Days of pleasure swam together blending into an endless stream of orgasms, punctuated only by hours of foreplay. Eventually I dragged myself back to objective reality enough to register for my summer school class and buy my books.
I can't adequately describe the feeling of unreality that pervaded my excursion from Bel Air back to my former world of school and students my own age. First of all, my knees were constantly weak, as if I might faint at any moment. I seemed to be looking down on myself from a height above my head. I was observing as much as I was participating in my life. None of it seemed to matter a great deal.
I felt a sense of lack of memory, as if I had forgotten something, something that was right in front of me but I couldn't think of what it was. A thrill of panic thrummed under every breath, under each mundane action. Something important was slipping past me, it was within my reach and I couldn't even see it, much less catch it.
"Hi, you're Jodie, aren't you?"
I was walking from the bookstore back to the dormitory. I wanted to pick up some more clothes so I would have some variety for classes back at my master's house, so I could spend even more time there. I was wondering if I would be able to find time to study between orgasms when the voice came over my shoulder and startled me back to campus and college life.
"Yes." I turned. The boy was one I recognized but I couldn't think of his name. "I know you, don't I? You're…"
"Art, Arthur Clark. We were in calculus together last semester." His smile was shy and gentle. He reminded me of little puppy.
"I remember you," I said, "you sat across the room from me."
"That's right, I was the one that stared at you day after day."
I felt my cheeks turn red. I was surprised and pleased that I could still respond to people so seemingly naturally. "Why didn't talk to me instead of just staring?" To my surprise, I found myself wanting to flirt with him.
"You were always walking with that fellow Brad. I didn't want to interfere."
"What made you decide to talk to me now?" I fluttered my eyelashes and tried my best to look demure.
"You're not with Brad for one thing, and besides…" he hesitated.
"Yes?"
"I don't know. There's something different about you, now. You're not the same as you were last semester."
"How do you mean, different?"
"Sort of dreamy. You were always so intense last year, as if everything you did was for keeps. Now, you look sort of relaxed, as though you were playing a game."
"I… I've gotten a job," I said.
"It's had quite an effect on you." He looked at me affectionately. "Is your job connected with your major?"
"No, not at all." I wanted to change the subject. My position with my master was too personal for me to discuss it with anyone. "But it is very demanding. I guess the change you see in me is the result of hard work."
"Well, hard work certainly seems to agree with you," he said, "you're radiant."
"Thank you."
We were nearing the dormitories. The air between us was becoming charged with sexual energy. The simple fact of his youthful virility elicited a sympathetic response in my genitals. I pressed my thighs together as we walked, wondering if I should let him seduce me.
Would my master allow me to have other lovers? We had never discussed it. We never discussed anything. My master treated me like property, and I felt fulfilled by it.
It made no sense to me, this relationship that I had developed with a man whose name I did not even know. It was as though He wasn't a person, He was a force, He was the personification of authority, He was to be adored and obeyed, not understood. My common sense rebelled at the demeaning nature of my subservience to Him, but I couldn't help but feel a thrill of pleasure at the mere thought of my beloved master. I started daydreaming about the thrill of excitement I would feel when my master wanted to punish me.
"Jodie, are you all right?"
"What? Oh…" He brought me back to the present. I shook my head, trying to clear it. "You had a funny look on your face, kind of hypnotized looking."
"I'm sorry," I said, "I must have drifted off. I've been working hard, as I said."
"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" he asked.
"No, thank you," I was torn, I wanted to say yes but my first response was no, as if I didn't have the right to offer myself to anyone without my master's permission. "I'd like to but I have to go back to my job tonight."
"Sure, I understand."
"Honestly, Art, we'll get together another time, I promise." I hoped I was telling him the truth. I liked him.
After dinner that night, my master called me into His bedroom. He was dressing to go out.
"I'll be back later this evening, my dear," He said.
"I'll wait up for you," I said.
"That will not be necessary, my dear. Will you be able to amuse yourself while I'm out?" He stroked my hair and ran His fingertips along the line of my jaw. He tapped my chin gently.
I felt the power in His hand. It was strong and vibrant, held in check by His will. I wondered if I would feel it unleashed. My pussy itched when I thought of Him slapping my face, or my bottom.
"Yes, Sir, I'll be fine." All my speculation of that afternoon was forgotten. It was as though His influence obliterated all other thoughts. I could only think of how I'd greet Him on His return. I avoided all thought of His absence.
He was cool and elegant in His cream colored flannel suit. His tan skin and dark hair contrasted handsomely with the soft fabric.
He told me nothing except that He was leaving and would return. He looked at me steadily. His eyes were unreadable, their lids concealed His intentions under their lazy glance. I saw I was left to my own devises.
I managed to spend an hour preparing for my first class which was coming up in two days. Fortunately, I had no assignment to complete, my mind continually wandered. I couldn't quite bridge my two realities. They tugged me in opposite directions, independence-subservience, self-assertion-self-debasement, and on and on. I tumbled through vast volumes of doubt and uncertainty.
I decided to take a shower in order to be ready for His return, should He want to use me for His pleasure. I noticed it was time to shave my pussy again, the pubic hairs were growing like whiskers around the lips. I scratched myself there, kind of like a cat would, it felt good.
I turned the water on full and stepped into the steamy spray. Then I shut off the water and covered myself with thick foamy suds, using a big loofa sponge to rub in almond oil and peppermint soap. I completely covered my body with the slippery, creamy soap suds.
Then I took a new razor and shaved my entire body. From neck to ankles, every square inch of skin was put to the double-edged blade and shaved smooth as a baby's bottom.
I thought about shaving my head as well. I wondered if my master would like that, if He would appreciate my voluntary subjugation. I'm sure He would, I'm sure he'd like to see me temporarily disfigure myself for Him.
I tried to go to bed, to just not think about anything. I powdered myself and pulled my hair back in a pony-tail. I climbed between clean linen sheets but could not close my eyes. I craved some contact, some indication of direction. Should I give myself fully to my master, or should I develop my independent self? Could I even make a decision? Truly, it felt like I had no choice other than to submit completely to the strong, pervasive domination of my master.
I touched my pussy gently when I thought of Him. I dreamed of His arms, His lips, His long, strong penis. Around ten o'clock I started feeling restless. I knew I would have to resolve my ambivalence some time soon, but not now. Now I wanted to fuck Him and get fucked by Him.
I thought I'd go to the pleasure room and tie myself to the leather massage table. The wrist and ankle restraints attached to each of the chromium-plated legs were quite inviting. I'd feel ever so secure spread-eagled up on that table, open and vulnerable my master's whims.
But He might not come to the pleasure room. I'd be tied up, alone, naked and cold all night. The prospect titillated me a little, but I decided it wouldn't be worth it if He didn't happen to find me in time.
I wondered if I should wait for Him in His bed. I could get under the covers at the foot of the bed. That way He would see that I was there but wouldn't speak to me. He would get undressed and climb into bed, seeming to ignore my presence completely. He would keep His cock in my mouth all night long, making me suck and drink His come repeatedly.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I got up and put on some makeup, just some eyeliner and lipstick. Just enough to accent my full lips, to make myself look cheap and available.
I took a small red silk pillow from the couch and went to the front door to wait. I knelt on the pillow just to the left of the door, right where my master would step when He returned, my mouth on a level with His crotch, waiting for His presence.
My knees hurt a little after the first twenty minutes. In a half an hour my lower legs were numb from lack of circulation. My mouth was going dry, I needed a drink of water. I swayed a little, feeling slightly faint from the combination of mild pain and lack of movement.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I heard His car pull into the driveway and my heart beat faster. HE was back! But wait, two doors slammed shut outside. Two sets of feet walked up the steps to the door.
His key turned in the lock. I wanted to get up and run, hide myself – but I couldn't. Was it that my legs were still asleep, or did I want to stay? Did I want to be punished? Was my masochism getting the better of me? Was it determining my actions now?
The door opened and my master stepped in. The cool evening air wafted over my heated body and raised goose bumps on every inch of exposed skin. He wasn't alone. The other footsteps belonged to His companion, an attractive woman dressed in evening wear. My master, dressed in His casual summer suit of white flannel, looked warm and relaxed next to the severe dark formality of His companion's attire. I wanted to look at the woman more closely but I couldn't.
My master stepped forward, He hadn't noticed me kneeling in His path. His pants pressed into my face. What I thought would be a sexy greeting was turning into a major embarrassment. Lipstick smeared from my lips and stained my master's pants, right on His fly.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.
"What am I going to do with you?" He frowned down at me. There was no mirth in His voice, but I detected an evil twinkle in His eye.
"Who is this… person, darling?" Her voice was sweet, deep, and melodious.
"This creature aspires to be my servant." He pulled on my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. "But instead of serving me, she has soiled my clothes with her filth!" He released my hair and with that same hand gave me a stinging slap across the cheek.
The force of the blow knocked me off my knees onto the floor. My face burned and my ears rang, I shook my head, trying to clear it. I heard soft laughter, it must have been her, she sounded pleased and excited.
"Come with me." He grabbed my hair again and yanked me to my knees. He strode purposefully toward the stairs, dragging me behind Him. I stumbled and fell, banging my shins on the stairs, trying to keep up with Him but not succeeding.
She followed a few feet behind us, smiling placidly.
The room was dark and silent. At least one hour, possibly two, had already passed. I was completely alone. The only sound to be heard was the soft rasp of my breath. My eyes were open but no image could be discerned in the pitch blackness. The taste of my own blood lingered on my tongue.
I was spread-eagled on the X-shaped massage table. My wrists and ankles were tightly secured in the thick, leather restraints. My head and my hips dangled in mid-air, my back arched uncomfortably over the table.
Distantly, I heard a footstep, it stopped outside. The doorknob clicked, three sides of a rectangle of light outlined themselves, then dazzlingly became the doorway. The image was upside down, because my head was hanging upside down, and in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, was she, looking down on me.
She closed the door and turned on a small light, casting a dim orange glow on the room. She was naked, as naked as I was. She walked to my side and ran her fingertips over my arms and legs. I think she was admiring the smooth hairlessness of my skin.
She ran her fingernails lightly over my skin. She scratched my armpits and my crotch, lightly, tickling me, making me squirm on the table.
"You like this, do you?" There was a no kindness in her voice. "You're a randy little tramp, aren't you?"
She pinched my nipple with her fingernails, hard. The pain shot through me, waking me out of my dreamy delirium. She dug her nails into the flesh of my breast, there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.
I gasped with pain, deliciously, squirming my hips.
The door opened again and I felt my pussy getting moist. It was my master, come to join us and make my pleasure complete. He was nude as we were. His member hung down, long and thick. I thought I saw some wetness on it, as if He had recently come.
She turned and kissed Him wetly on the mouth. I could see her tongue working. She fondled His penis lovingly, stroked it lightly, showed a familiarity that was lewd and inviting.
They walked to my head together, she might have been leading Him, it was hard to tell. She stroked His penis with her right hand and placed it in my mouth.
The familiar musky flavor was ambrosia to me. I loved the taste of His dick in my mouth. It swelled and hardened as I rolled my tongue around and over it. I kept my eyes open. All I could see were His balls, swinging inches from my nose.
Soon He was completely hard, long and thick. He pumped His hips back and forth, fucking me deep in my throat. I had to breathe through my nose or I would choke.
Meanwhile, the woman, who was she, anyway, I wondered, the woman stroked and scratched the most private, intimate parts of my body. She pinched and scratched my in my most sensitive spots. She played my senses like a musical instrument.
"You're a little slut, aren't you? Isn't she, darling?" She addressed my master.
"She claims to be a student," He replied.
"Let her speak for herself, darling." Her voice was soft, yet commanding. "Tell us about yourself. What are you?"
My master pulled His penis out of my mouth and placed it on my face, letting His balls rub against my nose.
"I'm a student slut," I responded.
"And a smart-ass, too." She laughed and slapped me on the inside of my thigh. It stung and burned, I wondered if she'd leave a welt. "You like your punishment, don't you, whore?"
"No, I…aahhrrgg!"
She grabbed my pussy lip and dug her thumbnail into it, hard. I screamed in pain and tried to wriggle away from her, straining against the leather straps.
"You like it because you know you deserve it, don't you, pig?"
"Oh, God, yes! Whatever you say, ah, aahh, aahhrrgghhaa!"
She built me to a crescendo but kept me from going over the edge. Again and again, she'd pet and stroke me until I thought I'd come, but then she'd hurt me severely, making me scream and writhe with pain.
My master let me lick His scrotum before sliding His cock into my mouth and down my throat again.
I thought I could hear her laughing quietly while I was having the most trouble breathing. Usually, when she hit me, it was just a pinch or a slap, but a couple of times it felt like she had at least broken the skin if not a small bone or two. I wondered what scars, if any, she would leave.
Eventually, after she had worked me into a good sweat, she and my master traded places. She stood over my face, while He amused Himself with my genitals.
There was something white and creamy oozing out of her pussy. She stood directly over me. She held my neck with both her hands, bringing my mouth up, into contact with her privates. I recognized the taste of my master's come and licked it up eagerly.
I would have eaten her pussy anyway, and enjoyed it. Her pubic hair was luxuriously long and lustrous, deep red and sweet smelling. Her pussy tips, too, were long and full, swollen with excitement. Tasting my master's delicious musky come along with her tantalizing scent made my head spin and my body throb with excitement.
As if in response to my unspoken wish, as though He knew my mind perhaps even better than I, my master placed His hands on my thighs. I moaned a little, communicating my excitement to the beautiful woman whose name I did not know, whose pussy tasted so good in my mouth. She jammed her hips harder against my face.
My master spread my pussy lips apart with His thumbs and inserted the head of His cock into my vagina. With just a few strokes He lubricated His entire shaft and rammed it deep into my cunt. My body shook and writhed on the table.
He held onto my pussy lips with His fingers, alternately spreading them open and pinching them, sending sharp pangs of excitement through me. He knew what I wanted, He knew how to not just excite me, He knew how to satisfy me.
"Go ahead and let yourself come, my dear," He said, softly.
"Mmm, yes, if you say so, darling." She groaned and ground her pussy into my mouth.
She thought my master was speaking to her. Hah! I knew He meant me. I knew He wanted me to come with Him. He wanted to feel my warm wet pussy juice mixing with His gooey, rich come.
He built and increased my pleasure, sending wave after wave of excitement through me. I pulled on my restraints for leverage and bucked my hips up and down against Him. He jammed His cock so deep in my cunt He hurt me when He battered the top of my uterus.
"Ooohhhh, hhmmmmnnngg," I moaned into the woman's cunt.
"You want me to come, too, slut?" she asked me. "You want to drink my come, you little tramp?"
"Mm hmm," I grunted in acknowledgement. "Hmm, hmmm, hmmm," I kept on grunting. She came in my mouth at the same time as my master filled my pussy with His come. Between the two of them I don't think I could have stopped myself from coming if I had wanted to. But I didn't want to stop myself. I let myself come as much and as often as I wanted to that night and every night that I lived in my master's house.