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Wednesday, September 21, 2016

West Valley High Day 01 byhomeboundboy©

Susan Mitchell pulled on her cheerleader skirt and crop top and checked her makeup in her dorm room mirror. It was the first day of her senior year at West Valley High, the prestigious private prep school she had attended for the past three years. By tradition, the cheerleaders would greet the incoming buses of first year students arriving on campus for the first time.
She met up with her nine fellow cheerleaders at the front of the dorm and the group made its way across campus to the main driveway. At West Valley, parents were not permitted to bring their students to campus. Upperclassmen came in a week earlier on buses to get set up in their dorms and then the first years would arrive a day before classes started.
The cheerleaders took their place along the main walkway with their pom-poms as the buses pulled up. As the buses reached the school entrance, the 10 girls turned in unison and with the backs to the buses, they lifted their skirts, exposing their bare bottoms to the incoming students to the hooting and hollering of the first years and their classmates.
From the school entrance strode a thin, slightly balding man Susan had never seen before. He walked up to the girls and asked "Who is the leader of this group?" Susan timidly raised her hand. The man then told the other girls to "find their underwear" and go back to their dorms while he asked Susan to follow him.
When they reached the main office, the man introduced himself as Alexander Krutz, the new headmaster of West Valley. Susan had dealt with the former headmaster, a weak and timid man named Johnathan Graves many times but was unsure of what to expect from this new headmaster. She wasn't too worried, as the cheerleaders ran the school, thanks to their close relationship with senior members of the Board of Governors.
"Miss Mitchell, am I correct," Krutz asked.
"Yes," came the reply. Susan was trying to stand as straight as she could and project as much of an air of defiance as possible.
"Miss Mitchell, could you please explain what you and your friends were doing out there today?" Krutz asked.
"It's what we do every year," Mitchell replied with a bored tone. "It's tradition. No one ever cared."
"Well, I care," Krutz said. "Whatever may have happened here before isn't going to happen this year. And before you think about talking to your friends on the Board, there is a reason Graves no longer works here, and I do."
Susan started to speak but thought better of it.
"Come over hear, place your hands on the desk and spread your legs," Krutz said.
Susan refused his request.
"Miss Mitchell, you have two choices. Do what I say or pack your bags."
Susan came from a relatively poor family in a small steel town a few miles from West Valley. The local high school was very poorly rated and her mom had put in a lot of extra hours at work to scrape together the money to let Susan attend West Valley. Getting expelled was not an option, so she walked over to the desk, placed her palms down on it and spread her legs several inches apart.
Krutz came over and kicked at her left ankle, spreading it a good foot-and-a-half from the other. Susan looked back surprised but held her tongue. She was thinking how much fun she was going to have when she went to her friends on the Board and reported what Krutz was doing.
Susan felt Krutz lift up her skirt and she put her head down. Krutz grabbed the large paddle from the wall and brought it over. He lifted it and gave it a good swing against the girl's bare butt. Susan gasped and yelped as the paddle hit her. Krutz gave her four more swats, each one seemingly more powerful than the rest. Then he set the paddle down and walked around to the front of his desk.
"Miss Mitchell, please stand up and take off the rest of your clothes."
Susan hesitated and Krutz replied "I am not going to repeat myself again. Do what I tell you to do or this will be your last day at West Valley".
Susan wondered if Krutz was going to rape her but since her friendly relationship with certain board members was based on her and her friends dancing naked for them and giving them sexual favors, she figured perhaps a quick fuck from the headmaster would be a way to get back into good standing at the school.
So the cheerleader slowly and seductively began peeling off her clothes, a bit disappointed that Krutz was rummaging around in his desk for something and not even paying attention to the show she was putting on.
"Follow me", Krutz said and walked out of his office. a small bag in his hands.
There was still a crowd of students milling around the main rotunda of the school as the headmaster walked out, the naked cheerleader following behind him. "Don't you all have someplace else you should be?" he commented as he led the girl out of the building and onto the school walkway.
Susan knew she must be blushing and she also knew most of the students hadn't heeded the headmaster's words and were watching from the windows as he led her to the flagpole in the middle of the circle drive outside the school.
He ordered the girl to stand with her back against the flagpole, turned towards the school, as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his bag and snapped them around her wrists behind the pole. Another pair of cuffs with a short chain went around her ankles and the pole, binding them.
Susan started to protest but Krutz pried her lips open and shoved a bright red ballgag into her mouth and tightened the straps around her head. Then he pulled out a pair of clover clamps with a silver chain around them and snapped a clamp on each of her nipples.
"You like to display yourself to your classmates, it seems, so I figured I would help you", the headmaster said, as he walked away, leaving the young girl to stand naked in the morning sun.
As her fellow students went about their business on the day before classes began, getting their ID cards made, checking out their schedules and mapping out the classrooms, it seemed quite a few felt it necessary to detour past the main driveway and the naked girl on display. A few took advantage of the opportunity to snap some photos which Susan was sure would be all over the Internet by the evening. The more brave came up and gave a tug on the steel chain between her breasts, causing pain to her pinned nipples.
As lunch time approached, the sun got hotter and more students were heading outside to eat their lunch with far more choosing the picnic tables on the main quad than normal.
One of Susan's rivals, a girl named Michelle who had twice tried out for the cheerleading team and failed, approached the naked girl and produced a black magic marker. With a sneer on her face, she stenciled the word "SLUT" in big black letters across Susan's stomach and then the words "WHORE" and "BITCH" on each her breasts. Across Susan's forehead, Michelle wrote "CUNT".
One of Michelle's friends, inspired by her actions, reached into her bag and pulled out a padlock which she would use for gym class and snapped it around the silver chain, the weight pulling down on Susan's breasts. Two other girls did the same with the weights causing Susan to bend over slightly at the waist to try to relieve the pain.
Several other girls, seeing a chance to exact humiliation on the cheerleader who had been the star of the school for so long began pelting Susan with the leftover remains of their lunches. Soon chocolate milk was streaming down her naked breasts while banana peels and other trash were laid in her hair.
A guy walking by notice a large stick on the ground and picked it up and brought it over to the group of girls. After a little debate, the stick found its way between Susan's legs, shoved roughly up inside her pussy. The stick was several feet long, so they wedged it in place so that Susan had to rise up on her tiptoes in order to prevent it from impaling her too deeply.
The group of students had grown larger and they found more items to hang from the tortured girl's nipple clamps, including one girl who had used one of her hair ribbons to tie her backpack, weighed down with books, around the steel chain. Susan felt like her nipples were going to be ripped from her breasts, and one of the guys, seeing the girl's discomfort, had the heaviest weights removed, leaving just the multiple padlocks.
Brittany, Susan's closest friend on the cheerleading squad had gone to the headmaster's office to try to stop the torture but had been told to "get back to her dowm unless she wanted to join her friend". But soon after, Krutz came out to disperse the crowd, although he did nothing to remove the additional torments her fellow classmates had added to Susan's discomfort.
The cheerleader spent the rest of the hot day baking naked in the sun, covered in milk and trash, trying desperately, but futilely, to expel the intruding stick from between her legs.
As the sun began to sink and Susan was beginning to think she was going to spend the night chained to the flag pole, Krutz appeared and removed the tree branch from girl's crotch. He also released the clamps from her nipples, snickering a little at the multiple padlocks chained to it.
He had a garden hose in his hands and turned it on, spraying down the naked cheerleader in icy cold water, washing away the debris from her hair and naked skin. The water did nothing to erase the indelible ink, however, and Krutz commented the girl might have to get used to being "cuntface" for awhile.
Finally he released the handcuffs and ordered Susan to return to her dorm room. As she left, he called back for her to be in his office at 7AM the next morning. Susan decided she would worry about that tomorrow as all she wanted now was a hot shower and hopefully to scrub "cunt" off her face.

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Monday, August 1, 2016

Karen byvictormann©

I had dinner with the two women students in their 50s, one of whom had already graduated. Advanced degrees in the humanities. Both were blondes and one as pretty as the next. Slim, nice faces, smallish tits, but good figures. (I'm 63, attractively bald, grey eyes, good features.) The first left, and in the thrall of strong drink, the second, Karen, with whom I'd never had a private moment before this, began to open up to me. In the most amazing way. Of course, she had the student's admiration and affection for her somewhat older professor. She was thrilled by our discussion and, without prompting, began to come over to my side of the table, put her hands on my cheeks and kiss me on the head or cheek. After an hour, progressively getting drunker, her lips moved from hitting my cheeks to a kiss firmly on my mouth. In the most private realms of my privacy I am a D/s Master, very experienced. And I usually can sniff out a female submissive a mile away. But Karen had been a very high level executive and entrepreneur before she returned to school and carried herself with a certain air that, I admit now, had completely fooled me. Her escalating attack of passionate kisses, and the way of her approach, made me understand. Before my eyes all along was a submissive who yearned, to be exact, to very strictly controlled.
I was less drunk, certainly. About the fourth time she brought her passionate attention to my lips, I reached up under her jacket and took her tit nipples in my thumb and forefinger and pinched and twisted them wickedly. I wanted her to feel a good, solid dose of pain and a taste of Mastery. (I KNEW she would respond and had no fear at all that I was taking an interpersonal risk.) She took the pain as though it were expected and when she sat down I could see in her pretty blue eyes underneath that luminous blonde hair of hers that she was a woman who had truly opened up, her cunt probably dripping. Abruptly, I started giving her direction about how to sit and how to put her hands on the table, palms down. I made clear to her that I thought her earrings were much too small and invisible and told her how I didn't appreciate her fucking chipped fingernail paint. In the midst of my assuming a very directive role toward her she got up again to stand over me to kiss me and this time, while I kept one hand in a vicious pinch of a tit nipple, the other I back-handed directly into her blue-jean covered crotch, with no doubt of its purpose.
She ordered another drink when we she sat down. And I began talking to her about my antediluvian views, as Master, about male supremacy. She clearly was in a trance of sorts and this type of talk, which she, in ordinary consciousness, would have sneered at as lunacy, clearly was resonating with her.
At a certain point I asked her, "Don't you believe that men are superior to women?"
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and then, looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights she said softy, "I do believe that men are superior to women."
Now I approach male Mastery from a male-supremacist viewpoint. Even among most female submissives, even those who are very submissive, such views are simply not popular. But that doesn't mean that in their heart's heart women don't believe it. I have made a practice, as my experience in Mastery has matured, to surface the "latent image," the unspoken assumptions, that work so powerfully in male dominant/female submissive relationships. And I have gotten, through skillful training and the Master's touch, several of the most unlikely women to cough up their truest assumption: the male is and should be regarded as superior. As Master, it very much pleases me to hear them speak in the sweetest tones this truth. Ah yes! Not the cup of tea for so many, but the deep truth in many, many women's hearts.
As it was for my submissive Karen.
We had further conversation, in which Karen got even drunker, and the conversation was interrupted several times by her effusively leaping up to passionately kiss me and have her tits hurt and her cunt fondled (to the protest of the restaurant manager who came over twice to ask us to cool it—though it was late and very few people lingered here). In the conversation I asked her about her very beautiful co-student, Rita, who I knew had a real crush on me. I knew that she had had a kind of rough type of boyfriend a few years back that she was very much in love with. Their relationship ended when he started becoming physically abusive with her. She had, strangely, once told me that he wanted to tie her up.
I asked Karen if Rita might also be submissive like her.
Karen looked at me with strange pride and said of Rita, "She could never measure up!" I loved her incredible bitchiness. It was if to say, "I'm the one you want, not that cunt."
The restaurant was closing and I went to the bathroom. I had Karen call a taxi for me. She lived only a few blocks away, but I had to return home quite a distance away. I am married and was going home. But Karen had a regular boyfriend, too, and we both acknowledged that we were headed for an affair... but we probably were not going to dissolve our existing relationships.
When the taxi came, Karen, still in a passionate trance, asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"
I gestured her into the back seat of the taxi. There, she slid down beside me, so her head was on my shoulder. Her position gave me full access to her tits which I latched onto very cruelly with both hands, pinching her tit nipples very hard, while I began to gently kiss her. She made no gesture of trying to push my hands away from her tits. And she had the pride not to wince when I hurt her. She just looked at me quietly as though I fully deserved this privilege of abusing her. I began to quietly tell her that I was a woman-trainer and Master. I told her that I was used to having women lick my shiny black black Master's boots in fealty. She thought for a moment and said to me very submissively, "I'll lick your boots."
We talked a bit more and she said, "I really want you to fuck me!"
My reply was, "I might have some use for you."
At the end of the taxi ride, she went with me up the steps, embracing me almost fanatically. I had to scold her to get her attention and get her to go back into the taxi for a rather long ride back to the city and her home. She said as she went down the stairs, "What now?"
I told her to send me an e-mail the next day asking, "What instructions do you have for me today?" I actually did not expect her to send such a note. I thought that once the alcohol wore off, she'd rethink all of it—or she might not even remember it all. She was very drunk.
I was surprised and delighted to find in my e-mailbox the next day around 4 pm a note from Karen worded as required. Now, Karen is essentially retired, but busies herself with volunteer work and political work. (A lot of it is women-centered and feminist oriented.) My instructions were for her to make sure every bitch hair on her body (except head and eyebrows) was shaved or otherwise depilated cleanly starting the next day—and then everyday. I was pleased to find uploaded photos of Karen the next day showing cunt cleanly shaven for the first time, and legs and armpits slickly done. She showed her razor and shaving liquid on the edge of her sink. Her comment was: "Thank you Sir for this direction."
And—to my surprise she said, "But I so want to please you. I could do much more." This was the beginning of a deeper relationship.
Karen had told me that she had never had a notion that she had these deep submissive desires. But, like other women I have trained, guided and Mastered, once I had broke through to her, her passion for contact and deeper commitment was very intense. She knew from the get-go that I was going to fuck and use her, as pleased me, but we both could see it was best that she not break off her ongoing, budding relationship with a lawyer whom she'd been dating for at least 6 months. But I was going to have deep influence on her and I was going to shape that relationship in ways that accorded with my sense of things.
My instruction for their date the next night was the following: "He will want to have sex with you as usual. When he is naked and prepared I want you on your fucking knees with pretty lipstick on.
And I want you to say to him the following, "Fuck my face! My hands will stay at my sides and I want you to take your pleasure with me. Just fuck me in the mouth. Don't be shy about this. It's what I need. I'm very hot and very ready."
Now I had instructed Karen to get a little tipsy during her date, to loosen her inhibitions. Her somewhat bold and obscene approach was not so out of character for her. She was a businesswoman with personal force and had an "aggressive" side. Here, she'd just be aggressive in submission to her boyfriend and to me. I instructed her to text me in the bathroom immediately after her encounter.
Her text to me that night read this way: "Thank you Sir. He got very hot and dumped a good load down my throat. I nearly came." (I had not prompted her to give me such an obscene account; I surmised that she knew that it would please me.)
Don, her 65 year old boyfriend, a lawyer for a rising "green energy" firm, clearly had no D/s inclinations and, at this age, was unlikely to develop any. But like many men, he could appreciate sleazy sex with some real, implied female submission in it. He'd take it, that is, as long as he wasn't made to prompt or manage it.
It would be 10 days before I would meet with Karen again. In between I had her "submissivize" her sex and behavior toward Don in several additional ways, more subtle than this additional bolder instruction. In those 10 days she did fall to her knees, again, with pretty painted lips to take his hard cock in the face without using her hands, as I had ordered. The lipstick was new for her. She very rarely wore make-up before I got my hands on her.
Karen had some shopping to do to prepare to meet me and she had also to go to a beauty shop at short notice. I am very, very particular about how a woman presents herself for me. For her next meeting with me Karen was required to have long false, nicely painted fingernails (she'd never worn false nails.) She was to be very meticulously made up with make-up that pleased me. She was to be wearing 4" high heels that suited my taste, traditional black leather pumps with closed, pointed toes. (Karen's style of dress was always understated, even when she was an executive. She owned no 4" heels before she met me.) She wore a garter belt and hose with no panties. And I wanted long, showy earrings, bracelets and rings on her--- she could and did afford gold and jewels.
We met in a hotel bar in a town about 20 miles distant so that there was much less chance for her to be discovered. It was dark at 4 in the afternoon and I chose a booth at the far corner of the room, where we could sit very privately. I got there early and was very pleased to see the proper changes in Karen's wardrobe and presentation, as she somewhat unsteadily approached me in her new high heels across the carpeting. In her beautiful black dress (not low-cut, because her tits were smallish) she looked like a completely new woman. She had gotten used to jeans and comfortable shoes and I don't think she looked anything like she looked any time in her life as she came to me for my Mastery. And that was the fucking point.
There was a softness, true femininity in her carriage and demeanor that really made me see that I had touched a deep part of her. I got up quietly and let her sit in the far corner of the larger table. The perfume brand I insisted upon wafted pleasantly in her wake. When she was seated, she grasped my hand and said very sweetly, with real emotion, "Sir, let me call you 'Master.' A few weeks ago I didn't even know what that was, but I want to say it so much."
"You may do so," I said as I leaned forward and kissed her firmly, putting my harsh fingers on her tit nipples to certify my claim over and control of her.
She began to tremble slightly and let herself breath the excitement that she felt. With a little struggle, because I was really twisting her delicate tit nipples viciously, she said, "Thank you for hurting me, Sir." Here, again, was the sort of startling and surprising expression from a total neophyte that bespoke a maturity of understanding and intention, somehow very hidden for the longest time.
With one hand still holding a vise grip on her tit nipple, with the other hand I made my way up her dress into her dripping, bare and newly shaven cunt and worked her into a passionate frenzy. She was near orgasm when I abruptly ceased my attentions, told her to redo her fucking lipstick and got up to go around the corner to get the bartender to serve us. It was a beautiful thing to see a woman fall into submissive entrancement so easily and naturally. This business woman, unbeknownst to her, was born to be slave and servant to Cock and Man-Power—just as naturally as she breathed.
When I sat back down I put one of Karen's prettily manicured hands onto my hard prick to let her feel my own passion. We had exchanged by e-mail and telephone enough, over the last couple weeks, to fill a life time. I was a harsh, experienced Master and woman trainer with a very sexist edge. It turns out that only such a bold, harsh Master could have broken her carapace and stupor and exposed her essential truth as slave.
"So this tough, business lady act is all bullshit?" I said.
"I know that now, Sir. I'm strong in so many ways. I intimidate men without even thinking. But...really, I'd only had the vaguest idea of this before, I just so deeply respond to your strength. I may never have... I'm just so glad I got so drunk that night." I loved her hesitant, nearly stammering, girlish softness and hesitancy. It was a place deep inside her that she had never been lead to go to. Until she met a Master. No one but no one would have guessed that Karen in her heart was slave material.
"So you understand then that I don't give a fuck about how you're used to doing anything. That, with me, things are my way and only my way?"
She was so bold as to put one of her pretty hands on my cheek and bring her pretty painted lips up to mine in the most sweet, submissive kiss I'd every gotten. Sometimes a man can feel the full, complete surrender of a woman in her soft, pliant, nearly worshipful lips. So was it that moment for me.
"Master. You made me your cunt that night. How did you know I NEEDED control? How did you know I need a firm, harsh hand? I'll NEVER be the same and (my heart is pounding now) I wait with real expectation the day when I can bow down to your Master's boots and kiss them the way a woman should."
This deeply submissive declaration made my stiff prick ache and brought me out more truthfully. That moment I took out of my suit jacket pocket a pair of metal nipple clamps and there, in the dark, secluded quiet of this fancy hotel bar, I secured one on each of Karen's tit nipples, over her expensive black dress and bra, and I turned the clamps nearly as tightly as I could. I was pleased to see her tears that came from her pain, though it angered me that she had ruined her perfect make-up. But I heard no objection or protest from her. No waiter or customer saw what happened. It only lasted five minutes. But it began to secure and anchor a proper relationship that was budding and would develop beautifully.
After her tears were dried and she had made-up her face again to please me, Karen thanked me, unreservedly, for the pain I'd given her.
Her status certified, I reached again under her dress to play my fingers in her bare cunt. She was dripping there and it took no more than a few moments before her legs seized my hand, she pushed very hard against it and let her orgasm breath itself out in my ear, in a beautiful, feminine and controlled way that impressed me. Though I am not inclined to allow a female any action that is not scripted and dictated by me, I indulged her bringing her pretty lips up to mine for a very passionate kiss. When she tried to tongue kiss, I admonished her that she was NEVER to stick her bitch tongue in my mouth—and then I shoved my own tongue into her mouth like a stiff prick to which she responded properly by allowed its probing quietly, passively, femininely and with an increase of breathing and excitement that brought forward a second gasp of orgasm. Karen strongly responded to decisive control and aggressive male assertion.
When she had settled herself and had carefully redone her make-up we talked.
"So you understand now how it's going to be?"
Karen just softly answered, "Yes."
"Yes, what?" I said a bit annoyed.
"Yes, I know that you're the Master and I'll do as told."
"You've never had a relationship like this. You never even knew how submissive you are. And you've been a business executive, boss and assertive woman in your everyday life. You've had nearly a lifetime of a totally different way of being. Are you really sure, this is the path for you now?"
"Sir. If I didn't respect you so much, or thought you were a woman-hater, it would be very different. But, as it is, I feel like you're the first man to bring out the real me. God. I so respond when you hurt me! It could be that there is a submissive cunt inside every forthright, 'independent' woman who is looking for her MASTER. All I know is that my cunt is dripping now and my heart is thumping just thinking of the way you treat me. I'm not a shrinking little violet. I'm a WOMAN who has never felt so female and feminine in my life before. I know who I am and am not confused. I want you to fuck me, hurt me, use me and Master me. I fucking deserve it (as the sexists say) and I really, really need it. Of that I am sure."
She realized how aggressive sounding even this submissive declaration was and added very quickly, "As you can see I really need training."
"And you're ready to have me call you 'bitch' or 'cunt' or whatever expletive pleases me?"
Karen went into herself and showed the placid passivity that was at her core (and so pleased me) and answered bluntly, "It's not up to the woman to decide how a man wants to talk."
We/we had truly connected, here, in a real way. Karen's very drunken revelation of an alter ego was true. And she was strong enough to own it. And passionate enough and proud enough to live it. I escorted her into the parking lot, taking her firmly by the arm as though she were a bad girl who needed to be chastised. When We/we got to her car, she turned to me and she said, "Victor, I want to show you."
She was a little drunk from three drinks at the bar. She fell to her knees and bowed to my feet and put her servile lips to each of my shoes, clasping, submissively my shoe backs. "I want to serve you, Sir," the uppity, business-cunt said to me.
"You shall," I answered and, once she'd shown her soul to me down at my feet, I turned coldly on my heel to leave her face down on the dirty cement.
Things changed in Karen's house, after this, in the privacy of her home. Firstly, when this bitch got up in the morning, she'd take her shower and do her "hair maintenance" regimen, removing the slightest stubble. (Waxing of her cunt was of course done bi-weekly, also). Having bathed she was to do her hair in a style that pleased me, put full, careful make-up on, put on her perfume, put on her several rings and bracelets and her glamor-style earrings, put on a pretty bra, her garter-belt and hose and put on her 4" high heeled pumps. She, then, was to prepare an "easy bites" breakfast in the kitchen. Then, kneeling on her knees on the kitchen floor, she would bend down to eat her breakfast from a bowl on the floor without using her hands like a WOMAN.
Karen was allowed to masturbate to orgasm after this servile act (without allowance for cleaning her face), if this abject act really, really turned her on. She did masturbate EVERY morning, now.
Once she'd served me at her breakfast, she was to dress and accouter in ways she had never done in her life and had never considered doing. Pants were banished from her wardrobe indoors or outdoors. She was allowed to wear dresses and skirts only. Also, she was forbidden to wear pantyhose, but required to wear garter-belts and hose at all times. Additionally, she was forbidden to wear anything but high heeled pumps of my choosing indoors or outdoors, henceforth. Her long false nails were to be carefully painted each day and she was to wear the list of jewelry that she never had graced the world with before--- each day.
I had her masturbate to orgasm with dildoes at least three times a day to condition her. Twice daily she was required to use a very large dildo for "cock-suck" training, where she was admonished to learn to overcome her gag reflex.
As it turned out, her boyfriend Don very much liked her new look and attitude. What man wouldn't? She continued to have him fuck her face in the fashion I'd insisted upon, on her knees, on the floor, hands at her sides, with pretty new lipstick on, regularly. Now it was part of their routine. Also, the subtle changes in her approach to him, were also accepted, at least, and probably welcomed by him. I had required her to sweeten and feminize her voice considerably in a man's presence. She had learned to smile and purr more. She was required to offer him foot massages and back rubs spontaneously and to adopt a more servant oriented attitude, subtle enough not to make her seem a weirdo, but clear enough to make him feel privileged as a man.
"Don practically raped me last night!" she texted me after about 10 more days of not meeting. "I think you are right that every man really wants a geisha-whore. I've been so stuck in my egalitarian bullshit, I'd never considered it. I have only you to thank, Master. But when will can I have a real man come and fuck me?"
I liked her turn of phrase. We/we had e-mailed, talked on the phone and texted a lot. Karen, truly was a woman who felt that she had been freed for the first time in her life from a host of conventional (but very habitual) modes that had impeded her self-development. She was hot as a pistol sexually and very, very focused on pleasing me.
"OK," I said. "Tomorrow night I am coming over to use you. I want your dress, make-up and accouterments to be perfect and I want you wearing those new, nearly impossible 6" high heels for me. I want you to use the largest dildo I've given you to come to near orgasm three times within the two hours before my arrival. But you are not allowed to come. When this is done, I want you kneeling with face down on your bed, with your panties down and your skirt pulled up over your waist, bare cunt exposed. You'll kneel there starting at 8 pm. Leave your fucking front door unlocked. I'll come over when it pleases me. When I come, I will only be there to use your bitch cunt. I will fuck you and I want you to keep your cunt mouth shut while I do it. You may grunt in pleasure. Once I do this and dumped my load in you, I've got more important things than to sit around talking to a set of holes. I'll be leaving very soon after I've taken the Pleasure that is a Master's right."
Karen's sweet tweet said, "Thank you, Sir."
As a Male-Supremacist Master I have "sexist" thoughts and views, and I do express Myself accordingly. But now there was not an iota of difference between the way Karen thought about things and My own crude understandings. Listen to what she said to me, "Every bitch needs to be under a strong man's thumb to feel whole." I did not invent nor coerce her thoughts. So, now, the narrative begins to reflect more MY narrative and way. And, believe Me, this cunt NEEDED it that way.
I got to Karen's condo at about 8:45. I went into the door and made my way to the living-room to make myself a double scotch. I did linger a moment in the doorway of Karen's bedroom to take a look at my whore. She was in proper position, her bare, glistening cunt exposed, in the 6", black patent leather, high arched, pointy-toed, thin heeled, nearly unwalkable pumps that one might find on a good street-walker. I didn't hear a peep from the bitch, as was required. I had myself a good, quiet drink and, when the spirit moved me, I went into the bedroom, got onto the bed, unzipped myself and shoved my Prick into this bitch for the first time. She was so, so ready for Me and I felt her cunt seize My thick Prick in orgasm almost immediately. Her body was trembling and in erotic spasm as I assumed this bitch MY WAY. I fucked her for a good 20 minutes, before I let myself loose in her. While I called her a bitch set-of-holes, a good solid fuck-place, a nice pliable whore for a man, a good boot-licking cunt, Karen in her life had never really been made to fully be a woman for a man, so her bodily and emotional response was very strong. She squirted her slit juice over my hard Prick to answer in affirmative to my characterizations of her. she gasped and started weeping at a certain point. Sometimes it is a little hard for a forthright "liberated" cunt to face that fact that her greatest pleasure comes in being a submissive whore.
At 10 pm Don was coming over to stay the night with Karen. He was used to having her greet him at the door now on her knees, dressed as pleased Me, with lipstick perfect to greet his hard cock, hands at her sides. The 6" high heels were a bit too drastic, so I had had Karen change to 5" black patent leather heels of the same type. Karen reported that her sex life with Don had improved tremendously since I had changed her dress and demeanor. Their conversation, too, had moved away from their more deeply intellectual exchanges that they once had shared and instead focused much more on Don's feelings, concerns and subjects. And this had brightened him and had made their relationship solider, though quite different. I had emphasized that the geisha-whore role for her with Men was a good fucking antidote to the free-wheeling, "do-as-I please," "independent woman" role she'd been burdened with for so long. Certainly, she would never have come to such an attitude without forceful intervention on My part, insisting that she change her fucking ways, but good. But she also took to her new persona and way with a wet cunt and an avid desire to please Me and only me.
Don was the lucky fellow who got taken up in Mine and Karen's drama, but he really loved the new leaf she had unexpectedly turned over and, probably not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he seemed to have decided to be uncurious about the difference in treatment he was receiving. I calculated that part of this may have been a male ego that imagined somehow his own prick and interpersonal skill had brought about the change. He, of course, did not know the training regimen she was subjected to more strictly each day and the pain she began to undergo in My distant punishments of her that cleared her head and made her want to strive to be a better cunt and whore. And that night he, as usual, also let himself be unaware, when he vigorously fucked Karen, that he was getting "sloppy seconds," my good cum-load still dripping from her cunt when he shoved himself in.
"Master. Thank you for the grace of your hard prick last night. I love you," was the text message I received the next morning after Karen had eaten her breakfast like a woman and had masturbated to orgasm. "I know we'll never be together permanently as husband and wife—or Master and slave, as I would prefer, but, as long as I can, I want you to train, teach and condition me in your Masterful way. I had my own journey with 'women's liberation' that I try not to regret. But, looking back, it seems more like slavery to some set of bullshit ideas made up to stultify, stereotype and frustrate women, almost calculated to cut them off from so much that is essential to a female. God I wish I'd known 20 years ago how much I need a good harsh, steady Male hand in my life. I really love being your cunt and hurting and serving for you. You have given me the only 'liberation' I've ever really needed."
Of course, most women, when they are finally honestly brought to heel by a Master Who knows, overflow with love, the deepest most passionate love, one that culminates in true fealty. Man-love must be different. It can only come when he can see that the bitch has truly changed and has left her cunt ways behind in favor of His Rule.
After a week or two more of "distance-learning" for Karen it was getting to be time for a full night date with Karen, where I could refine her role and, perhaps, put a collar and leash on the bitch. I had begun to introduce her to protocols of pain to please the Master. I directed her to put certain fiery creams and ointments on her clit and cunt to show me her obedience. I introduced her to "figging," putting pieces of ginger in her ass which give quite intense pain. And I had instructed her more fully on my understandings of the Man/cunt relationship. All of this supercharged, Karen's to submission, it seemed.
My wife was going out of town for four days a conference, so it was time for me to arrange things. Karen was to meet me at and out of the way Indian casino some 300 miles from our city. I rented a very luxurious honey moon suite for us.
I saw the look of strain on Karen's face, as she entered the casino and savored the vision of my new cunt approaching me, trying to pretend all was normal. I myself wore a nice new suit and tie. Karen wore a beautiful black dress, wearing the heavy earrings, rings and other jewelry that pleased me. In her ass had just been inserted a wickedly large piece of ginger that was really painful. Her new high heels, 5" pointed toe, traditional pumps had in their restricted foot space a plastic insert with plastic spikes on like those found on many plastic doormats. Walking in these was quite painful. I was very pleased at the way Karen somehow gracefully approached me, looking for approval. In the heels, she stood a full 6 feet tall, but it was a very submissive six foot woman who came to serve Me.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Do You Hear What I Hear? (multi)

byAnonymous_stranger©

This one requires a little explanation:

When I first got into posting audio stories on Literotica, I was met with a delightful response from listeners around the world. Some of them thrilled me by sending me recordings of their own. I saved many of those, and (as you will hear) I greatly enjoy them still.

Recently had the idea I would have some fun and make a dance mix using their voices. I pulled those old recordings out of my email archive and into a single GarageBand file. That project is still in the works, because every time I open up the file, well, I get distracted, as you can hear...

This is what it sounds like when fifteen of my fantasies come true at once. Is it any wonder I roar so loud at the end?

To hear just my voice, listen to the "solo" version of this audio. And maybe someday I WILL finish that damn dance mix.

Much love to all the wonderful, sexy fans who sent me their orgasms and made me feel so good!

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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (3.5 min/mp3)

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Report Story

Monday, April 4, 2016

Making the School Toilet by Slave Fart

Tried going for a more unwilling toilet slave vibe. Lots of verbal humiliation and scat. Some pee.
---
Kristen and Kelsey were absolutely brutal to anyone that got in their way at school. There was a good reason I steered clear of them since kindergarten. The worst part was that our principal, Mr. Jackson, seemed to let them get away with murder all the time, too. When they were freshman, they beat up one of the senior girls and had her carry their books around the school the entire time. It became a tradition for them to dominate a senior girl and make them pretty much their slave for the entire school to see. But I stayed in my lane, and I kept out of their line of sight.
Both Kelsey and Kristen are stunningly gorgeous. Kelsey has long, auburn hair with crystal blue eyes. Her ass is pronounced, shapely, and firm. She plays on our softball team and keeps herself in wonderful shape. She's kind of short at 5'5", but people still see how gorgeous and perfect her body is, so they let her treat them like slaves.
Kristen has a really funny sense of humor, but she's relentlessly a bitch to anyone that she feels like. At 5'7", she's average, and she often talks about how she weighs 140+ lbs. Her body is outrageous, though. Her ass is big, if not a little more fatty than Kelsey's. Kristen doesn't work out as much, but she doesn't have to. She eats a lot of fast food and her favorite is Taco Bell. I've heard she has ripped some nasty farts in classes, but does so loudly and then watches people smell it.
They're inseparable and take the exact same schedule. I feel bad for anyone in those classes...
The beginning of senior year was here and we were all excited for school, and now that most of us had turned 18 there was a fair amount of smokers on campus, though I didn't join in myself.
At the front of the school I saw "The Ks", both Kristen and Kelsey, spitting at freshman and smoking cigarettes. They were just such absolute bitches...
"Hey, you, freshman," Kristen shouted, "Open your mouth."
The small boy had no choice. She hocked a loogie and shot it right in his mouth.
Kristen grabbed him by the face and said, "If given the opportunity I would totally take a shit in your mouth with no regrets or second thoughts. So be careful..."
Kelsey picked one of the football players, "Loser, listen up. I don't care if you play football. While you're at this school, I am your Goddess and I own you. I own everyone here except Kristen. Lick the bottom of my boot, boy."
He got down and did it. I never fully understood it, honestly, how people just did whatever they said. All I knew is that I somehow stayed out of their warpath going on 12 years.
My schedule had history, math, science, english all in a row. But then I had two study halls and an independent study to end the day, so I'd never bring homework back! Awesome! I waited for Kristen and Kelsey to go inside and then I followed. They had already picked a girl named Caroline to be their "book buddy", which essentially meant that poor Caroline would be their slave for the whole school to see. Caroline would have to follow them into the bathroom and apply their makeup, she'd have to haul books around, carry their lunches from the cafeteria line, clean up their trays, and just really embarrass herself simply so those two bitches could live a life of little stress.
History was Mrs. David and when I walked in I saw Kelsey and Kristen sitting in the second to last row. The only chair was behind Kelsey and next to their "Book Buddy", Caroline, who was seated behind Kristen.
Kelsey was giggling and whispered to Kristen. It scared me because I saw Kristen whip her head up and look at me. I quickly put my eyes to the ground and scurried into my chair. This was the only class that didn't have any of my friends in it, so I was royally screwed in terms of having someone to talk to.
Class was basic and just an introduction. Math, science, english, first study hall, then lunch... It all ran by so quickly, so I wasn't upset. But then as I was leaving the cafeteria everything went black.......
---
"Wake up," it was a sweet sounding, almost angelic voice, "It's time for you to wake up, now."
I tried to move, but all of a sudden it felt like I was falling over! I tipped over as I was tied to a chair and crashed to the ground. I heard some very unmistakably bitchy laughter and knew that I'd somehow gotten on their radar...
Caroline spoke to me, "I'm sorry, but the Ks have decided to do something with you, so I knocked you out with a cafeteria tray and tied you up here."
"Quiet, slave. Now leave us with our newest property," it was Kelsey, "That's right, boy... We've been waiting since sophomore year to do something special with you."
"You tried to stay out of our way and avoid serving us?"
"Big mistake."
Kristen emphasized, "Big. Fucking. Mistake."
Kelsey stood over me, looking down at me with contempt, "Well now we're finally allowing you to live out your existence as it was meant..."
"Please," I began to beg, but was interrupted.
"You hear that, Kels? He said please! He's begging to be our slave!"
"Finally, now you're where you belong," Kelsey said, squatting down and putting her gorgeous butt right in my face, "Now. Smell my fart, bitch."
Sssssssfffffffffffffsssssssssssssss
She ripped a very long, silent fart that assaulted me immediately. Kristen began clapping and laughing.
"You better start inhaling like you mean it, fart face!"
The egg smell seemed to find my nose effortlessly as she kept her ass squarely in my face.
"You see, fart face, we used to use Mr. Jackson, the principal, for this duty. And what duty is that Kristen?"
"Well Kelsey, we use one unlucky loser as our personal toilet."
"That's right Kristen, we use---" Kelsey was interrupted by me.
I shouted, "Please! Please don't!"
Kelsey stood up very fast and they both looked down at me with hell's fury in their eyes.
Kristen kicked me in the side and shouted, "Beg! Beg for my forgiveness! This is a treat for you, slave! We've set Mr. Jackson free purely so we could use you instead! You should be honored!"
I couldn't move, still tied to the chair, so I did the unthinkable, "I'm... I'm so sorry. I am so, deeply sorry. Thank you, Kelsey. Thank you for farting in my face. I loved your fart and I would be honored to serve as your toilet."
Kristen went up and crossed her arms while Kelsey started pulling down her jeans.
Kelsey spoke, "Mmmm... I'm honestly kind of unimpressed, Kristen?"
"Not impressed by a long shot! This slave has to prove that he wants to be our toilet."
"Hmmm... How could he prove it? Hmmmmmmmm," as she was saying hmm, she began to squat over my face again. I was on my side, but Kristen flipped me so I was now on my back, arms at my sides....
"I think if it really wanted to be your toilet, I think it would beg."
"Please," I was going to beg for freedom again, but I saw Kristen pull her leg back while her friend's anus was now pointing directly at my face, "Please... Use me."
"Do what now," Kelsey asked from above me.
"Please use me."
"Use you? Use you for what? Should I use you as my shoe shiner? What should I use you for?"
"You can use me for that too, but please use me for your toilet. P-... Please let me b-... Be your toilet," tears began streaming.
"I dunno Kristen, what do you think? Hmmm? I mean I'm pointing my asshole right at his fucking mouth, right? Should I take a piss in his mouth? Should I let him chew on my turds and eat my dump? I don't know, I just. Don't. Know..."
Kristen looked down her friend's back and caught my eyes, "Yeah. Open your mouth, toilet."
"Keep that mouth way open. I've got a lot of piss and shit to relieve myself of."
With that a stream of piss went right in my mouth. I wanted to gag, but instead found myself drinking her urine like it was going out of style.
"Mr. Jackson never drank my pee that fast, and he was our toilet for three years!"
"Yeah, toilet boy, I think you found your calling in life! Being our toilet suits you just right!"
"Oh man, I'm still going and he's still drinking!"
Her piss was tangy, but I wasn't about to disobey. I think if I did well today they'd go back to using Mr. Jackson and leave me alone. The stream seemed like it would never end, but finally it started to slow down. With my mouth open and full of piss, Kelsey finished it all off with a monster fart that seemed to announce her next move in my humiliation.
"Please," I was hoping it was an act.
Kristen looked very angry, "Please, what?!"
"Please," I was having such a hard time bringing myself to do it.
Kelsey farted again in my face and shouted, "You better fucking beg! And do it fast, I have to go NOW!"
"Please.... Shit in my mouth! Please take your dump right into my mouth so I can---"
And then just like that, a huge foot long turd fired from Kelsey's anus, gas escaping with her turd, clogging my mouth and ending the begging. They both laughed insanely loud, Kelsey keeping her ass pointed at me like fart and shit gun. She farted again, releasing a second six inch turd. Both were about two inches in diameter and the first one filled my mouth and fell over my left eye. Her second turd landed on my face and sat like a mustache.
"Ooooo! I gave you a little poop mustache! I love when it just sits right under their nose like that," Kelsey was looking down at me from her squat, keeping her asshole aimed at my face.
"Then they have to smell it. There's nowhere for them to escape the stink. Take a big whiff, toilet. Sniff through your nose right now. And I mean take a HUGE sniff! I want to hear it!"
I inhaled as hard as I could and the smell of Kelsey's fresh shit went beyond my lungs and seeped into my soul. She had a very healthy diet, so her turd was very large, very smelly, and very firm.
"Don't chew my turd just yet, loser. Let it sit there. Let it rest in your mouth. And then do some thinking, like reallllllly think about what's going on right now. You've been turned into a toilet. That's not an exaggeration. My shit is literally in your mouth and I fully expect it to be eaten."
Her turd tasted so disgusting, and this was only just sitting on my tongue, imagining eating it made me want to die.
I tried to reason with them, "Eees on't ake e."
Kelsey stayed above me, standing and chuckling, "You hear that Kristen? My toilet is trying to communicate with us. Well, he probably just wants to thank me for shitting in his mouth and letting him eat it. So I guess to thank me properly, he'll have to munch my turd up and then he can thank me with his open mouth."
"Yep. And then he'll have the opportunity to serve me after. Unless he doesn't value his life."
I gave pause, because what kind of life is it when you're in servitude, but then I thought this was going to be over soon enough and took the plunge, taking a bite off Kelsey's poop.
"Oooo, yeah... That's it toilet boy, chew my poop. Eat my hot turd!"
Chewing and swallowing as fast as I could was difficult, but I somehow made it all the way through and Kelsey's big turd was gone. Now for the smaller one sitting under my nose. I leaned my head just a little forward and it rolled off my face and into my mouth. This one actually tasted a little worse. I wanted to die... And I still had...
"Chew it up, turd muncher. I've got a huge load for you. Kelsey might take it easy on you, but I'm sure as hell not," Kristen was forceful.
"Easy?! She didn't take it easy on me," I said after I took my last gulp of shit, "Her turd smelled... Wonderful! Wait! No!"
Kristen kicked me in the side again, "You better learn that nothing should come out of your mouth unless it's begging us to shit in it and thanking us for the opportunity to eat our shit!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Thank you, Kelsey! Thank you so much! Thank you for shitting in my mouth! Thank you, Kelsey for letting me eat your shit!"
"That's better! But... Mmmmm," Kelsey squatted over my face and let off one final bare assed fart right in my face, "I'm not sure, yet Kristen... I don't know if he's earned his freedom... I think there's another thing he has to prove."
I knew what they wanted, but I didn't want to say it. I refused to beg Kristen to shit in my mouth. Kristen walked over to a bag and got out a very thin piece of cane.
"Oh toilet boy... Is there something you want to ask me," Kristen was standing above me.
"No. I don't want it. Please," I was still tied to the chair, shit stains on my face and crying.
She whipped my shin bones and Kelsey said, "Oh I think there's something you want to do for Kristen, don't you *slave*..."
"No! I can't! It's terri-" the cane across my shin bones made me scream.
Kristen simply smiled, "I'm going to enjoy breaking you. You know why everyone in this school lets us do whatever we want? Because if they don't, they would be our shiteater. It's a rumor, and I know you've heard it, but you didn't think it could be real. We had to break Mr. Jackson, and he's so thankful that you're eating this load instead of him. He's been my toilet for three years. Think about that."
Kelsey kept pushing, "We've turned everyone into this school so afraid of eating our shit that we've become rulers with impunity, Empresses of the school. Queens. Goddesses. And nobody is going to say a fucking word if we just decide to use you as our toilet openly. So there's two ways this can work."
"One: You beg me right here, right now, and I mean BEG me to use your mouth as my shit bin. Or two: You refuse to keep what you might think of as 'dignity'---"
"Like you could even have dignity after you just ate my shit."
"-And then we beat you, brainwash you into our full time slave, and use you as our toilet in front of the entire school on a daily basis. I will go to your house and shit in your mouth in front of your family. I will tell them that you're property of Kelsey and I and that you are no longer a free person. I'll go to the cops and have them register you as dead, and then I'll shit in your mouth in front of them."
"And then when that's all over, I will take you back to your parent's home, show them your death certificate, and then I will shit right in your mouth while you're begging for it. Then you will thank me. And then I will thank your parents for giving birth to my living, breathing toilet," Kelsey added.
Kristen finished with, "So, toilet... What's it going to be?"
My mouth still stained with Kelsey's shit, I started thinking about it and took their threat very seriously...
"I... Kristen... Will you please shit in my mouth?"
"Do better."
"Kristen, will you please use my mouth as your toilet? Will you please turn me into your shit bin, your latrine? Will you take a huge shit right into my mouth so that I might be lucky enough to chew and swallow your shit, please?! Please! I'm begging you to let me eat your shit!!"
The smiles emerged from their faces slowly, but then they were giddy with delight. Kelsey started putting her pants on, but then stopped.
"Oop! My butt wants to blow him one more fart."
BARROUUUUMMMMFFFF
"Ahh! Oh man do I feel good!"
Kristen pulled down her jeans, "And now I'm about to feel that same pleasure. Keep that mouth open, boy. And watch my anus as I release my waste into your mouth. Observe the entire scenario as it lays before you. Ponder on how your existence has been reduced to being my toilet. Then realize what this means...."
She slowly squatted down, putting her ass very close to my face. I felt the heat coming off her asshole as it pushed in and out.
"Inhale through your nose while she farts in your face, loser," Kelsey chided me on.
SSSSSSSSSFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUMMPPPPPPPPSSSSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPS
It had to be ten seconds, but her fart started to slowly leak out as I began inhaling. The egg smell turned to shit smell about 3 seconds in and I was still breathing in her fart. It turned more explosive and a very small piece of her shit escaped and landed on my upper lip, right under my nose. Kelsey laughed, but the smell hit her.
"Jesus! Kristen!"
"I had Taco Bell for lunch," she looked over her shoulder, "And a White Castle breakfast."
"No," I said through tears, her fart was bad enough. I don't think I could handle the shit that was about to come with it.
Kristen snapped and looked at me, her ass still in my face, "No?! No, WHAT, *slave*?"
The way she said slave made me realize there was no way out of this, "No.. Please fart directly into my mouth so that Kelsey wouldn't have to smell it. Because I'm your toilet and... And I deserve this."
I hated myself so much. I am an extremely unwilling toilet slave at the moment... But I'm still a toilet slave...
"That's fuckin' right, bitch."
She adjusted and started pissing all over my chest, completely soaking my shirt and then she started pissing all over my mouth Some got in my nose and I coughed it all out.
"That's right! Choke on her piss you loser," Kelsey shouted.
I couldn't tell who liked it more, Kelsey or Kristen. They owned the whole fucking town, and I was no longer in the shadows.
"I think I'd rather have him choke on THIS!"
With that warning the head of a HUGE two and a half inch diameter turd stretched Kristen's anus to it's max. You could hear it expanding.
"Oh my god!!! This one feels insane!"
"It IS, girlfriend! You're going to give him something to work for!"
"Good. I hate when I eat a ton and end up with a small dump. Not this one, though. You hear that, toilet?"
Her turd was slowly exiting her asshole, and it started to hit my teeth, so she adjusted to make it enter my mouth perfectly.
"There we go. Precision, slave. It matters."
And then she let it go. It pushed to the back of my mouth, mashing up, filling the void in my mouth. It coiled up and out of my mouth, spilling over onto my face. Kristen moved around to snake it atop my face, preventing any from falling off.
"I'm trying to hide that ugly face from the world by giving you a makeover. At least now when you think, 'my face looks like shit', you'll be 100% accurate!"
Kelsey started cracking up. They loved using me. With my face completely covered in Kristen's two and a half foot long turd, it finally broke off.
"Man... Don't chew it up yet."
I heard a camera and saw a flash! No!
"Now you can eat her dump! Hahaha! Ok, so that's definitely going up on the school website. It can serve as a warning, And who knows? Maybe we'll make our mascot the shit faces and he can play the role," Kelsey was laughing at her own joke.
Kristen was still aiming her asshole at my face and I wasn't sure why. But I started chewing her turd and it was so much softer than Kelsey's. They both stunk, but Kristen had her on size and stink, this was terrible!
Above me came a very loud rumble from deep within Kristen's cavernous bowels. Oh god no.
A rush of very creamy shit, like soft serve, poured out of Kristen's asshole and she sounded in pain.
"Ahh! It's so spicy! Ahhhhhh!!! My asshole is burning, but it's worth it! It's worth it to make him eat my hot dump! Ooooo!"
It was just sitting on top of her huge turd that I was already struggling with. How am I supposed to eat this much shit?! I started crying openly and they mocked me.
Kristen started, "Awwww. Poor wittle baby doesn't want to eat my turds?"
Kelsey added, "Poor wittle baby should have served us properly then over the last 12 years like everyone else!"
"This is a great moment, Kelsey. I think we might have broken him."
"We'll know after he eats your load of shit. Jesus, Kristen. You REALLY did it this time, too. That's a big pile of shit."
Kristen seemed proud, both that she had a human toilet slave and that she let go a monster dump.
I got to work and started with the bit of turd in my mouth already. It was so foul, but I was able to mash it up and swallow it. Then her hot, creamy shit fell right into my mouth. I swallowed that as quickly as I could and it was very hot, both in terms of heat and in terms of spice. She wasn't kidding!
"Ohhhhh!!! I love it when a slave savors the flavor. Hahaha. Enjoy it, loser! Keep chewing my shit because you don't want to know what happens if you don't," Kristen rested the cane on my balls.
Kelsey went over to their bags or something, I couldn't see where she was.
Kristen moved some of her shit off the rest of my face with the cane and pushed it into my mouth. My mouth was so incredibly dry from all the shit I'd eaten. This was terrible.
I moved my teeth and got the final pits of turd down. Finally. I was free.
Kelsey asked, "Don't you want to say something to Kristen, slave?"
"Oh. Yeah, right. Um. Thank you, Kristen. Thank you for shitting in my mouth and for letting me eat your shit."
The words made my stomach turn... Or maybe that was all the human shit I had in my stomach.
Kristen and Kelsey were smiling huge smiles and... Wait, what's that in Kelsey's hand?
Kristen spoke into whatever it was, "That's right. This is our new toilet. So for all the people who said 'Kristen and Kelsey would never make good on their threat to turn one of US into their toilet', guess again."
"That's a camera," I shouted!
Kelsey mocked me and flipped it on herself, "Uhhh, ya think genius?! So to all of you out there, you best keep in line and do what we say. We run this school, and we will LITERALLY shit in your fucking mouth if you step out of line. Until then, this is our new toilet. So you leave it alone and let it serve us. Kelsey out."
Kristen took the camera, "And unless you want to replace him, you'll listen. Later, slaves. Kristen out."
Then they shut off the camera and laughed, high fived, and saw the perplexed look on my face.
Kelsey said, "Well you see, toilet. We broadcast that whole thing to the entire high school at the pep rally. That girl you like, Jenny or whatever... She just watched you get a mouthful of manure."
"She watched you beg for it. And she watched you chew it. And swallow it. And thank us for doing it," Kristen's smile had her glowing.
"You'll never live down this shame."
"But don't worry! People hardly ever piss us off enough to change toilets! You're only our second one! So you should have a good, long run of slavery in this capacity. Until then, eat. My. Shit."
Senior year was going to be really shitty....

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

(With the exception of names, this is a real group of six women who meet regularly to discuss anal sex. We all live in the Boston metropolitan area.)

About a year ago I joined an unusual club, but one that has a lot of potential. We are six women who call ourselves A.O.O.A., an acronym for Anal Only or Almost. We came together without really intended to. It was a typical friend knows a friend kind of thing, but now we meet five or six times a year in a conference room at the local library for what we have signed up for as a "Woman's Study Group." NO MEN ALLOWED and members are pledged to tell the truth at all times.
Actually, it might be more accurate to describe ourselves as a support group because we're dedicated to anal sex. With very few exceptions, that's all we do with our husbands/partners (from now on I'm going to call them partners) because we know a secret: If you're doing it right, anal sex gives a woman two or three times more pleasure than vaginal sex. We're a support group because this is an addiction for us; we can't live without it.
One of our members, Jenny, says "It feels so good that I just fantasize about Sam's dick in my ass and when I see him after work and want to rip his clothes off and have him fuck me." She also says it's embarrassing to be totally anal because so few women are, or admit they are but so many more would be if they knew our secrets. She thinks that women aren't really afraid of anal sex because of the pain, but for a very different reason. She says that women sense that anal sex could be an out of control situation for them and they don't want to risk what could happen to them if they lose control of their bodies.
She's not wrong about losing control; it happens all the time, but doesn't have to worry so much knowing that other women are just like her. We have an addiction, but don't want to be cured. We want to get together to share experiences and reassure each other that it's all right to feel so good.
Since I'm the oldest and have contributed to Literotica before, I volunteered to take notes on our meetings and write them up.
Here's who we are:
I'm CELESTE. My husband, Jimmy, and I have been married for almost 45 years and anal since we met. We have three adult children. He's sixty-nine and I'm sixty-eight. I work in the field of musical entertainment.
JENNY IS 46 and has been married to Sam for twenty-two years. They have two children, both in college. She is an accountant.
SANDRA is thirty-seven and has been married to Sean for fifteen years. They have two children, one twelve and one fourteen. She is an advertising executive.
ALICE is a thirty-five year old librarian and separated from Joel. They have one child, a five year old boy. She is a librarian.
SUSAN and LOGAN are bi-sexual graduate students at a local university, one studying English and the other in medical school. Susan is twenty-five and Logan is two years older. Their basic form of making love is rimming but they also have boy friends with whom they have anal sex. "I take it up the ass once or twice a week from my guy," says Susan, "and it's just wonderful."
Here are some other interesting things about us:
Four of us attend church regularly.
All of us take good care of our bodies. We exercise regularly and aren't overweight.
All of us are Democrats.
All of us engage in anal contact at least four times a week.
Two of us (Celeste and Jenny) don't use either condoms or lube. Sandra uses lube. Alice, Susan, and Logan use both and wouldn't have sex without having their partner wear a condom. (note: bareback anal sex is extremely risky if you don't know everything about your partner. Jenny, Sandra, and I have been in monogamous relationships for decades).
I thought the answers to the question "What size is your lover's penis?" were very interesting. They included "I don't know," "never measured," "who cares," "he's thick and that's all that counts," and "he's big but I wish he was smaller. He tries to be very careful and that takes some of the fun out of it."
Sandra added "I wish guys would just compare the size of a butt plug with the size of a dildo. That would tell them all they need to know. The bigger you are, the gentler you should be." Then she got angry: "There's no such thing as a 'good hurt.' If a guy plowed into me to get his nutt he could probably give me an orgasm, but it's the last time he'd ever be in me or see me."
Another surprise was when we talked about our nipples. We all agreed that nipple stimulation did almost nothing for us during anal sex. The perfect triple play is stimulating the g-spot, the little valley between the outer and inner sphincter, and the clit all at the same time but our nipples and breasts are irrelevant.
On the other hand, five of us had stories about what happened when we sucked or chewed on our partner's nipples.
For example, when Jenny is rimming Sam and he's playing with his nipples, he cums intensely hands free. She can tell by his sphincters snap down on her tongue. ( I always thought that I was the only woman who knew that the best way to judge how good a rimmer you were was how the tip of your tongue felt when your partner came. Oh, well.)
Toys were also interesting. Sandy has what she calls a "pocket rocket." It's a battery operated device that looks a little like the head of an electric toothbrush. She holds it in her palm and pushes it into her clit when Sean is about to cum. "I go straight to heaven," she said.
I showed the plastic sleeve that Jimmy sometimes wears on his dick. It has little nubs on it that make him feel much thicker and it drives me crazy when I feel in my ass. We don't use it very often because the sensation can easily get too intense.
The show stoppers, however, were Susan and Logan. "We both have two butt plugs," Logan said. "One is just a regular plug that we wear in school or when we're food shopping or doing something that's really boring. But here's show and tell for what we do on special occasions." She reached into her backpack and produced one of the strangest looking things I've ever seen, It looked like a regular plug but with two big differences. At its thickest point it had rim of plastic extending out from the shaft and towards its tip it hooked around like Cape Cod hooks around back toward Boston. "The rim goes right between my sphincters when I close my butt checks on it and the tip pushes into my g-spot at exactly the same time," she explained.
I'm sure the other four of us had never seen anything like that, so I asked "Where did you get that?"
Her answer blew us away: "I MADE IT. ACTUALLY, THAT'S NOT TRUE. A FRIEND CREATED IT FOR ME. IT'S CUSTOM MADE. WHEN I'M WEARING IT I CAN GET OFF JUST BY CLINCHING MY BUTT CHEEKS TOGETHER. THIS LOCKS THE RIM BETWEEN MY SPHINCTER WHILE THE TIP PUSHES RIGHT INTO MY G-SPOT. IT'S HEAVEN."
It turns out that Logan has a friend who she met at a GLBT convention who has finished her classes in medical school and is an intern at a local hospital. As part of her job she supervises the school's 3-D copier three nights a week. As a favor to Logan, they measured Logan's body carefully--where her g-spot was exactly, the angle of the hook that she needed the plug to have to reach it, and the distance from her g-spot to the furrow between her sphincters. Then they used the lab after hours to draw up a template of the plug Logan needed and produced it on the copier.
They did the same thing for Susan. She wanted the rim of hers to be a little bit wider and the hook to be a little bit sharper.
We all wanted to see Susan's to compare it with Logan's, but when we asked to see it, Sandy, who was sitting next to her at the circular table, said "that's not going to happen." Then, turning to Susan and gently putting her arm on her shoulder, she said "you're wearing it, aren't you? I can smell your cum. I think you're very excited."
Susan turned bright red. "I am wearing it and I'm a little excited. No, to tell the truth, I'm very excited. Logan promised to rim me at home if I'd wear it to the meeting and I just can't wait for that to happen." Then, like a someone who had been caught sexting, she added in a very small voice "but I'll take it out if it's against the rules."
"No, leave it in," I said. "We have to break up anyway."
Those are some notes from our first meeting, but I'm not following my notes completely. I'm only writing up the most interesting conversations.
Next, Jenny, Sandra, Alice and I all want to report on anal sex and child birth. I want to tell you about how anal stimulation helped me get pregnant and let me enjoy that pregnancy. Jenny, Sandra, and Alice want you to know how anal sex affected their marriages after they had children.
It brought incredible pleasure to two of them, but great sorrow to Alice. It's a very interesting conversation.
À bientôt.
Celeste

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