Business Trip_(2) free porn video

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I walked out of the restaurant to find that the heat of the
southwest desert plains had quickly dissipated after sunset. A dark sky
filled with cold pinpricks of light allowed the blanket of furnace-hot
air to rise and disperse. In the thinner air of the high altitudes,
little of the day's warmth would be left by dawn, and I would need a
jacket if I wanted to stay out in it. As it was, it was just
comfortable.

I glanced to my side and then the other and noticed that I was
alone.

"I'm coming, John."

I turned around in time to see the restaurant door swing closed
behind my dinner-date and traveling companion. She looked mildly
annoyed. "They had trouble running my corporate card through the
machine," she said, still holding the credit card in her hand.

"I could have taken care of it, Betty," I told her gently.

Betty frowned and shook her head after putting the card back in her
wallet and her wallet into her purse. "He got busy signals. Yours would
have had the same trouble."

"I would have just used my own and vouchered it."

She gave a wave of dismissal. "No need, it's been taken care of."

The tone of her voice made me suspicious. I had been working on
this project with her for the last three months, and in that time I
learned a lot about her mannerisms. "Oh? And just how did you do that?"
I asked, the smirk on my face and tone of amusement in my voice most
likely suggesting to her that I already had an idea.

Sure enough, she gave me an enigmatic smile and drew herself erect.
This was no trivial matter. Betty was a large woman. Not fat. Large.
Nearly six feet tall, big-boned, matron-bosomed, with black, frizzed
hair that surrounded her head like an aura. When she drew herself
straight like that, the term full-figured came to mind.

So did the word formidable.

"I simply used my womanly charms to convince him to use the older
credit card swiper," she stated regally, sniffing the air.

"I'll bet," I replied with a snicker. "Will I find him cowering
behind the bar if I went back inside?"

She snorted. "He caved immediately. What a wimp."

I laughed. "Come on, let's get back to the hotel before you do any
more damage. Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."

"Oh, you're no fun at all."

We must have looked the odd pair. She easily topped six inches over
me. Thin-boned and lean, I normally thought I looked pretty healthy and
fit, but next to her I was positively scrawny. It had led to some
humorous moments during the conference. "Hey, Betty, did I tell you
what, um, what's his name, the one that looked like a frog ..."

Betty smirked. "You mean Berkshire from the Los Angelos office?"

"Yeah, him. He asked me if we were married."

Betty gave one short barking laugh. "Oh, really? What gave him that
idea?"

"That's what I asked him. He made some embarrassed noises and said
something about opposites attract and went off. Have to admit, I was
glad to be rid of him. Even though afterward I was saddled with what's
his face from accounting ..."

"You're terrible with names, you know that?"

"Hey, what do I know? I'm a programmer and engineer, not public
relations. Why'd they think they saddled you with me to make the
presentation in the first place?"

A breeze blew up as we passed the side of the hotel, bringing a
deeper nighttime chill. I felt a shudder go through me. Betty didn't
seem to react to it at all. She was like a huge boulder; it was very
hard to move her without a lot of strength, skill, and leverage. I
relied on her for far more than just remembering names on this business
trip.

"Oh, I don't know," Betty said, her voice a little softer. "I have
to admit enjoying this partnership."

I looked at her. She smiled. From her that was a huge compliment.
"I /know/ why he thought we were married," I said with a grin. "He
pictured me as the henpecked husband and you as the domineering wife."

Betty laughed, sounding loud as it echoed across the park that sat
between the restaurant and the hotel on the other side. Rather than
walking to the corner and down the sidewalk along the adjacent side,
she started down one of the winding paths in the park. I didn't bother
pointing this out to her. She did nothing without a reason. "Now how
could he possibly get that idea?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? You practically ran that conference."

"Don't sell yourself short. You had all the technical details."

"Yeah, but I would have been lost trying to deal with all our
clients on top of the managers from the regional offices. Not to
mention you helped beat off the wolves when I got to the really
controversial proposals."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Business is business. And sometimes
people have to be told what's good for them." She paused a moment, the
smiled again. "Yeah, I guess I can see why he thought that. We worked
rather well together, didn't we?"

"I'd say so, yes. The company'd be crazy not to recognize it."

The conversation fell silent between us for a short while. The park
was largely deserted. It was not terribly late at night, but this part
of southern Utah was not known for its night life. The rest of Utah
wasn't exactly a social hot spot either.

We did find one other couple in the park. A real couple, not two
people that happened to be next to each other. They were seated on a
bench in the darkness between two adjacent street lamps, quietly
cuddling.

"You know, even the hotel person thought we wanted one room when we
arrived earlier," Betty remarked when we were out of sight of the
couple.

"Oh?"

"I had the feeling he was doubtful we were really there on a
business trip."

I snorted. "Well, not every company tries to cut costs like ours,"
I commented dryly. "I wonder who's brilliant idea it was to have us
drive back from Arizona to Denver instead of going back by air."

She shrugged again. "We can make it back by tomorrow night," she
said. "Anyway, it's kind of nice to see some scenery on the way back.
And I have to admit, the company's been good."

That was the first time I had heard her express any kind of
personal feelings towards me. I had naturally assumed that we were
getting alone well simply from lack of evidence to the contrary. Betty
was very good at letting you know when you were doing something to
annoy her, but slow to mention when you're doing something nice. "Thank
you," I said. "The feeling is definitely mutual. Although I'll be glad
to be back."

I made that statement automatically, without any thought behind it.
If I were pressed to give a reason for why I had said it, I would have
to say that it was expected in a conversation like this. Everybody is
glad to be back from a business trip.

"Have someone to go back to?"

The question surprised me enough that my mind refused to parse it
at first. "Come again?"

"Wife? Girlfriend? Mistress?" Betty asked.

I blinked, still nonplussed by her question. "Mistress?"

Betty smirked. "Whatever. We were working at such a breakneck pace
that I don't think we ever really talked about each other much."

I could have pointed out that that night was not the first time we
had had dinner together during our partnership, and that we could have
talked about it then, but I refrained. Instead, I replied, "No, not at
the moment."

I had hoped she would leave it at that, but trying to get Betty to
stop doing something was like trying to stop a bullet with a piece of
tissue paper. "Dating anyone?"

"Been too busy, I suppose," I replied. I hoped she would assume I
meant the time we were on this project and leave it at that. Truth be
told, I did not have much of a social life, especially with the
opposite sex. I had trouble relating to women. Betty was easy because
she was a business partner, and because she /was/ so formidable that I
would have been far too intimidated to even attempt anything with her.
All women intimidated me to a degree, but Betty topped the list, at
least where romance was concerned. Thus it never became an issue in our
partnership.

"I know how that feels," Betty said in a slightly more husky voice.

I caught a note of longing in her tone and decided to use it to
shift the focus away from me. "You have someone waiting for you?"

"Oh, not really. I don't date all that much. At least ... not in
the traditional sense."

"Oh?"

She was silent for a few moments as we passed a couple holding
hands walking the other way. The soft roar of running water drifted to
us as the path took us close to the creek that ran through the park.
"Let's put it this way, John. In some ways, Berkshire was right in his
assumptions about me. I do like to dominate."

"Then I would think you would have it made," I told her
half-jokingly. "I'm sure many men find you a little ... intimidating."

Betty snickered. "Yeah, but too much so, sometimes. It's real hard
when most of them won't even approach you."

"Catch twenty-two?"

She sighed. "In spades."

We were quiet for some time after that, the silence broken only by
the sound of the creek. I felt bad that I might have made her
depressed, even though it was her that brought up the topic in the
first place. I looked at her, but her face betrayed nothing. It held
the same hard look that she always carried when dealing with business
matters. I felt it best not to say anything. Nothing I could have said
would have helped matters.

We continued along the side of the creek until the creek took a
sharp turn away from the path, and the silence returned. I happened to
look back at Betty as a street lamp passed on my side. The
yellow-tinted light briefly illuminated her legs before my shadow fell
over them. Like the rest of her, they appeared large and formidable.
Again, not fat; they were simply in proportion to the rest of her. They
were still clad in the black stockings she had worn at the end of the
conference earlier that day.

With the pressure of the project deadline gone, I was starting to
see Betty in a different light. On the whole, when one got past her
large stature and aura of unapproachability, she was actually fairly
attractive. If things were different - if I were more comfortable with
women outside of a professional setting - I might consider pursuing a
relationship with her.

Suddenly the silence between us was deafening. And it was
unnatural, considering how well we got along together over the past few
months. But what to say to her now? There was no sense in talking about
business matters now. That really left only one alternative, despite
the fact that it might be a topic she didn't really want to pursue
anymore. What's worse, I now had a burning curiosity about something
that could turn out to be rather personal.

I had no other options, other than to endure the silence, which I
did not think I could do for some reason. "Betty, mind if I ask a
question about something you said a few minutes ago?"

She looked at me and shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"You don't have to answer if it's too personal."

She smirked slightly. "And when have you known me to keep something
to myself. Go ahead, ask away."

"When you mentioned before that you tended to ... well, dominate in
a relationship, I guess I was wondering what you meant."

Now that enigmatic smile of hers crossed her face, the kind of
smile that could make people cringe. Sometimes it even made me nervous.
"What do /you/ think it means, John?"

I hadn't expected her to put the ball back in my court. Now I knew
a little of how that Berkshire character felt. "I guess it could mean
lots of things," I said. "Could just mean you like to lead during a
dance."

"I don't dance. Try again."

"Or, um, it could mean you like to be the one to make the
decisions. You know, about where you go on a date."

"As I said, I don't go out on dates. Want another go at it?"

It was too late when I realized what I had gotten myself into.
Which was stupid, because I had in the back of my mind the idea that
this may indeed be the case with her. "There's really only one thing
left," I said with a bit of a weak grin.

"If that 'thing' is sex, then the third time's the charm."

It was a bit of a relief to have had her say it instead of me.
"Whatever floats your boat," I said, trying to sound non-committal.

"Now it's my turn to ask a question."

I should have expected that. "Sure."

"Do you date at all?"

Turnabout was fair play with her. It wouldn't be fair for me to
hold back when she was willing to reveal something personal about
herself. "Not really, no."

"Why?"

I shrugged, but I knew that was not going to be good enough an
answer, not from the way she was looking at me intently. "I have
trouble relating to women," I told her. "On a personal level, that is.
Professionally, no problem."

"Which explains why we got along so well," Betty commented. "And
what about now, with the business aspect of the relationship about
gone?"

I paused a moment to find the right words and failed. "Different."

Another pause. "Intimidating?" she asked.

"Yes. But it would be the same with any woman, not just you."

There was another bout of quiet between us, but not complete
silence. We were reaching the other side of the park, and I could hear
traffic from the street that ran between the park and the hotel.

Now she started to smile pleasantly again. "So intimidated you
won't come up to my room for a bit and have a drink with me?"

"A drink?" I asked, momentarily dumbfounded at the sudden shift in
the conversation. "You mean, as in alcohol?"

She smirked. "Of course, silly, what else would I mean?"

"How'd you manage that?"

"What's the big deal? Alcohol's not illegal in Utah, they just
regulate it more here. Restaurants have to have a special state license
for it, and many don't bother. You just looked annoyed earlier when you
found you couldn't get a drink at dinner."

I considered. I knew that she might have had another motivation in
mind. Perhaps she was indeed feeling a little lonely. In a way, I
suppose we were kindred spirits. Neither one of us could relate to the
opposite sex in a normal way. I had to admit that the idea of some
female companionship, even just for a nightcap, was an appealing idea.
Not to mention being able to get off the Utah government-imposed wagon.
"What have you got?"

"Just a small bottle of some good wine. Nothing really hard." She
gave a half-smile.

Even better. I didn't like having anything too strong in the
evenings. Yes, it would help me get to sleep, but I did not sleep as
deeply as I would have otherwise.

"I suppose I could do that," I replied.

"Good. You won't regret it."

And then she gave me another enigmatic smile.

Betty's room was similar to mine. It was just as spacious, as she
had used her natural "negotiating skills" to secure us two of the
better rooms in the hotel. As soon as I walked in, I saw the bottle of
wine sitting on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed.

Betty strode over to it, grabbed it from the table and presented it
to me. I automatically took it into my hands. It was Lambrusco, a
relatively inexpensive soft Italian wine. It was quite good; in fact,
it happened to be one of my favorites.

"Very good choice," I said, and tried to hand the bottle back to
her.

Instead, however, she backed away. "Let me get some cups for us,"
she said. "Why don't you go ahead and open it?"

She dashed away before I could react, heading into the bathroom
with her purse still slung over one shoulder. As I set the bottle down
on the nightstand, I heard the bathroom door swing closed behind her. I
thought nothing more of it. I simply assumed that she had to use the
bathroom.

I opened the bottle and took a seat on the sofa just as Betty
emerged from the bathroom carrying two styrofoam cups. She was no
longer carrying her purse, and somewhere in the back of my mind it
registered that I did not hear the toilet flush.

She reached the bottle in several long strides, as if some sense of
urgency was dogging her steps. I had been about to stand and pour the
wine for her, but I decided it was best to let her run the show. I
admitted to being mystified at her sudden burst of intensity, something
I generally saw only when she was working on something she needed to
get done.

Whatever it was, it all but disappeared when she finished pouring
the wine into the cups. With a much more relaxed gait, she brought the
cups over to the sofa, handing one to me and sitting down on the
cushion next to mine.

"Not much to be said for the presentation, I'm sure," Betty
commented with a grin.

"So long as it has alcohol in it, that's fine by me," I replied.

"In that case ..." She thrust her cup forward. "Here's to the end
of the conference."

I could definitely drink to that. I touched her cup with mine, and
the two of us took a long pull at the wine. Betty watched me over the
rim of her cup with eyes that had a sense of expectancy to them.

By now, I had a vague feeling that something was not quite right,
but I was not able to put together all the subtle clues to figure out
what was going on. Perhaps Betty was simply more desperate for
companionship than I had thought. I had the brief, wild thought that
she was hoping I was going to make some sort of advance. It only took a
moment to realize that was ridiculous. From what she had told me, it
was her that made the advance, and there was no clear sign she intended
to do such a thing. She had to know I would turn her down in any case.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

I nodded. "I've had this wine before," I said. But as my tongue
shifted in my mouth, I caught a very faint, acidic tang. I took another
sip of the wine, let it linger for a few seconds, and swallowed. There
it was again.

Betty had been about to take a sip herself when she stopped and
raised her eyebrows. "Problem?"

"Oh, no, not really. Did you get this wine today?"

"I've had it for a few days. Why do you ask?"

I nodded. That had to be it. "Never mind, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"The wine's just very slightly acidic," I told her. "I've had that
happen if the wine gets too warm."

"Oh, yes," Betty said, looking relieved. "I think I might have left
it in the car for a few hours the other day. That's probably it. I'm
sorry about that."

I shook my head. "Not a big deal. It's still a good wine." To prove
my point, I took another long sip.

Betty smiled. "I'm not much on wine myself. I tend towards gin and
scotch myself."

I made a face. "Can't stand either of them. I don't go much for
mixed drinks anyway."

She snickered. "Oh? You had no trouble with that Margarita the
other day."

"Now that's an exception. You always make an exception for a good
Margarita."

She grinned. "Did I ever tell you how I reacted when I heard I was
going to be working with you?"

"I can't recall that you did."

"I was sure it was going to be a disaster. I couldn't see two so
incompatible people in my life."

It was something of a relief to hear her say that. I had had
similar thoughts, though most likely for different reasons. To me,
engineers and client support never mixed. They couldn't; their agendas,
their focus, was just too different.

"I would have thought, though, that you might have seen an
advantage. You could have easily taken complete control of the project.
Isn't that more your nature anyway, to dominate."

"I suppose that's true, as far as it goes."

"Oh?"

"Business is a little different. I'm naturally aggressive in the
corporate world, but as for actual domination, I tend to apply that
strictly to matters of sex."

I had finished about half the cup of wine already. I found it easy
to drink fast when I was talking with someone at the same time, as I
tended to focus on the conversation and relegate my drinking to
autopilot. I was feeling a little flushed, like the blood was rushing
to my head. I did not think I had had enough to make me feel like this,
but perhaps it was because the tension had lifted.

"Sort of separating business from pleasure, I suppose," I
commented.

Betty smiled. "You might say that."

I felt a sense of vague discomfort below the waist and shifted in
my seat automatically to fix it. "I apologize for asking you such a
sensitive question in the first place," I said, still having a sense
that I needed to atone for pursuing the topic.

Betty shrugged. "I answered it, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but you didn't have to. I mean ... the fact that you
don't ... well, get much opportunity ..."

I trailed off, realizing that I was only making things worse. I
sighed and took a long pull of my wine, getting down to nearly the end.
Perhaps it would be best to simply finish it off and get back to my
room.

"Don't worry too much about me in that regard," Betty said. "I'm
going to rectify that problem quite soon."

As I downed the last of the wine, I was fully aware that something
was indeed amiss. I shifted in my seat as that sense of discomfort and
tightness came over me. Things moved in just the right way to alert me
to just what the problem was. For the past few minutes I had been very
slowly gaining an erection, and the way I had moved in my seat released
the pressure enough to allow it to complete its expansion, a long, hard
bulge in the crotch of my pants.

I was so surprised at the realization that I said nothing for a few
seconds. Why would I be having one now? While the topic of conversation
had turned somewhat to the matter of sex, there was nothing inherently
erotic being said. Sex was not even really on my mind that evening.

"Is something wrong, John?" Betty asked with a grin.

Did she know already? My pants were fairly dark-colored; unless I
brought attention to it, she might not see it. "Oh, nothing. I was just
thinking maybe I should get back to my room."

"Maybe stay just a few minutes longer," Betty said. "At least until
I finish my wine."

I nodded vaguely. Perhaps in that time my erection would abate.
I've sometimes woken up hard, or had a particular bumpy road induce
one, but they generally went away in a minute or so.

Yet instead, if anything, it seemed to get harder. I could feel the
pulse of my heartbeat in the shaft where it pressed against my skin.
Generally it took a great deal of arousal to get me that way.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Betty asked.

"No, not really."

"That's surprising. Most men would if they were that stiff."

It took a moment for my mind to believe that it had actually heard
her say that. I briefly entertained the notion that she meant something
else and was teasing me by using language like that, but the look on
her face destroyed that theory. "I, um ... I have to admit to being a
bit ... embarrassed," I managed to say. "I wasn't even thinking of ...
of anything."

Betty finished off the last of her wine and put the cup aside. She
gave me that smile again. "I know. But I was."

I struggled to understand what was going on. "Huh? That doesn't
make sense. And I have to tell you, I don't think ... I don't think we
could ..."

"We could. We can. And we will."

My penis was so swollen that it ached. "And what if I say 'no'?"

"Then you'll have that erection for the next eight hours."

"That makes even less sense. No one can have an erection for that
long!"

"They can if its been helped along a little."

I stared at her for a few seconds. Finally I managed to put it all
together. Closing the door of the bathroom; no toilet flush; her rush
to pour the wine out into the cups before I could see the inside of
them; the acidic aftertaste in the wine.

"You put something in my wine," I said stonily.

"Just an erection enhancer," Betty explained, grinning.

I thought furiously. "But I thought that stuff's not supposed to
work until you actually get ... well, excited."

"It's not Viagra," she said. "It's something else. An earlier,
somewhat more crude drug. But it won't harm you."

"How can you say that?" I said in a rising panic. "An eight hour
erection is enough to cause ... p-permanent damage."

"That's true. Unless something is done about it before then."

"So is that what this was all about? To send me to an embarrassing
trip to the emergency room?"

Betty smiled. "There's another way around the problem. If you have
an intense enough orgasm, you can lose the erection for a short time.
Have enough of them, and you'll give your cock enough of a rest to
avoid damage."

I rose to my feet. The cotton of my briefs rubbed the underside of
my shaft in a provocative way. "Then I'll return to my room and ...
take care of that."

"You'll never get them intense enough to do you much good," Betty
said. "But I can."

I knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing was to leave
her hotel room immediately and head straight over to the hospital. As
embarrassing as it might be, it was what I should do. And then call the
police and report Betty for what she had done to me.

I half-turned towards the door, but went no further.

"I only had the two pills with me that I gave you," Betty said in a
matter-of-fact voice. "And I'm not telling you the name of the drug.
The hospital won't be able to treat you without knowing which drug it
was. And it could take an hour or two to test you, more if they have to
send out to a lab, which they probably would in a rinky-dink little
town like this."

I turned back to her. I looked at her, with her self-assured,
relaxed position on the sofa, and that smile that could send shivers
down the spine of even the strongest and most willful man. I tried to
summon up hatred for her, or anger, but neither was quick to come to
me. "So that was the whole purpose of inviting me for a drink?" I
asked. "To make me have sex with you?"

I wanted her to laugh at me. I wanter her to humiliate me right
then and there, and give me an excuse, a reason to become angry with
her. I was lost as to why I was not simply furious with her. I was
angry at what she had done, risking my sexual health as she had, but I
found it difficult to become angry with her.

Betty did not do what I wanted. But what she did say explained
everything.

"I dominate the men in my life," she said. "I intimidate them, I
control them. You're intimidated by women when you try to approach them
as an equal. Have you thought, perhaps, that this is because you would
enjoy being dominated?"

I was too stunned to reply. What was more telling, however, was the
fact that I did not rush to deny what she had said.

She rose from her seat and came over to me. Without another word,
she began to undress.

Off came her blouse first. Two massive breasts swelled under a bra
that had to be at least an E-cup and 40 to 42 inches around. Even then
it looked like they were threatening to spill out the sides and top.
Her torso was thick, but her stomach flat.

Her skirt slipped off her wide, round hips. Her stockings came to
midway up her thighs, where a garter belt held them up. Her panties
were a small triangle over her crotch.

She reached around and unhooked her bra. Her breasts rolled out of
her cups, each movement of her body causing them to ripple. The nipples
were quite large and prominent, standing out erect, the darker skin
around them slightly puckered.

She pulled her panties down slowly, smiling mischievously at me as
her totally hairless crotch was revealed.

Finally, she removed her stockings. Some women often appear to have
great legs, only to find that their stockings were covering a multitude
of imperfections. Not so with Betty. Her legs were smooth as silk.

Now completely naked, she stood right in front of me. "Tell me,
John," she said softly. "Do you think you could bring yourself to touch
me now?"

I stared. If I hadn't been hard because of the drug she had fed me,
I would have been by then. She was stunning. I would never have
imagined that such a magnificent body lie beneath her business suits.
Her body completely redefined beauty. No fashion model could be built
like her and expect to have a career. But then no fashion model could
boast having so much more of everything that makes a woman a woman.
Betty had the solidity, the presence, that other women lacked.

I wanted to touch her, if for no other reason that to make sure she
was real. I could have. It would have been a simply matter to just
raise my hand and place it on her hip, or cup one of her breasts, or
caress her ass, or slide it between her legs.

But I could not bring myself to do it.

"You can't, can you?"

I shook my head.

"Do you know why?"

I couldn't answer. I knew the answer, but I couldn't say it.

"You're so intimidated by me that even my nudity, which
traditionally symbolizes a woman's submissiveness, can't compel you."
She smiled. "So now my nakedness becomes a source of power instead of
weakness."

I sighed deeply. "I have no idea what to say to that."

"Do you feel ashamed?"

Her question surprised me. But what surprised me even more was the
answer. "No, not really. Is that bad?"

She smiled. "Just the opposite. It means I was right."

"I ... I still have my doubts whether I would ... enjoy this."

"There's only one way to find out, then, isn't there?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"In general, anything I tell you to," she replied firmly. "Right
now, I want you to take off your clothes while I fetch a few things."

I complied. I took off my pants and briefs first, to relieve the
intense pressure there. My cock sprang out thicker and harder than I
ever remembered it being. It was also slightly purplish in color, like
when I occasionally wear a band around my scrotum to temporarily
enhance my erection.

Betty, meanwhile, went to the walk-in closet and returned with a
large satchel that she placed on the bed. She withdrew a pair of shiny
metal handcuffs from the satchel, which she casually swung from one
finger as she watched me strip.

"I should have figured on those," I commented as I shed the last of
my clothes.

"When I dominate, I do so totally," she explained. "Physically and
emotionally." She came up to me, glancing down at my penis, which moved
each time my heart beat. She smiled. "It's always the quiet, shy men
that have the nicest cocks."

"Um, thank you," I said. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Impatient to start?"

"You might say that."

"Put your hands behind you and turn around," she ordered.

I complied. She took one of my wrists in a very strong grip and
snapped one handcuff closed around it with the metallic zipper-like
sound of the lock finding its tightest fit. She did the same with my
other wrist. I noticed something odd, however, when she let go of me.
There was a lot more play in the chain than I thought there would be.

"Don't turn around," she said.

I heard her rummage through her satchel again. Then she was behind
me again, and reaching around to wrap something around my neck. For a
moment I panicked and thought she was about to strangle me, but it
turned out to be a collar of some sort. Then she pulled on the chain on
the handcuffs, forcing me to lift my wrists and bend my arms until they
were halfway up my back. Something tugged on the back of my collar,
pressing it against my throat. The pressure increased when she let go.
She had attached something between the back of the collar and the
handcuffs.

"That's a little uncomfortable," I complained.

She turned me around. "Oh, is it?" she asked, grinning.

"I guess this ... this is a little more than I was expecting."

"You could have resisted me at any time," she said. "Why didn't
you?"

"Because you probably wouldn't do anything with me if I did."

"Very true. But now we're almost ready to begin. There's just a few
more preparations. Stand at the foot of the bed, your back towards the
bed."

"What are you going to do?"

"You're not to question me," she said. "Or I may decide to punish
you."

The idea of being punished by her was both frightening and
exciting. The former won out, however, and I obeyed her.

"Spread your legs apart."

I did so. "I think I know what you're going to do," I said.

"Shut up."

She had not raised her voice, nor had she put any anger into her
voice. She had used the same moderate but firm tone she had been. Yet
it could not have been more effective if she had screamed it at the top
of her lungs.

From her satchel she retrieved two leather straps with buckles and
thick cord attached. She wrapped a strap around each ankle and tied the
loose end of the cord to the leg of the bed on that side, pulling it
taut. As she did this, she pulled my legs a little further apart so
that now I could remain standing only if I continued to stand erect.

Betty was not yet done with me. She came over with several brass
rings, varying in size from two to three inches in diameter. Each had a
hinge so that it opened on the opposite side, where a clasp could keep
it closed. A thin chain also lay in her hand.

She took one of the rings and carefully fit it around my testicles.
I felt a small shudder go though me at her touch, however non-sexual it
was right now. She tried out a second and then a third one, looking for
the right fit. Finally she selected on, slipped one end link of the
chain onto it, and closed it tightly around my testicles, the chain
hanging down about six inches beneath my scrotum.

Betty looked at me and grinned. "Just one more item, and we'll be
ready to start."

I refrained from comment, at least until she showed me what the
last item was. "You can't be serious," I blurted.

"Oh, but this is what will assist in making your orgasms most
spectacular," she said as she held the lead weight in her palm before
me. "Allow me to demonstrate."

It was then that I truly felt how helpless I was. I could only
watch as she carefully hooked the weight to the free end of the chain.
She slowly let her hand drop, and the weight tugged unmercifully on the
ring. I winced, expecting to feel as if she had just kicked me in the
balls. Instead, it stopped just short of that. I felt like my testicles
were about to pull free from my body, but the pressure on them, and the
angle at which it was applied, was not enough to bruise them.

"Can you feel how your balls are pulled away from your body?" Betty
asked.

"Quite well," I replied in a strained voice.

"You see, when you get close to climax, your body tries to pull
your testicles towards your body. If it can't get them close enough,
you can't orgasm. And the longer it takes you to get to orgasm, the
more spectacular it is." She smiled evilly. "Perhaps you need more of a
demonstration."

She stood off to the side. Her hand reached down and pressed my
penis against my belly. I moaned softly at her touch, realizing how
much I had been craving it from the start. She used two fingers to
vigorously stimulate me right at the most sensitive spot about a third
the way down the shaft from the head. I normally did not care for this
kind of hand job; it was over with too quickly. I felt myself rise very
quickly to climax.

I groaned loudly as the feeling of urgency increased swiftly,
approaching the point where I would crest over into orgasm. I grew
close to climax, right at the point of no return, or what should have
been. Yet as she continued to stimulate me, I would not crest.

Her fingers continued to move in a steady, circular rhythm. "This
will drive you crazy before long," Betty commented with a smile.

I tensed every muscle I could and my penis throbbed once, a single
small drop of semen oozing out, but that was it. "If I lifted the
weight, you'd orgasm instantly," Betty said. "Would you like me to do
that?"

"Y-yes ..." I groaned.

"You would like me to make you cum?"

"Yes, please ..."

"Say it, then."

Ever close but not over. She was right, it was maddening. I knew
what she was doing. This was a rite of passage. I knew and she knew
that this was the point of no return. I had let myself be manipulated
by her, placed in a position that rendered me physically helpless. Yet
this was not the same as submissiveness. For that, I had to surrender
any last bit of will or defiance that I had in me.

If this had been an hour ago, and I was simply asked point blank to
participate in this, I would never have done it. But once I allowed
myself to be drawn into it, it seemed so natural as to be frightening.

"Please make me cum," I begged.

She smiled serenely and tapped at the weight with her toe, making
it swing slightly. The shifting pressure on my testicles made my penis
throb once, but no climax. "Would you say, John, that I control your
orgasms?"

"Yes ..."

"Say it."

I swallowed. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, but I was beyond
caring. "Y-you control my orgasms."

"And there's a reason for that. You no longer own your cock. I own
your cock. Say it."

"You own my cock."

"And since I own it," she said in a softer voice. She stopped
stimulating me, letting my penis drop until it was standing straight
out from my body. Her fingers caressed my testicles, the skin taut from
the tug of the weight. She reached down and grasped the chain, pulling
on it so that I no longer felt the pull. "I'm not obligated to make you
cum when you want. I'll make you cum when /I/ want."

At no point in my life had I been so desperate to have my penis
touched. A light touch for just a few seconds would have been enough to
send me over at that moment. The realization hit me hard who was in
control now, and that I had given it to her.

I looked up at her, and as I did, she slowly smiled. "Do you see
now, John, what I meant?" she asked. "Do you see that this is how you
were meant to relate to women?"

"It's ... it's still very hard to admit."

"No need. You already have."

She let the chain slip from her fingers and the weight tug at my
testicles again. I glanced down at them. They looked swollen, as if the
repeated stimulation of my penis had caused some sort of backup in
them. It was probably my imagination.

Betty passed out of my view briefly, and I heard he in the satchel
again. She returned with something that looked like a small plastic egg
about two inches in length, with a wire snaking out of one end of it
that led first to a switch and then to a transformer. Two leather
straps were also attached to the egg.

She strapped the egg tightly to the underside of my penis near the
base. She took the transformer out of view behind me and I heard her
plug it into the wall. Still behind me, she picked up the wire. There
was a click, and the plastic egg began buzzing softly as the vibrator
inside it started.

In less than a minute I was hanging at a point short of climax, not
quite as close as before, but enough so that the effect was
excruciating. "I don't know if I can take this much longer," I told
her.

"You don't have a choice," Betty said. "You /will/ take it, and
you'll take it for as long as I want. In the meantime, you're to please
me."

She picked up the footstool that sat next to the dresser and placed
it in front of me. She stepped onto it, and all at once my view was
filled with her massive bosom. I could smell a faint aroma from her
skin, a combination of her perfume and perspiration. The nipples on
each breast were even more prominent than before, standing at least a
half-inch erect.

For a moment, my predicament was forgotten. She grabbed the hair in
the back of my head and pushed her left breast into my face. I couldn't
breathe for a few seconds, until my mouth found her nipple and my lips
closed around it. She then relented enough for me to draw in breath
through my nose.

I sucked lightly and drew more of her into my mouth, filling it
with the slightly salty taste of her skin. I heard her moan softly. I
licked at the nipple, still astonished by how large it was. I could
actually hold it firmly between my lips, flicking at the tip with my
tongue.

I felt her grip tighten on my hair. "Suck it," she demanded in a
husky voice.

I drew it into my mouth again, squeezed it tightly with my lips
curled over my teeth. I licked at the nipple, and I decided to try
something. I closed my mouth further and inhaled as strongly as I
could, drawing her nipple nearly to the back of my mouth.

Betty drew in her breath sharply and moaned deeply. I felt a
shudder pass through her. "That's it," she hissed. "That's the way to
do it."

I should have realized from the start what she wanted. She did
nothing halfway. She experienced everything to the extreme. Despite her
desire to dominate me (and now, as I slowly admitted to myself, my
desire to be dominated), she wanted it rough.

I sucked her nipple into my mouth again, and as I let it go this
time, I let my bare teeth just lightly catch it. With a quick twitch of
my jaw, I gave her a small bite.

Betty's body jerked, briefly smothering me with her breast. "You're
... a bold one, aren't you?" she said in a slightly breathless voice.
"If I hadn't enjoyed that, you might be in some serious trouble right
now."

I felt I was already. My penis was driving me insane. I went at her
breast voraciously, driven by the need to distract myself. After
awhile, Betty withdrew her left breast from my mouth and presented the
right breast for me, and I repeated the entire thing.

Finally, panting, Betty pulled away and stepped off the stool. "My
god that was good," she said.

With the distraction gone, I was about at the end of my wits.
"Betty, /please/ let me cum!" I cried.

Betty recovered and smiled. "What did I say about your cock?"

I groaned. "You ... you own my cock."

"Which means?"

I swallowed. "You decide when I cum."

Betty's smile turned more friendly. "You impressed me with your
skill. I think that deserves a little reward."

I had thought that it meant she was going to simply lift the weight
and let me climax. Instead, she turned off the vibrator - which was
something of a small relief in its own right - and removed it from my
penis. Then to my surprise, she knelt in front of me and took my penis
into her mouth.

Never had I felt such a skilled tongue in my life! It moved in ways
around my penis that I did not think were anatomically possible. I did
not expect Betty to even desire to do this, since it's generally seen
as a type of submission to the male, especially in this position. Yet
when I thought about it, it made sense; she was doing it completely by
her own choice, and not mine. I had no option other than to accept it.

Suddenly, the weight on my testicles was gone, and my penis
exploded.

The first throbs were so intense they seemed to reach up into my
belly, and I felt a slight twinge of pain in my PC muscle with each
throb. Betty pressed her fingers hard in a spot just short of my anus,
and I nearly fell over from the intensity of the convulsions of my
prostate. I felt myself shoot load after load of semen into Betty's
mouth, and her throat worked as she swallowed. Each time, just before
she drew back to swallow, her mouth clamped around my penis hard,
coaxing it to give up more.

It was the longest and most intense climax I had ever had. I would
have collapsed to the floor if Betty had not stood and grabbed my
shoulders after I had finished throbbing.

Betty looked at me and smiled. "Now wasn't that worth the wait?"

I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Every muscle in my body
seemed to ache. "Good lord, yes," I cried. "I never had anything like
that before."

"And it looked like it did the trick, also."

She pointed downward. I looked at my penis. Very slowly, it had
started to soften and lose its erection.

I gave a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm not so sure I could take that
again, no matter how pleasant it ultimately was."

Betty gave me an evil grin. "The drug I gave you is still in your
system. Before long, it's going to make you hard again. In fact, you
won't really completely go flaccid this time around."

I looked down again. My penis appeared to have already stopped
softening. It was hanging in a state between flaccid and hard, like it
sometimes did as I was getting aroused. I closed my eyes and groaned.

"However, I am not completely cruel," Betty said, lifting my head
by the chin so I was looking into her eyes. The contained a compassion
tempered by mischievousness. "I will free you, except for your
handcuffs, so you can stretch a bit."

Betty released the cuffs around my ankles and removed the collar
and connecting chain to my handcuffs. My legs screamed in pain when I
tried to move them at first, having stiffened from being locked in
position for so long. My arms also hurt when I unbent them as much as
the handcuffs would allow, which was enough to stretch the muscles a
bit since there was some play in the chain connecting the cuffs.

"Walk back and forth a few times," Betty suggested.

I was already doing so, and slowly the pain abated, replaced by a
general tired ache. By the time I felt I had worked enough of the
stiffness out of them for it to be tolerable, I noticed that my penis
was becoming hard again.

"We'll need to wait a little bit before you're ready to respond
again," Betty said. She sat down on the edge of the bed and spread her
legs wide. As I had noticed before, her crotch was completely hairless,
not even so much as stubble present. The labia were perfectly formed,
and as she spread herself, I could clearly see her glistening clitoris,
swollen and extended, larger on her than on most women, which seemed to
be very apropos for her. "In the meantime, I have another way in which
you can please me. Come here."

I crossed over to her, and found that I was eager to oblige her in
what I know she wanted me to do. As I knelt between her legs, she
grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at her. "Just like with my
breasts, I want you to be aggressive," she warned. "Don't disappoint
me, especially here."

"It might be easier if I could use my hands as well," I told her,
my voice strained from the angle she held my head.

Betty smiled evilly. "You use nothing but your tongue for this. In
fact, get used to this now. You will never touch me with your hands.
Only your tongue and lips, and - if you're good - maybe your cock as
well."

She leaned back slightly, pulling my head with her and pushing my
face into her waiting pussy. At once my tongue was pressed against her
clitoris, and I started licking at it like a man dying of thirst.

"Very good, but don't neglect the rest of me down there," Betty
said in a husky voice.

I responded by thrusting my tongue into her vagina as far as it
would go. When I slid it over her clitoris again, it carried a thick
coat of her fluids. She pressed my face into her mound more firmly,
causing her fluids to smear over my lips and nose. The strong aroma of
her sex filled my nostrils, overwhelming my senses.

Despite how much is written about it, it is actually quite
difficult to take a woman's clitoris into the mouth. Most are simply
not large enough, or do not protrude enough. Betty's, however, was
different. I could take it between my lips and suck it into my mouth
and play with it with the tip of my tongue, all of which brought
approval from Betty in the form of deep moans and shudders.

Betty had to be the most sensuous woman I had ever met. Previous
partners - the few that I had had - never vocalized or responded as
strongly as she. I used to think that it was because my performance had
been lackluster, which had only served to make dealing with women
harder. But perhaps I simple had not met the right woman.

I suddenly noticed Betty was panting. "That's it ... keep going
..." she gasped. Her back arched. "Don't stop ... don't ... oh my
/god/!"

Her whole body seemed to convulse, and her legs threatened to clamp
around my head. And like with everything else, she did not experience
her orgasm halfway, either. Her entire body rocked with her throbs,
which I could feel as palpable contractions in her vagina. I teased her
clitoris lightly through her climax, which made her shudder again.

She let go of my hair and collapsed fully onto her back.
"Magnificent," she breathed.

I was almost as pleased as she was. I had never been told that I
had satisfied a woman so well. "I am glad you found me satisfactory," I
said.

Betty propped herself up enough so that she could look at my face
and smirked. "You may sound pretty low-key about it, but you look like
the cat that ate the canary."

"Let's just say that I'm beginning to see the merits of this
relationship."

With a groan, Betty rose into a seated position. She reached into
her satchel and came up with a towel. "Stand up," she said.

She used the towel to gently wipe my face clean, and then motioned
for me to sit next to her. "We're going to be at this most of the
night, you realize."

"I understand. I'll try not to pass out before it's over," I
commented, only half-jokingly.

"You'll hold up just fine. In fact, you're already holding up much
better than my ex-boyfriend." She sighed. "He could barely go for two
hours before having to give up."

"The drug in my system does tend to be a motivating factor."

"I want you to know that I don't usually operate like that," Betty
explained. "But when I met you, and got to know you, I knew early on I
wanted you."

"You're joking," I said flatly. "You have to be."

Betty grinned. "Oh? Why?"

"No woman wants me that badly."

"But have you been looking for the right woman?"

It was uncanny that I had only been thinking that myself just a
little while ago. But then the other implications of what she had said
came to me. "Wait a minute ... you had been planning this for some time
now?"

Betty smiled and nodded. "When I want something, I go for it."

"But you suggested you never used the drug before."

"I've used it before, just on more willing men. Well, willing more
or less," she said with a knowingly glance. "But this is the first time
I did it on the sly. I didn't want to risk rejection."

She meant it. For all her aggressiveness and shotgun approach to
romance and sex, I could see in her face that she would have been very
hurt if I had turned her down.

"Many people think that because I do this I don't care," Betty said
in a softer voice. "I do. Just in a different way."

I nodded slowly. "I think I'm beginning to understand you a little
better," I said.

She looked at me. "Enough to consider moving in with me when we get
back to Denver?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that at first.

"I care for you, John," Betty said. "I have for some time. I don't
want to see you hurt anymore trying to make relationships with women on
a level that just doesn't work for you. I want you with a woman that
will appreciate you."

I had never known her capable of such tenderness. It was making it
difficult to say "no". I wasn't so sure that /I /wanted to say "no".
And truth be told, I felt something for her as well. This whole setup
was quickly turning from something that I had been forced to do into
something that I wanted to do.

"Will it mean more nights like this?" I asked with a slight smile.

"If you mean more drug-induced erections, bondage, kept just short
of orgasm until you go nuts, and punishments when you fail to please
me, then the answer is 'yes', more nights like this."

I had to smile. "You haven't managed to show me what punishment is
like."

Betty returned it. "You haven't given me any reason to yet."

"And if I did? What would the punishment be?"

"You'll just have to find out for yourself."

I considered this for a few moments. "In that case," I said
finally. "Maybe you don't own my cock after all."

Betty grinned in understanding. "Oh?" she said, giving me that
chilling enigmatic smile.

It very nearly made me lose my nerve. "Yes, that's right," I told
her. "You don't own it. You don't control anything about me."

She stood up and towered over me as I remained seated on the edge
of the bed. "And here I thought you were a quick learner. It looks like
I'll need to use some stronger methods."

"Do your worst," I told her.



Never had I more regretted something I had said than that night.

I don't know how she had done it, but she had managed to convert
the door of the closet into a torture device. I hung upside down with
my back against the door, my legs spread, each ankle wrapped in thick
leather restraints. Wide straps attached to them ran over the top of
the door and were secured somehow on the other side, holding me with
the top of my head inches from the floor. The metal ring was clamped
around my testicles once again, its chain also disappearing over the
top of the door and secured so that it was as taut as when the weights
were on it (which made me hope that the straps on my ankles did not
break!).

But this was not the worst of it. The vibrator was strapped to the
base of my penis again, buzzing away, driving me again close to orgasm
but not over. This time, however, this was a blessing. A rubber tube
had been attached to my genitalia such that the head of my penis was
snugly inside it. The other end of the tube was in my mouth, attached
to a ring gag that kept my mouth forced open. The tube, though
flexible, had been cut to just the right size so that it was pulled
straight.

The most amazing thing about this is that it took her no more than
a half hour to set up.

Betty had left me like this for awhile, until, I imaged, the
stimulation of my penis was driving me wild again. Now a saw her come
into view, placing the step stool next to me. She was carrying a
plastic ruler that she slapped loudly against her hand as she gave me a
malevolent grin.

She reached around the back of the door, still watching me. I felt
her tweak the chain that was attached to my testicle ring, feeling its
tug against my genitalia. For an instant I thought she had sent me
over, for my penis throbbed once, and I braced myself. But nothing came
down the tube into my mouth.

"You have a choice," Betty said. "I can release the chain, and
you'll climax and eat your own cum."

The thought of that sent a shudder through my body.

"Or ..." She climbed on the step stool. She lightly caressed the
bottom of my left foot with a corner of the ruler, making me squirm.
When this only served to mess with the tension on the chain, allowing
my penis to give another half-throb, I relented. "Or I can show you how
using the foot instead of the ass is a far more effective form of
spanking."

I groaned. With the apparatus in my mouth I could not give her a
coherent response. This gave new meaning to the words "caught between a
rock and a hard place".

Betty suddenly gave the ball of my left foot a smack with the flat
of the ruler, giving resounding crack and causing a brief flare of
pain. The stinging sensation lingered for a few seconds before fading.
"Think you could stand that?"

I tried to nod as much as I could.

She smiled and tweaked the chain again. "Or would y