David & Lisa

Eight years later, David snapped on the bathroom light. Lisa was in a deep sleep, dreaming she was a child back in Lebanon. She was patting a horse and talking to like it was an old friend. "

Je suis une fille de la ville

," she explained. "

Je ne peux pas avoir de cheval.

"

Suddenly her eyes opened, to bewilderment.

Where did the horse go? Why am I lying on a floor naked? Oh, it hurts to swallow!

At that point David stepped into her field of view. The hood was gone. He was back in his civvies. He squatted down and asked, in a not-unfriendly voice, "Well, how do you feel?"

Now she remembered it all. She had to struggle to speak. When it came out it was more of a croak. "I'm OK, I guess," she said, with a slight gargle. "What time is it?" Now she noticed that a leash around the toilet base held her head there.

"Two in the afternoon," said David.

"What time did I get here?"

"Ten a.m."

"Ah, oh," she groaned, "it feels like I've been here for years." Then she blurted out, "My throat hurts."

David chuckled. "I'm not surprised. I gave you quite a workout."

He unsnapped the leash and told her to sit up. Oh, her ass was sore, too! David took the collar off. He took her hand and helped her stand up.

"Easy," he said, "just take a step or two."

The most important thing came flooding back: he had treated her like she was just a wet hole for his pleasure. And she had submitted totally, willingly. She couldn't fathom the strange, shy pleasure it had given her. He had reduced her to nothingness, and in the end, the nothingness was peace.

But, oh my God, what is he going to do to me now?

David, still holding her hand, led her out of the bathroom, down the short hall, and up the stairs into the kitchen. She was still naked and glanced around at the windows hoping nobody could see her. Now that she knew how ruthless he could be, she wouldn't put it past David to pose her in the nude on his front lawn.

David gestured to the small table, so she sat down. Her instinct was to cover herself, but she was sure he wouldn't like that. She folded her hands on the table. She remembered only now that he had said not to speak unless he spoke to her.

David went to the refrigerator and took out a ceramic baking dish. He brought it over to the table. "You should have something to eat. I made this rice pudding. It may soothe your throat."

Lisa nodded emphatically. Hunger came rushing over her almost like sexual need. She hadn't eaten since last night, and what David had put her through seemed to have drained her body of everything. David brought her a bowl, spoons, and a napkin. "Help yourself. What would you like to drink? I've got most everything. I'd advise against anything carbonated, but suit yourself."

"Do you have milk?" Lisa asked.

"Ah, of course." He brought a glass and a carton of cold milk. Then, disturbingly, he sat down across from her and put his own hands on the table. He watched her as she fumblingly put some pudding in the bowl, poured milk, and began to eat.

It was clear he intended to watch everything she did. Was he thinking critical things?

She stopped worrying as she ate the pudding. It was delicious, chilled, flavored with cardamom and studded with golden raisins. The top was a crispy, sugary crust. It did soothe her sore throat. She wanted to tell David how perfect it was but didn't dare speak. Maybe her obvious gusto would convey the idea.

She looked at him and gestured at the large bowl, asking for more.

"Sure," he said. "Help yourself. I made it for you."

The tiny tears again. He was being so unexpectedly kind. Did that mean he was pleased?

When she finished, he took the things to the sink. Then he took her by the hand, raised her up, and walked her out through the dining room and living room, to the large oak staircase just inside the front door. He indicated that she should precede him up the stairs.

He's looking right up my ass. Does he like it?

At the top he led her to a corner bedroom, overlooking the sunny back yard, and on the side looking into a wall of leafy trees. The effect was a little like being in a treehouse.

The bedroom was fairly large and nicely but sparsely furnished. The carpet was a subdued maroon. Against the longest wall, opposite the back windows, was a huge, perfectly square bed, crisply made up with a bold purple cover. The bed itself had no headboard, but a long stained piece of woodwork was mounted on the wall slightly above it, crossing its whole width. Several rings were mounted on the board, some with straps or cords attached. She also noticed rings on the sturdy wooden beg legs. Under the back windows were jumbled an assortment of pillows of different shapes and sizes. She knew what those were for. There were two doors, one to a walk-in closet and one to the master bathroom.

David told her to use the bathroom if she wished. She did, while he busied himself with his phone. When she came out he was still scrolling. She walked over and stood uncertainly in front of him. He ignored her.

Although David was--for now--being polite and considerate, he obviously was assuming her obedience. Other American men didn't treat Lisa like that, because they were nice guys and had been trained to respect women. But, although she had lived in this country for a long time, Lisa was Mediterranean at heart. She had spent her childhood around men, including her father, who were brusque with women and expected them to be attentive to men's needs. David's offhanded orders gave her butterflies, but also a little thrill, as if--somewhat paradoxically, given what she was doing here, she had returned to childhood innocence and freedom.

She was also taking a certain pleasure from being nude while he was clothed. So far, he had appeared not even to notice her body. That, too, gave her an emotional fillip. She wanted him to notice, and the wanting itself stirred eagerness--especially since she didn't dare do anything to call his attention to it, There was doubtless a whip somewhere in this bedroom.

When he finished with the phone, David moved over to the chair by the desk, turned it around, and sat down. He gestured for her to come over, and when she stood in front of him, gestured downward with one hand. Lisa hesitated, not sure what he meant.

"Kneel." She knelt and looked up at him.

"Lower your face." She did. "Keep it that way. Lock your hands behind your head." She did. "No, move your elbows all the way up, out, and back. Back straight. You can bend your neck slightly."

There was quite a long silence. She wondered if he had gone back to his phone.

Then he said, "Tell me what you felt this morning." His voice was even and firm and gave no hint of what sort of answer he expected.

She grasped for words.

What? You mean, what my mouth felt? What my ass felt?

But she had to say something, right now.

"Sir

(should she have called him Master?)

. . . I felt . . . I was . . . overwhelmed. No man

(was it wrong to mention other men?)

. . . has ever done anything like that to me. I . . . didn't know if I could take it, to tell the truth. Toward the end . . . well, I thought it would never end. But . . . but . . ."-- here her voice twisted in supplication--I . . . wanted so much to please you . . . I wanted you . . . to . . . have pleasure"--then, impulsively--"in my mouth." There was a slight spurt of saliva as she remembered his semen gushing into her mouth. She swallowed.

Then she waited for him to say something. A full minute went by. She got uneasy. If only she could see his face!

Another minute went by. The rug wasn't very interesting to look at. She could see his stockinged feet, which didn't move.

Just keep quiet and wait for him! Do what he wants!

Her shoulders and neck were feeling strain.

Now that she knew what David was capable of, Lisa was apprehensive about another sexual torture session. At the same time, she was sure that if he felt she'd done poorly this morning, she'd already be dressed and gone. That gave her a quiet flicker of confidence. Her posture, uncomfortable as it was, thrust her breasts out. She was proud of her breasts, full, upright, with dark aureoles and nipples. She felt obscurely that, in spite of their respective roles, she had some kind of power over David, too. She had felt only too brutally the power of his need, how it had driven him to get his satisfaction, caring nothing whatsoever for her. But she'd aroused that need! Not by anything she did, just by being female, by having these breasts, and by being willing to submit to him. It all seemed to balance out.

Finally David spoke. "Lisa, you did well this morning. I took what I wanted, and you gave it all. Good girl."

Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Her eyes and her cunt watered. O

h please oh please oh please fuck me!

"So, I'm going to fuck you."

Lisa couldn't kept a flash of elation from her face, and she knew David saw it. She didn't care. If he punished her, it would just make her hotter for the main event.

"In the ass."

Lisa's face crumpled.

Oh God, no! Please, don't let

that

happen!

Lisa had never done anal, never wanted to. She had known only one guy who seemed interested in that. He had done a little anal play, which she didn't find exciting. Then he had tried to introduce a small plug, but she chickened out and told him to stop. Anal wasn't fun and it felt dirty.

"Let's get your enema done."

Now she was in complete consternation. She had never had an enema in her life. It was the grossest thing she could imagine. She almost said she was finished and wanted to leave.

But . . . she had come here to find out what it felt like to submit. And she knew she would be willing to go through all the suffering of this morning again if she could arouse David's overpowering, driving need for release and make him say "good girl" again. She had trusted him, and she got through that, and felt safe and peaceful afterward. So . . .

David led her into the bathroom. He had her get down on all fours, put her head all the way down and her ass up high. His hard, warm hands adjusted her so her breasts touched the floor and her torso flexed up to her hips in an arc, her belly pulled in. He moved her legs farther apart.

"Relax," he said. "This won't hurt."

And it didn't. She flinched when the enema nozzle touched her, but it was small and slick and went in easily. A moment later she felt a cool trickle inside that crept down toward her navel. This continued for maybe a minute. Then David took the nozzle out.

"Hold that position and tell me when you feel like letting it out." Her head was a couple of feet from the toilet. He sat on it, putting a foot on either side of her head. She was like a slave salaaming him. If she hadn't had a bunch of water in her ass she would have enjoyed it.

At first she didn't feel anything, but after about three minutes she had the urge.

"Good," David said. "Now get up." He helped her onto her feet, and as soon as she got upright she broke the silence rule and said, "I've got to go, now."

"No, walk back and forth for a bit."

She didn't think she could hold it. She walked up and down the bathroom, slowly and delicately so as not to disturb the watermelon pressing on her clenched sphincter.

Oh, my God I don't think I can hold it! What if I go on his floor? I'll be ashamed for the rest of my life! Oh, I need the toilet! Now!

After about a minute, he told her to sit down on the toilet. Fluid gushed noisily into the bowl. What relief! Then, to her horror, she knew she was going to have a bowel movement. She looked imploringly at him, but David stood there, arms folded, and watched her. She wanted to beg him to leave, but didn't dare. Her turds fell one by one, plopping into the water.

Oh no! Oh no! I can smell my shit! And he can, too!

David watched her complacently. He continued to watch while she wiped herself and flushed. Lisa felt as humiliated as it was possible to feel.

Then he brought out

another

enema bottle and told her to assume the position again. Lisa's incredulity showed on her face. But, mastering herself, she obediently got down on the floor. The second enema felt like the first, but she held it a little more easily. Thank God there wasn't a bowel movement this time.

David calmly directed her into the shower, saying, "Take your time."

Lisa soaked herself for ten minutes, soaping her anus over and over before she started to feel clean again. When she got out she found that David had left a container of skin moisturizer out. As she rubbed it on she imagined the sensation of his skin against hers, their whole bodies wrapped around each other, his mouth hard on hers. Maybe that wasn't likely today, but the thought of it reignited her desire.

I've just been through the worst humiliation I have

ever

been through. How could the rest of it be any worse than that?

And with her asshole already worked out a bit, she didn't fear the thought of anal penetration quite as much. She remembered the voice that said

Do what he wants, do what he wants

. It had got her through this morning. It would get her through . . . whatever lay ahead.

She reappeared in the bedroom. David was sitting on the bed with a few things beside him. She tried not to look at them. She walked over and knelt with her hands behind her head as before. In a moment, David stood up, stepped behind her, and slipped an elastic blindfold on. Everything went black.

He had her climb onto the bed. It was quite firm; the purple cover was soft. Lisa had assumed he'd make her bend over, like she had for the enemas. To her surprise, David had her lie on her back in the middle of the bed. He pulled her arms above her head, flush with the surface. He turned her palms up--and then, curiously, he tickled both of them for a second. What did he mean? She didn't know, but she liked it. He was communicating something. And that alone, just communicating, anything at all, helped so much.

There was a delay, and then a couple of padded cuffs went around her wrists. She felt her arms being pulled up toward the ominous board above the bed, just enough to stretch them straighter and lift them somewhat off the bed. It wasn't uncomfortable. He tickled her armpits, and that, too was encouraging.

Then much larger, softer slings went around her knees. They, too, were slowly pulled up toward the board, raising them toward her head. She bent a little at the waist and her bottom rotated up. The cords for these cuffs ran at angles out from the midline of her body, pulling her legs wide open, exposing everything. She felt like her asshole was pointing at the whole world. David put a thin wedge under her butt, lifting her loins a little. She felt fine. She'd often been fucked in just this position, except for the arms. This time she wouldn't have to hold her own legs open.

David got off the bed, and in a moment she heard his zipper. Something zipped through her belly.

Oh, God, please fuck my cunt! I want you in there so much!

There was the sound of clothing coming off. Soon, as far as she could tell, he was completely nude. She had seen enough of his body this morning to know that he was tautly muscled. He had noticeable hair on his arms, so she imagined his chest as hairy, too. Her imagination went further: he had a faint line of hair down his belly to luxuriant dark crotch hair and swollen tight balls, out of which his fully erect penis jutted up. She had sucked it this morning and knew he was sizable but not giant. She quivered with anticipation to think of his stiffness entering her body a second time, even if it wasn't going to be in the right hole.

She assumed that David would now lube himself, then hopefully her, too. He would lean in between her legs, his weight supported on her thighs. His cockhead would begin pressing down on her asshole, and . . .

Sancta Maria, help me now!

She was startled when, instead, his lubed finger began, slowly, gently, to trace the outline of her sex. Lisa's desire blazed up like wildfire. David had stroked her so amazingly this morning. Her breathing deepened and she let out a soft "mmmmmmm" of pleasure. Gradually, gently he stroked her outer labia, getting her more and more excited. Without thinking she tried to lift herself toward it. His hand immediately smacked her pussy. She had never felt that. It just excited her more. She whimpered urgently. He smacked her sharply half a dozen times. She thought she had never felt anything so damn . . . possessing. Back with his finger, he traced her flooded inner lips. She began to make an

unh unh unh

pleading sound and twist her head from side to side.

Then, to her astonishment, she felt his breath, and then the tip of his tongue touched her swollen clit. So gently, his breath so warm. She melted. David was giving her oral pleasure! Surely, that, too, was meant to communicate something. He flicked her softly a few times, lifting her into a new heaven. But it didn't continue. Now he used his finger again, rapidly rubbing and twirling, using her abundant fluid for lube.

"I assume, by the way, you know: no coming,

"

he said flatly. Yes, by now she had expected that. It wasn't going to be easy.

David's finger danced over, around and through her womanhood like he had read--no, written--her owner's manual. He varied everything--place, motion, pressure, speed. She struggled not to slip over the edge. Then he slipped two fingers inside her, stretching her a bit, and found her G-spot.

Mother of God, help me, I'm going to come!

She did get help. Now--oh, incredible!--she felt his breath again and then something soft and wet tickled her asshole. Oh, he was tonguing her! He was touching her nastiest part with his mouth! And . . . she liked it. It felt intimate in a way different from her pussy. She felt the tip of his tongue press her anus open and wiggle. She giggled. It was nice.

David's humbling himself to pleasure her this way lifted her into a feeling of solemnity that was more powerful even than pleasure. He was master, he didn't have to do this, he was doing it to communicate with her, to tell her he'd make this as easy as he could. She now saw him as her master in a different way, not just physically but, oddly, spiritually, too. He lifted her up while she submitted, and that was a pretty neat trick. Well, if he was willing to do anything to her, then she was willing to do anything, anything at all, for him.

Next, his finger began spreading lube around, and slightly into, her anal opening. His other hand played with her cunt, flicking, pressing, twirling, and occasionally slapping. Lisa was in a confused sea of pleasure. She was as excited as she had ever been, but she had never before had these mixed, queer, demanding, half-alarming sensations.

Well,

she thought,

wasn't that what I came here for?

Now David's finger began pressing her open. Her sphincter clenched. She couldn't help it. She made an almost grunting sound. The finger continued its journey, slowly, gently, relentlessly. Like his cock this morning, it did what it wanted.

Breath deeply. Do what he wants, do what he wants, let him do what he wants.

He passed her barrier and her muscle began to relax. Now it was sort of like the enema, but warm and intimate. He let his finger rest there for a few moments while he played with her pussy. This wasn't so bad. Then he eased it out, giving her an oddly pleasurable satisfaction. Lisa exhaled.

He began to enter again, but this time . . .

what? What is he doing? Oh my God, it's two fingers!

She was being violated. He was stretching her to the point of pain. She gasped. She tried to struggle but that just pressed her harder against the invader. Sliding, stretching. Groaning, gasping. Then the motion stopped. She knew he was in to the very bottoms of those fingers; she could feel his knuckles pressing her cheeks just below her hole. He let them rest there, occasionally twisting them a little. She clenched her teeth and tried hard not to contract her sphincter because it was painful to fight.

Do what he wants, do what he wants, do what he wants.

She prayed it over and over, like a litany to the Virgin. And, after a little, she began to relax again.

Don't fight, don't fight, let go

.