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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Renee Rocco
Top Hunt © 2008 Jennifer Campbell
eXcessica publishing
All rights reserved
Top Hunt
By Jennifer Campbell
Chapter One: Casting the Die
Hands touching the smooth concrete floor, my long, supple legs spread wide apart, I breathed in slow gulps in the semi-darkness. The thick mane of my midnight-black hair hung down, nearly touching the dungeon floor. My smooth, black leather wrist and ankle cuffs were fastened to rings set in the dungeon floor exposing my naked pussy, and bottom hole to my Master.
My soft neck was encased in the expensive, red leather collar that I loved so much. This collar, it always made me feel like the slave I craved to be. A ring, made of hard rubber, had been forced into my mouth to gag me, and to make the warm wetness available at any time to my Master. The gag forced me to slur my words, and I could not close my mouth, thus saliva began to drip to the floor. Two clamps connected by a thin silver chain, bit into my fat brown nipples, causing my round C- cups, to be pulled down into a distended, uncomfortable position, by two weights which hung from the chain.
Through my spread legs, I could see my top, Ned, working hard on warming up my taut, lightly-tanned backside. Looking purposeful, he flailed away, his wavy, blonde hair and grey eyes concentrating on his task. With his jutting chin raised high up, to indicate his superiority over me, his lowly, groveling slave, and the well-defined muscles of his chest flexed deliciously, as he worked on my bottom.
There were times, and this being one of them, I just needed to watch him work on me. This always helped me to get closer to mentally wrapping myself in my submission. I could feel myself getting wet from the combination of the sensuous pain of Ned’s flogging, and the anticipation of what was to come.
“Are you wet yet, slut? Ready for your Master’s cock.”
“Ees, Masa. Is save eed ou now.” Knowing my words were slurred, I waved my butt under the flogger, hoping he would take me. Either hole, it did not matter, as long as it came fast, hard, and his choice.
He slipped a finger into my sopping pussy to confirm his suspicions that I indeed was very ready. Tossing the flogger aside, he took up the work of chastising my bottom cheeks with his hands. As the crisp smacks rained down, I turned my head, and looked at him coyly, flashing my coffee-brown eyes. More verbal degradation was on my mind, as I love the naughty talk. Ned knew that, as many times before he had given me verbal abuse. I wanted him to call me a slut, cunt, or whore, but tonight he did not give me what I craved.
“Pease, Maser, uck me.” My sweet, innocent slave voice cooed, knowing it would make Ned rock-hard.
He stopped the spanking, and then his hands were all over my rosy-red ass cheeks. He kneaded and squeezed them as if he were trying desperately to feel the heat of his work.
As anal play is delicious to me, I pushed my punished bottom back against his latex-covered crotch, begging for something in my bottom. My sore cheeks rubbed against the smooth rubber, in a silent plea for him to take my tight anus. I was so ready, for him to do whatever he wanted to do with me.
“That’s just like a slut-slave. Offering me your rear hole as soon as I get close to it. Look at you, practically begging for meat in your ass.”
Turning my head, I nodded my agreement with his assessment of my sluttiness.
He spread my cheeks with one hand, running his fingers up and down my crack, touching my crinkled hole. Then, his digits went under me and danced lightly over my labia lips, touching my clit. Suddenly, his hand retreated from my needy pussy, but he spit on my rear orifice, making me pulse with the anticipation of an impending anal invasion. Ned slipped a finger past my rubbery ring, pushing it in all the way.
“Is that what you need, slave, or do you want more?”
Thinking of bigger, deeper things, I was instantly disappointed. This is where Ned and I diverge in our BDSM play. Ned needs, or perhaps, just cannot get past, having to ask me for permission every step of the way during play. Despite my persistent encouragement to take the wheel and dominate me, he has been unable to cross that bridge. It’s possible he is truly uncomfortable with my deeper desire for complete submission. Assuring him I would use my safe word, ‘red,’ if I were ever in real trouble, has not given him the courage to take full mastery of me. We still plod along, with him verbally checking in with me every step of the way. To me, it has gone past boredom to frustration.
Ned was my first true top, teaching me the ropes, no pun intended, but I knew I was moving beyond him. Together for two years, since I first came to the club, we had progressed though many levels together forming a bond. However, this bond had become shaky, as I had begun to crave so much more domination than he could give. Diverging, Ned and I were headed down separate paths, and it would only be a matter of time before I would have to tell him. Right now, if I wanted his rigid shaft, I would have to use my slave voice to beg for it.
“Ees, Maser, it eels so good. Ore!”
In other words, I thought, go for it, Ned. Plunge your shaft deep in my rectum and pound me until I scream for mercy. Spank my flanks like a stow steed until I am forced to use my safe word. Use me, ride me hard, put me away wet and thoroughly satisfied. Make me know you are my Master.
Ned gave me a sad parody of my desires. Gently inserting a second finger in my rear hole, he bent over to lick my aching cheeks.
There I was, a beautiful, sexy, twenty-nine-year-old woman bent over and bound. I was offering up my butt to him, virtually begging him to ream it, but I could not make him take me. The yearnings I felt so deeply simply did not translate into action with Ned.
Anticipation leaked out of me, in the form of a sigh, because I knew frustration would be on my plate again tonight. This was just another bell, like many before it, tolling out the news. Ned would not be the dominant to take me where I wanted to go. For Ned to take me where I needed to go, he would have to be led by my hand, and this would defeat the purpose. Feeling deflated, I told myself to just calm down and try to enjoy the rest of the session, while promising myself I would deal with the situation after we were done. However, try as I might to relax and enjoy, I could not, as my mood was well and truly ruined. Ned finished his anal probing with no idea how upset I had become.
“Well, slave, what part of your lovely body will you offer up to your Master next?” He leaned his latex-covered body over me, the rubber sticking to my soft, sweaty skin.
Feeling him so close should have been sensuous; firing me into further pulsing excitement, but all I could think of was his indecision. Never had he needed this much direction before. What the hell was up with him tonight? Did he want me to get up and fuck myself? No more leading him by the hand for me tonight, I would say nothing more.
“Master could put something big and hard in your pussy, slave. Would you like that?”
Yes, Ned, I would love you to pound my pussy mercilessly. You could clamp and stretch my labia’s lips until I screamed out red from the sheer, undiluted agony of it. You might cane my sweet bottom and smooth thighs until I am a striped animal quivering under your command. You have the power to play with my engorged clit until I am on the razor’s edge of my climax, teasing me to frustration, and then slapping the sensitive nub to deprive me. You could do any of those things with my body, but you have to decide to do them. Take control now or lose me.
Suddenly, the sound of the zipper on Ned’s black latex pants filled me with hope. Maybe, just maybe, he would come through for me this time. The head of his erect cock rubbed up and down over my oh-so-ready gash. The realization hit me, pins and needles in my tummy, not because he was about to shaft me, but because he might just do it because he wanted to.
Gently, like he was screwing a glass statue, Ned slid his flesh pole part way into my pussy.
Groaning in utter despair, I knew I would be disappointed. Was even a good, hard shafting to be denied me?
“There, is that what my slave needs, or would you like your Master’s cock deeper inside you?”
Shit! That was it. Game, set, match for Ned and me. After tonight we were finished, he would get his walking papers. Disappointment and anger burned inside me, and I would remember it when it came time to cut Ned loose. The words would be easier to say later, if I remembered my feelings now. There was no response from me to his question, and only then did he begin to suspect something felt wrong.
Only the sound of our combined breathing, and the wet squishing sound of my pussy wrapped around his slow-stroking rod of flesh could be heard. No attempt was made to get me off, as he usually did, which was okay with me. Likely I was too upset to have a good orgasm anyway. Since we were well-established play partners, Ned would normally climax inside me, but this time, as further sign of the growing tension, he withdrew, spurting his semen over my chastised butt cheeks.
Without speaking a word, Ned completed the work of releasing me from my bonds, and removing the clamps from my nipples. The tension was thick, as I stood up and stretched out, flexing my back, and rubbing the blood back into my smarting nipples. Since we always talked after, about how things had gone and what we had felt, I knew not speaking a word or looking at him, would make him crazy about my silence. However, I wanted to wait until we were dressed and ready to leave before I lowered the boom, so I strutted to the dressing room with Ned following behind. We showered and dressed together, as we always did, but the awkward silence remained. Dressed now, in my tight, black A-line skirt and powder-blue silk blouse, I was startled when he came to me.
“Sorry, Jen. Off my game tonight. Got bad news in the office today, I’m not getting the big promotion. Promise, I’ll be better next week.” Hanging his head low, I could tell he felt embarrassed both about his performance tonight, and having to tell me why. However, I did sense he wanted to fulfill his promise to be better next week, but could he?
At least now, I knew the reason for the extra indecisiveness Ned had displayed tonight. Unfortunately for him, as it came too late, his excuse made no difference at all. Ned was not the top I needed and it would only be stringing him along if I chickened out of giving him the bad news now. Looking into his apologetic grey eyes, the same eyes I had looked to for direction when I was a newbie to BDSM, I changed my mind about just discarding him. Keeping him as a friend, confidante, perhaps a vanilla lover if I needed, seemed a better idea.
“No next week anymore for us. Sorry if you’re disappointed, but I need to move forward in a new direction. If you haven’t noticed, I’m craving submission more and more. Need someone tougher, stricter than you, to go where I need to. You were my teacher, my first top. You broke me in, baby. Sweet memories, I have, of our beginning. I’d like us to be friends still, if you like?” Keeping my voice soft and low, like a lover, I wanted to tempt him. While he might not be the dominant I wanted he might be a great friend, and I owed him for breaking me in. Pushing my breasts to his chest, I wrapped my arms around him for comfort, as I no longer felt my previous anger toward him.
No question in my mind, he knew this moment was coming. A fatalistic look came over his eyes, but he did not argue or try to dissuade me from my course.
“Yah, babe, I’ve seen that coming’. Hoped it wouldn’t get this bad, ‘cause I like topping you. Don’t think I can be the top you need, but I’ve tried Jen, believe me I have. Your the wildest, sexiest thing I’ve ever topped and I’m gonna miss you big time.”
Moved by his understanding of my needs, I couldn’t resist kissing him to make clear we could still behave as lovers. Being as horny as I was, when the kiss ended, I reached down and gave his penis a playful squeeze through his Dockers.
“There are some things, stiff, long things, which I don’t want to miss too badly.” Putting on pouting lips and innocent eyes, I told him just what I knew he would want to hear.
“Call me, lover, to talk, to get smashed, or to fuck. No topping, just lust relief.” Knowing this to be the offer he could not refuse, I played a bit more with his hardening shaft, through his Dockers.
Ned looked at me, as if I were someone he just could not comprehend. For just a moment, I thought he might be mad. Was he angry, thinking me insincere, just throwing him a bone?
Thankfully, his face broke out in the happy smile I knew so well.
“You really know how to let a guy off the hook. I’m more than willing to turn in the flogger if it means staying close to your smoking-hot body. I’m no damn fool. I feel good about this, like you set me free or something.”
This time, he leaned in and kissed me, his arms wrapped around me, and the kiss lingered, making me wonder, was he more suited to this role in my life?
“Thanks, babe, for taking things so well. A lotta guys would have freaked out and been pissed. Walk me to my car, lover-boy.” Taking my arm, in the old-fashioned romantic way, we walked to my car.
Reveling in my newfound freedom, I patted myself on the back for daring to gamble with Ned. After we said our good nights, I climbed into my BMW roadster.
My eyes roamed over the club, an old brick building offering no hint of its purpose on the exterior. A tiny ad in a local BDSM-orientated magazine had led me here. When I called the 800 number, a man’s voice answered, professional-sounding and businesslike. He set up an appointment for me to tour, interview, and apply for membership at the club. Pulsing with nerves, I had shown up where and when I was told. After the quick tour, George, the club’s manager, sat down with me in his office, and I could not help seeing his eyes roam over my body. Keenly aware of his gaze, I filled out an extensive form identifying my tastes and fantasies in BDSM. More forms followed, permissions for criminal checks, credit checks, background checks, and I filled them all out as George enjoyed his visual tour of my body. He explained the membership process, telling me I would hear from them in two weeks if all my checks were okay. A letter, snail mail, would tell me if I was accepted or rejected. If accepted, I would have to pay the $1,000 yearly membership fee, while receiving an electronic passkey, full member privileges, and a new member profile feature in the club newsletter.
The profile in the newsletter had not brought any response, but I had been aggressive and had chosen Ned from the pictured profiles of dominant male club members. I dropped my profile and a sexy, but submissive, note in his box at the club. The note had my cell number on it, and, two days later, he called indicating he would be very interested in taking me on as a new submissive.
Now we had gone full circle, and it was over between Ned and me. I had an epiphany, as I sat there in my silver G4. This spoiled bitch thrilled to the idea of a powerful, male dominant taking full control of her. Starting my car, I pulled out onto the street, gunning the engine. Giddy with excitement over my new mandate, I thought yes, the die is cast.
Chapter Two: Feeling out My Ground
Arriving back in my lair, I entered the two-story townhouse condo in Marblehead. Walking to the kitchen, I remembered the impulsive moment I had plopped down a small fortune to buy the place outright. Impressed with the size, I had thought the study, spacious living room, formal dining room, and a fabulous kitchen filled with all sorts of electronic gadgets would be just what I desired, but I had found myself not to be a homebody.
No, it had long been established I thrived on work. Having moved ruthlessly up the corporate ladder, I had become Regional VP of Operations for Donnigans, a woman’s clothing retailer. No woman had been more of a bitch on the way up than I had, especially to the men I had cut off at the knees.
Since I was due in the office at eight tomorrow and it was half past ten, I fixed a Meyers dark rum and pineapple, light on the pineapple. Moving upstairs, to fill my big roman tub with warm water, I poured my favorite scented beads into the water. Leaning back against the curved side of the tub, my drink in hand, I sipped at going over the night’s events in my mind.
First, I examined my deep longing for a take-no-prisoners male top. What would I expect from him? I laughed realizing my error in assuming my ideal top had to be a man. Certainly there were many women out there capable of giving me the deeply, submissive experience I craved. However, further consideration brought me to the conclusion that I was basically a heterosexual. In the past, I had dabbled occasionally with women, but I could not envision this new top as anything but male. Strength, muscular and of will would be what I sought.
However, where another woman appealed to me, would be at my side, serving this Master with me. Somehow, I did not yet know how, the concept of serving a Master with other beautiful women aroused me. Perhaps, another woman would serve as a mirror image to me, allowing me to see myself being dominated. On the other hand, she might be a teacher, or a role model for me.
Drifting, my mind started to examine my past relationships with men. The conclusion came easily, as none of my previous boyfriends had been able to master me, or even maintain equal footing in a relationship. A pattern emerged, in longer relationships I had become tired of the man, bored into leaving him. While in short relationships, men had always left me, running as if frightened by something. This new Master would have to be multi-faceted, more cunning than I, to hold and keep my waning interest.
As a senior hottie in high school, any guy would have died to date me, or any of my friends. There were guys that would have given their nuts to get in our panties. Kyle, my bad-boy lover, had done just that, but one afternoon, after we had just done it in his Chevy van, I gave him the boot. So confident in my complete control of him, I gave him the news while still nude, not afraid he would throw this spoiled, girl-bitch out the back door of his sin bin. Taking it passively, as I knew he would, he looked at me with a pathetic deer-in-the-headlights look. Pecking his cheek in a farewell kiss, I stuffed my panties into his pocket and said goodbye.
At home, I called my girlfriends with the news of my freedom. We partied that night to celebrate my freedom. Some cute college guys fell under our spell at the party, and before long we hooked up. I ended up bouncing on some dark-haired guy’s thick flesh pole before we quit for the evening. Nice cock, wide ride, but I never got his name.
These memories, coupled with not climaxing earlier tonight, had gotten me big-time horny. Fingers drifted under the warm water to find my yearning pussy. Not too much longer before my needy clit was being played with, so I got out and toweled off. The feel of soft satin sheets was on my mind while I visited with my friend, Clifford. On my way to the bed, I reached into the top right-hand drawer of my dresser, seizing him, in his ever ready state. Tossing myself into the queen-sized bed, my generous breasts quivered while my legs spread wide. Fingers again found my cleft touching and fondling in all the right places ensuring I would be well-lubricated for Clifford’s entrance.
Let me introduce my friend, Clifford, a sparkle-infused, red-rubber, ten-inch dildo. He is named after the popular children’s canine character because he is delightfully thick, bright red, and an absolute dog for my pussy. Clifford has a perfect record of satisfaction in that regard.
Clifford did his thing, easing into my sopping tunnel till he achieved the desired effect of stretching fullness and depth. Then I slowly began to stroke him in and out, while my fingers sawed at my pulsing sex bud.
When it comes to getting off, I am somewhat of an old-fashioned girl. Give me a dildo to fill me, my fingers, and let me go, no vibrator is needed. I come quickly, too quickly, with the buzzing tools. After climaxing with a vibrator, I find it hard to come again. Thankfully, I can bring myself off two or three times with just my just experienced fingers dancing on my clit.
Having played with Ned, but not come, had left me primed. In just a few minutes, my slender thighs were quivering, my eyes rolling back, as the throbbing waves engulfed me. When the pleasure petered out, I eased Clifford out of my satisfied pussy and left him on the night stand — his work completed. The alarm clock read quarter to twelve, so I skipped a second act, in favor of sleep since eight o’clock would come early.
* * * *
The next morning my drive into the city to my Federal Street office was only a half-hour, a full fifteen minutes shorter than the normal weekday commuting. Yet it still gave me time to consider what I really wanted from this, yet to be found, Master. Did I picture myself down on my knees, naked and collared, with a butt plug up my anus? Would I lick water from my bowl on the floor like an obedient dog, while he towered over me, riding crop ready to snap, at my slightest misbehavior? The feelings inside my mind and crotch at the thought of these things told me yes, I would enjoy such degradation. From experience, I knew if thinking about something excited me, there was no limit to how exciting the actual experience would be.
The physical circumstances of my service could vary widely, but they were not what were important. It was all about giving up control for me. Letting go, I would to be taken on a lusty ride wherever he wanted me to go. Wrapped only in my trust of my Master, armed only with one word, I would give him the keys to my mind and body.
So what then were my limits? Pain had always been an erotic thing to me. It seemed to fuel my pleasure. In addition, I had a relatively high tolerance for it, or at least I thought I did. Anything that did not cause permanent damage or scarring was good with me. My no list would be small – primarily bleeding, and seeing my own blood.
Sex in any form would be a big ‘yes, please.’ Any position, any orifice, bound or not, it would all be up to my Master. All my holes could be his, to use, or to deprive, as his pleasure dictated.
Would I let him dictate what I wore, and how I maintained my hygiene? As far as dress and hygiene went, I felt strongly that I would allow him to control all aspects as long as he allowed me proper enough dress and appearance at work. Work would be my place to be dominant. So some aspects of his control would end when I was at the office.
Would I let him unilaterally make the rules as to when, why, and how I was to be punished? What to do with me if I was a bad girl would be his decision. It would be important for me to know the rules, so I could strive to obey, or, as I often did, be willfully bad. When disobedient, I would take any punishment my Master doled out to me. This would be my place, as his slave. After all, the punishment would only fuel my sexual fires, as I wanted it to.
Suddenly, the inevitable conclusion of all this jumped right out at me. This was all meandering down one road, but I had not seen the truth until just now. My new Master would absolutely have to be a live-in. When I came home, he would take over control of all aspects of my life. When I walked out the door, I would change, like a masked superhero, into my dominant self, free to control my professional life. It was so very perfect. The moistness of my crotch left no doubt as to how much it turned me on.
Pulling my G4 into my marked space in the parking garage, I sat there momentarily to get control of myself back from the lusty excitement which gripped me all too tight. I felt certain my pink silk panties were wet with my arousal. Nevertheless, I got out, smoothed down my skirt, fluffed up my white silk blouse, and arranged my flowing raven tresses. I walked into the office trying to look like the cool, controlled, regional VP of store operations that I was.
There were only three of us at the office today. My assistant, Donna Murphy, a blue-eyed blonde, all of twenty-one years old, who had impressed me in her interview, with her thoughts about retail, and our stores in particular. On the company’s dime, she took business classes at a local junior college. To get a different, fresh perspective on things, I had learned to tap her somewhat unusual ideas.
The other Saturday grinder was Brianna Holmes, my regional sales manager, a serious brunette of twenty-seven, unmarried, but in a serious live-in relationship with her man. Brianna wanted my job in the near future, but this fact did not worry me much. Lacking my drive and business skills, she would have to wait as long as I desired her to.
We worked together in the conference room going over all the last minute details of the annual summer blowout sale set to start in eight days. After plowing through most of the details in about four hours, I decided to spring for lunch at a local café around the corner. As Donna and Brianna followed my lead to the café, an idea hatched itself in my head. This would be the perfect opportunity to get their thoughts about men in general, and their guys in specific. When we were all seated and the server had taken our orders, I decided to go for it.
“Thanks for giving up at least half a Saturday so our managers can have a smooth-running sale, but let’s not talk shop at lunch.” Moving to the front of my seat to ingratiate myself to them, I looked for eye contact to see if they were on board. Your-not-so-intimidating-after-all boss wants to talk of something more meaty, and perplexing. Men. Let’s share what we like, what we don’t like, what drives us wild, what drives us crazy. Perhaps, we can help each other out, if someone is frustrated.” Looking about for signs they did not think me crazy, I received encouraging smiles from both. “Call me Jen, and try not to think of me as the boss, just a friend.”
Silence first, then looks which made me wonder if my meaning had been understood. Where they both about to tell me to get lost, their private lives were none of my business? For a moment, I feared we would eat in strained silence, but as it turned out, they were just working out who was going to spill her beans first.
Brianna spoke first, her words coming out in a relieved rush at first.
“Thanks, Jen, not a soul has asked me about my troubles for a long time, far too long.” A bit of a sigh came out, telling me she felt thankful someone cared to ask.
“Yes, I’ll be happy to share my feelings. My guy, Jim, is a kind, caring, sweet man. He satisfied me perfectly for the first year we lived together.”
Donna and I nodded, our eye contact confirming we understood she had been very happy with Jim. Not sure what Donna thought, but I sensed a shift in her tone, a change in their relationship. Bri continued on, with a shake of her head, and a sadder, lower tone.
“Lately though, things are more and more frustrating. I’m not happy, but I don’t know if it’s him or me. Just maybe, I’m changing, wanting more. Back when we first did it, he was wonderful. He made love to me with his tongue and his cock. Nobody had ever done both to me before. He would dive me wild sucking on my clit, but now,” Brianna stopped, almost frozen, seemingly unsure if we wanted more. Looking to us for reassurance we were not bored by her troubles, I saw Donna’s hand go to hers. Nodding my reassurance, I felt glad to see Donna playing a more active role.
“I can still come sometimes, when he gives me oral, but now it seems mostly boring. That’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s what I feel.” Seeing her grip on Donna’s hand tightens, I moved my hand in, knowing she felt utterly frustrated.
“Sometimes I have to fake it now. I’ve never done that, and I’m so ashamed.” The hushed whisper of her voice confirmed it, she felt ashamed to tell us, never mind to do it.
“Bri, I had no idea. I thought you and Jim were happy.” How many people say the same drivel when they hear of friends breaking up? It sounded so fake, polite.
“I know.” Sighing again. “I never spoke a word hoping if I didn’t say anything it would fix itself, but it’s not going to. A closet full of sexy lingerie and a draw full of sex toys aren’t helping either. Maybe nothing’s going to help.” Brianna shrugged her shoulders and tears, just a few, came to her eyes.
Knowing her dissatisfaction, but not his specific problem, I squeezed her hand and jumped in.
“We know your unhappy, Bri, but what specifically is the trouble. Has he stopped having sex with you?”
Her mocking laugh told me I had not guessed correctly. She exhaled deeply, and launched deeper into the matter.
“We still have sex, but it’s like it is by appointment. It’s always the same thing. He lays me down gently, caresses me, and then begins to tongue me. If I let him, that’s all he will do, tongue me until I come or fake it. He doesn’t even seem to want to fuck me. There’s no more passion. Am I weird to want him to want me bad sometimes, to just take me fast and hard because he needs to be inside me?”
Squeezed her hand to comfort, I had to stifle my amusement. Jim mirrored Ned, both either unwilling or unable to take control of their women. Had she pushed him to change, like I had Ned? I had to ask?
“Have you given Jim the perfect opportunity? Men tend to be creatures of habit, so they sometimes need a golden opportunity to grasp a change.” Donna spoke now, for the first time.
“Sometimes they can’t even grasp that.” Sounding sullen, Donna definitely had angst about men, but from where I did not know. Yet I imagined I would soon enough.
Bri looked up at us, her eyes wet. Taking a deep breath, like something hidden but meaningful would crawl out of her, she launched into it.
“Last week, he came home from work one night to me sprawled out on the couch, naked. With my legs spread invitingly for him, I rubbed my pussy, wet and ready to be taken. Desperate, I even did something you will think disgusting and slutty. Spreading my pussy lips, I begged him to take my hole. Hole, I called my pussy a hole, asking him to use me like his toy, to do anything he wanted with me. Thinking about it all now, I realize how desperate and stupid I acted.”
Sobbing a bit more now, she finally wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. “There, it’s out, you both know what a slut I am.”
Now my voice got boss-like, I could not help it. Only a healthy, sexual woman, Bri should not be ashamed of her sexual needs.
“Don’t call yourself slut, unless, like me, you say it with pride, unconcerned about what others think. So, tell us, what did Jim do?”
Anger and desperation in her voice, Bri told us, never moving and sounding robotic as she did so. Taking this to mean she found it hard to say, I squeezed her hand to show support.
“The same thing he always does when I want sex. He knelt, gently licked my clit, not even bothering to remove his clothes. Feeling foolish, I started crying, told him to forget it, he had missed the point. Making excuses, he claimed to be too tired to have sex.” Looking at us with dumbfounded eyes, she asked the obvious question.
“Who is too tired to fuck a naked, horny woman? Hearing all I could stand, I ran in the bedroom, and collapsed, sobbing, on the bed.” Bri hung her head, as if there would be no more to say. Fumbling for a tissue from her purse, she smiled when Donna handed her one.
The younger girl chimed in. “Not a good first try for Jim, sorry. Men don’t see what is right in front of them. It’s the forest-for-the-trees thing, you know.”
Strangely, I would never have suspected Donna would harbor such a negative attitude about men. Curiosity about its source made me want to ask, but right now Bri needed attention. “Did you talk about it later with him? What did he say?”
Dabbing at her eyes, she put on a stoic smile. “Stalemate. Later, in bed, he asked about the point, would I be making further sexual demands of him. Telling me curtly he made love to me as often as he could manage, so no more sex would be possible. Going to tears again, I told him it wasn’t about how often, it was about how. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t get it.”
One more thing I had to ask, as a woman usually knows if there is infidelity on the table. “Is he fooling around? You said he works a lot, maybe, it’s not all work. Business and pleasure do mix, quite often.”
She shook her head, offering a quick reply. “No, I would know, he’s not fooling around on me. Perfectly content with how things are, he doesn’t want change and I do. I don’t know what to do.”
“Leave him, if he refuses to change.” The words, in shocking clarity, came out of Donna’s mouth. Eyes flashing as she met my gaze, I felt she had stolen the words from my mouth, as I had done just that last night. How had this pretty, young girl gotten so jaded?
Hugging Bri, as I had nothing new to say, I opted for the polite, dutiful course. “You’re so brave. Did it at least feel good to let it out?”
Bri sighed, and then broke into a giggle. “Yes, it did, wonderfully good. Donna, you clearly have some issues with men in general, care to elaborate.”
My young assistant looked a bit like a cornered animal, which made me uneasy, but I was dying to hear about her issues.
“It all started sophomore year in high school. As a cheerleader, I lost my virginity to the star guard of our basketball team. He was cute, real cute, and at the time, I thought he cared about me.”
Donna spoke with her head down, looking at the table, showing us this was hard for her to tell. Did she think we would dismiss her, or judge her? One glance at Bri told me she thought the same.
“Head up, Donna. Never be ashamed of your sex life. Bri and I are not here to judge you. If you told me you did the whole team, I would admire your stamina. So tell use what you want to say, but head up, unashamed.”
As she sighed, I saw her eyes get a little wet, like Bri’s had. Some of her tension flowed out of her, a welcome sight to Bri and me.
“I found out I liked sex, in fact, I loved it. Unfortunately, he was all about getting himself off, so I was left to get my pleasure as I could. He didn’t do foreplay, so I needed to be ready. So needy and desperate for attention, I gave him all he wanted from me. When I think back, I get so mad, because I did him, just to be popular, to be seen as his girlfriend. Licking her lips, she seemed to have to concentrate to push onward, making me think there were worse things to come.
“We stayed together until Junior Prom, when in an embarrassing scene, I dumped him, ‘cause he cheated on me. The bastard used another cheerleader, just like he had me, for sex. The other girl, Felicia, and I were mad as hell, to find out he two-timed us. No wonder the fucker always had a smile on his face, he had gotten it from two cheerleaders at once.”
Now Bri and I reached out a hand to her. An old story replayed many times, Donna had found out the hard way about boys. Donna’s face changed markedly, seemingly no longer as sullen, as something good must have come of her difficult experience.
“Don’t really know why, but the whole thing brought Felicia and I together. We commiserated together over pizza, patting ourselves on the back, for having dumped our mutual problem. Soon though, things went further, I felt unsure what to do when Felicia told me she liked girls sexually. I don’t know if it was her beauty, my rejection, or my curiosity, but soon we were having beautiful, erotic girl-sex.” Donna looked at us like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. Excited and aroused by her experiment with lesbian sex, she felt she perhaps had experience we did not.
Wildly curious about what Donna had learned from her lesbian adventure, I began to see her in a totally different light. More than I ever expected, I saw Donna as a risk-taker. Seeking adventure, I saw he now as more like her boss.
“So, how did it go?” Bri actually asked the all important question, but I was all ears.
“Beyond my wildest hopes. She taught me, showed me, so many things. My first tonguing, so much more sensuous than anything I ever felt before. Her strap-on ...” Donna blushed at her memory of being taken by her female lover. It was all she needed to say.
“Our relationship lasted till we returned to school for our senior years. Then things began to fall apart. Felicia became an emotional tinderbox, going to pieces on me several times a week. Then there was my discontent ...” Voice and mood falling markedly, she felt shame again, over something she had done. Instinctively, I knew her shame to be sexual.
“Cravings and desires surfaced in me. They were all about boys, cocks, and the kind of hard, thrusting sex which boys represented to me. Felicia gave me sweet, soft love, and it felt good for a time, but I wanted the other, despite how I had been used before. Breaking it off with her, I felt confident, at the time, I had made the right decision. Girls were okay to fool around with and experiment, but I wanted a boyfriend, one who would treat me right. Things were going to be different this time, I felt sure, but they weren’t.”
Donna’s girl experience was so similar to mine, we had both dallied, experimented, but were not sold. However, as I looked at her, head looking down again, I knew our similar experiences were not important now. Donna had come to what she felt most humiliated by, and I must listen to her, and help her tell it. With my flaxen-haired assistant descending deeper into her self-doubt and depression, I covered my doubts, trying to sound upbeat about what happened next.
“So, you went out and found a great guy.” Knowing it would not be the case, the look on Donna’s face, glum and embarrassed told me I could not have been farther from the truth.
Donna’s voice started again, slowly, painfully, the words were forced out. Deeply shamed now, she had a hard time maintaining eye contact with us. “Not exactly. Four hunks with cocks are what I found. It all broke down into a mess so quickly; I still have a hard time believing it. All four were hot-looking jocks, and I screwed them all, every day. The sex felt amazing, and I could not stop. Hiding it from everyone, I nearly drove myself crazy having wild sex in secret, but semi-public places. Couldn’t stop, damn it, I just couldn’t.” Donna paused, her eyes downcast, thinking we would not approve.
Yet at least for me, the opposite felt true, as I could hardly believe this girl to be such a sexual dynamo. The thought excited me, thoroughly, as I guess it made her more like me.
“So, what happened, did you get caught?” Compelled to ask, even though I felt I knew the answer.
“The sex went on and on. We used empty classrooms, the woods behind the school, bathroom stalls, and their cars. All these places served as sites for my daily buffet of sex. My body became a tool, as it took all my energy and all day to service my guys. Literally, I could think of nothing else. With my mind entirely on sex, my grades dropped like a rock. When I got kicked off the cheer squad, I didn’t even care, and cheering had been so important to me. Shaking her head, she looked up at me, her eyes wet and red.
Now Bri took her turn fetching tissue, as I moved my seat to be beside Donna. As she wiped her eyes, I wondered what to say, but there seemed only one intelligent question, which I felt reluctant to ask.
“So, did it all fall down on you, someone caught you in the act?’ Looking at me with gratitude, as I had paved the way for her to get it out easier, she hugged me.
“Yes, it felt like a blessing in disguise. My secret got out two weeks before graduation. Proclaimed a slut by the entire school, I felt abandoned as only one person stood by me. Felicia, whom I had abandoned, dumped for my sexual odyssey defended me when even my parents would not. My dad suggested I move out, but moving out seemed impossible, as I had no job, no money. However, Felicia came to my rescue, taking me in; she supported me for over a year, until I got this job. Living as a lesbian couple, we had sex regularly, until my cock cravings came back.” Donna hesitated now, like what she had done next felt worse to her than what she had already revealed to us.
“We split again, but soon enough, I started bouncing from boyfriend to boyfriend. Always the same, I have awesome sex for a few days, a week, with a new guy, but then I discover they are screwing someone else. The bastards simply didn’t care about me as anything more than a living, blonde sex doll.” She wiped her eyes, and again looked directly at me. Speaking again, her eyes fixed on me, not falling low, as they had before. What she said made me realize how much of an impact I had in her life.
“But it was different with you, Jen, you listened to me. For the very first time someone heard my ideas and thoughts. For the first time, I had something more to offer than my body. This sounds foolish to say, but I’m happy not to have had sex since I got this job. Not that I don’t want to have sex, but I’m concentrating on my classes.”
Giving Donna a hug, I whispered in her ear some things I thought she should know now.” You are a wonderful success, Donna. I didn’t know until now how much of a success you were. When I passed up two over-qualified college grads to hire you just on instinct about you, I had no idea things would turn out so well. My instincts are seldom wrong, so you must be my best assistant ever. Don’t worry; the sex thing will work itself out, we’ll talk about it later.”
The relief surging through Donna was obvious. Smiling again, she seemed happy, with a heavy weight off her shoulders. “Thank you both so much for listening. Thanks for the kind words. Oh hell, thanks for everything.”
“Time to spill your beans, Jen. I can’t wait, it better be juicy.” Bri wanted to hear about me, she seemed determined to make sure I spilled my guts. Suddenly, I felt nervous, butterflies in my tummy.
“Okay, okay, in the office, I’m your boss, a take-charge, confident, personality who dominates the scene. However, I tell you both now; I crave a different life outside work. Sexually, I’ve become a submissive. Every week I go to a private club to practice BDSM, and I want to be dominated, by a strong Master. In fact, I have just left the Master I had, to seek out a stronger one, who will give me what I need.”
I looked at their faces seeing nothing but wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock at my bombshell. Clearly, they were both struggling to get their heads around what I had told them. Sipping my latte, I gave them time to take it in. To my surprise, Donna spoke first.