes to terminate the contract, they are free to do so, at any time. What binds ‘p’, more than any pieces of paper or ropes or chains her Master may place upon her body, is her need to be enslaved. Nothing more.
“Now, slut, disrobe! Show yourself to my audience.”
I watched proudly as my slave pulled the tight fitting sheath down and exposed herself before this gathering of complete strangers. she never paused, nor hesitated. she held her head up, looking straight out, as if into the eyes of each person in attendance. Proud and defiant in her nakedness. I smiled outwardly at her progress.
When she had picked up her dress and carefully folded it, the woman who introduced Dr. Howard came out and took it away from her.
“Before we break, I want to tease you all by saying I have something remarkable to tell you all about this slave when we reconvene. But, in the mean time, please feel free to inspect this slave. Be advised, she will neither look directly at you, nor will she speak to you, and that is because I have forbidden her to do so. But, beyond that...................Enjoy!
“Present yourself slave, as you have been taught!”
Instantly ‘p' spread her legs apart and placed her hands behind her head, lacing her fingers together, pulling her shoulders back and defiantly sticking her flat chest out, showing off proudly the three inch diameter, 1/3 inch think solid gold rings that hung from her enormous rock hard nipples. Her pubic hair fanned out in all directions from her crotch, (I had forbidden her to trim it or shape it in any fashion). Au natural, she was easily the hairiest woman I had ever seen, with the dense thicket coming a few inches down her thighs and spreading well north up her flat belly. I prefer my women smooth, but knowing how this messy tangle of hair embarrassed My slave caused Me to make her keep it. The bright lights accentuated the contrast of her pale white skin with the dark nether hair, (it much was too large and unruly to call a triangle). She also now had been disallowed the privilege of shaving her armpits, so that dark hair, a real source of humiliation for her, also stood out in the harsh unflattering spotlights. I had taken away the right to use any antiperspirants and deodorants as well. The was a constant earthy smell whenever she raised her arms to present herself.
No one moved for a few minutes. Then a D/s Lesbian couple stood and approached her. They were both dressed similarly, men's white cotton t shirts and faded Levis, one wore flip flops, the other black Converse. One lean and lanky, the other somewhat squat and chunky. It wasn't easy to establish who was dominant, at least until they reached My slave. The short heavier woman, a dirty blonde, stood back from the other, and slightly away from My slave. The thin one stood right in front of her and looked straight into her eyes, as if defying her to flinch. She let her hands roam freely all over the naked body, caressing her face and neck, moving down under her arms, avoiding the nipples and rings, across the flat belly, around back over the firm ass cheeks. Suddenly, she reached back, and grabbed her partner by the hair, roughly pulling her forward by it, and shoving the woman's face into cum slut's armpit.
"Clean it," she ordered loudly.
The thin Domme kept feeling p's slight body, while her sub attended to the hairy smelly pit.
Satisfied, the Domme, ordered, "Worship her ass, bitch!"
The dumpy woman walked behind the naked slave and knelt down on her knees.
"Open yourself up for her, slave," she ordered.
I watched, contented in her progress, as p spread her ass cheeks apart for the other woman's face. I know her crotch smelled ripe, as she is under strict orders to never wipe herself when she toilets, unless given express permission, and I was confident that Dr. Howard hadn't granted her that luxury in quite some time.
I was mesmerized, enthralled, staring at my meek slave submitting to these humiliations. Knowing how much she detests anything to do with her ass, I was somewhat surprised at the look on her face as she received analingus from the woman. Rather than disgust and resignation, she seemed to be lost in pure pleasure as her asshole was reamed by the soft moist tongue. I was so captivated, as I am sure everyone present was, that I failed to notice a tall brunette approach walk towards the three women. Her back to me as she neared them. Dressed in a stunning, ultra short sapphire blue form fitting dress with spaghetti straps, all I could see was her shapely legs and firm ample rear. The only thing I found unappealing about her was her somewhat broad shoulders.
The woman stood by, watching the goings-on, and then turned slightly, offering a better view of her body. The dress was scoop necked, presenting her big breasts for all eyes to appreciate. But there was something about the shape of her jaw that seemed off. And then I saw the telltale bump in the center of her throat and knew she was a she-male.
In a single fluid motion, the tranny pulled her dress up over her head, proudly exposing her nakedness underneath. Large fake tits defying gravity jutted straight out, hard from her chest. Small flaccid uncircumcised cock dangling from her shaved pubic area, just above a frighteningly shriveled scrotum. She leaned over and began sucking p's large hard nipples.
The Domme watched the scene for a few moments, before saying something not quite audible to the tranny, who nodded in agreement. 'p' was roughly manhandled, and made to get on all fours, the sub buried her face back into the musty hole again, while the tranny knelt in front, feeding her limp cock into my slave's open mouth.
A few more people from the audience got up at that point and headed up for a closer look, so I thought that the best time to make my exit. cum slut did not know I was going to be here, and besides, that second large cup of coffee I had before sitting in the lecture hall was wrecking havoc on my bladder.
I waited outside, enjoying the warm spring air, when the woman from the lecture came around and said Dr. Howard would begin again in five minutes. Taking a sip of water from a bottle I had gotten at a vending machine, I returned to the lecture hall, to find My slave kneeling, surrounded by six men who were beating off and cumming on her face, which she had tilted back to receive their gifts to her. Like a good slave, her mouth was open wide, in hopes of being the receptacle for their seed.
In was quite apparent from the glistening shine covering her face that several men had bathed her with their cum already. Her chest was drenched as well. I smiled at her total transformation. The good little proper Catholic girl was a complete slut whore now. The greater the degradation and abasement, the more she liked it. I had finally found the one I had been searching for all these years. Now, at long last, I owned a slave of which I could be proud!
Taking my seat, I didn't have long to wait before Dr. Howard returned. The last man was just finishing up jerking off in p's face as Dr. Howard stepped to the microphone. He zippered his pants a sat down in the audience. It was then that I noticed that someone had assembled a St. Andrew's Cross just to the left of the lectern.
Dr. Howard glanced over ay My cum covered slave and remarked, "Seems like many of you availed yourselves of my offer," a commiserating chuckle ripple through the audience. "I need some help," he asked of no one in particular. "Any volunteers?"
The tranny, still naked, and two women approached the lectern. "Help be strap her to the cross," Dr. Howard said.
Dr. Howard grabbed 'p' by the arm and lead her to the cross. He held her arm as she stepped up on the blocks, her legs uncomfortably wide, her bare feet on the narrow pegs, she leaned back against the un-sanded or varnished wood, and stretched her arms up, like a sacrificial offering. The four of them set about strapping her firmly to the wood: wrists, arms above the elbows, waist, across her chest under her armpits, crotch, thighs above the knees, and ankles.
When they had tightened the last belt, 'p' was immobile, and would be completely at their mercy.
"This slave you see opened before you, was, up until a few months ago, a very prim and proper little Catholic virgin. Never even been so much as kissed, yet now she has been deflowered orally, vaginally, and anally, accepts frequent whippings, will offer herself to strangers, and will do, quite literally anything her Master wants her to do.
"She has found her true place in life, in what most of America would call a perverted evil world, but it is where she not only wants to be, its where she needs to be in order to find her own true happiness. This alternative lifestyle she has chosen is not for everyone. By its very nature it can't be, nor should it be. But it is the one 'p' has chosen for herself, and therefore, I put out the question to you, 'Who are we, or anyone else, to judge her?'
" 'p' is past the age of consent, she has entered into this lifestyle freely, and of her own will. She can leave it, just as freely if she so desires. She has come to discard all the religious tenets that kept her from discovering her true self, kept her from becoming what she truly is.
"Look at her, ladies and gentlemen. Look at her insolent nudity. She is happy to be exhibited naked in front of you, because she has reached the level where her Master's wants are her wants. His desires are her desires. He commands, and she obeys. Simple, straightforward.
"And now, if I may, I would like to introduce you to her Owner, Master T."
A smattering of applause greeted me as I stood up and approached my bound slave. I could see her eyes searching me out, as she had no idea I was to be there.
Without acknowledging the audience, I stood in front of the cross and looked at My slave. Taking it all in. Bound. Helpless. Vulnerable. Submitting to Me. There was a smile on her face, no sign of fear or dread, no nervous anticipation. Patient. Waiting to obey, to accept My will.
"Dr. Howard, if you would be so kind as to assist me," I said.
Dr. Howard came to me, with two large candles, one in each hand. I lit them both and turned to the audience, I announced, "I have grown tired of her hair covering her slut holes, granting her a degree of modesty to which she is not entitled."
I pivoted and brought the candle near her crotch, as Dr. Howard raised his near her left arm pit. Very slowly, we brought the flames nearer to her offensive hair, until it began to burn. The foul smell quickly permeating our noses. I watched as p's muscles tensed reflexively as her skin heated up. It didn't take very long to singe the offensive forest of hair. A few wipes of my hand across her belly removed the residue, showed where the errant hairs remained. I wasn't watching Dr. Howard burning her pits, but I knew she was in pain, as her mound was red with even a few angry blisters filling up where I had gotten the flame too close to the tender flesh. she never cried aloud, but soft whimpers could be heard by the silent enraptured audience I was sure.
Dr. Howard finished before I did, and stood back to watch as I moved the candle back near her rear hole. Her position on the cross made it difficult for me to see what I was doing, so I knew I was burning her more in the back than I had in front. She was crying now, and Dr. Howard said, "Would you like us to stop, slave?"
"N.......no........Sir," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Pl.....please don't stop."
She sported very red skin with many nasty looking blisters before she was clean.
"This is how I want My slave to look," I said.
"As You wish, Master," came the reply.
"As I said earlier," Dr Howard said to his audience. "Alternative lifestyle choices are many. They aren't for everyone, but they must be kept legal and available to those who wish to pursue them.
"May I have a round of applause for Master Frank, and His slave 'p' for their generous illustration of a successful, mutually agreed upon, consensual alternative lifestyle.
As the audience applauded, we untied My slave, and I lead her, naked, from the room.
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