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Subject: {ASSM} The Personal {Pat Harvey} (cons, Mdom, MMF, oral, anal)
Date: Fri, 4 Aug 2000 05:10:04 -0400
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Before you buy.
<1st attachment, "PersNPost.txt" begin>
DISCLAIMERS:
This story is written for an adult audience and contains graphic
language and explicit sexual material. If you are underage, if
it is illegal for you to possess such material in the
jurisdiction in which you are reading this, or if adult sexuality
of this type offends you, STOP READING NOW!
This story is a work of fiction. It is not a true story, it is
pure fantasy. Any resemblance to any person, real or fictitious,
living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintended. This work
is intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults,
and any other use is a violation of the copyright.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
This work is Copyright 2000 by Left Side Signals.
The material contained herein is intended for the personal use of
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modifications may be made to this story without express
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this work is specifically and explicitly denied.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The original version of this story, written in 1999, was a
cautionary tale of how difficult it can be for people with
complementary interests to find each other and form a
relationship, especially through cyberspace, with its vast
potential for deceptive advertising. That original story had no
face-to-face scenes of either a power exchange or a sexual
nature. Some months after finishing it, I decided to rework the
starting premise into a more upbeat scenario that led to a bit of
a twist and an actual encounter to climax (pun intended) the
tale. What follows is the result of that revision.
In accordance with GAAP (Generally Accepted Authoring Principles)
for Internet postings, the "_" is used to bracket what would be
Italics (for emphasis or a character's internal thoughts) in
normal typesetting.
Constructive comments and feedback to ph00@my-deja.com are
welcome.
The Personal
By Pat Harvey
"I want to watch you make my wife your slave!"
_Well, sure,_ I thought. _An ad in iambic pentameter, no less.
I'll be right over._
Personals can be fascinating. After scanning them for a while, a
reasonably knowledgeable reader develops a keenly honed sense of
whether an ad was posted by a clueless wannabe, pathetically
exercising fantasy dreams behind the anonymity of a keyboard, or
a sincere, often lonely, occasionally desperate individual. Some
personals are transparent frauds, like those put up by men
masquerading as women in an attempt to attract wank-off e-mail.
Others don't ring quite true in a more subtle fashion. This
isn't cynicism; it's discernment.
Nevertheless, I'm always looking for people who share, or think
they might like to share, my particular kink. Sometimes I find
people with compatible interests who just want to correspond. A
much smaller number are willing to at least consider the
possibility of a real-time meeting. It's a much more complex
winnowing process than merely finding a needle in a haystack,
which is the metaphoric equivalent of an initial cyber-contact;
that's often the easy part. The hard part is matching up well
with another person's likes and dislikes, tastes and preferences,
levels and limits, yin and yang.
In the pistachio world of erotic power exchange, slavery is not
what vanilla people conjure up as a vision of the _ante bellum_
South. For those who enjoy erotic dominance and submission in an
adult, responsible way, "slavery" is a voluntary, usually
temporary, condition within the carefully bounded realm of
fantasy-brought-to-life.
Beyond its provocative headline, this personal's content conveyed
statistics but no substantive insights. It read more like a
swinger ad than anything else, listing ages (early forties),
heights, weights, and hair and eye colors. There was no hard
information regarding what the poster really had in mind, but as
one of my favorite fairy-tale characters might have said, "Before
you meet the handsome prince, you've got to kiss a lot of toads."
After mulling it over for a couple of days, I decided I was
willing to invest some time in trying to find out who and what
was lurking behind this intriguing ad. I wrote an honest
response and sent it off to the poster, who called himself Sam.
While I'm cautious enough to not give my last name when writing
to a total stranger, I always, to the extent that I reveal
myself, tell the truth. My ultimate goal is to eventually meet
compatible kindred spirits in the flesh, so to speak, so there's
no point in wasting time, mine or anyone else's, by hiding behind
an electronic facade. I told him my age, some other physical
parameters, and a bit about my scene experience, which is pretty
extensive for a guy in his late thirties.
In the days when personal ads appeared in magazines and snail-
mail was the only way to communicate, the pace was much slower.
Thanks to the miracle of the Internet, I got a reply to my
message after just a few hours, and Sam's response was a mixed
bag of good and not-so-good news.
They had, he admitted, some limited swinging experience, and this
was a yellow flag to me. To a swinger, the phrase "head game"
means a blow-job contest, and sex is the cake, the reason for
people getting together. Dominance and submission is a head game
of a different sort, and the play is psychological at least as
much as physical; it's a game in which the mind, the most
powerful sex organ, is the most significant factor. For most of
the D/s people I know, sex is the frosting on the cake, not the
cake itself, and quite often sex, depending on one's definition
of it, isn't even part of the game.
But, Sam's message continued, they wanted to explore his wife's
submissiveness and didn't know how to go about it. They'd
experimented a couple of times with spanking, and she'd liked
being on the receiving end. What he said he wanted was to watch
another man take control of his wife and "force" her to serve
that man sexually.
_Well, that's what_ he _wants,_ I mused. _I wonder what_ she
_wants?_ Men often confuse sexual willingness with
submissiveness, especially when it's a willingness to take on
sexual partners outside of a committed relationship. Her
willingness to lie down and spread her legs might be nothing more
than a desire for variety or an indication that he wasn't paying
her enough of the right kind of attention.
I replied again, extending the dialogue and probing to either
validate or alleviate my concerns. In his next message, Sam told
me that his wife, Ellie, had been reading all the correspondence
between us, and that was sufficient for her to be comfortable
with what we were discussing. They understood the points I was
making, he wrote, and they were sincerely interested in arranging
a D/s-oriented session of the kind I had described.
At the bottom of his message was a note from his wife.
Dear Sir,
I appreciate your concern over whether this is something I really
want to do. Please believe me when I say I'm convinced from what
you've written that you know what you're doing and I'm anxious to
submit myself to your control. I acknowledge that you'll
discipline me if I fail to obey your commands, and I think I'm
ready for that. I'll try my best to satisfy you in any and every
way you desire, and I'm confident you'll make this a mutually
pleasurable experience. I hope the attached image whets your
dominant and sexual appetites for our meeting.
Yours,
Ellie
_Well, that seems plain enough,_ I thought, and then I double-
clicked to open the attachment and the shit hit the fan. Sam and
I had started discussing Ellie's costuming for the scene; she has
a blonde wig, he'd informed me, and he especially enjoyed seeing
her dressed as a sleazy slut. As Ellie's image appeared on my
monitor, I saw an undeniably attractive body, but, despite the
wig, I knew instantly that I was looking at a nude picture of my
neighbor up the block.
*
After the shock wave passed and my head stopped spinning, I tried
to analyze the situation rationally. The image she'd sent was
the first time I'd ever seen my neighbor in less than a
conservative one-piece bathing suit, much less naked.
Objectively, as I already knew, her face was pleasant-looking but
not really pretty. Her body, though, now that I had the
opportunity to see it, showed that she'd kept herself in good
shape, slim but with nice curves in all the right places. I
couldn't recall having had any fantasies involving her, but, now
that the possibility had arisen, the idea of playing with her
wasn't totally repugnant either. The more I thought about it,
the more the idea of going ahead with the scene Sam and I had
been discussing became a turn-on. _Embarrassment or verbal
humiliation is exciting to a lot of submissives,_ I told myself;
_let's find out if Ellie's in that category._
I received that message on a Tuesday, and I made a reservation at
a local Embassy Suites for Saturday evening. Then I sent a
response to Sam with very specific instructions for both him and
Ellie, including complete sexual abstinence for her from the
moment they read my reply.
*
Late Saturday afternoon I shaved, showered, dressed, and drove to
the hotel. I checked in and went upstairs, then wrote my suite
number on a slip of paper and put it in an envelope with Ellie's
name on the outside. I took the envelope down to the front desk,
then went back upstairs to wait.
The rooms in the hotel faced into an enclosed atrium. I pushed
the window curtain partly aside and watched as Ellie approached
the front desk and obtained the envelope I'd prepared a half-hour
earlier. She opened it, glanced inside briefly, and turned
toward the elevators with Sam trailing along behind her. I
opened the room's outer door, leaving it slightly ajar so they
could enter, and went into the other half of the suite, closing
the bedroom door to invisibly await their arrival.
When I heard the outer door being closed, bolted, and chained, I
gave them another full minute to assume their respective
positions. Then I opened the bedroom door and looked around.
Sam was sitting in an armchair; his eyes opened wide in a double-
take of startled recognition, and as he opened his mouth to speak
I quickly raised a finger to my lips in the universal signal for
silence. He shook his head in shocked disbelief, then shrugged
and nodded in silent acceptance.
Ellie was standing exactly as I'd ordered. I'd told them to
leave the blonde wig at home, and her dark hair swirled around
the back of her head. Her arms were straight out in front of her
at shoulder height, hands flat against the door into the suite,
and she was leaning slightly forward to put the weight of her
upper body on her hands. Her feet were spread apart, and the
back hem of her skirt was tucked into the waistband.
I took my time, savoring the moment and anticipating the shock I
was about to deliver. My eyes scanned slowly up from her spike-
heeled ankle boots, past shapely bare calves and smoothly-muscled
thighs to the equally bare, firmly rounded globes of her butt.
From her tan lines, it appeared that Ellie sunbathed wearing only
a thong.
I strode soundlessly up behind her and reached my right hand
around her body. Her blouse, as instructed, was unbuttoned to
the waist, and, also as instructed, she was not wearing a bra. I
slipped my hand inside the blouse and cupped her warm, conical
left breast, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as my palm slid
over her already-erect nipple. I slid a fingertip all around the
puffy areola, and her breathing got deeper when I flicked a nail
against the stiff little nubbin at its tip. She stood quietly,
having been told not to move except as directed and to speak only
when asked a question or otherwise given permission.
I brought my other hand up to lightly stroke her ass cheeks,
feeling and enjoying the heat radiating from her soft skin. Then
I slid that hand down her crack and between her legs to explore
her lower lips. She was already more than moist; her juices were
practically dripping down her legs, and she let out a low moan
when I slipped a finger up through her pussy and bumped it
against her swollen clitoris. I took her nipple gently between
my thumb and forefinger, then bent my head down and whispered
into her ear.
"When did you start shaving your cunt, Ellie?"
I felt the shocked reaction ripple through her. Despite my e-
mailed instructions, she started to turn, but I'd expected her to
move when she recognized my voice. I pinched her nipple, hard,
and kept my hand still as she tried to pull away. Then she froze
in place, her hands still on the door and the tension between my
fingers and her slightly twisted torso pulling her nipple out
from her breast.
"M . . . M . . . Michael, is that you?" Her voice was querulous,
and I could feel her shaking from the combination of sudden
uncertainty and embarrassment.
"Yes, neighbor," I drawled. "I never knew you were this way, and
what a wonderful surprise it is."
"Oh, God," she whispered. "I'm so embarrassed that you found out
about me, about us . . ."
Her face was flushed now, but I also noted two other relevant
facts. She hadn't twisted her body back to relieve the strain on
her nipple, and her pussy was even wetter than before.
"Well, I have," I said, "and I intend to take full advantage of
that information." I flicked my finger against her clit, and her
hips bucked involuntarily. She may have been embarrassed, but
she was also still very aroused. I decided to press lightly on
the humiliation button.
"You sure seem to be enjoying this, neighbor dear," I sneered.
"You must be quite a slut."
"No, Michael, it's not like that at all," she objected. "I . . .
I told you I wanted to be controlled . . . I didn't know it was
you I was sending the message to, Michael, but you've taken
control of me, just as I wanted . . . I thought it would turn me
on, just thinking about it the last few days has kept me sopping
wet, and now that it's happening I can't believe how ready I am
for whatever you want of me."
"Even though I'm your neighbor?" I had to get it out on the
table.
"Yes, even so . . . I've never thought of you this way, Michael,
truly I haven't, but that makes what I want even more deliciously
forbidden . . . and the idea that you want me is as flattering as
it is embarrassing."
I glanced over at Sam, who'd been sitting quietly and observing
the proceedings. "Is this what you wanted to see?" I asked him.
"Absolutely," he replied firmly. "I didn't know it'd be you, of
course, but Ellie told me she thought she'd react this way to a
dominant man and I'm hoping to learn how to do what you're
doing."
"Well, let's see where we go from here," I told him, then
switched to my command voice. "How high are the heels on those
boots you're wearing, Ellie?"
She hesitated, then mumbled, "Th . . . three inches."
I let her continued lack of respectful address pass for the
moment. "What were my instructions?"
"N . . . not less than four inches," she whispered. "But those
are the highest heels I have, and . . ."
"You had time to find other shoes," I told her harshly. "Did you
surf the web looking for some?"
"No."
I pinched even harder on her nipple, digging my thumbnail into
its base and twisting it as well. "No, what?"
"Ow, please, oh, God, I'm sorry, I meant to say, no, Sir,
Michael, Sir, please don't hurt me," she wailed, her voice rising
as the pain hit.
I eased the pressure on her nipple a tiny bit. "You should have
thought of that when you had the chance to avoid it," I told her.
"Now stand still and keep quiet, or I'll have to gag you."
"Yes, Sir," she responded, and there was definite respect in her
voice now. I switched my grasp from the left nipple to her right
and took my sticky other hand from between her legs. Then I
brought it back, cupped my hand to increase the sting, and gave
her a smart spank on her left ass cheek. She sucked in her
breath, making a quiet air-rushing sound, but otherwise didn't
move. I repeated my motion, landing an equally sharp smack on
her right buttock, then continued, alternating sides, in a steady
rhythm.
Ellie's breathing became heavier as her ass turned first bright
pink and then got redder and redder. She was biting her lower
lip to keep from crying out, but she took her punishment like a
trouper. I didn't have to pinch her nipple to restrain her, and
she never made any sound louder than a soft whimper. After about
fifty swats I stopped spanking and moved my hand in a slow
stroking motion across her flaming red, and flaming hot, butt
cheeks.
"Ahhh, Sir, that feels sooooo good," she crooned.
I released her nipple and slid that hand down across her flat
belly to her slit. Her pussy was literally seeping juices; I
looked down to see a small puddle on the carpet between her feet.
I swiped a finger up between her lower lips and rested it lightly
on her clit, and she shivered in reaction; she was right on the
edge of coming.
"Oh, God, please, Sir, I was good like you told me, it's been a
long time and I'm soooo horny," she whispered. "Please, Sir, let
me come for you."
I turned my head to address Sam again. "I've known her a while,
Sam, but this is one facet of her I never knew, so I'm curious --
how's my neighbor in bed?"
Sam snorted, then chuckled. "Actually, she's pretty good, when
she makes the effort," he replied. He was smiling, but there was
some acid behind his words. I asked him some specific questions,
and his answers were mostly less than flattering. I stopped
stroking her behind, put that arm around her waist to hold her in
position, and used my fingers on her clit to keep Ellie right on
the edge. She started squirming, in a combination of frustration
and humiliation, as Sam and I discussed his perceptions of her
sexual appetites, capacities, and capabilities as though she
weren't present. Eventually, I brought the discussion to
closure.
"So, Sam," I concluded, "you think she could use some training
along those lines?"
"I don't know whether it's training she needs, or motivation," he
replied.
"Well, dominating her seems to establish motivation, so let's see
if that's all that was missing. Drop your pants and let's find
out." I took my hand away from Ellie's pussy, and she groaned
when my fingers left her clit. Sam stood up long enough to lower
his pants and undershorts around his ankles, exposing a rather
impressive erection, and as he reseated himself I told Ellie to
put her hands on the arms of Sam's chair. She did so, then
looked back over her shoulder at me from her bent-over position.
"You have five minutes to suck him off, Ellie. Keep your hands
where they are and use only your mouth."
"But --"
"No buts," I interrupted, overriding her protest before it got
started. "He ought to be pretty close to popping after watching
what we've been doing. If you haven't succeeded in that length
of time, I'll start whipping your already sore ass and you'll
find out how good a gag a hard cock makes. Now get to work!"
Ellie turned back to face her husband's crotch and immediately
showed that motivation rather than training was the critical
success factor; she swallowed Sam to the hilt in a single motion
and I could see her throat muscles working him over as she moved
her head up and down at a steady pace. Her lips tightened to
create suction on the upstrokes and loosened to drool saliva down
his shaft when she moved downward to deep-throat him again. All
the while her tongue was slithering back and forth along the big
vein on the underside of his cock.
"Oh, Jeez, that's good," Sam muttered. "You've never done this
before, Ellie, but from now on . . ."
Ellie stopped at the top of a stroke and looked him in the eye.
"Only if you make me," she challenged, then resumed her efforts.
I looked at my watch. "One minute left," I announced, and Ellie
worked even harder. She started to move her hands off the chair
arms, then remembered my orders and kept them in place.
I wouldn't have thought it possible, five minutes isn't really
very long, but suddenly Sam was saying, "Oh, boy, here it comes!"
and it was time for me to get more actively into the scene. I
dropped my own pants and, just as Sam yelled, "Yaaahooo," I
stroked my own erection deep into Ellie's steaming pussy from the
rear. She slammed her still-warm butt backwards into me and came
hard, her body twitching and shaking and her pussy muscles
locking down tightly on my cock just as Sam shot a huge load into
her sucking mouth. I watched her swallow and then raise her
head, gasping for breath as her orgasm swept through her, only to
get blasted right in the face by Sam's next spurt.
Her pussy muscles relaxed, and I slid out of her and moved myself
upward. I took myself in hand long enough to get positioned and
then buried my cock, thoroughly lubricated by her pussy juices,
up into her tight back door. Ellie squealed once at the
invasion, but this obviously wasn't the first time she'd been
butt-fucked; she started moving with me, banging her ass into my
groin each time I slid into her. I reached around and resumed
fingering her clit roughly with one hand and pinching her nipples
hard with the other, and she wailed like a banshee and came even
stronger than before. Her muscles seized and she screamed
incoherently, then started to come like crazy, a thundering spasm
of exquisitely violent sensation.
I stopped moving, overtaken by the high of having instigated such
overwhelming rapture. Sam had his hands up now, supporting
Ellie's shoulders, because her arms were unable to hold her up.
Her heart was pounding and her breathing racing as she chanted,
"More, more, please, more," over and over, until she finally
wound down from that incredible peak.
I let my softening erection slide slowly out of her rear passage,
and I fully expected her to simply collapse onto the floor to
rest and recover some strength. I sensed that I'd pushed Ellie
to a new level of erotic sensation, a plateau she'd never before
reached, and I was more than satisfied with how the scene had
gone. I hadn't come, but I was satiated in a way that's
difficult to express.
Ellie, however, had other ideas. She dropped to her knees, but
then she turned and took my semi-rigid cock into her mouth,
laving it with her tongue and restoring its stiffness with
remarkable speed. She grasped the base of my erection with one
hand and cupped my balls in the palm of her other hand, then took
her mouth off of me and looked up into my eyes.
"Please, Sir, bathe me with your cum," she whispered. I nodded
my head, unable to speak, and she resumed the talented oral
ministrations that had gotten Sam off so quickly. Within a
couple of minutes I was very close, and I reached down to touch
her cheek. She immediately stopped what she was doing and I took
over, masturbating myself for the final few strokes.
"Oh, damn!" I grunted as I let loose my first thick streamer of
cum onto Ellie's face, adding to the dried remains of Sam's load
on her cheeks. She had closed her eyes and opened her mouth,
waiting on her knees for me to guide some fuck-cream to her. I
thrust my hips and squeezed my pulsating cock to milk several
more squirts at my target, managing to land a fair percentage
onto her lips and tongue.
"Open your eyes, Ellie," I commanded, and she did, watching me
slowly take a step backwards with a small glob of cum hanging
from the head of my cock. I looked at the streams running across
her face and into her hair and the puddle of my cum resting in
her still-open mouth. Then I motioned, and she leaned forward
and stuck out her cum-coated tongue to take the glob before it
could fall to the carpet.
"Well, Sam, what do you think?"
"I think you motivated her just fine, Michael, and she looks
fabulous. This whole scene was really awesome!"
It truly was an incredible sight, cum splashed all over Ellie's
face, mixed with beads of perspiration in the valley between her
firm, pointy breasts, and dripping from the tips of her still-
stiff nipples. Ellie used her tongue to swish the cum around in
her mouth, letting a small amount dribble over her lips and then
taking a big gulp to swallow the rest.
"Mm, mm, good, Sir," my neighbor said with a wide smile. "You
can take control of me whenever you want."
The End
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