Rose Anne has surrendered to Clydeâs 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 Clydeâs 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 meâŠ, 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.......
âHavenât you been the good little Italian girl from the Catholic school long enough, Rose Anne,â I said to myself. âHave 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?â
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 whatâs 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 weâll 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 Iâll guess Iâll 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 Clydeâs 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 couldnât 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 isnât my idea of fun, but it will be worth it if later on he will fuck me to that âbig Oâ I have waited so long for.
Surely he will fuck me tonightâŠ, GodâŠ, 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 havenât 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 arenât 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. âSuck me, Rose Anne!â
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, âRose Anne the reluctantâ, âRose Anne the prick teaseâ, 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.
From time to time he would put his drink down and hug me to his chest with both arms as he French kissed me. His tongue in my mouth drained me.
Drained...,
no other word describes what his kiss did to me. I simply melted helplessly in his arms as if stunned by the pressure of his lips on mine, and the sensation of his bare chest pressing against my breasts.
Once, as he finished kissing me, he ran his fingers across my lips and told me to suck them one by one like tiny cocks. Weak and flustered I was glad to do so, all the while staring into his eyes, hypnotized by the icy blue pools I found there. God, I was so horny and so defenseless. The best I could do was to sit quietly with his cock an inch away from my pussy hoping against hope that any minute he would order me to raise my hips and slide that great iron rod of hard male flesh inside me.
That never happened. When he finally spoke it was to suggest that we have dinner. I almost cried I was so disappointed.
Yet, perhaps all was not lost. He left a hint of getter things to come later hanging to tease me. âRose Anne you will join me in my meal. There will be time enough after we have enjoyed your excellent cooking to feast upon your gorgeous body.â
With that he stood me up and gave me a push toward the kitchen. While I brought out our meal he took his seat at the table and watched me intently. As I stooped over him to serve his plate, my breasts swayed against his face and one teat brushed against his nose.
I was afraid he would think that I was some slut teasing him with my tits on purpose, and I blushed all over with embarrassment. Before I could either straighten up and claim my apology, however, he took hold of my arm and pulled me even closer until his nose buried itself into my cleavage. One of his hands grabbed a dangling tit, and squeezed it hard as he forced its nipple into his mouth. With that tender nub caught painfully between his teeth, his other hand left my arm for my cunt. There he hooked me between a finger in my pussy with his thumb pressing firmly down on my clit.
In all my life no man has ever so totally controlled me as Clyde did right then. I was his captive, held helpless in the cruel vice of his teeth on my tit and his fingers in my cunt. When I told him how sorry I was to have interrupted his supper, he turned me loose and told me to take my seat across the table.
I never had a meal in which both myself and my guest were naked. I found it strange and disconcerting but my demanding lover seemed not to notice as he chatted away at me as if dining in the nude was a regular thing in his life. I know he wasnât oblivious to my discomfort, however, and finally he brought his small talk to the point.
âYou arenât saying much Rose Anne. Is there anything wrong?â
âOf course thereâs something wrong,â I answered somewhat angrily, disappointed that despite all I had done for him, he had still not fucked me. âDo you think I eat my supper every night with my date staring at my naked tits? I feel like I am in the âavailable lineâ at the whore house waiting for my âJohnâ to take me up to my crib and fuck me.â