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From: Richard Bissell <r_bissell41@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Amber: The Making of a Fuck Toy, ch.3 {RBissell}
Date: Fri, 9 Jun 2000 16:10:27 -0400
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Adults only, no prudes. If you don't like sex stories containing people
engaging in weird perversions, or you can't separate truth from fiction,
get lost. The author does not advocate or condone anything that goes on
in this story.
This story is mine. You can repost it or archive it only if 1) you
don't change it, 2) my name and this disclaimer remain attached, and 3)
you aren't making money off it. That includes posting it on some
slimeball banner farm web site. Yes, that means you!
This mean, nasty, and perhaps out-of-character piece is yet another
spin-off from CGC. I got quite a few requests to bring other men into
that story, never mind that I repeatedly stated that I wasn't going to
do it. I'm not much attracted to the "slut" genre, so it never appealed
to me a great deal. But recently, I came across a story containing a
theme that seemed to work, and after playing with it in the context of
CGC, I had an idea. That idea turned into this. Don't look for any of
the intelligent, redeeming plot elements you usually see in my stories,
because you won't find them here. This is pure porn.
You know the drill: If you like it, let me know. You can find my other
stories in the following archives:
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Richard_Bissell/www
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www/
www.storiesonline.net (under authors, MichaelD38)
Overall Story Codes: Mf, MFf, Mm+/f, teen, bdsm, humil, mast, piercing,
oral, anal, gangbang
AMBER: THE MAKING OF A FUCK TOY
(C)opyright 2000 by Richard Bissell
---
Chapter 3.
I hadn't given Amber any specifics, but she showed up early the next
afternoon, as I was watching Nebraska lose to Texas.
She followed me back into the living room and stood nervously next to
the television as I sat down. I examined her for a few moments. She
wore just jeans and a white T-shirt, with a sweater vest over it.
"All right," I said finally, "I think I know what we're going to do
today."
"What?"
"Amber, look at yourself. What are you trying to say to the world?"
She looked down over herself in confusion.
"I don't understand."
"Do you think sluts dress like that? Baggy jeans and a sweater top that
makes your tits disappear?"
She gulped.
"I don't have a lot of nice clothes."
"You must have something sexier than that outfit."
"I have a few things."
"Like?"
"I have a miniskirt. Except maybe it's not that short."
"I think we're going to go shopping today. But for starters, get all
that off."
She gasped, and her face paled. I chuckled at her agitation.
"Relax. I'm not going to make you go shopping naked. But we need to
get few things clear first. Now strip."
She pulled the sweater vest over her head, and the rest of her clothes
hit the floor soon afterward. I got off the couch and appropriated her
panties and bra.
"From now on, underwear is not part of your ensemble unless it's
something trashy. Sluts generally aren't into wearing panties, and you
don't really need a bra." I reached out and cupped one of her breasts,
feeling the springy flesh with my thumb. "Get dressed. But lose the
sweater."
She did. Now, with nipples erect in fear and excitement and poking
against her T-shirt, she looked a little better. She looked down at
herself, then up at me.
"You have pretty breasts. Are you ashamed of showing them off?"
She gulped.
"No."
"All right. Let's go."
---
We drove a few towns over, where I wouldn't have to worry about being
seen with one of my students, and pulled into a Wal-Mart. There, in the
young women's department, they had a small selection of slutty,
trailer-trash outfits.
I picked through the racks of clothing, and Amber followed me,
pale-faced but compliant. I picked out a few lycra miniskirts and
spandex microdresses, then found some tops to go with the skirts. A
pair of spike heels finished the look. When I was satisfied, we went
toward the dressing rooms.
"Put together a look you like. You know what you're supposed to be
doing."
She nodded wordlessly, took the clothes from me, and went into a stall.
I sat down to wait, watching an assortment of pasty-faced, big-assed
women and their bratty kids wandering in and out of the dressing area.
Amber's stall door cracked open an inch, and I saw her looking out at me
fearfully. I motioned to her with my fingers to come out. After
gathering her courage, she did.
I had half-expected her to pick the most conservative outfit, but she
hadn't. She had picked out the shortest skirt in the collection, little
more than a band of stretchy white fabric about ten inches wide. It
dropped only about two inches below her crotch and rose to no more than
an inch below her navel. On top, she wore a neon pink long-sleeved crop
top that was cut almost low enough to expose her nipples, which were
doing their best to come out anyway.
She glanced around nervously, trying to ignore the wide-eyed glances she
was getting from the other customers, and walked up to me slowly.
"Good. I like that."
She managed a small smile.
"Thanks."
"Take a few deep breaths and relax," I said softly. "It's not like your
naked."
"I feel naked."
"Would you like to be?"
I watched several conflicting emotions at war in her eyes, and it took
her a few seconds to answer me.
"If . . . " She stopped and gasped for breath a few times. " . . . if
you want me to be."
"I could tell you to pull that top off right now. We'd probably get
thrown out of here, but we're fifty miles from home. It's not like
anyone would hear about it."
Her hands began to shake, but she reached slowly for the edge of her
top.
I licked my lips, liking what I saw in her pretty blue eyes. Then I
smiled.
"Next time. Get the rest of the stuff; we have some other things to
do."
She let out a ragged breath and returned to the dressing stall. I paid
for her collection of new clothes, and then I took her to the makeup
counter.
"I think you know what we're doing here," I said quietly as the
counterwoman approached. Amber nodded quickly.
The woman took in her outfit quickly, but didn't show much concern.
"Hi. Can I help you?"
"I'd like a make over. Something more glamorous than what I have now."
The woman leaned over the counter and took Amber's chin in her hand,
turning her head one way, then the other.
"Hmm. Of course. I know just what we can do."
Amber positioned herself on a stool, keeping her thighs pressed tightly
together. The woman returned with her collection of cosmetics and spent
about fifteen minutes transforming Amber from a fresh-faced farm girl
into a big-city model wannabe.
When she was done, I paid for Amber's new cosmetics, and we left.
Hiding behind all the makeup, she seemed to have gained some confidence,
and we as walked across the street to a nearby diner for a late lunch,
she actually appeared to be enjoying some of the attention she was
getting.
"You're not a slut yet," I said quietly, "but maybe you see what it's
about now."
She nodded.
"Yeah."
When we got to the diner, I took us to a booth near the front, facing
the counter. The waitress gave Amber a brief look of distaste but took
our orders.
"Keep your eyes on me," I said. "Don't look around."
"Okay."
As casually as I could, I took in the other customers in the diner.
Most of them weren't paying much attention to us, but some of the men
were. One in particular, who looked like a trucker coming through town,
was giving Amber a major eye, though he glanced away when he saw me
watching him. I turned back around, certain that he had resumed his
ogling once it was safe.
"Don't look over there," I said softly, "but out of the corner of your
eye, you should see a guy at the end of the counter staring at you."
Her eyes flashed to the side very quickly, then back at me.
"See him?"
She nodded carefully.
"Turn yourself a little and open your legs a few inches, so he can see
up your skirt."
Her face colored in embarrassment, and her jaw tightened.
"I'm not going to let him touch you. I want him to see what he can't
have. Do it."
Slowly and awkwardly, she shifted slightly in her seat, then pretended
to stretch her shoulders.
"Good. Stay like that."
She smiled at me weakly. The waitress appeared with our drinks, and
Amber began to relax. I saw her glance over my shoulder again.
"Is he still watching you?"
She nodded.
"Do you think he can tell that you don't have any panties on?"
Another nod.
"How does that make you feel?"
She looked up at me, eyes swelling.
"A slut would tell me it was turning her on," I said. "How about you?"
She shivered, too nervous and unsure to say anything.
"In time, I suppose. You can stop now."
She shifted again in her seat, sliding over a bit toward the wall.
"You're doing well," I said. "This will take some time."
She smiled shyly, then dropped her eyes to the table again.
---
We returned to my house just after three o'clock. Amber stood fidgeting
in the middle of the room as I unloaded our purchases. Then I turned to
her.
"What would you like to do now?"
Surprised for a moment, she took a deep breath and answered me.
"I want you to fuck me."
I laughed softly.
"That's good. But you're lying to me."
Her eyes swelled in shock.
"No, I'm not."
"Amber, what you want me to do is take your virginity in some touching,
gentle, romantic fashion. You don't want me to fuck you. There's a
difference."
Her jaw began to vibrate in humiliation.
"Until you can say that and mean it, it's not going to happen."
I watched her struggling with herself for a few seconds.
"Amber, you're free to leave whenever you want. I've been as clear with
you as I can be, I think. If this isn't what you want, you should go.
Don't waste any more of your time or mine."
She took a few gasping, ragged breaths, but stood her ground.
"All right. Get undressed."
She was naked again in a matter of seconds. I walked up to her,
examining her slim nudity. Her tits were perky and upturned, but the
rest of her was smooth and athletic, almost boyish. Her blonde pubes
stood out in a narrow little tuft from between her thighs. I reached
down and brushed my fingers over it.
"I think this is going to have to come off. Maybe the next time we go
out."
She nodded, not saying anything.
I reversed my hand and felt between her legs with my middle finger. She
was hot but still dry. I pushed upward, working myself between her lips
until I found her clit. She quivered slightly in front of me, breath
catching in her throat.
I caught her clit between my thumb and forefinger, twisting it ever so
gently, feeling the bud trapped between her inner lips. She whimpered
softly as I did it but didn't otherwise move.
I kept it up for a minute or so, until I felt a squirt of moisture
emerge from within her. I wet my middle finger inside her and used it
to masturbate her, dipping and sliding in and out of her the way I had
watched her do herself the night before.
Her eyes had closed now, and her breath was whistling through her
nostrils. After a few minutes of this, her legs were starting to twitch
and her hands were fists at her side. I could tell she wanted to grab a
hold of me somehow but was afraid to move. Finally, as I rubbed her
rapidly with my finger, her legs buckled and a squeak escaped her nose.
She gasped, letting out a soft cry as she struggled to remain on her
feet. I continued playing with her until her orgasm subsided. Then I
withdrew and stepped back.
She stood unsteadily in front of me, legs still quivering, and finally
opened her eyes. As she had the night before, she was blushing
fiercely.
I shook my head.
"What are you so embarrassed about?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry."
"You didn't enjoy that?"
"I did."
She gasped for breath and ran her hands over her face as if she could
wipe the blush from her cheeks.
I stared at her hard for a few seconds.
"Amber, do you really want to be a slut?"
She answered me instantly.
"Yes!"
"Then this may take more drastic action than simply dressing you up."
"What?"
"Something to get you a little jaded. These baby steps just aren't
going to cut it."
Her face paled, and her breathing sped up again. I walked back and
kissed her gently on the forehead.
"I have to think about this. Go home. Call me at eight o'clock
tonight. By then I may have some ideas."
"Okay."
She dressed rapidly and left.
---
-To be continued.-
---
Amber: The Making of a Fuck Toy
Copyright 2000 by Richard Bissell
Free redistribution permitted; no commercial use without authorization.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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