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From: mike jones <cameraman7788@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Control {Kreftik}
Date: Tue, 25 Sep 2001 21:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Control.txt" begin>

This is a story for adults, about adult stuff, so if you're not
what your community and laws consider an adult, go away.

It's fiction, but not without basis in reality.  And that's all
I'm saying about that.





Control
by Kreftik


Chapter I


I met Carrie when we were both twenty, at a party, at Berkeley. 
I got her that nght because I wasn't one of the ten or so guys
trying to get her.  I had a girl, I didn't care.  So I got her. 
She was the beautiful Italian, with the perfect torpedo tits and
the curves to break your heart, and I was the big hairy Jewish
geek, but I got her.  Because I didn't really want her, yet.

It was always about power, with us.  That's what you have to
understand.  Right from the beginning, it was always aboutpower.

She was unfaithful for the first time about a year ago.  I knew
right away, she's an incompitent cheat.  She can't be bothered to
really try to decieve me.  

I left.  I moved out and filed for divorce.  I agreed right away
to give her half, half of everything.  She hadn't counted on
that.  She knew as well as I did what my company would be worth
in five years.  She knew what she was losing, if I left her now.
She folded, called me, begged, cried, seduced me again.  It was
fine, having that hot soft body and those perfect tits, all
focused on me again.  She still gives the best head in theworld.

I took her back.  With conditions.  No more cheating.  I made her
sign a contract, sort of a post nuptual.  It said that she would
be frozen out, on a fixed settlement, if at any time in the
future I divorced her for proven unfaithfulness.  

She signed it.

I had her.

***

It was funny, that it should be the same house.  I flew up to
Berkeley, called Darlene, bought her dinner, listened to her
chatter about school and soccer and her cat.  No boys.  She
didn't talk about boys.  Clever girl, Dar.  She didn't talk about
Carrie, either, but she and her sister had never been very close.
 I listened to her chatter, watched her move, thought about how
she would fuck.  She had a taut, young body; firm, flat high tits
with no sag, short blonde hair, solid ass and legs, golden skin.
Nothing like her sister, nothing but the long nose and the sharp
smile was the same.  I wondered if she would have the same long,
loose clit as Carrie, the same gasp when I flicked it with my
finger, the same wetness, the same surprised look when she first
felt the cock inside her.  On the way to the party I stopped her
on the street, to pull her head back by her hair and kiss her,
slowly and well.  She arched, twisted, kissed, gasped, yielded. 
Easy.  Just like her sister.  Just don't give her a choice.  Date
rape be damned, these two loved to be grabbed by the hair and
fucked, and if you didn't have the balls to do it, they'd laugh
at you and leave you for someone who did.  Neither of them ever
liked safe sex.

It was the same house, the same big brick frat house I had
seduced her sister in ten years ago.  I thought about carrying
her upstairs to the bedroom where I had first fucked Carrie, but
I wasn't sure I'd remember which one it was, and the party was
thundering outside the bathroom door, and she was slipping her
dress off, and turning her back to me, spreading her feet, elbows
on the counter, pushing her tan, smooth ass up, looking at me in
the mirror.  And she was wet, so wet.  'This is just the
beginning,' I thought.  'Just the beginning.'  I made her make
noise, a lot of noise, so there would be a crowd outside the door
when we were finished, and I zipped up as soon as I was done. 
"You have ten seconds," I told her, grinning, and put my hand on
the doorknob.  She squeaked, gave up on wiping her tits clean,
and pulled her dress back on.  I gave her time to get her arms in
it, but not to button it up the front before I opened the door. 
She stayed very close behind me as I walked through the crowd of
boys outside the door, laughing and looking at her.  I wanted her
to understand, before I took her home.  She followed me, out the
door and down the street.  I put my arm around her waist as we
walked, and she, shoeles, bare-legged, braless, hair a mess, and
tits sticky with come, tried to button her dress.  "So," I asked
her, "do you _like_ school?"  She laughed, and curled up close to
me, and that was her choice.  Right there, her whole life
changed, but it was her choice.

I took her home.  I showed her off.  I took her golfing, sailing,
took her to the office.  I made it clear to everyone.

I knew what would happen.  Stupid, predictable cunt.  It had
always been too easy for her, she'd always been too pretty to
have to be clever or in control.  The truth was, she'd never had
to think her way out of anything, and she really didn't know how
to think before she went off.  She seethed and pouted; we had a
screaming fight the second night Darlene was in town.  I acted
mad, stomped out, went to a movie, and went to my brother's
house.  He and I sat up until two am, talking about basketball
and his kids.  I slipped in about three.  The next morning,
Carrie was cold, angry, terse.  Too much makeup.  Short skirt. 
Zoomed off fast, and early.

I had her.

The pictures were on my desk by noon.  I should have known it
would be Scott.  Her best friend in high school, he owned a car
dealership.  Good pictures, very clear.  Carrie on her knees,
sucking, within ten minutes of getting to the office, by the
timeline on the pictures.  Then spread out on his desk, as he
went down on her.  Very gallant, Scott.  Four minutes of that. 
Then the fuck, on the desk, both of them half dressed.  Six
minutes.  Scott, Scott, Scott.  

I had her.

I made a nice dinner that night, picked some nice wine, put on
some good jazz, told Darlene to get lost for the night.  When
Carrie got home I gave her a glass of wine; she looked at the
table and almost sneered.  It's always been about power, with us.
 Doing this, the day she fucked someone else, was pitiful to her.
 She couldn't help it, it was a gut level thing.  

I put the pictures in an envelope on her empty plate when she sat
down to eat.  It also had a copy of the contract she'd signed, in
case she'd forgotten.

"I'll never see him again," she started.  I stopped her, took her
hand, guided her out of her chair and onto the floor in front of
me.  Compliant now, she easily unzipped my pants and took out my
cock.

As those marvelous lips worked me hard, I corrected her.  "I'll
need current pictures, if I ever want to get rid of you.  So you
will see him again, every week."  She paused at this, started to
pull her mouth off my cock.  I pushed her back down.  She resumed
sucking, and I told her the outline of our new life together.  At
some point she started to cry.  I pushed her face back onto my
cock, and picked up the yardstick I'd set against the table leg.
I'd used my hand on her many times, while fucking, but she didn't
like anything harder.  I didn't care, now.  I started to smack
her ass, through the thin skirt.  She squirmed, kept sucking,
whimpered, started to cry again, and the stick cracked against
her ass over and over.  After about fifty, I stopped, pulled her
face up to me, kissed her, tasted cock and tears and snot.  My
hand slid down to flick her slippery cunt and clit a bit, and
make her moan.  I had her pull the skirt up and show me her ass,
all bright red and angry where I had been smacking her.  I had
her take it off, and go back to sucking.  I pulled her tits out,
let my hand wander across them as they dangled in front of my
cock.  I pulled on the nipples, just to hear her muffled squeals,
and that put me back in the mood to use the yardstick on her some
more.

It was a lovely dinner.  When I was done with her, we ate.  She
sat quietly, washed dishes, and fucked like a bitch when I took
her upstairs.  Power.

****

Darlene moved in with us two weeks later, at the beginning of her
summer break.  Their parents might have objected, had I not just
bought them a dream house in Florida.  Carrie had explained to
them that I really did like them, but that one visit a year was
all I could do.  Then we only had to make excuses for that one
visit, and they were out of our hair.

The first week, I just nuzzled Dar a bit in the kitchen, or
caught her in the bathroom for a quickie.  Not out of kindness,
but to prolong Carrie wondering exactly what she had coming, what
she had to put up with, what Dar would know about our new,
unequal relationship.  I slept with Carrie, made her give me head
every night, but didn't fuck her.  She fucked Scott when I told
her to, and the PI got the pictures, again.  Four minutes, this
time.  Pitiful.

Bolder the second week.  Bolder the third.  Carrie was having
trouble not walking in on us, and was embarressed as she saw it
slowly dawn on her sister that she just wasn't going to blow up,
that Dar and I could do whatever we wanted.

It was at this point that Darlene's cruel streak started to show,
to my great delight.  She would stroke my leg under the table,
unzip my pants, squeeze my cock, all while Carrie sat oposite us
and pretended not to notice.  One evening, Dar called me
upstairs.  She met me at the door to her room wearing a long t
shirt, and pulled me into the room and onto the bed.  We left the
door open.  We fucked, loudly.  We both walked down later in
bathrobes.  Dar went into the kitchen for bottled water and cold
chicken, and I sat on the couch next to Carrie, who was crying
and pretending to read a magazine.  I kissed her, stroked her
breasts, let her taste the pussy on my lips.  Dar walked past me
and headed upstairs, and I got up to follow her.  

But I knew Carrie.  She would go spend money and wreck the car,
if I let her.  I walked back to the couch, gave her another kiss,
and whispered in her ear, "Don't go anywhere.  If I want you, I
want you to be here.  Understand?"  She nodded.  She knew.  I
went back upstairs.

***

Soon after that, I started to take Dar to bed with us.  The first
night, I made sure Carrie was well under the covers sucking my
cock when Dar came in.  I kept my hands on her head when Dar sat
down on the bed and started kissing me.  I slipped the robe off
her shoulders and started to nibble and suck on her tiny hard
nipples, kiss her neck, one fist full of her hair, the other
buried in Carrie's hair under the covers, driving her mouth up
and down on my cock.  Slowly, I pulled Carrie off, pulled her up
and out from under the covers, sat her up on her knees next to
me.  "Get your vibrator out," I told her, and moved Dar onto my
cock.  She went happily, looking triumphantly at her older
sister, proudly straddling me, sticking her small, firm breasts
out, sliding down onto my wet cock in one smooth motion.

I had Carrie buzz herself.  Dar rode me, Carrie rode her
vibrator, and I watched them both with great enjoyment.  On a
whim, I told Carrie she wasn't allowed to come, and I discovered
I loved watching her hover right on the edge of an orgasm. 
Darlene had to keep fucking, even right after her orgasms, and
after a few the she got on a chain, so that the next few strokes
would send her off one onto another, and another, and another. 
They were a lovely study in contrasts, Carrie dark and soft, her
tits bouncing, her puffy nipples swolen and red, her dark hair
falling over her face as she struggled to do what I told her; Dar
blonde and golden skinned, clear tan lines, firm small white
tits, tiny nipples hard as rocks, riding me slowly and watching
her sister's humiliation.  I made Carrie talk to me, in part just
to hear her voice as she struggled not to come without
permission.  I made her describe Darlene, made her guess what
parts of Dar's body I liked best, made her tell me about her
latest fuck with Scott in explicit detail, and encouraged her the
whole time with the ruler on her ass and her inner thighs if her
voice and her words were not entertaining enough.

Maybe she thought that was the only night I would do that.  Maybe
she thought I would fuck her too, sometimes.  If so, she was
wrong.  I taught her to sit up, to get herself hot, to beg, to
watch.  I made her describe Darlene to me, made her tell me why
she thought I was fucking her sister, instead of her, while Dar
was right there, on my cock, squirming and coming.  I would drive
Darlene hard with the ruler, until she got really tired; then I
would let Carrie suck me off, licking and sucking her sister's
juices off my cock while I kissed and stroked Dar's sweaty, long
body and sweet firm breasts.

She had to fuck Scott once a week, and I made a bit of a game out
of that.  I gave her time limits, made her get in, fuck, and get
out in fifteen minutes.  I had the PI put a mike in the office,
and gave her a weekly spanking, with one swat for every word
either one of them said.  She had to walk in, fuck, and get out,
all without talking, if she didn't want her ass blistered that
night.

Dar would sometimes want to give her the spankings, and I slowly
let her start to dominate her sister.  Carrie hated it.  I had
already had Carrie suck me off right after I had been fucking
Darlene; the next step was to have her lick my cum off Dar's
thighs, then out of her cunt.  Within a week she was waking
Darlene up the same way she had to wake me up, crawling down
under the covers every morning, moving from my cock to her cunt,
until we rolled over and started fucking, no foreplay required,
and Carrie assumed her position next to us buzzing herself right
to the edge.

Can you imagine?  My wife, the cunt, the cheat, sitting up on the
bed next to me fucking her toy, her beautiful tits sticking out
and bobbing, her cunt leaking all over the vibrator.  After a few
practice sessions without coming, she was so tense she would get
up to the point of an orgasm in about five minutes; then she
would start to beg.  "Please," she'd say, "please let me.  Just
one?  Please?"  Her soft eyes begged, her nipples swelled, she
shook and had to take the vibrator away from her cunt several
times a minute, to keep from having an orgasm without permission.
 I had shown her what would happen if she did that; a nice, long,
hard paddling, over my knee, with the ruler.  It was fun.  I made
her count the swats, so she couldn't clamp her jaw shut to keep
from making noise.  By the twentieth she was squealing, by the
thirtieth she was crying and screaming.  She got fifty.  Then I
made her stand by the bed and play with her cunt by hand while I
fucked Darlene, made her come and come and come, more than she
wanted to, more than she thought she could.  Near the end I had
to encourage her with the ruler too, while she was on my cock,
smacking her ass to keep her from stopping after her orgasms.

Humiliation is a delicate state.  Carrie had taken Darlene's
presence well, with some coaxing, but I knew that if I went too
fast, she could be driven off.  She was still young, still
beautiful, could still catch someone else.  In any kind of power
game, you have to worry about her quitting, winning by not
playing anymore.  She knew how much money it would cost her, she
was totally caught up in our games day to day, but she was
thinking about it, about just bailing and finding someone else. 
A great danger in this was her gang of female friends; they were
programmed to tell her to get out of anything like this, and
they'd all love to see us break up anyway, since not one of their
loser husbands had nearly the bank account I could show, even now
before the IPO.  If I wanted to keep her, I had to make a counter
offer, and I had to get her out of LA.  I had to pull her further
into our game, make her do things she would never want anyone to
know about.  I had to show her the carrot, and make her feel the
stick.

The next day, I let each of them pack a suitcase, and we flew to
Brisbane to start our new life.

Coming Next:  Chapter II!  Tells you a lot, huh?  I will of
course be more encouraged to produce it if I get some email
saying you like this one...

comments to:  cameraman7788ATyahooDOTcom



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