Misogynistic Fantasies

After teaching his afternoon class, he strolled over to the book store and wandered aimlessly through the aisles, eventually settling down in front of the SciFi section. 'No new Zelazny.' Stooping down, 'no next short story collection of Lafferty.' He stooped down more, 'no new Niven.' But then, `I haven't seen that one before.' He took it, flip briefly through it, and walked to the front of the store.

At the checkout he handed the book to the cashier, a women, pretty looking, probably a graduate student. Holding the book while ringing it up, she looked at him and asked, 'How do you guys find this stuff?' He embarrassingly mumbled something incoherent, quickly paid, and hurried off home alone, to masturbate to his new Gor novel.

'I wonder how she knew about the Gor books? This one doesn't even hint at slave girls with the cover art.'

He thought of that Nero Wolfe comment: Why did Nietzsche say: Thou goest to women, forget not thy whip? Because he had not the temerity to touch a women with the tip of a goose-feather.

'Yes, me and Friedrich both' he thought. I couldn't even face that cashier let alone answer her. And I have no idea myself how I find this stuff.'

He thought of that erotic French novel he had found, The Image. Finding the Story of O was easy, it was everywhere, even a new movie, now showing where Barry Lyndon had recently played. But The Image? some hidden radar, that 'we guys' must possess, had somehow drawn him to it one day at the university book store. Things to feed fetid imaginations, desperately dealing with their sense of rejection by all those lovely irresistible ladies they longed for and could only imagine possessing as powerless slave girls forced to yield up themselves. Such lust mixed with the frustrated anger at the hurt of rejection.

'How do you guys find this stuff?' How did she know about 'this stuff' he wondered. Maybe she liked it too, was trying to connect with one of 'you guys' and was reaching out. If he had only had the temerity to venture a reply. Well, maybe ...

Back at the bookstore the next day. Not very busy, no one at the checkout. And there she was, just standing by the cash register. He quickly grabbed a book from the Recent Additions table, one he had previously thought of buying. She rang it up.

'I read other things beside Gor books' he squeaked, mouth dry.

'What?'

'You rang me up yesterday. The Gor book.' His voice sounded strange to himself.

She looked up. 'Oh, yes.' Was that a blush?

'So how do you gals find out about that stuff?' Looking into her eyes.

'Oh, well, us gals read all sorts of things.' Handing him the book and receipt and store logo bookmark.

'Ok, bye.' He could think of nothing to add.

'I'm off at three. Would you like to buy me a coffee? Maybe bring your book to show me your favorite parts?'

At 3:00, he was waiting outside with both his recent purchases, just in case. She wasn't interested in todays book. Over coffee he handed her the Gor book, the bookmark at his favorite section. As she read and sipped her coffee, he felt chagrin at having masturbated last night to what she was reading.

She finished. 'That's hot. Did you jack off to it?' His face blushing scarlet answered for him. She leaned in towards him. 'Would you like to do that to me?' The terror was vivid on his face. 'Aw, come on. I have things in my apartment. Finish your coffee.' She gulped down hers.

'She must be about to mug me, once in her apartment. Her boyfriend, they'll rob me, beat me up'. But he couldn't resist as she led him for a few short blocks, then up some stairs, and finally through an apartment door. She took him straight to the bedroom.

'Here's my stuff.' Opening a drawer. Whips, cuffs, link chain, collars. He stood there frozen. 'Yeah, like I thought you've never actually done it yet, have you?' He somehow shook his head, no. 'Well lucky me, I'll be your first real slave girl. It's nice to know you'll remember me forever. My safe word is pitch-black; ok?' He mutely nodded. He had vaguely read of such things.

She dropped to her knees before him. She bent over and carefully kissed each of his shoes. Then straightening up, raising her head to look directly in his eyes, 'Please master, enslave me. Make me your Gorean slave girl.' And she put her two hands behind her head and raised her long hair up, exposing her neck. 'Collar me.'

In a daze, he reached into the drawer for a collar. He noticed it had a lock and key. Following a familiar script from so much he had read, he snapped the collar shut about her neck, pocketing the key. 'Strip slave' he found himself saying, his voice's strength surprising to himself.

'Yes master.' She easily shed heels and hose, dress and blouse, bra and panties, wriggling about on the floor beneath him; and then, fully naked, resumed kneeling, displaying herself to him, legs far apart with ankles touching, back arched, breasts thrust forward, arms behind her back, wrists touching. She briefly turned her head to eye the open drawer and nod towards it for him (hint, hint), then demurely lowered her head to look at his shoes with downcast eyes.

He found the cuffs to bind her wrists together, and then another bigger pair for her ankles. He noticed how hard and large her nipples had grown, and found the chain linked clamps for them. He found a leash to attach to her collar.

He proudly stood there, holding the tether to his chained collared naked slave girl. His!

'Does master want to whip his slave? Teach her about what slavery means?'

The drawer was now somewhat depleted, but he could see a whip and a riding crop. He stammered 'I've never ...'

Kindly, in a whisper, 'I know master. Just have fun with me. If I am in distress I will say words like grey or black.' He took the whip and gently lashed her behind. Bending forward, she stuck out her ass, raising it towards the blows. 'Harder please master, much harder.' He swung much harder, and then dared do it at full strength. 'Ahh, yes, master, yes.' He kept it up till her behind was bright red everywhere, and he then moved on to the whipping of her thighs between her legs. She moaned some words along the color spectrum, but they were 'yes, orange, bright orange, red!' so he assume she was telling him he was doing ok. He stopped when his arm grew tired.

He somehow knew enough to realize that the nipple clamps had been on long enough. He quickly yanked them off together. Startled she shrieked, but quickly assured him with a 'purple, purple'. He pressed his hand on each breast, pushing each throbbing nipple deep into the comfort of that soft flesh. He then sucked on each in turn, till they were again magnificently thimble like. He then surprised her by taking the ridding crop and using it on her breasts, full force blows without hesitation. In the scene he had shared from the Gor book, the slave girl had been whipped on both her behind and breasts.

'Oh master' she breathed 'red, red, red', thrusting her breasts forward to receive the blows. When her chest was criss-crossed with numerous red lines and red blotches, he put down the crop, and pinching her nipples hard reattached the clamps, then pulled her up by their connecting chain, and led her by her leash the few hopping steps to the bed. Of course, in the scene from the book, that was next for the slave girl after her whipping.

He stopped dead. She saw how scared he suddenly became. Quietly, 'I know master. I could tell at the bookstore. Just attach my leash to footboard. Yes, like that. Good. Now undress and lie down, your slave will do everything.'

He quickly lay naked on the bed. She, her wrists still bound behind her, her ankles still bound together, her ass and breasts sensitive to the slightest touch of the sheets, her leash slightly restraining her, she struggled to kneel on the bed, tonguing his penis to full erection, and then struggled to raise herself over it. 'Help me master, guide yourself in, I am quite wet.' He somehow managed to find her squishy opening, and with a s'plunk she was riding him.

'Pull my nipple chain master.' It dangled from her clamped nipples as she leaned forward. He grabbed it in the middle and pulling, stretched her breasts towards him till she balanced between his forward pull and the backward tug of her leash. 'God yes' she yelled, held in place yet slowly rising and lowering herself on him. Surrounded by her hugging moisture he was in heaven, the gentle rise and fall calling him to her, his tug on the chain increasing as he grew inside her exploring. 'Oh master, yes.'

Her undulations slowly guided his member upwards till, trembling for an eternity in a delightful unity, he, she, they both ... exploded together into a lingering blaze and then descended together as falling sparks from a dying campfire. He finally released the chain and she finally fell on her side as he moved down so they could briefly snuggle. As they both fell towards a dreamy slumber, he heard her voice, 'you Gorean guys are so ...' but sleep overtook them both then ...

He awoke in his apartment, the new Gorean book, today's purchase, unopened beside him. 'Ah yes', he thought dreamily, 'falling asleep after masturbating to another one of the unending series of Chapters from my personal book of Misogynistic Fantasies. This was a new one, but I most definitely will use this one again. What should I call it? How about: The Bookstore Slave Girl?'