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From: auryman@aol.com (AuryMan)
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Subject: {ASSM} 'her', 2/?-AuryMan (bdsm,MMf,strangers)
Date: Tue, 30 May 2000 18:10:11 -0400
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Standard Disclaimer:
This story is an original work of fiction. It in no way resembles any
persons living or deceased. It is purely a work of fantasy and is
intended for the use of adults only. If you are under the age of 18,
or are prohibited by law to have access to such materials, please stop
reading now.
Post II
her PLACE
I sipped my drink and looked back and forth from Peter to 'her' to Steven, then
back again. I didn't believe it. Sure, it sounded sexy, but for her to just
walk into the men's room at a public restaurant -- it didn't ring true for me.
More likely that Steven was in on it with them and there was some reason they
were stringing me along.
I shook my head and chuckled. "Come on, guys. What's the deal here?"
Steven and Peter looked at each other.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, come on -- no matter how kinky the three of you might be, I'm not
going to believe she just WALTZED into the mens' room and gave a perfect
stranger a blow job!"
Peter grinned. "OK, OK. So that was not EXACTLY how it happened. What's the
big deal?"
"Well, the big deal is, I want to know what I'm getting myself in for."
Peter nodded slowly. "All right, I guess it's in my best interest to be fair.
We've been friends online for -- how long now -- five or six months? I wanted
to make a good impression. Give you a picture of me as the Big Stud. Maybe I
went too far."
I settled back in my chair. I was a little disappointed, I'd loved the
scenario, but wanted to fish out the truth.
"It didn't go down EXACTLY like we said. Truth is, we spotted Steven when we
first came in. I noticed the book and she noticed that I noticed. I waited
until he got up to go to the bathroom and I told her to follow him. she waited
outside the door. When he came out, she stood there, trying to do her best to
look like a hooker, and asked him if he wanted to have some fun. He answered,
'sure but I haven't got any cash.' she said that wasn't a problem, so they
snuck back into the mens' room and she gave him the goodies. she told him the
story to tell and there we are. How's that?"
I smiled. It's surprising to me sometimes how much I WANT to believe. This
story made sense, so I just nodded and reached across the table to shake
Peter's hand.
"All right, good enough. What's next?"
Peter drank back the rest of his beer and stood up. "Well, first I need to
thank Steven here and send him on his way..."
Steven stood up and looked at Peter. "You know, I wouldn't mind a little more
of this action..."
"Be thankful for small favors, OK, guy?" Peter said, in a firm tone that told
Steven the party was over. Steven leaned down and patted 'her' on the head,
said 'thanks', and walked back to his table.
-----
In the taxi, Peter told 'her' to sit between us, me on her left and him on her
right. When the driver started the car moving, Peter reached for her right
knee. He pulled it up high and leaned it against his leg. Then he reached for
her right ankle and brought it up on the seat, just resting on the edge. He
nodded to me and I did the same with her left leg. she was sitting there with
her skirt hiked up around her hips and her thighs and cunt exposed. Peter
reached into his pocket and produced a vibrator. He told the driver to circle
around North Beach, focusing on the Broadway and Columbus intersection. In
just minutes, she had her head back and was squirming around on the seat,
obviously turned on and with an orgasm building up a good head of steam. At
the red lights, people would walk past and look into the back of the taxi. her
head was thrashing back and forth and she was starting to make noises that
ranged from grunts to moans to little screams of pleasure as Peter took her
through a series of orgasms. When she came, she'd beg him to take the vibrator
away but he'd just smile and move it slightly to the left or right. I couldn't
tell if he was finger-fucking her as well, but whatever he was doing was
working. We drove around like that for nearly an hour.
-----
'she' was shaky on her legs when we pulled the taxi up in front of her
apartment. Just before Peter opened the door, she asked him again if they
could go to a hotel or back to his place. she told him that she loved his
place so much, the way he had it set up, plus they'd be on his territory and
that would give him so much more control...
As I listened, I knew there was something more to this. she was desparate that
we NOT go into her apartment. Later on, I asked Peter about this. He told me
that it was another part of their game -- inviting strangers into her apartment
was another way that he demonstrated how completely he owned her. Even her
private spaces -- where she slept and ate, relaxed and read, dressed and
showered, shit and pissed -- were open to public display at his command.
The taxi driver turned around to Peter.
"That's sixty-three dollars. And what am I gonna do about the smell back
there? You three have got pussy juice all over my seat. I can't take a fare
in this thing tonight..."
"I'll bet you want to fuck her, is that it?" Peter asked.
"Fuck no, I don't want to fuck this skank bitch of yours. I got a beautiful
wife at home and I'm faithful to her. Don't need no whore pussy like you two."
'she' hung her head. The devotion the driver expressed for his wife reminded
her that she was just Peter's toy -- never did the words 'sex slave' so fully
present themselves to her mind as right at that instant. But her immediate
feelings of shame and humiliation were replaced instantly with a pride in
having surrendered herself so totally to Peter's will. Would the driver's wife
give herself up so completely? she doubted it.
"All right, then, here's an extra fifty to get your car cleaned. Will that do
it?" Peter snapped.
The man nodded his head and accepted the money. We got out of the car and
walked to the door of the apartment building. 'she' took a single key from the
small purse she carried and opened the door to the lobby. 'she' checked her
mail, there was nothing in the box. Then, she pressed the elevator button.
While waiting for the elevator to make its way to the lobby, Peter pulled her
close to him and started kissing her gently all over her face. It was a tender
moment and I could see why the two of them stayed together so long. It was all
an elaborate game, but surrounded by a kind of respect and affection I didn't
often see in the relationships of my more traditional friends.
The elevator bell rang and the door creaked open. Once inside, 'she'
immediately unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it back over her shoulders. she
hiked up her skirt until the hem was just below the line of her crotch, tucked
the extra material into the waistline. her entire chest and most of her thighs
were exposed. I looked around, there was a security camera in the elevator. I
wondered how they got away with this, but let the thought go. I was obviously
in a world unlike the one I was used to.
My eyes went over her body again. There were light marks on the front of her
thighs and over her breasts that I assumed were markings from prior floggings.
They were barely perceptible. Had they done this a long time ago, or were
their sessions such that the marks faded quickly? I wondered if I'd find out.
The bell rang for the fourth floor and the door opened. There was nobody in
the hall and I could almost hear her breathe a sigh of relief. How often did
they play this game? Maybe every time they got to her place? Had they ever
been caught? Would she be evicted if they were?
Peter led the way to her apartment. He turned the handle -- the door was
unlocked. Another part of their game no doubt. Maybe other people in the
apartment did know about the elevator game -- maybe they were free to use her
when and how they wanted?
Peter walked in first, then me. He closed the door and made her wait in the
hall.
"Do you like it so far?" he asked me.
I nodded.
"Good. Then, let's see about getting you serviced..."
He opened the door and let her step inside. Once across the threshold, she
turned and closed the door behind herself. she pulled the blouse the rest of
the way off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then, she took off the
skirt, her shoes, and her thigh-high stockings. she knelt there just inside
the door, arms up, hands clasped behind her head, knees spread shoulder width
apart. she leaned her head and shoulders back slightly, closed her eyes, and
formed her mouth into an O.
I smiled. Peter was as much into ritual and fetish as he'd led me to believe
in the chats. I turned and looked around the room again.
The front room was large -- 12 foot ceilings across which ran four large wooden
beams. The walls were a pale tan color. There were two metal rings secured to
one of the walls, about eight feet apart and seven feet from the floor. On the
wall opposite were a variety of sexual paraphenalia hanging from hooks and
nails in the wall, or sitting on one of four small shelves. The wall across
from the door housed a huge set of windows -- nearly floor to ceiling. There
were sheers rather than drapes on the windows. I could make out the building
across the street and more of the city skyline behind it.
The only furniture in this room was a sofa underneath the toys on the wall and
a chair in the middle of the room. The chair was a restraint chair -- there
were buckles and belts all over and an eight-foot cross-beam secured across the
head of the backrest. There was another set of legs to the chair, placed in
such a way that a person's legs could be attached to them only if their legs
were spread very, very wide.
The kitchen was likewise Spartan, as were the bathroom and the dining room.
The bedroom had a four-poster bed and a dresser. One of the drawers was open
and I could see that it contained a variety of sex toys. On the wall beside
the door, just above the light switch, was a condom dispenser. Nothing fancy,
in fact it looked like the ones I'd seen in adult movie theaters. I asked
Peter about it.
"One of my challenges," he answered, "is to keep her constantly reminded that
she is my toy. My sex slave. A living, breathing person, yes, but primarily a
tool for my pleasure. That's the commitment she made -- which she is free to
rescind at any time -- and the terminology she chose herself.
"We were in a movie theater once and she remarked that she'd heard about those
dispensers. she said she remembered once when she was young, a boy she was
dating went into the men's room and came out with a Trojan he'd bought in a
machine. It made her feel cheap and sleazy, like he was buying a fuck from her
by paying twenty-five cents in a vending machine.
"I loved the image and there you have it! I went into the manager's office
right then and there and paid him $100.00 for the machine. He thought I was an
idiot, but you can't believe the number of times I've told that story and what
a kick I get out of it!"
I smiled. I don't know what kind of a lover he was in bed, but boy could he
mind-fuck her!
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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