This story is fiction; any correlation to anyone, alive or dead, is purely luck. I hope to write a short series with these characters. I wrote this story for the enjoyment of people eighteen years old or older. Also, all characters are consenting adults. This story involves the following tags, Pegging, cum eating, mild feminization, lesbian, exposed, and incest. First time, Femdom, and bondage.
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Bryson, a bespeckled corporate accounting firm accountant, left his office and went to the parking structure. Two years after he had finished courses at the state-subsidized university, having endured months of hearing about his work mentor Samuel, who scored with countless women. Samuel, an athletic, outgoing man, embellished his stories and left naive Bryson envious. At the same time, Bryson, a very reserved man, spent his weekends alone. Bryson, a product of foster care, did not connect well with others. The shy man had finally taken the plunge into the electronic dating world. Bryson downloaded the TendX app on his phone and began swiping. Bryson had never been in a meaningful relationship; his experiences with women have always been brief and tragic. However, a woman finally responded to his profile. This Friday was the day of the arranged meeting, and the recent grad was quite nervous. He hurried home to get ready for his date. Bryson only had time for a quick shower before the meeting time. He wore his new casual shirt and sports slacks over his silk boxers. The feeling of the silk always made him feel sexier.
Earlier in the week, He sat down and wrote an overly honest email with a detailed description of himself. In the text, he revealed his small, skinny stature, as many of his foster mother's arranged first dates had not gone well due to his lack of height. Bryson did not want to misrepresent himself. It did not take long before He got an answer. He felt surprised that she still wished to meet after his honesty. The woman seemed nice, but somehow something seemed off. His loneliness won out, and he emailed his mobile number. Byson hoped she would call, but he was not confident.
Bryson was thrilled when she replied. Bryson enjoyed Aviana's sexy, sultry voice over the phone in several conversations during the week. Those demanding conversations, each almost seeming like a phone interrogation, though mentally intense, these talks brightened his dreary days before Friday. The day before, she called him on the mobile and suggested they meet at her place to get to know each other. He did not understand what seemed wrong about her demeanor, but He would find out. Anyway,
Later, Friday night, he stood before her upscale high-rise building and rang the intercom. He recognized her forceful, sultry voice over the speaker, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest. To Bryson, his heart sounded deafening as he rode the express elevator. She stood, her beauty menacing, at the door to welcome him. Her tall presence commanded his attention: tall, slim, dark-haired, and stunning. Aviana was very fit, in her thirties, and her lengthy, black hair pulled up into a tight ponytail glistened in the entry light, held strictly by a black hair tie. She wore a tight, short black leather dress and black thigh-high boots, revealing the tops of her toned, shapely legs. Bryson consciously tried to close his mouth as he looked up into her eyes, not wanting to seem like a degenerate. Aviana was six foot tall, and Bryson feared his vertically challenged body would deny his chance with her.
"Come on in!" she said, smiling wickedly. Aviana's refined Latina face seemed friendly, but her smile seemed more mischievous.
He sensed a slight risk about her offer, but lust enflamed, He did not think he could turn back now. The sultry Lady led him through her large entry, where she made him remove his shoes and socks so He would not soil her home. He noticed a brown woodgrained lockable box. White walls and dark woodwork gave the entry a formal feel. The interior craftsmanship bespoke true wealth. Bryson felt even more insecure now; what would a gorgeous, wealthy woman see in him? The pure sexual tension of the situation held hope, but was it misplaced?
His cock was as erect as he ever remembered it, and Bryson hoped for action, but it was about to get even stranger. Aviana looked knowingly at his tiny boner, tenting his trousers, and licked her lips. He sheepishly entered the lavish living room, where Aviana coyly offered him a drink. She poured a cocktail out of a pitcher and staged the pitcher on the coffee table. He sipped, which tasted of many different fruits and contained a lot of tequila, but he liked it and nervously downed half of the glass.
"Let me see your hands!" she said, frowning. Bryson regretted not cleaning his nails more thoroughly, as he had spent the weeknights tending his yard, not wanting to violate the terms of his strict lease. He tried to free up the weekend without any worries.
He hesitantly held out his hands. Aviana examined both sides thoroughly and noticed that He had not cleaned his nails properly.
"I expect better grooming from my suitors," she commented tersely.
Bryson, distracted by her large breasts just above his captive hands, spoke, "I am sorry, Aviana, I was weeding my yard yesterday," Bryson stammered weakly. The contrast between her large brown hands and his small pale ones seemed pronounced.
"I expect more from you in the future," she said firmly.
Bryson noticed that her blue-gray eyes had taken on a strange glee. Bryson was thankful she had mentioned the future; at least she would give him another chance to prove himself.
Aviana's lips curled up ever so slightly. She had Bryson right where she wanted. She enjoyed ensnaring ordinary men and turning them into her submissive toys. She led him to a sofa and sat down beside him. Bryson, still nervous, gulped the rest of his drink. Aviana swiftly refilled his glass, knowingly. She could feel her nipples straining the thin, black, premium leather of her dress. Bryson felt extreme nervousness in the presence of such an attractive olive-skinned beauty.
"How was work today?" she asked, biding her time.
"It was fine. A few accounts were troublesome, but I settled the issues quickly," Bryson stated, hoping to sound confident yet not pulling it off.
"You are dependable at work?" she asked. She could tell Bryson was a virgin. Aviana saw right through his feigned maturity.
"Yes, I try to do my best." He said, drinking the potent cocktail.
"Do you enjoy accounting?"
"Yes, I love numbers,"
She noticed his eyes glazing over as the powerful aphrodisiac took effect. Lust washed over him, removing any uneasiness. She pulled him into an embrace and kissed him urgently. She thrust her tongue into his mouth hungrily. Bryson moaned compliantly, overwhelmed by her aggression. She unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out of his red silk boxers. His slightly under-average cock stood at attention. Bryson worried it would not measure up to her expectations. Aviana continued kissing him forcefully as she stroked his member. Bryson sighed submissively. Aviana noticed the red boxers, noting they were a slutty red, confirming her suspicions.
"Are you a good slut, Bryson?"
Bryson did not know how to answer, so he hesitated. His libido wanted to say yes, but his timidity restrained him.
"With a cock this size, you better be a good slut. Will you be my obedient slut?" Aviana asked.
"Yes, I could be," he answered, his eyes wide with surprise.
Yes, could be what?" she pressed, stroking his stiff member.
"Yes, I will be your obedient slut?" he affirmed, realizing he had to respond this way to have any chance with her.
"Exclusively, my slut?"
"Yes, only yours," he answered, his face reddening with embarrassment.
"My sluts never wear clothes without permission. Strip off all your clothes."
Bryson stood, his penis still poking out of his underwear, and removed his pale blue button-up shirt. His nipples looked noticeably hard.
"Stop, pinch your nipples for me, like a good slut."
Bryson lightly played with his nipples between his thumbs and forefinger, feeling used and humiliated.
"Pinch harder, Slut."
Bryson pinched his nipples with a little more force.
"Harder, Slut," Aviana demanded.
Bryson pinched hard as his face filled with shameful anguish. Though thoroughly humiliated, Bryson felt highly aroused. Aviana could tell, and she grinned wickedly.
"Are you a pain slut, Bryson?"
Bryson's eyes looked at her wantonly, unable to keep the decadent secret he was just now learning.
"Answer me, Slut?" Bryson cringed at her repeated use of 'slut' about him.
"Yes," He admitted, morbidly grieved by the revealed truth.
"Take off your pants," She ordered.
Bryson removed his pants, stepping out of them while steadying himself on the arm of the couch. She reached out and took hold of the red silk of his boxers.
"Right material, wrong cut. We will remedy that when we go shopping tomorrow." Aviana said.
She ripped his underwear down forcefully, pushing him over on the couch to pull them off his legs, damaging them in the process.
"You won't need these panties," She handed his shorts to him.
"Take these panties and the rest of your clothes and lock them in the box at the front door," Aviana ordered.
Bryson hesitated, cringing at her description of his silk shorts, and Aviana gave his exposed ass a hard swat with her palm.
"Now," Aviana ordered.
Bryson walked to the entry and locked his clothes into the walnut box, hoping he had not just sealed his fate with a serial killer. He slowly returned to Aviana.
