Rose Anne has surrendered to Clyde’s reprogramming of her erotic personality. Her first lesson had been a success, so much so that she was hungry for more.., and already on her way to becoming a helpless love slave without a will of her own.
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I could hardly wait. Clyde would be back this evening. Would he fuck me? God, he just had to fuck me.
The day seemed to drag on and on endlessly. Finally the sun dropped in the west and I began to get ready to greet this promising new man in my life. First on my list was Clyde’s meal. Something tasty but not too heavy that might interfere with his performance..., as if anything could.
I shuttered a little when I reflected on last evening..., how he made me stand by his chair offering my body as his playground while he ate his meal. Would he insist that I repeat that ordeal tonight? Last night I was resistive and apprehensive, angry at being treated as a side dish of female flesh. He had humiliated me…, intentionally..., cruelly. I hated the very idea of being treated that way..., but damn it all, before he was done I was so aroused, so horny. I had to admit the proof of his technique. His finger, the one from my pussy that he made me lick clean, had been sopping with my wet. I did hate it..., I did..., sort of. Hell, in principle, even now I still hate it..., yet.......
“Haven’t you been the good little Italian girl from the Catholic school long enough, Rose Anne,” I said to myself. “Have you ever felt sexier, more female, than when that delicious hunk of a man made you pose nude beside him while he felt your tits and put his fingers in your cunt?”
Of course not, I had to admit. Damn him, he was right! Submission is erotic. For the first time in my life, a man had given me a real orgasm, and not just a single one either, but one after another in what had seemed an endless string. So what’s a little humiliation compared to that?
But, can he get me off like that on the end of his cock? I can only hope so. Maybe tonight we’ll see. Tonight will he lay me on my back and fuck the daylights out of me..., fuck me until I cum over and over, and beg him not to stop? If so, I guess he will have proved his point, and hell, for that I’ll guess I’ll play the slutty little love slave he says he is training me to be.
With his meal warming in the oven, I was soon in my bubble bath with my razor, and after that came the baby powder, fresh paint on my nails and eyelids, and lots of lipstick. In my imagination I could see Clyde’s oversized cock smeared with my red gloss, and despite my new found sexy persona, it was a picture so out of character for me that I couldn’t help but blush a little.
By six thirty I smelled of my best perfume. I was stripped and randy, ready and eager to be fucked. My imagination ran wild I was so ready. What would Clyde do to me tonight? Certainly he will make me stand naked and obedient while he plays with my tits and my cunt. He will want me to suck his cock again too, but what else? Will he tie me to my bed again? Would he whip me with that switch he insists that I keep ready? He said last night he would. That will hurt. Being whipped isn’t my idea of fun, but it will be worth it if later on he will fuck me to that ‘big O’ I have waited so long for.
Surely he will fuck me tonight…, God…, he just has to. How will he take my pussy? On my back with my legs wrapped around his waist perhaps; or will he make me crawl on my hands and knees and fuck me from behind as a bitch in heat? Maybe he will want me to straddle him and mount his cock, and then bounce up and down, riding his peg while his hands squeeze my tits? God, how I would enjoy that!
I was still lost in my erotic fantasies when the door bell rang. Sure enough there he was, and as he did yesterday evening, he made me stand in the doorway for the longest time exposing myself. I know a couple of cars passing by got a good look because I could see brake lights suddenly come on.
Clyde was shaming me. Was my humiliation part of my training as a sexy bitch, or just something he enjoyed? Whatever, I was mortified to make such a spectacle of myself. I know my neighbors would hear about it, if indeed they haven’t already had an eyeful.
Well, they can just go ahead and call me a slut and a tramp. Maybe a few sexy rumors about a woman her aren’t such a bad thing, I was a new Rose Anne now, and I decided it was a rush to know that strangers were out there ogling me and drooling over my body.
Still, it was a relief when Clyde finally stepped inside and closed the door. He gathered me into those strong arms and French kissed me hard. His tongue searched my mouth, the bulge in his crotch pressed against my belly, and his wool suit gave my bare breasts and thighs the sexiest itch. Overpowered by it all, I was reminded of how naked and vulnerable I was to this man.
God, tho, what a turn on. God, what a kiss. My whole body caught fire from just the touch of his lips on mine. By the time our mouths parted, I was breathless and a little faint..., and ready to rape him on the spot.
He must have felt the electricity between us too because right away after that kiss he asked me to help him undress. Oh yes! I had lusted for nude male muscles and a hard cock to rub my own nakedness against. His shirt and tie went first, then his pants and shorts came down to his ankles where they waited until I could remove his shoes. He towered over me as I knelt at his feet taking off his last sock, and when I worked up the courage to lift my eyes, I found myself directly under a huge soft penis and sack of hanging testicles.
His demand was to the point. “Suck me, Rose Anne!”
Oh God yes, I was more than willing to do that. He stood there, proud and imposing, a nude Caesar offering his conquering penis to the mouth of the female captive kneeling naked before him, wearing the collar that marked her as his slave. Two weeks ago I would have said this was a scene as impossible as it is unbelievable in this day and time. But all that was B.C.! Before Clyde!
This is a new day! Tonight here I am, ‘Rose Anne the reluctant‘, ‘Rose Anne the prick tease‘, actually glorying in this disgusting surrender to a man and his penis. Of course I would suck him. Whenever he wanted, I was his to take. I knew what I wanted. I wanted him in my mouth. No, I wanted more than his taste, I wanted the gift of his salty fluid, the magic elixir that would make me a woman fulfilled.
On my knees, my lips tugged at the smooth skin of his male sex, and I could feel him harden and grow on my tongue. Gradually his soft meat became a steel bar that probed at the entrance to my throat and threatened to choke my windpipe. I was disappointed when he cut my efforts short, pulled me to my feet, and asked that I bring us both a double bourbon and water.
When I returned from the kitchen with our drinks, he was seated on the couch. His knees were pressed together, and his hard-on protruded proudly upward from his groin. He told me to seat myself astride him facing his hairy chest. As I settled down on bare thighs, he reached under me and lifted the end of his cock so that it lay trapped between us, its great head pressing against my belly just above my clit. The sensation was maddening, overwhelming, devastating.
We sat for the longest time that way, sipping our drinks, his left hand playing with my right breast. He said nothing to me, and I, well, I could not gather my thoughts enough to say, or do, anything very coherently. Thus, I sat there, mostly in silence, enjoying the fingers that tugged sensuously at my nipple.
