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??????????????????????????????? True Love

???????????????????????????? by

Night Writer

????????????????????????????? I - The Dream

"Lie still Blair, and I won't hurt you."

She stands over you - she in her smart charcoal jacket and slacks, you

nearly naked, stretched out on your bed in black bra and panties,

wrists burning from the handcuffs fastened through the heavy headboard.

You can see in her green eyes that she's serious. A short riding crop

in her right hand guarantees it. She's partially undone her white

blouse, just enough to tease you with glimpses of her small, round

breasts tipped with pink nipples that reach out to you like tiny

fingers, rigid with the hope that you will misbehave, and she'll get to

use the crop on your smooth legs and belly.

So you stop struggling, pulling your bare thighs together and to the

side to avoid the crop, should it fall.? But you're still breathing

hard, eyes full of defiance, glaring at her for tricking you, for

breaking her promise to eat you.

She creeps onto the bed beside you, her face now so close to yours, her

short red hair hanging just low enough to brush the skin of your cheek.

You glance down her open blouse, wishing more than anything you could

suck one of her nipples between your lips and push against the hard

bead of flesh with the tip of your tongue.

"You must have wanted me very badly, Blair."

You think back, remembering how long you've lusted after her, the

weeks, then months that passed beforeyou could muster the nerve

to even make a friendly advance. Thenthis. Working together later

than usual one night at the office,lights low, desks all vacant, the

windows of an adjacent officebuilding sparkling like stars in the

night sky - she looked at you for along time, reached out to stroke

your hair, then leaned close, her lips moving against your ear.

"You can have me if you want," she had whispered. "You don't even have

to ask."

You remember the flutter that touched your stomach, and how your legs

opened under your desk when she kissed you. And that's all it took. You

were hers.

Silly you. Ready to play any game she suggested, if only you could have

her naked body against yours. So willing, that you placed both wrists

in the cuffs yourself, letting her snap them shut with a knowing smile.

You were in heaven while she stripped you, raising your hips so she

could tug at your skirt and stockings, not even caring when she cut

your new silk blouse from your body.

"Talk to me, Blair. Tell me what you want."

You're surprised by her demand, not sure what to say. She taps your

belly with the crop, just hard enough to get your attention. It stings,

but causes a flood between your legs at the same time.

"P-please," you stammer.

"Please what, Blair? Please beat me? Please eat me? Please fuck me? I

didn't know you were such a girly girl. Afraid to ask for what you

want? I expected you to beg. What a disappointment."

The crop comes down harder, across your ass, a forceful, lashing blow,

and you cry out, twisting away from her.

"Ahh, she speaks! Perhaps another blow will make her sing."

"Nooo!" you reply at once, fearing a more painful strike. "I'll tell

you - I'll tell you - please, please, eat me, fuck me, please..." Your

eyes tear as you beg her for the sex you've wanted for so long. But not

like this. Not like this.

"Spread your legs, Blair. Open them."

You do. You spread them wide, knees slightly drawn up, panty-covered

mound already showing a dark stain from your juices. You pray she

doesn't use the crop there.

She touches the plump mound with the tip of the crop, drawing it down,

tracing the length of your slit as it yawns wider, now soaking the thin

wisp of black cotton. The crop returns again and again, now with a

firmer hand, teasing your clitoris until your hips rise to meet it with

each touch.

"I knew you'd be easy. Such a slut. And to think, little miss perfect,

the icon of professionalism, a true example of today's career woman,

here in handcuffs, begging me to do all these nasty things to her.

Admit it, Blair. You're a slut at heart. You've always been a slut."

She raises the crop again, this time only a few feet above your cunt.

It hovers in the air there, waiting, waiting, for your answer, the

right answer.

"Yes!" you scream. "I am! A slut! Your slut! Please - no more - I'm

begging you!"

She smiles with satisfaction and places the crop on the bed. Then,

she's pulling your panties off your hips, down your spread legs, and

over your toes. Next, with a quick snip of the scissors, your bra is

gone, freeing your large, meaty tits. She licks her lips as they spill

from the black lace, flattening only slightly, proud and firm with

angry red nipples.

You watch, trembling, as she lowers her face between your legs, then

moan with relief when her tongue dips into your cunt. But her eyes are

on you again. She stops. Your eyes meet hers, pleading to continue.

You're too breathless to speak.

"Shall I finish you?"

"P-please," you whimper. "Oh God, please."

"You'll be my slut?"

"Yessss!"

"No more panties at the office?"

"Yessss!" you agree, too excited to think about her demands.

"And no bra as well?"

"Yessss!"

"And you won't mind if I tell everyone we're lovers?"

"I - I don't care, don't care at all, please..."

"My sweet Blair, you were born a slut, weren't you? Now, beg me to

eat you."

You beg her over and over. You admit anything and everything. Yes, you

were born a slut, and you'll die a slut.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...

And when her tongue rolls perfectly over your clit, too many times for

you to count, long after you stop begging, you cum long and hard,

screaming her name into the night as your body thrashes and pulls at

the cuffs above your head.

And you know you are lost. Forever.

??????????????????????????????????? ***

You're back at work the next day, sure she didn't mean what she said.

You wear both panties and bra, never thinking about the consequences.

Then she's behind you, running her hand over your ass, checking.

"You're a bad girl, Blair. You know what I do to bad girls."

You can't move. What if others should see her pawing you? Too afraid to

turn to face her, you reply softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

Her fingers trail between your legs from behind, making you squirm. She

pushes up against the wet spot already spreading over your tiny, white

cotton panties. You're afraid she'll go further, and afraid she'll

stop. So delicious, to be played with in public. You know you'll do

anything she asks.

"Take them off, Blair."

She couldn't possibly expect you to...

"No Blair, not here. Go to the ladies room. Take your purse. Your bra

and panties better be in it when you get back."

You don't move away until she stops fingering you. Then, without

question or hesitation, you do as she says. You feel so cheap as you

strip the panties and bra from beneath your slacks and blouse. You do

it quickly, before someone comes in, before someone discovers what?

you've become. Your small purse bulges after you stuff everything in.

A small piece of white bra strap escapes when you close the catch,

hanging off the side, unnoticed by you in your haste to finish before

you're found. Your nipples scrape the fabric of your blouse as you

hurry to leave. Glancing in the mirror, you see your tits bouncing as

you walk, hard points of your nipples straining against the sheer white

material that clearly shows two dark circles of your areola. The image

shocks you, and makes you wet at the same time. What will they think...

You hurry back to your office. She's there, of course. She tells you

how proud she is of you, how luscious you look to her, and how she'd

like to eat you, right then and there. But of course she doesn't. She

couldn't in front of all these people. Could she? You wonder if you'd

let her if she demanded it.

She pushes you into a corner where no one can see, works her hand down

the front of your slacks, and slides her middle finger into your

sopping pussy. You want her to keep it there, to take you in her arms

and masturbate you until you cum in your own office. Instead, she pulls

her hand free and offers the same finger to you, placing it lightly on

your lips. You open and suck. It's the first time you've tasted

yourself. But you'd do it again and again for her.

She leaves you, wet and wanting. She doesn't even speak to you, and

disappears without a word at the end of the day. You wonder if you've

displeased her in some way, but have no way of knowing. No sleep for

you this night. You toss and turn, anxious, troubled, and in heat for

her.

She's pleased the next day. Your slacks are light tan, and show clearly

that you're naked underneath them. You choose a silk top to keep your

nipples from aching, but hadn't counted on how the soft material would

collapse over your swaying breasts, showing them off in exquisite

detail.

You've earned a pet name.

"You look wonderful today, my little Pussy."

Pussy. You're insulted at first, but before long convince yourself it

fits. Like a glove.

At lunch, she closes your office door and fingers you again. You're

melting in her hands when she stops.

"You do it, Pussy. I want to watch. Do it till you cum."

You do your best to work your hand inside the narrow belt and

waistband, but soon give up and open the slacks, letting them slide to

your knees. Your fingers are soaked, plunging in and out of your cunt.

"Taste yourself, Pussy."

You bring your fingers to your mouth and lick them, one by one. She

watches, running her hand lightly over her meager breasts, breathing

deeply as she takes in the sight of you, the sight of a bright,

attractive woman slowly losing control of her life.

She takes a few steps toward you, nowclose enough to smell the musk

of your sex. The green of her eyes holds you with an unseen force,

powerful and paralyzing.

"Cum for me, Pussy. Show me how wetI've made you. Show me

everything."

You tug your panties over your hips and slide them to mid-thigh. The

soft, dark hair that covers your cunt is wet and matted. You plunge

your fingers into it again, desperate for your orgasm now that she's

given you permission. It doesn't take long. A minute, maybe less. She

sees your hips begin to thrust suddenly faster against your hand, knows

you've come to the edge, and covers your mouth with hers, muffling the

long, guttural moan that escapes from deep within your body. Leaning

into her, you finish yourself, savoring each precious second, holding

it, making it last until you're limp in her arms, panting like a bitch

in heat.

She's happy with you for a week, but then feels the need to dress you

in clothes of her choosing. She brings a large shopping bag to work one

day, full of your new clothes. And you wear them starting the next day

- clothes you would never have worn before - but for her, anything.

Tight, fitted blouses and sweaters with deeply cut V necks, showing off

your round, succulent breasts. Tiny, pleated skirts that barely fall to

your upper thighs, flaring to show your round ass every time you turn

too quickly. They can't keep their eyes off you in meetings. Even

trying your best to keep your legs tightly pressed together, sooner or

later you shift just enough to show a glimpse of the long, pink gash

between your legs, now shaved bare at her request. Men stare at you.

Women snicker behind your back when they think you aren't listening. A

week passes, then two.

Your boss calls you in for your annual review. He dismisses much of the

good work you've done. He stares at your tits. He tells you to work

harder. Longer hours. He's given your project to someone "more

appropriate." You struggle to hold back tears, forgetting to keep the

brief plaid skirt tucked between your thighs. He looks through the

glass desktop, down at your lap, where rounded inner thighs part to

reveal your cunt, freshly shaved this morning. He doesn't even pretend

to look away. After an hour, you've lost your office, and gained more

menial tasks - filing, copying...

By the time he's done with you, you wonder why you haven't been fired.

Then it comes to you. He's a man, just like all the others, just

waiting for the chance to stick his cock in you. You're an office pet

now. A curiosity, more suited to organizing office parties than to the

position that you worked so hard for, for so long.

But then she comes up behind you again, lifting the narrow pleats that

barely cover your ass, trailing her fingers deep into the space between

your thighs. Whispering, purring, in a voice meant only for you.

"Good Pussy. Sexy, hot, girly girl Pussy. You really do look good

enough to eat. And I am very, very hungry. I think I'll take you home

tonight."

And you start to cry. Not for your project. Not for your office. Not

even for your life. You cry because she loves you. You're absolutely

sure of it.

??????????????????????????????????? ***

Her apartment's spacious - tasteful, clean lines of glass and

gray. Not like yours - fluffy white pillows and fancy French doors.

She pours you a drink, white wine in a tall slender glass, then goes

to change. Modestly sized Rodin replicas dot the perimeter of the room,

each at rest on its own simple blackpedestal - cold, white,

flesh-from-stone women with faceshidden, lying twisted into shapes

that flaunt their bodies in the mostsensual ways. You're drawn to one

of them, a voluptuous female formlying with legs curled under her,

face nearly obscured by a river offlowing hair. You trace the lines of

her sinuous back and rounded ass witha single outstretched finger,

and worry that you may not be worthyof her collection.

She's back in minutes, wearing nothing beneath an oversized white

shirt, fastened at the front by a single button. Now she's all red

hair, green eyes, and full, wide lips atop two long, finely chiseled

legs that move so gracefully under her. You stare at her, not believing

she can be so beautiful, catching glimpses of the neatly trimmed patch

of red where the shirt-tails part.

She's as at home in the kitchen as she is at work, confidently wielding

a large knife to turn raw, fresh tuna into thin slivers of flesh, so

sweet in your mouth you would have never known it was taken from the

sea. You feast, until the wine has you both giddy. Between fits of

laughter she says your name. Then, in a careless, unguarded moment,

you tell her you love her.

She's still laughing a little when you tell her. She's unfazed, still

giggling, allowing a trickle of wine to escape down her chin. She

catches it in the palm of her hand, then feeds it to you off her

fingers.

"Come to bed, Pussy. We haven't had desert."

It takes her only seconds to strip you. The little skirt falls to the

floor, the sweater slips so easily over your head. She opens the only

button and the shirt slides off her shoulders. Her mouth is on you at

once, quick kisses over your neck, lashing your nipples and breasts

with her tongue, nibbling at your belly with gentle bites.

Then you're on her bed. She ties a long scarf around your neck, now

both collar and leash. Her hands guide you, turning you onto your

stomach, lifting your ass until you're on your hands and knees. A sharp

tug on the scarf and you turn your head back to look at her. She's

there behind you, eyes glittering. Thin, delicate shoulders and bare,

upturned breasts cause your pulse to quicken, your cunt to swell and

open.

She retrieves it from a drawer at the side of the bed, so long and

thick that you gasp when you understand. She fastens the straps about

her waist. It wobbles slightly, stiff, black, and glistening with

slippery jelly applied with the loving care you hope she shows you as

well. Taking her position behind you, she pulls your fleshy ass cheeks

apart, fingering the deep crevice lightly with a touch that drives you

mad. You feel her pulling at your inner lips, running their length over

and over, then cradling your swollen clit between thumb and forefinger.

At that moment you feel it breech you, stretching you where you've

never been entered before. It burns, until you learn to let it have its

way with you. Even then, as it fills you, inch by inch, you can barely

breathe. It's so large, a monstrous invader, filling you to depths you

could never have imagined. And when you cry out, begging her to stop,

she rolls your clit with fingers so skilled, everything else is

forgotten.

Eventually its careful entry and slow retreat increase in pace, until

she's plunging into you, pounding against you with her hips, shaking

your quivering body with savage thrusts. You grunt each time her hips

slam against your ass. Never have pain and pleasure held you so tightly

at the same time. Surrendering yourself so completely would be

terrifying, had it been to anyone but her.

The scarf tightens around your neck, and you raise your head in

surprise, suddenly struggling to get your breath. It pulls harder with

each violent lunge, choking you, causing you to gasp for each precious

ration of air.

"Do you love me, Pussy? Do you love menow?"

Her words are laced with sarcasm, almost vicious.

She pulls harder still, enough to keep your head back, your neck

strained to the limit. You're crying, never more unsure of yourself,

never more terrified, never more excited. She sees your tears and bends

over you, the nipples of her breasts now pressed into your back, her

free hand moving down your belly, finally making its way between your

legs. Even though impaled on the full length of the heavy phallus, you

breathe easier as you feel the welcome slack in the scarf. She finds

your clit and takes it between her fingers, milking it slowly, careful

to make you wait.

"How much do you love me, Pussy? What would you sacrifice to be with

me?"

Her voice becomes more threatening, the words uttered between clenched

teeth as she tightens the scarf once again, choking you, keeping you

from answering even if you had the answer she wanted.

"I want everything, Pussy. Everything you have, everything you are, and

everything you will ever be. Give me all that, Pussy. Give it to me.

Give it to me now. Give it to me now! Give it to me! Now! Now! Now,

Pussy! Now!"

She's shrieking at you, pulling the scarf tightly enough to stop you

from taking even the smallest breath. Pressing the rubber cock deep

into your bowels, she works your clit furiously between her slim

fingers. You slide over the edge, feeling your body twist into violent

spasms. Your cunt gushes, and you give up everything as a tunnel of

black closes in around you and swallows you whole.

???????? ???????????????????????????***

You wake in your own bed before the alarm sounds, legs tangled in damp,

wrinkled sheets.? Stretching, then throwing bare legs over the side of

the bed and yawning, as you do most mornings, you remember almost

nothing of your dreams.

The shower feels especially good this morning. You've made it as hot as

you can stand, and it brings your body to life. You choose your face

for the day - lipstick, mascara, all from a collection that litters the

counter top on each side of the sink. You choose carefully. It's an

important day. You'll pitch your project to the new client, and

everything has to be perfect. Then, after, a promotion, another step up

the corporate ladder, one you've worked so long and hard for. You've

put your work before relationships, and having a family of your own.

You never seemed to have the time. You know they call you ruthless,

driven, and words much worse. But who's laughing now? You've made your

plan, and unlike most, have had the brains and guts to see it through.

In the mirror, you try to see what your client will see. The navy

power-suit is the perfect choice, bought for the occasion. The smart,

tailored lines of the jacket and slacks show you off to the best

possible advantage - conservative enough to keep their minds on

business, yet showing enough curves to remind them that a woman's

hand has crafted a part of their future. Dark hair cascades over your

shoulders in thick, generous waves, cut and styled to perfection. A

few final touches of makeup and you're ready.

You find yourself staring at your reflection, held there in front of

the mirror. Something nags at you, something not quite right. You

open the jacket and run your hands slowly over the pristine white

blouse. Your hands pause over the fullness of each breast, then cup

them gently, unconsciously, as your eyes stay fixed on the mirror.

The minutes that pass seem like seconds to you when you button

the jacket to leave.

There's just time for a light breakfast and a quick review of your

notes, sorted between pages of legal documents, each with the

familiar signature in clean, round script. She'll be there today, the

uptown attorney with hair the color of fire, and wide, emerald eyes.

You decide that today's the day to make a casual gesture of

friendship, something you've put off far too long. Perhaps you'll

offer to buy her lunch, to celebrate the occasion. After all, you'll

be working closely together once your plan is a success.

You drive the hour's drive to work buoyed with confidence, as the

project folder lies carelessly forgotten on the kitchen table. You

smile as your thoughts turn to her, a new friend perhaps, and a

valuable one at that. You'll start with small-talk, then perhaps a

light touch with just a hint of intimacy. Such a small thing, really.

Why hadn't you done it long ago?

You think about how perfect your life is, and how you've made the

right decisions at every turn. And you marvel at how even the most

insignificant events, manipulated wisely and carefully to your own

advantage, have such power to change your life. Forever.

??????????????????????????????? True Love

???????????????????????????? by

Night Writer

????????????????????????????? I - The Dream

"Lie still Blair, and I won't hurt you."

She stands over you - she in her smart charcoal jacket and slacks, you

nearly naked, stretched out on your bed in black bra and panties,

wrists burning from the handcuffs fastened through the heavy headboard.

You can see in her green eyes that she's serious. A short riding crop

in her right hand guarantees it. She's partially undone her white

blouse, just enough to tease you with glimpses of her small, round

breasts tipped with pink nipples that reach out to you like tiny

fingers, rigid with the hope that you will misbehave, and she'll get to

use the crop on your smooth legs and belly.

So you stop struggling, pulling your bare thighs together and to the

side to avoid the crop, should it fall.? But you're still breathing

hard, eyes full of defiance, glaring at her for tricking you, for

breaking her promise to eat you.

She creeps onto the bed beside you, her face now so close to yours, her

short red hair hanging just low enough to brush the skin of your cheek.

You glance down her open blouse, wishing more than anything you could

suck one of her nipples between your lips and push against the hard

bead of flesh with the tip of your tongue.

"You must have wanted me very badly, Blair."

You think back, remembering how long you've lusted after her, the

weeks, then months that passed beforeyou could muster the nerve

to even make a friendly advance. Thenthis. Working together later

than usual one night at the office,lights low, desks all vacant, the

windows of an adjacent officebuilding sparkling like stars in the

night sky - she looked at you for along time, reached out to stroke

your hair, then leaned close, her lips moving against your ear.

"You can have me if you want," she had whispered. "You don't even have

to ask."

You remember the flutter that touched your stomach, and how your legs

opened under your desk when she kissed you. And that's all it took. You

were hers.

Silly you. Ready to play any game she suggested, if only you could have

her naked body against yours. So willing, that you placed both wrists

in the cuffs yourself, letting her snap them shut with a knowing smile.

You were in heaven while she stripped you, raising your hips so she

could tug at your skirt and stockings, not even caring when she cut

your new silk blouse from your body.

"Talk to me, Blair. Tell me what you want."

You're surprised by her demand, not sure what to say. She taps your

belly with the crop, just hard enough to get your attention. It stings,

but causes a flood between your legs at the same time.

"P-please," you stammer.

"Please what, Blair? Please beat me? Please eat me? Please fuck me? I

didn't know you were such a girly girl. Afraid to ask for what you

want? I expected you to beg. What a disappointment."

The crop comes down harder, across your ass, a forceful, lashing blow,

and you cry out, twisting away from her.

"Ahh, she speaks! Perhaps another blow will make her sing."

"Nooo!" you reply at once, fearing a more painful strike. "I'll tell

you - I'll tell you - please, please, eat me, fuck me, please..." Your

eyes tear as you beg her for the sex you've wanted for so long. But not

like this. Not like this.

"Spread your legs, Blair. Open them."

You do. You spread them wide, knees slightly drawn up, panty-covered

mound already showing a dark stain from your juices. You pray she

doesn't use the crop there.

She touches the plump mound with the tip of the crop, drawing it down,

tracing the length of your slit as it yawns wider, now soaking the thin

wisp of black cotton. The crop returns again and again, now with a

firmer hand, teasing your clitoris until your hips rise to meet it with

each touch.

"I knew you'd be easy. Such a slut. And to think, little miss perfect,

the icon of professionalism, a true example of today's career woman,

here in handcuffs, begging me to do all these nasty things to her.

Admit it, Blair. You're a slut at heart. You've always been a slut."

She raises the crop again, this time only a few feet above your cunt.

It hovers in the air there, waiting, waiting, for your answer, the

right answer.

"Yes!" you scream. "I am! A slut! Your slut! Please - no more - I'm

begging you!"

She smiles with satisfaction and places the crop on the bed. Then,

she's pulling your panties off your hips, down your spread legs, and

over your toes. Next, with a quick snip of the scissors, your bra is

gone, freeing your large, meaty tits. She licks her lips as they spill

from the black lace, flattening only slightly, proud and firm with

angry red nipples.

You watch, trembling, as she lowers her face between your legs, then

moan with relief when her tongue dips into your cunt. But her eyes are

on you again. She stops. Your eyes meet hers, pleading to continue.

You're too breathless to speak.

"Shall I finish you?"

"P-please," you whimper. "Oh God, please."

"You'll be my slut?"

"Yessss!"

"No more panties at the office?"

"Yessss!" you agree, too excited to think about her demands.

"And no bra as well?"

"Yessss!"

"And you won't mind if I tell everyone we're lovers?"

"I - I don't care, don't care at all, please..."

"My sweet Blair, you were born a slut, weren't you? Now, beg me to

eat you."

You beg her over and over. You admit anything and everything. Yes, you

were born a slut, and you'll die a slut.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...

And when her tongue rolls perfectly over your clit, too many times for

you to count, long after you stop begging, you cum long and hard,

screaming her name into the night as your body thrashes and pulls at

the cuffs above your head.

And you know you are lost. Forever.

??????????????????????????????????? ***

You're back at work the next day, sure she didn't mean what she said.

You wear both panties and bra, never thinking about the consequences.

Then she's behind you, running her hand over your ass, checking.

"You're a bad girl, Blair. You know what I do to bad girls."

You can't move. What if others should see her pawing you? Too afraid to

turn to face her, you reply softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

Her fingers trail between your legs from behind, making you squirm. She

pushes up against the wet spot already spreading over your tiny, white

cotton panties. You're afraid she'll go further, and afraid she'll

stop. So delicious, to be played with in public. You know you'll do

anything she asks.

"Take them off, Blair."

She couldn't possibly expect you to...

"No Blair, not here. Go to the ladies room. Take your purse. Your bra

and panties better be in it when you get back."

You don't move away until she stops fingering you. Then, without

question or hesitation, you do as she says. You feel so cheap as you

strip the panties and bra from beneath your slacks and blouse. You do

it quickly, before someone comes in, before someone discovers what?

you've become. Your small purse bulges after you stuff everything in.

A small piece of white bra strap escapes when you close the catch,

hanging off the side, unnoticed by you in your haste to finish before

you're found. Your nipples scrape the fabric of your blouse as you

hurry to leave. Glancing in the mirror, you see your tits bouncing as

you walk, hard points of your nipples straining against the sheer white

material that clearly shows two dark circles of your areola. The image

shocks you, and makes you wet at the same time. What will they think...

You hurry back to your office. She's there, of course. She tells you

how proud she is of you, how luscious you look to her, and how she'd

like to eat you, right then and there. But of course she doesn't. She

couldn't in front of all these people. Could she? You wonder if you'd

let her if she demanded it.

She pushes you into a corner where no one can see, works her hand down

the front of your slacks, and slides her middle finger into your

sopping pussy. You want her to keep it there, to take you in her arms

and masturbate you until you cum in your own office. Instead, she pulls

her hand free and offers the same finger to you, placing it lightly on

your lips. You open and suck. It's the first time you've tasted

yourself. But you'd do it again and again for her.

She leaves you, wet and wanting. She doesn't even speak to you, and

disappears without a word at the end of the day. You wonder if you've

displeased her in some way, but have no way of knowing. No sleep for

you this night. You toss and turn, anxious, troubled, and in heat for

her.

She's pleased the next day. Your slacks are light tan, and show clearly

that you're naked underneath them. You choose a silk top to keep your

nipples from aching, but hadn't counted on how the soft material would

collapse over your swaying breasts, showing them off in exquisite

detail.

You've earned a pet name.

"You look wonderful today, my little Pussy."

Pussy. You're insulted at first, but before long convince yourself it

fits. Like a glove.

At lunch, she closes your office door and fingers you again. You're

melting in her hands when she stops.

"You do it, Pussy. I want to watch. Do it till you cum."

You do your best to work your hand inside the narrow belt and

waistband, but soon give up and open the slacks, letting them slide to

your knees. Your fingers are soaked, plunging in and out of your cunt.

"Taste yourself, Pussy."

You bring your fingers to your mouth and lick them, one by one. She

watches, running her hand lightly over her meager breasts, breathing

deeply as she takes in the sight of you, the sight of a bright,

attractive woman slowly losing control of her life.

She takes a few steps toward you, nowclose enough to smell the musk

of your sex. The green of her eyes holds you with an unseen force,

powerful and paralyzing.

"Cum for me, Pussy. Show me how wetI've made you. Show me

everything."

You tug your panties over your hips and slide them to mid-thigh. The

soft, dark hair that covers your cunt is wet and matted. You plunge

your fingers into it again, desperate for your orgasm now that she's

given you permission. It doesn't take long. A minute, maybe less. She

sees your hips begin to thrust suddenly faster against your hand, knows

you've come to the edge, and covers your mouth with hers, muffling the

long, guttural moan that escapes from deep within your body. Leaning

into her, you finish yourself, savoring each precious second, holding

it, making it last until you're limp in her arms, panting like a bitch

in heat.

She's happy with you for a week, but then feels the need to dress you

in clothes of her choosing. She brings a large shopping bag to work one

day, full of your new clothes. And you wear them starting the next day

- clothes you would never have worn before - but for her, anything.

Tight, fitted blouses and sweaters with deeply cut V necks, showing off

your round, succulent breasts. Tiny, pleated skirts that barely fall to

your upper thighs, flaring to show your round ass every time you turn

too quickly. They can't keep their eyes off you in meetings. Even

trying your best to keep your legs tightly pressed together, sooner or

later you shift just enough to show a glimpse of the long, pink gash

between your legs, now shaved bare at her request. Men stare at you.

Women snicker behind your back when they think you aren't listening. A

week passes, then two.

Your boss calls you in for your annual review. He dismisses much of the

good work you've done. He stares at your tits. He tells you to work

harder. Longer hours. He's given your project to someone "more

appropriate." You struggle to hold back tears, forgetting to keep the

brief plaid skirt tucked between your thighs. He looks through the

glass desktop, down at your lap, where rounded inner thighs part to

reveal your cunt, freshly shaved this morning. He doesn't even pretend

to look away. After an hour, you've lost your office, and gained more

menial tasks - filing, copying...

By the time he's done with you, you wonder why you haven't been fired.

Then it comes to you. He's a man, just like all the others, just

waiting for the chance to stick his cock in you. You're an office pet

now. A curiosity, more suited to organizing office parties than to the

position that you worked so hard for, for so long.

But then she comes up behind you again, lifting the narrow pleats that

barely cover your ass, trailing her fingers deep into the space between

your thighs. Whispering, purring, in a voice meant only for you.

"Good Pussy. Sexy, hot, girly girl Pussy. You really do look good

enough to eat. And I am very, very hungry. I think I'll take you home

tonight."

And you start to cry. Not for your project. Not for your office. Not

even for your life. You cry because she loves you. You're absolutely

sure of it.

??????????????????????????????????? ***

Her apartment's spacious - tasteful, clean lines of glass and

gray. Not like yours - fluffy white pillows and fancy French doors.

She pours you a drink, white wine in a tall slender glass, then goes

to change. Modestly sized Rodin replicas dot the perimeter of the room,

each at rest on its own simple blackpedestal - cold, white,

flesh-from-stone women with faceshidden, lying twisted into shapes

that flaunt their bodies in the mostsensual ways. You're drawn to one

of them, a voluptuous female formlying with legs curled under her,

face nearly obscured by a river offlowing hair. You trace the lines of

her sinuous back and rounded ass witha single outstretched finger,

and worry that you may not be worthyof her collection.

She's back in minutes, wearing nothing beneath an oversized white

shirt, fastened at the front by a single button. Now she's all red

hair, green eyes, and full, wide lips atop two long, finely chiseled

legs that move so gracefully under her. You stare at her, not believing

she can be so beautiful, catching glimpses of the neatly trimmed patch

of red where the shirt-tails part.

She's as at home in the kitchen as she is at work, confidently wielding

a large knife to turn raw, fresh tuna into thin slivers of flesh, so

sweet in your mouth you would have never known it was taken from the

sea. You feast, until the wine has you both giddy. Between fits of

laughter she says your name. Then, in a careless, unguarded moment,

you tell her you love her.

She's still laughing a little when you tell her. She's unfazed, still

giggling, allowing a trickle of wine to escape down her chin. She

catches it in the palm of her hand, then feeds it to you off her

fingers.

"Come to bed, Pussy. We haven't had desert."

It takes her only seconds to strip you. The little skirt falls to the

floor, the sweater slips so easily over your head. She opens the only

button and the shirt slides off her shoulders. Her mouth is on you at

once, quick kisses over your neck, lashing your nipples and breasts

with her tongue, nibbling at your belly with gentle bites.

Then you're on her bed. She ties a long scarf around your neck, now

both collar and leash. Her hands guide you, turning you onto your

stomach, lifting your ass until you're on your hands and knees. A sharp

tug on the scarf and you turn your head back to look at her. She's

there behind you, eyes glittering. Thin, delicate shoulders and bare,

upturned breasts cause your pulse to quicken, your cunt to swell and

open.

She retrieves it from a drawer at the side of the bed, so long and

thick that you gasp when you understand. She fastens the straps about

her waist. It wobbles slightly, stiff, black, and glistening with

slippery jelly applied with the loving care you hope she shows you as

well. Taking her position behind you, she pulls your fleshy ass cheeks

apart, fingering the deep crevice lightly with a touch that drives you

mad. You feel her pulling at your inner lips, running their length over

and over, then cradling your swollen clit between thumb and forefinger.

At that moment you feel it breech you, stretching you where you've

never been entered before. It burns, until you learn to let it have its

way with you. Even then, as it fills you, inch by inch, you can barely

breathe. It's so large, a monstrous invader, filling you to depths you

could never have imagined. And when you cry out, begging her to stop,

she rolls your clit with fingers so skilled, everything else is

forgotten.

Eventually its careful entry and slow retreat increase in pace, until

she's plunging into you, pounding against you with her hips, shaking

your quivering body with savage thrusts. You grunt each time her hips

slam against your ass. Never have pain and pleasure held you so tightly

at the same time. Surrendering yourself so completely would be

terrifying, had it been to anyone but her.

The scarf tightens around your neck, and you raise your head in

surprise, suddenly struggling to get your breath. It pulls harder with

each violent lunge, choking you, causing you to gasp for each precious

ration of air.

"Do you love me, Pussy? Do you love menow?"

Her words are laced with sarcasm, almost vicious.

She pulls harder still, enough to keep your head back, your neck

strained to the limit. You're crying, never more unsure of yourself,

never more terrified, never more excited. She sees your tears and bends

over you, the nipples of her breasts now pressed into your back, her

free hand moving down your belly, finally making its way between your

legs. Even though impaled on the full length of the heavy phallus, you

breathe easier as you feel the welcome slack in the scarf. She finds

your clit and takes it between her fingers, milking it slowly, careful

to make you wait.

"How much do you love me, Pussy? What would you sacrifice to be with

me?"

Her voice becomes more threatening, the words uttered between clenched

teeth as she tightens the scarf once again, choking you, keeping you

from answering even if you had the answer she wanted.

"I want everything, Pussy. Everything you have, everything you are, and

everything you will ever be. Give me all that, Pussy. Give it to me.

Give it to me now. Give it to me now! Give it to me! Now! Now! Now,

Pussy! Now!"

She's shrieking at you, pulling the scarf tightly enough to stop you

from taking even the smallest breath. Pressing the rubber cock deep

into your bowels, she works your clit furiously between her slim

fingers. You slide over the edge, feeling your body twist into violent

spasms. Your cunt gushes, and you give up everything as a tunnel of

black closes in around you and swallows you whole.

???????? ???????????????????????????***

You wake in your own bed before the alarm sounds, legs tangled in damp,

wrinkled sheets.? Stretching, then throwing bare legs over the side of

the bed and yawning, as you do most mornings, you remember almost

nothing of your dreams.

The shower feels especially good this morning. You've made it as hot as

you can stand, and it brings your body to life. You choose your face

for the day - lipstick, mascara, all from a collection that litters the

counter top on each side of the sink. You choose carefully. It's an

important day. You'll pitch your project to the new client, and

everything has to be perfect. Then, after, a promotion, another step up

the corporate ladder, one you've worked so long and hard for. You've

put your work before relationships, and having a family of your own.

You never seemed to have the time. You know they call you ruthless,

driven, and words much worse. But who's laughing now? You've made your

plan, and unlike most, have had the brains and guts to see it through.

In the mirror, you try to see what your client will see. The navy

power-suit is the perfect choice, bought for the occasion. The smart,

tailored lines of the jacket and slacks show you off to the best

possible advantage - conservative enough to keep their minds on

business, yet showing enough curves to remind them that a woman's

hand has crafted a part of their future. Dark hair cascades over your

shoulders in thick, generous waves, cut and styled to perfection. A

few final touches of makeup and you're ready.

You find yourself staring at your reflection, held there in front of

the mirror. Something nags at you, something not quite right. You

open the jacket and run your hands slowly over the pristine white

blouse. Your hands pause over the fullness of each breast, then cup

them gently, unconsciously, as your eyes stay fixed on the mirror.

The minutes that pass seem like seconds to you when you button

the jacket to leave.

There's just time for a light breakfast and a quick review of your

notes, sorted between pages of legal documents, each with the

familiar signature in clean, round script. She'll be there today, the

uptown attorney with hair the color of fire, and wide, emerald eyes.

You decide that today's the day to make a casual gesture of

friendship, something you've put off far too long. Perhaps you'll

offer to buy her lunch, to celebrate the occasion. After all, you'll

be working closely together once your plan is a success.

You drive the hour's drive to work buoyed with confidence, as the

project folder lies carelessly forgotten on the kitchen table. You

smile as your thoughts turn to her, a new friend perhaps, and a

valuable one at that. You'll start with small-talk, then perhaps a

light touch with just a hint of intimacy. Such a small thing, really.

Why hadn't you done it long ago?

You think about how perfect your life is, and how you've made the

right decisions at every turn. And you marvel at how even the most

insignificant events, manipulated wisely and carefully to your own

advantage, have such power to change your life. Forever.

-->

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02.07.2021
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THIS STORY BY bigthighlover:I had been talking with this very beautiful sexy tranny from the southern part of the state for weeks and she told me she was going to drive up to Morgantown and check out the gay lesbian club Vice Versa on Saturday night so I decided to surprise her and be there I got there around 8 pm and got a table next to back wall in front of stage I could see from there desk the hostess set out and I watched for Steph to come in it was all most 9 pm and there she was walking...

Chapter Seven XHamster Profil for Love2Bused

Chapter Seven Xhamster Profile for Love2Bused After a quick thirty minute ride we pulled into a parking lot that looked like part of a biker bar. Right away my pussy started heating up just thinking about being used by a bunch of bad boy bikers. When Harold parked the bike he turned to me and asked me if I was sure I was ready for this? Looking Harold in the eyes I told him I have to be ready for this. My entire future is...

Chapter Five XHamster profile of Love2Bused

Chapter Five Xhamster profile love2bused It wasn’t long after that when Fred took me over to their frat house to meet with the guys. In the days leading up to this I kept going over and over in my mind what it was going to be like having men coming up to me and pointing their cocks at me and then jerking off in my face. I would imagining their cock heads being pointed so close to my face that I would be able to smell the pungent...

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Maggie Pintero was a beauty. The first time I saw her, she was wearing what I guess could best be described as a sundress, made of soft, light cotton with small pink and green flowers against a yellow background. Small cap sleeves, a low bodice that displayed the warm soft blush of her breasts, and a full gathered skirt that when she walked fluttered, whispering of the treasure beneath. I remember the dress so vividly because as a young man just graduating high school, our neighbor lady down...

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My husband was always a good guy, a bread winner who always came through for his family. He was very smart and seemed destined for more than a standard nine-to-five. Thus, it was no surprise when he invented something that he was able to sell and say bye-bye to the grind. The only surprise lay in how comfortable we truly were. It was like a whirlwind, buying a large, posh new home, new vehicles and a family vacation. We went from cold Ohio to the tropics for ten days. On the last night, our...

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she jumps at my touch,are you here i ask ?turns to me her eyes look past me yes is the reply,i move away from her hand reaching for me always usessex as distraction with intimacy ,with talking in general. you thinking about him again it goes unspoken between us affairs are wildfires burning fast all consuming and over too quicklyi've done worse to her ,and come back empty and emotionally drainedpart of it is the sex and majority is emotional guilt justifying the great sexnew body to...

Jilnar Jardalys Lesbian Lovefest

Hey, guys!By now you probably all know what a complete slut I am when it comes to cock. I LOVE cock! Nothing in this world is more important to me than cock. I crave it! Need it! Whenever I meet a man for the first time my thoughts immediately go toward his cock; how big it is, how it tastes, how good it will feel inside me &, most of all, what I need to do to have it!All my favorite masturbation fantasies involve many, many hard glistening cocks - especially those big, thick, long black...

Jilnar Jardalys Lesbian Lovefest

Hey, guys!By now you probably all know what a complete slut I am when it comes to cock. I LOVE cock! Nothing in this world is more important to me than cock. I crave it! Need it! Whenever I meet a man for the first time my thoughts immediately go toward his cock; how big it is, how it tastes, how good it will feel inside me &, most of all, what I need to do to have it!All my favorite masturbation fantasies involve many, many hard glistening cocks - especially those big, thick, long black...

LovelyLaura22

Title: lovelylaura22Rating: NC17Summary: Not k**ding. I keep getting these emails in my spam folder from "lovelylaura22" with the subject "Looking For A F-Buddy??" Well, what if this was the real thing?Always Jan got these email messages in his "spam" folder. Always he immediately deleted them without a single thought.But as Laura's birthday got closer and closer, he imagined that one of them did contain the real thing, that it really was from the Laura Dianne Vandervoort that he was in so very...

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for a long time I look at all the horny women here on the forum and rub my little willy in front of the monitor. Since no one can suffer me, my mother had always hung me as c***d sausages about the neck so that at least the dogs play with me. Now, I wanted to play along here so gladly and post also horny picture on the hamster. But from where should I take them? Not a single healthy woman wants to have me however. Therefore, I have ordered a whore from the lokal advertising. My Harz4 money has...

Chatting with Eddie Glover

Chat Night Guest: Eddie Glover On Monday July 19, 1999 6 PM PST Edited by Anne-Mal I arrived a little late in the middle of a conversation... (*Anne-Mal) So did I miss anything good? (Eddie) I'm ready for my close up Mr. Demille! We were just speaking on the joys of computer freezes or lack thereof! (Carrie_g) It becomes the cruelest editor. :) (*Anne-Mal) At least you are forced to rewrite! (Eddie) No problem. I'm not nervous or anything. Really. :) (Carrie_g) I...

sister lovex

This Story is pretty much true I came home early one time my parents where out but my bedroom light was on.I crept up stairs and looked through the crack in my door! What I saw has changed my life forever! My sister was laid on the floor with her legs up in the air totally naked playing with herself.I looked on eagerly watching through the crack in door and started playing with myself my phone fell out of my pocket. I bent down too pick it up and when I looked up my sister was looking at me. I...

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As long as I can remember I always had a hunger for a big hard cock. I'm not really sure when this all took place inside my body. I often wondered if I should have been born a female because I have female tendencies. It started when I was in the military that I had my first encounter with a big dick. I was staying in a hotel in San mataya with a friend and we were invited to a party. I was surprised when we got there that there was only men there. There was an...

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As long as I can remember I always had a hunger for a big hard cock. I'm not really sure when this all took place inside my body. I often wondered if I should have been born a female because I have female tendencies. It started when I was in the military that I had my first encounter with a big dick. I was staying in a hotel in San mataya with a friend and we were invited to a party. I was surprised when we got there that there was only men there. There was an...

Walk like a man A story of the Apolloverse

James William Casey did not know what happened. All he knew was that he went to bed one night with his wife in the two storey suburban home and woke up in Point Place Mercy General hospital's intermediate care ward. The machines beeped and their sensors felt strange on James' now enlarged and bulbous chest. Carolynne, James' wife stood in the room and looked at him. She clutched at the wad of Kleenex in her hand and listened as the dr. whispered to her. When he stopped talking,...

Her Tongue Tasted of Rye Whisky and Cloves

Cheaters never prosper, they used to tell me. I've made a life of cheating, and while I wouldn't say I've prospered, I wouldn't complain. My wife never really understood me. Hell, I never much understood her. But over the years, we managed to develop an "understanding". We don't pry too deep into each other's affairs, business or otherwise. I still remember the first time I broke those solemn vows to love no other but my lovely, frigid, back-biting, bitch wife. I mostly remember that girl's...

ShoeLove Preface I chuckloveinsta

Many think badly of shoe fetishists. Despite our opening up of society to the subject of sex and fetishism, we are for the most part very limited in what we subjectively view as "normal". But why is that so? Why is a man who finds only anal sex with a woman really satisfying any different from one who seeks physical and emotional satisfaction from a much more private and intimate object of his beloved? After all, let's think more about it - how long do we wear a pair of shoes on average? What...

ShoeLove Chapter 4 Jana I chuckloveinsta

Some time passed after the ski camp, what felt like an eternity. Tamara and Marie winked at me more often during class, but nothing more happened. Neither could I - as usual - go into the girls' cabin during physical education classes, as we had swimming lessons for this grade. Unfortunately, it was in the municipal bathing complex, where it was almost impossible to get into the women's changing room without being seen. To make matters worse, there were also lockers with locks, no, my chances...

ShoeLove Chapter 5 Antonia I chuckloveinsta

Each upper grade was allowed to go on a grade trip for one week. For most of them it meant being further away from their parents for the first time and being able to do what one wanted. In addition, you could choose where to go. There were different cities in Europe to choose from. I didn't really care which one I would take because I had already visited them all “privately”. So I simply chose it based on which other people would go with it. There was the group of the “cool” - those who mainly...

ShoeLove Chapter 1 Sabine I chuckloveinsta

Her name was Sabine (name changed). A cute mouse, about 1.60 m tall, very thin and brunette. Always in the front row, most would say she was a nerd. Basically no one liked her either - she was the one who would gossip about every matter to the teacher. I had known her since 5th grade, together with Marie (name changed). But this is another story. Now it's about the typical wallflower Sabine. Even her style of clothing was inconspicuous, almost boring. She only wore jeans or denim skirts, but...

ShoeLove Chapter 2 Ines I chuckloveinsta

It was a rainy winter day. New Year's Eve was long gone, but winter persisted in the rural area where our school was located.The school itself was actually quite nicely located, next to a river and a mountain with a small castle overlooking the panorama. A few weeks had passed since my last visit to the girls' changing room. At the moment I didn't even have the urge to know exactly what it was I couldn't pin down. Sabine hadn't really noticed it back then either. Sure - that the shoe was in the...

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