Rooming with Roseann

Roseann discovers her sadistic side

Next morning, after I'd brought her breakfast, we began our Saturday routine of cleaning the apartment. I did my share naked, as she required, but a little nest of resentment had lodged in my chest. I knew it was the aftereffect of last night's climax, and that it would go away in time, but that didn't help. With the erotic charge gone, the chores she assigned me were simple drudgery. Sweep, dust, vacuum, mop. For herself, RoseAnn chose to clean the countertops and do the laundry.

She noticed the change in mood, as well as the absence of my erection. She stopped wiping and put her hands on her hips as she said, "Last week, you were hard all the time while doing your chores. Now you're limp as a noodle. And your attitude! Are you going to be sullen all day long? Is this because I let you come last night?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it showed. Once I came, the urge to do things for you went away. I'll be all right soon."

"I don't like it. I like to see you all horny and enthusiastic. I think letting you come last night was a mistake."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"Sorry? Why? Don't be sorry. Last night was my idea. As much as I like frustrating you, it's also fun when I decide to make you come. But I always seem to forget how men get. They say an orgasm screws up your hormones and makes you lazy and demanding."

"I love you, RoseAnn. I don't want to disappoint you. Do whatever you think you need to do."

"It's a simple enough solution. Instead of a week, I'll wait as long as I please, and I'll be careful to let you come only when the aftermath isn't going to interfere with my plans."

My cock twitched when she said that. She saw it, and said, "Mm-m. You like that idea! Every day, I learn more about how your perverted little mind works."

I returned to my dusting, but soon my cock lost its stiffness again. She watched me for a moment, and said, "I'm disappointed in you. Let's try another little experiment. Go get that long, thin wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer."

"What for?" I had a pretty good idea, and a little twist of fear and excitement raised goose bumps on my arms.

"For what I should have done when I first saw you sulking. Now go get it."

When I returned with the spoon, she said, "You know what I'm thinking, don't you? Is that why all of a sudden you're completely hard?"

"I don't know." I was nervous. I hadn't figured on this side of her. In all my fantasies, I'd never explored the idea of being whipped or beaten.

She pointed to the easy chair in the corner of the bedroom, the one where I'd performed cunnilingus on her so many times. "Stand in front of the chair and bend over. Lean on the arms so your ass is stretched tight."

I obeyed. As I stared down at the beige fabric, she said, "I don't like doing this. It's not what I had in mind for us. But it may be the only thing that'll fix your attitude."

The rough wood of the spoon gently stroked my buttocks. I sensed her movements as she wound up and delivered a fierce blow, backed by all her considerable strength. A fiery pain burned across my ass. I yelped and jerked sideways.

"Stay put! You should be strong enough to take two dozen of those without screeching like a baby! Ready?" This time, I heard the swish of the spoon just before it hit, and cried out in spite of myself. I pressed my face down on the back of the chair to muffle my cries. Taking her time, she smacked me on alternate buttocks until my ass burned and tears ran down my nose. The pain was severe, but the humiliation was worse. I had been beaten by a grown woman, the woman I loved.

"Turn around!" she said sternly. I obeyed, and she tapped my cock with the spoon. "Sure enough: hard as granite. I wasn't sure whether it would work or not." She pushed her face close to mine. "Tears? I hadn't counted on that. It breaks my heart to see you cry. But if it gets you back in harness, it'll have been worth it."

She found the bottle of massage oil and tenderly rubbed it into my stinging ass. "I've never beaten a man before," she said, "and now I think I shouldn't have. I think I've discovered something disturbing about myself."

She was expecting me to ask, but I still trembled with the aftereffects of the wooden spoon. I was afraid of sobbing or being unable to talk.

"I was hugely turned on by whacking you like that. I was hitting you as hard as I could, and after the ones I gave you, I wanted to keep going. You'd better learn to like it, because I think it's going to happen again.

"But right now, the juice in my pussy's threatening to drip down my leg. I need you to do something about it. Is that tongue of yours ready for me?"

It was, and by the time she'd climaxed against my honey-soaked face, I knew her instincts had been right. The beating with the spoon had completely neutralized the effect of last night's orgasm. I resumed my chores with increased enthusiasm and a boner to match. Before the morning was over, I'd begged her to let me take over her remaining chores so she could relax and read her book. Afterward, I offered an extended back and shoulder massage, which she gracefully accepted.

That evening, we went to a play. First she sprayed Solarcaine on my blistered ass so I could sit without squirming. Sitting beside her, absorbing the blended aromas of her body and Jontue, I felt closer to her than ever. Even though I gripped her warm hand, felt the heat of her body, and bathed in her scent, I ached with wanting to be somehow closer.

* * *

Next morning, I gazed quietly at her until her eyes opened. She smiled, stretched, and whispered, "Good morning."

"I love you," I said.

"I like that," she said. I noticed that she didn't return my declaration. She never had.

"Up until yesterday, I kept asking myself if I'm really in love with you, or if it's just the sex. But now I'm sure."

"Why yesterday? What's special about it?"

"I was thinking while waiting for you to wake up. We have secrets, you and I, things we know about each other that no one else will ever know. Isn't that love?"

"What you're talking about is really trust." She smiled slyly. "You think I don't tell other people what we do? Do you really trust me when I go off to work in the morning? Do you believe I don't flirt with some of the other men at work, or go have a quick nooner with my boss? There's a motel about two doors down the street. Why wouldn't I go there sometimes and not tell you about it?"

"You wouldn't do those things. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you flirted. You're so beautiful, it'd be strange if you didn't. I don't care about that, but I believe that you save up your lusts and bring them home to me."

"And if I didn't?"

"You'd break my heart, but I don't believe for a second you'd do that."

"I've been in love before," she said. "Once."

"You said you've been with five men before me."

"I only loved one of them. About six months after I divorced my husband, I met a man named Craig. Craig Warburton. He was a counselor at one of the Chicago universities. I met him when I decided to go back to school and become an engineer. We were together nearly four years."

"What happened?"

"He died. A simple infection that got out of control. He died, just two months before I graduated. We'd talked marriage. It took me years to get over it. But while I was with him, he taught me so many things."

I saw a tear in her eye, and took her in my arms. She folded warmly against my shoulder. "Like what?" I asked.

"He helped me discover the strengths in myself. He taught me to think of myself as someone special--special as a person, and special because I'm a woman. He was convinced that women were the superior sex."

"Aren't they?" I realized that I believed it too, even though the thought had never been explicit.

She tried to laugh. "He taught me to value myself. He told me he'd been attracted by the dominant side of my nature and taught me to express it. I felt like I'd been freed from a prison I'd been in all my life. He worshipped me like a goddess and made me strong and confident."

"Worshipped you? Like you've been teaching me to do?"

She squeezed my chest tightly. "Very much like you."

"What else did he teach you?"

"So many things, Barry. For instance, he taught me to expect cunnilingus as my natural right. As a teenager, I'd had a boyfriend who used his tongue to give me the only real orgasm I'd had, until Craig came along. I mean, I masturbated, but that's nothing like coming with a partner.

"Anyway, my husband refused. He wouldn't go down on me at all. I was like a lot of women. I thought it was a problem with me, not him. He made me think my pussy was ugly and smelly. So I never had a decent orgasm during my whole marriage; just what I did for myself after he went to sleep.

"But Craig was completely different. He made himself my slave. He supported me while I was in college, made my meals, cleaned my clothes, and kept the apartment clean. The worse I treated him, the more he fawned over me. At first, I didn't love him. I only thought I'd lucked into a great situation. As long as I went along with his kinks, I'd get free room and board, my tuition paid, and spending money, too. But soon, I grew to love him. We talked of marriage and we were so happy."

"And then he died?"

She nodded, and I felt warm tears on my shoulder. "My life has been empty ever since."

"Until now?" I asked hopefully.

There was a long pause, and for a moment I feared her answer. But finally she said, "Until now."

I said, "I want to take his place as best I can. I want to make you as happy as he did. Happier, in fact, and for your whole life."

"You know we can't keep up this life indefinitely, don't you?"

"Why not? I'd marry you today and be your slave and worshipper forever."

"We can't do that. We're a generation apart. When you're thirty, I'll be past childbearing. When you're forty, I'll be an old woman. You won't want to live with a dried-up old hag. You've got a great life ahead of you, and someday you'll meet a woman your own age who will make you a good wife and partner."

I thought immediately of Gloria, and briefly wondered if RoseAnn had somehow found out about her. I said, "I don't believe you. I'll stay with you unless you tell me to leave. It's only been a few weeks. You'll change your mind in time."

She put her arms around my neck and kissed me repeatedly, all over my face.

"How will I find someone who's just like you?" I whispered.

Although we were both naked under the covers, and wrapped around one another, we didn't have sex then, as we normally would have. Perhaps it was the revelations about Craig. Perhaps I was depressed by the prospect of life without her.

After I brought her breakfast, we showered together and we went grocery shopping. In the afternoon, I worked on math assignments, while she baked cookies and made dinner for us. About mid-evening, while she watched television, I kneeled naked before her, massaging oil into her feet. My curiosity finally got the better of me.

"Can I ask you some questions about what you and Craig did together?"

She muted the TV. "You can ask. I might not answer. Are you a little jealous, perhaps."

I looked down. "I suppose so. How can I compete with a dead man? He's in your head and he'll always be there. Won't you always be comparing me to him?"

She leaned forward and stroked my cheek. "Barry, it's been eight years. You've made your own place in my heart. You won't ever have to compete with him."

"But I want to be the best possible lover to you. Did he rub your feet like this?"

She lay back again and smiled indulgently. "Yes. He loved giving me massages of all kinds."

"Did you tease him?"

"Mercilessly. I could keep his penis hard for days. Sometimes he was so frustrated, he cried."

"Did you make him fight you?"

"Not exactly. I had ways of signaling him when I wanted him to force himself on me. He was like you--he didn't understand at first. Finally, he realized that it was something I needed once in a while. But..." She poked a finger in my chest. "...he never once came in my mouth."

"Mm-m." I smiled at the memory, which was so much sweeter now that I knew I'd gotten something Craig never had. "Did you beat him with a wooden spoon if he misbehaved?"

She paused at least a half minute before answering. "No. Yesterday was the first time I've hit anyone in a sexual way, and I'm still at odds whether it was a good idea. It turned me on far more than I expected. I didn't want to stop, and that worries me."

"It hurt like hell, but I get hard thinking about it, and it did have the effect you intended. It made me feel like your slave again."

"And if it became a regular part of our sex life?"

"I'll do anything that pleases you. I've said so."

"You might soon be sorry you said that. If I follow my instincts, that's exactly what will happen. And it probably won't be limited to times you misbehave, either. It was a wonderful stress reliever."

My cock grew painfully rigid. She saw its dark head bobbing between her feet, and asked, "Are you done with your quiz? Is your curiosity satisfied?"

"What other things did Craig and you do together?"

Again she paused before answering. "I'm not going to answer that. I said I don't want you to compete with him. You're not him, and I don't expect you to be like him. In any case, not everything that worked with him will work for us. But I'll give you a hint about one thing--have you ever shaved a woman's legs before?"

"I'll be thrilled to learn."

And so I did. At her direction, I drew a deep bath for her, and kneeled by the tub while she soaked and hummed to herself. After a time, she rested a leg on the side of the tub. I lathered her legs with shaving cream, and carefully removed the stubble of thick black hairs, from her ankles to her knees. She stood up in the tub so I could shave her upper legs all the way to the crease at the top of her thighs. After that, I shaved under her arms and dried her off as she stood with her hands laced on top of her gathered hair. This led naturally to me sucking at her nipples as she clutched my head and gasped into my hair. When she was thoroughly aroused, she had me carry her to the bedroom easy chair, where I teased her gently to two violent orgasms.