index


Message-ID: <40111asstr$1041059404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sybian1@aol.com (Sybian1)
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} A Symphony of  Debauchery (MMM/F BDSM) pt1
Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 02:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

A man and a woman exchanging emails over a period of weeks wrote the following
story.


                                               A Symphony of Debauchery.
                                                   By Sybian & Your slave
                                                                  Pt 1

                     (C) 2002 by your_slave02@hotmail.com &   Sybian1@aol.com 
All rights reserved.  No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any electronic means, including photocopying, recording or by any
information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author.






" I must be losing my mind ", she thought as she made her way down the 
street. Foremost in her mind, the inherent danger of answering the beckoning 
call of a stranger. A man, whose erotic prose had held her captivated for 
months. It was as if he had looked into the darkest corner of her mind, the 
place that she ran to in her solitary lusting. The place where she could 
conduct herself as luridly as she wanted, where she saw the person that was 
lurking deep inside her. A slut. A whore. She had never let these erotic 
images of herself come to fruition. " I am a mother, a sister, a daughter. I 
am an upstanding member of my community," she would think to herself; 
fearing the woman that lay beneath her outward personage. Also, afraid of what
her 
husband would think. Eager to please him, at the same time denying herself 
of this woman who longed for release. She saw herself in the writings of 
this stranger, this man that she was running to. How did he know that women 
longed to be manipulated? Was she not alone in these yearnings? Over their 
months of writing e-mails, she found that she was not alone. This man, known 
only as Steven, would be the one to guide her to this awakening. She could 
have waited, coaxing her husband into this role. But over the months of 
writing, she had grown fond of this stranger, and had made the hazardous 
decision that she would give this gift to him. Her emancipation.
"I can't believe I'm doing this again," he thought as he strode into the
Airport Marriott. Much like Michael Corleone in Godfather III he felt that
every time he tried to get out something always pulled him back in. More like
someone. Cathy. It was her pristine innocence that did it. Her honesty. Her 
yearning. She had seduced him like no other, and her complete unawareness that
she was doing it was the key to her.

Even now, he knew that as she was driving to him, she would be wet with
anticipation of her deflowering. Of course she was not a virgin, why she was a
mother, a grown woman, a wife, but in so many ways a virgin. She wanted to be a
whore, at least for this night, to reach down into the darkness of that part of
her that she had long denied.

Slut. He knew that when he called her that she immediately became aroused, for
it was so contrary to the person she had designed for the world to see. And yet
it was the truth of her. And he had shown her that she could no longer deny it.
 And she had told him that she no longer wished to.

But there was a terrible danger lurking and Steven wondered if Cathy was aware
of it as well. Of course she knew. She was so smart, so perceptive, and so
self-examining. Though all the months of emails and phone games could just be
called flirtation, though fiery as it was, this night could change everything
for them both. He knew that when he finally held her in his big arms and felt
his hardness press against her, that the danger would become readily apparent.
The danger was that they might fall in love.

Always sensible, cautious, putting family honor before her own desires and 
needs, this was the essence of this woman. Solely devoted to her family, she 
had dreamt of a day when she could indulge in her own activity and desire. 
Steven had provided a venue for her to do just that. All the while, peeling 
back the lamination that she had encased herself in, an armor of sorts. How 
had he reduced her so? What was it about him? He was just words on a screen, 
yet he had turned her into a slave for his words. She knew nothing of him, 
there wasn't that spark or physical attraction that so many people use as a 
catalyst to start a romance. So like Cathy. She cared so little for the 
things that most people found appealing in the opposite sex. His photo 
revealed a most beautiful man, strong in stature and body, eyes that cut 
right through a woman's soul. But she hadn't even seen his face when she 
found herself longing for him. She didn't know anything about his life, how 
he labored or how he spent his time. She saw in his writing a man who knew 
what a woman wanted and that was all she needed of him. Time and again it 
was this man, Steven, who had driven her up to her bedroom, away from her 
family to cater to his whims. " Dip your hand in your white honey. Then 
write me of it." It was comments like that which had driven her to his arms.

He would fuck her. And fuck her again. Make her crawl across the floor and beg
for his cock. Worship it. He would show her that his cock could be the focal
point of her existence. He would defile her. Make her plead to swallow his cum.
Get her to the point where she kneeled on the floor, presenting her gorgeous
big ass to him, spreading it open with her hands, and through her sobs said,
"Please, Steven, please. Fuck your whore's fat ass. My ass needs a cock in it
sooooo bad. Please."

And it was quite a remarkable ass. He smiled inwardly again thinking of the
time a
few months ago when he had sent her that link to an AdultToy site Anal Sex Toys
for Men and Women  and had her purchase a Butt Plug. And because he asked her
too, she inserted it and wore it while she carried out her daily mundane
chores. He had to stifle a laugh when he imagined her in her minivan,
carpooling the neighborhood kids, a buttplug in her ass, because her unseen
Master had requested it. It was their secret. And kept Cathy constantly on
edge. She loved secrets. And he was her darkest secret yet.


She thought back to all of the early mornings she rose before dawn, running 
to his words. She had many days of strong reservation. Among the many women 
he had seduced, she was certain, would have more experience than she. Could 
she still please him? She had been told by the handful of men that she had 
allowed herself to be with that she was skilled in the art of fellatio. She 
loved to suck a man's cock, using her entire mouth, especially her tongue. 
But many of them were boys of a life long before marriage. This was a man. 
And she was so eager to please him. She found him to be encouraged by her 
obedience, she catered to his every whim, did whatever she was told. She 
loved the control he had over her and surrendered herself to his desires. 
She knew that everything that he asked of her had a purpose. She did not 
question his requests for in the end she knew that he would make her whole. 
He was her fantasy.

Steven delighted in her blind obedience. Cathy had written him that he had
become her fantasy, a role he delighted in. Cathy's fantasy. A burden as well.
But she made it easy, her compliance to his wishes a secret gift.

He allowed his mind to drift back to the moment he realized her specialness to
him. Steven had set up a voicemail box so that he may hear her voice when their
correspondence began. He also wanted to make sure it wasn't a man writing to
him in that early stage. Silly now in retrospect, but it had happened once or
twice before, his on-line stories being a magnet both for sincere ladies and
lonely, bored men.
Her husband was away golfing and Steven had bid her to call the number so that
he might hear her climax as she masturbated. She willingly complied. And he
could tell by the joyous sounds of this woman in heat that his suggestion took
her to a new level of autoeroticism. He remembered how many times he listened
to the playback that night. And how he too masturbated, cumming with his Cathy
for the first time, covering his fifty-inch chest with a prodigious load of his
fiery man-juice, whispering, "Yes, Cathy, you're such a good girl."

Steven's words were so powerful, so eloquent. He called them filthy 
scribblings, but in his words she saw a modern day Kama Sutra. He would 
laugh at that, perhaps through modesty, but it was the truth. Maybe not fit 
for every woman, but his words had moved her so deeply, she wouldn't deny 
herself this man.  So she prepared well for the night, bidding his requests 
for certain items of clothing down to the finest detail, she was so good at 
that. Save one, she wanted to wear her signature scent. Beautiful by Estee 
Lauder lightly sprayed on her body always made her feel so sexy. Perhaps she 
should have complied, allowed him to choose, but it was her only request and 
he had obliged her. He could be so liberal at times, surprising her by 
granting  nominal wishes. She loved him for that, as well as so many others 
things.  She had spent the entire day preparing her visage for his delight. 
His penchant for delicate female things, hose, heels, well manicured nails, 
her hair, which he loved, was a vision of perfection. Cathy was not a 
sophisticated woman in her outer presentation. She found herself not to be 
of exceptional beauty or possessing the desire to engage in the usual 
tinkering of her facial features or body. A self-proclaimed low-maintenance 
woman. But she was real. Strong in body and mind and opinion. She didn't 
waste her days in vanity, but instead invested her attention and time in 
creating character. Steven had only seen her in one photo, taken years ago, 
and she had changed quite a bit since then. Her hair was much longer, she 
was thinner, and he had probably wondered if she always carried a cowboy 
hat. It was a prop in her picture, a sign of a wild, untamed spirit. But he 
would tame her, like no other man before. On this night, she would present 
him with a debonair woman. She wanted him to become enamored by her 
appearance as well as her acquiescence.

Attempting to drive had proven to be a challenge for Cathy since her initial 
encounter with Steven. In her van, away from the demands and bustling of her 
home, her mind always wandered to him and the things that he had written 
her. This long distance drive was giving her hours to immerse in the 
anticipation of what would come this night. She found herself coarsely 
pulling on her enlarged nipples as she drove, sending a sting through her 
body into her swollen clit. The cream of her cunt gushing through her hole 
which made her shiver. She thought about him, this magnificent man who had 
allowed her to be in her van making this journey. She had learned through 
his writings that he enjoyed a shaven scrotum, which would make her feast of 
him even more delectable. She saw herself kneeled on a floor, his cock, 
inches from her hungry mouth, pulsating with lust for her. The scent of his 
meat wafting through her nose, savoring every moment that he allowed her to 
be here. When he said the word, "suck", she would take his shaft into her 
mouth, lips and tongue and do what she was born to do, please Steven.  
Intermittently running her tongue down to his balls, gently suckling, 
licking. Returning to his cock, pushing it all the way down her throat. His 
face and words indicating that he was pleased. She would do this throughout 
the many hours of this oncoming night and the anticipation of this event 
would be the death of her. She sped up to rush to her love.

He allowed her small victories. She wanted to wear her favorite cologne,
Beautiful, and he had allowed it. Though he preferred the raw sexuality of
Obsession, he was familiar with her scent and thought it would fit her best. It
was an aroma of innocence and wonderment with an undercurrent of dark
eroticism. Perfect for his Cathy, the pillar of the community and his slut.

Maybe that was part of his attraction for her. He was a man who knew things
like the various scents women liked to wear. He knew her husband had no idea of
such things. But Steven knew women, it was his life's work. He preferred their
company and though he had male acquaintances, he had only female friends.

Cathy would be arriving at the hotel soon and he needed to dress. He admired
his body in the mirror. At 48 he appeared much younger, the years of weight
training managing to keep father time somewhat at bay. He had just freshly
shaved his fifty-inch chest and he cradled his also just shaved scrotum,
feeling it's comforting heft as he examined his penis. It wasn't overly large
but big enough and women had felt a need to comment on its proportions and
attractiveness. As he examined himself he found his cock gently filling with
blood, the veins running along its length starting to pulse. The thought of
Cathy, in her mini van, dressed like a very expensive whore, driving to his
hotel was so arousing. He gently pumped his manhood watching the big head turn
purple with lust and smiled at himself in the mirror. This would become the
focus of Cathy's existence for the next few hours. This cock. And her love for
him would be his reward.

Cathy was not given to anal sex and the butt plug that had occupied her 
rectum since Steven asked for its insertion had served as a preparation for 
his cock. She knew this and had religiously worn it as she did now. It sent 
shivers through her, waves of delight like she had not ever experienced. Her 
husband, like so many other men, longed for this gift. A woman's ass. An 
exceptionally tight, puckered hole and the object of fascination for her 
husband. She would only oblige him from time to time, but she found herself 
anxious to give this to Steven. She sensed that she would like everything 
that he did to her. She adjusted her skirt as she stepped out of her van, 
having hiked it up to reach in between her legs periodically throughout her 
trip. She wore a tight black skirt, something she had always found to be 
inviting. Not leather, as some may envision, but nylon. It clung to her ass 
like a hand. The thin black stockings shaped her muscular calves, which were 
defined even more than usual. The heels that she wore were unequivocally the 
highest she had ever worn. But they forced her to stand straight and erect, 
to think of each step so as not to fall. She knew why he had requested these 
from his many writings. She had studied them and learned that they provided 
him the physical control, keeping a woman reliant on him for her every move. 
Her white silk blouse was unbuttoned shamefully low. Well, shameful for 
Cathy. Her breasts pushed high and separated in her bra to form the perfect 
tunnel for his cock to travel through. Her nipples, hard and swollen at the 
thought of where she was and the commencement she would experience in a 
short time. She wore large gold hoops and dramatic make-up. She was a vision 
of her soul. Her longing to look and conduct herself as a whore. And she 
turned quite a few heads as she waltzed into the lobby, to her Steven, her 
master.

As he pulled his black Lord &Taylor briefs over his big thighs Steven smiled
thinking of Cathy in her carpool mini van, the butt plug he had had her order
firmly affixed in her sphincter. She was so awash now with her repressed
sexuality that with his masterful prodding it burst forth from her in a
torrent, like a river, swollen by days of rain, behind a weakened dam. A whore.
A woman.

He adjusted his "package" in his underwear and then reached into the closet for
the woolen pants of his black double-breasted Armani suit. She had written that
she loved him, though he doubted this, why they had never even breathed the
same air. No, she loved the idea of him and the idea of her that he had given
her, Cathy the slut.
sybian1@aol.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+