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From: bonkgirl <bonkgirl@NO-SPAMyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Rendezvous With Serendipity Ch 1 - by bonkgirl (M/f, blackmail, reluct, oral, humil)
Date: Sun,  1 Jun 2003 05:10:07 -0400
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=========================================================
Hello,

The story you are about to read is a work of fiction. Certain elements
are loosely based on real people and real events however they've been
embellished for dramatic effect and all names of people, places and
other identifying details have been changed. This and many of the
stories I write contain themes of non-consensual sex and forced
submission along with blackmail and other activities which are illegal
in real life. Please note that the real events surrounding everything
written by me were all entirely legal and all people participating did
so within the framework of "safe, sane and consensual" as defined
within the BDSM scene to which I belonged when the events took place.
I hope you enjoy my tales. All feedback may be addressed either to
alt.sex.stories.d or by email to bonkgirl@[NO-SPAM]yahoo.com

Adrianna
(c)2003
=========================================================

Rendezvous With Serendipity - Chapter 01

Steve's teeth flashed a broad grin through his beard when he
opened the door of his shed and saw me standing there. It was
just after 6.45am; the sun had barely been up an hour and it was
cold standing in the shadow of the old wooden building. There
was a long moment of uneasy silence before he finally spoke. He
said he was surprised to see me - I strongly doubted that! As
much as I didn't want to go inside the shed with him, I couldn't
stand around outside trying to discuss this with him. Besides
the fact the temperature was low I didn't want anybody I worked
with seeing me talking with Steve at that hour of the day, least
of all down at his shed. It would surely raise suspicions and
that was the whole point of my visit; to try and avert the
calamity I knew would happen if I didn't sort things out with
Steve.

There was no real demarkation inside the shed between the office
area at the front and the workshop area at the back. Steve
invited me to follow him through to the workshop area, which I
reluctantly did. There can't have been any mistake in his mind
WHY I was there at that time of the day but still he kept
grinning at me, refusing to say anything until I was forced to
break the silence. The short speech I'd rehearsed to perfection
during the drive to work suddenly evaporated the second I opened
my mouth to speak. I just stood there, mouth hanging open with
whatever words I might have had in my head now stuck in my
throat refusing to materialize. After what felt like an hour of
standing there like that I suddenly blurted out the words
"you're not going to tell anybody, are you?"

Steve leaned back against his workbench and folded his arms
arcoss his chest. The grin was still frozen on his face but I
sensed a sudden seriousness about him. The long silence which
ensued compelled me to start adding repeaters to the question;
like a child, obviously knowing the answer before it's even
given, but asking over and again "are you?" as if by repetition
the immovable object might be moved.

Eventually Steve spoke. "Who would I tell?" He started laughing
lightly, sort of like the way he laughed whenever he usually
teased me except this time it was patently obvious I was in no
position to deflect whatever lewd proposition he was going to
put to me. And I knew one was coming - he'd spent three years
propositioning me when he had nothing with which to blackmail
me. Now, he had something; something which he obviously knew I
would do practically anything to keep secret between us. It
occured to me there was actually a whole world of things he
didn't know about me and that by submitting to whatever
humiliating act he had in mind for me on this one occasion I
might be able to keep everything else safely hidden from him.

He started to talk more freely, telling me how much he liked the
sight of me yesterday; completely naked on the chaise lounge;
legs spread; wildly aroused and oblivious to his sneaking into
the room and catching me. My stomach churned in knots. I didn't
want to talk about it. I just wanted to move on; for him to
forget all about yesterday. But he pressed on, speaking more and
more freely about the effect the sight of me like that made
on him. "It made my cock hard; REAL hard!" I remember him
saying. I couldn't bring myself to even glance down at his
crotch but I knew he wasn't talking past tense; he was telling
me his cock was hard NOW. I tried to dismiss the comment with a
shrug but he persisted. "Why don't you get it out and have a
look for yourself?"

The moment I'd spent the previous night dreading suddenly
arrived. I was in no doubt whatsoever as to what he was suggesting
although I continued feigning innocence until he shook his head
and held his finger to his bearded lips to silence my mumbled
protests. "Unzip me and take out my cock!" he finally said when
I stopped mumbling.

The thoughts in my head were confused and all mixed up. Under
normal circumstances I'd never have agreed so quickly to do what
he asked but, considering what he could have asked me to do,
unzipping his fly and taking his erect cock out didn't seem like
the end of the world. It was certainly better than trying to
object and know he'd make my life in the library a living hell
forever after! I gingerly reached for the zipper and pinched it
in my fingers, jerking a couple of times before it peeled open
for me.

Steve remained standing, leaning back casually against his work
bench as I freed his cock from his cotton drill shorts. I felt
extremely embarrassed about handling it at all; it was not quite
as long as my husband's cock but it was considerably thicker; so
thick my fingers could barely wrap half way around its
circumference. It felt warm, firm and dangerous in my hand and I
just stood there, stupidly, not knowing what exactly he expected
me to do with it. I didn't know where to look with my eyes; was
I supposed to look at his cock in my hand or back up into his
eyes? His cock felt like the easier option and looked down at
it, studying it for differences with my husband's cock - one of
the few other men's cocks I've ever seen in all my thirty-seven
years.

'Enthusiastic' is hardly the right word to describe my handling
of Steve's rigid cock, but I did my best to grope and squeeze it
in my hand. I did this for a few minutes, occasionally changing
hands when my arm would grow weak from the opening and closing
of my fingers on his cock shaft. It soon became easy to let my
mind go into autopilot, taking him in both hands and even moving
to stand slightly closer to distract him from the fact I wasn't
paying him much attention at all. This charade lasted all of a
minute before Steve stopped me.

"Don't let go!" he said, chastising me for releasing my grip. I
thought we were finished but apparently we weren't. I gripped
his thick cock again in my hands and wondered what he was
thinking; what unpleasant thing was he going to ask me to do. He
said he wanted to see me naked again.

I blushed, not so much because of the demand - and it was a
demand, not a simple request - but because I dreaded what he
might do if I removed my clothes. Things I might have secretly
fantasized about seemed far less appealing in reality. A mild anxiety
attack accompanied the thought that 'this is it! Steve is going to
want to stick his cock into me." He hadn't yet suggested he would but
already my mind was reeling with what I might say if he did. The only
defiant thing I could think of saying to his demand I remove my
clothes was 'what if I say no?' but I thought better of it knowing he
could probably think of a thousand things infinitely more humiliating
than merely taking off my clothes. Afterall, he'd already seen me
completely naked. What difference could there be letting him see me
naked again one more time?

Steve refused to allow me permission to release my grip on his
cock and I struggled to undress, swapping hands regularly to
dislodge each item of clothing until I stood there completely
nude, toe to toe with him; his hot, hard cock still gripped
firmly in my hands. I glanced up at him and the look on his face
was the same lecherously twisted one that had etched itself onto
my mind's eye yesterday.

I was absolutely pertified of what might happen now that I was
naked, but it was interesting. This fear; this profound sense of
dread mixed up with guilt and who knows what other screwball
emotion; stirred something inside me; a feeling that had slowly
emerged to become familiar over the past few days. I'd been
enough times to a BDSM club with my husband to understand what
the word 'kneel' meant and when Steve said the word, I dropped
immediately without even thinking.

Steve's cock loomed largely in front of my face once I was
kneeling. I gripped it with both hands and began firmly
masterbating him, not because I really wanted to but because it
was the only way I could think of to keep a safe distance
between its swollen, purple head and my face. I actually
felt like I was engaged in a peculiar prayer ritual - kneeling;
Steve's cock gripped between my two clasped, praying hands; face
turned away as if blinded by the sight of God.

I was lost in my own thoughts but I could hear Steve becoming
more vocal in his growing arousal at what I was doing. He was
saying "suck it!" over and over, hypnotically until I slowly
turned my head to face his cock-tip. He kept repeating his
mantra but I became reluctant to go any further. His cock was
leaking the tell-tale signs of pre-cum, but that wasn't the
reason why I didn't want to take him in my mouth. It was because
I felt really, really self conscious about it knowing that I was
nearly forty years old and had virtually no experience
whatsoever at oral sex. But Steve kept repeating himself, urging
me to suck him. I felt dreadfully embarrassed, but I eventually
succumb to the sound of his voice and tentatively pursed my lips
like I was going to kiss something and then pressed them against
ths tip of his cock. I immediately made a quiet mewling sound,
thinking that might be what Steve wanted to hear from me.

"Open your mouth and suck!" he was saying as I made my foolish
noises and rubbed my face against his cock; like a cat smooching
against the leg of its owner. I heard him start to mock me for
my ineptitude at sucking him and this had a profound effect on
me. I moaned more loudly as if to let him know I agreed with
him. This small loop of chastisement and my agreement continued
for a few moments, each time making me more eager to prove him
wrong; or at least demonstrate I was prepared to learn what he
wanted. I pressed my two hands down to the nest of hair at the
base of his cock, closed my eyes, and slowly let my lips envelop
the entire head of his cock.

There was some silence from Steve and I took that as I sign I
had finally done something he liked. I kept the tip of his cock
locked tightly in my lips and began firmly masterbating the
solid shaft of his cock. All the while I whimpered softly,
occasionally glancing up at him to see if what I was doing was
acceptable. It apparently was as his eyes were closed and his
head tilted back slightly. This encouraged me some more and I
bobbed my head forward against his cock, letting my mouth slip
deeper onto him until my lips met my hands coming back up the
shaft.

I'm not sure how long this continued except that my knees
started to hurt from kneeling on the cold concrete floor. Still,
I hung off the end of his hard cock sucking and mewling and
concentrating on pleasuring Steve as best I could. I was deeply
hurt when he suddenly said "you're not a very good cocksucker,
are you?" I was stunned and stopped immediately, remaining
frozen in mid-suck and looking up at him with what could only
have been a pathetic look of disappointment. I shook my head,
agreeing with him and trying to stay attached as he tried
pushing my head away. Eventually I was forced to release my grip
and, once free, he stepped out from between me and the bench
he'd been leaning on.

"Stand up!" he said. My knees felt sore and almost paralysed by
the cold position they'd been in for such a long time but I
slowly uncrumpled my body until I was standing upright again. I
watch Steve, wondering what he was doing with my shoes. He had
one of them in one hand and his cock in the other hand, pressing
the rigid shaft downwards until its tip was aimed inside my
shoe. A very strange look came over his face and I didn't
realize what he was doing until he handed me back my shoe and
told me to put it on my foot.

The slimy, wet slipperiness in the toe of my low-heeled court
shoe felt revolting as my toes pressed into it. It was
disgusting, I thought, but I didn't say that out loud. Instead I
wriggled my toes in the shoe, trying to get used to the peculiar
sensations of the ooze surrounding them. He told me he expected
to see me back for "another lesson in cocksucking" at lunchtime
and with that, zipped himself up and left me naked and alone to
recompose myself.

I'm back in my office now as I write this; my toes now cold and
clammy in the filthy jism Steve had dumped in my shoe. The
leather of the shoe did nothing to absorb any of it and as the
morning wears on, I'm becoming aware of a pungent odor rising from my
shoe and quite probably easily detectable by anybody who gets
close enough to me. There was a brief moment of weird satisfaction;
accomplishment at having completed a perverse challenge set last
weekend by Mr C - to stir up the smell of sex in my office.
There's still my lunchtime appointment with Steve ahead of me, but for
now, it looks like he isn't going to humiliate me by revealing my
secret to my boss Jeff or young David, my assistant.

--
ser-en-dip-i-ty (n) The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by
accident.

"Serendip is not reached by plotting a course for it. Instead you must
set out in good faith and lose your bearings serendipitously" - from
The Sinbad Saga

http://profiles.yahoo.com/bonkgirl

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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