Caught 66

I was sitting in Dad's study using the computer when something hit me in the chest and fell into my lap. Surprised, I looked down and saw that it was a dog collar, one of those black leather ones with little pointed metal studs all over it and a surprisingly delicate silver buckle.

"Put it on," the voice from the doorway said roughly. My mind went blank. The idea was too much to comprehend and I couldn't even begin to process it. Uncle Mitch wanted me to put on a dog collar?

It was pretty late at night, and I really shouldn't have even been up. Probably wouldn't have been, but Dad and Mom were on vacation and they'd left me in the care of Mom's little brother in spite of my protestations that I was old enough to be left alone for a few weeks. Legally I was. I was old enough to vote, even. But Mom insisted that she'd feel safer if there was a 'responsible adult' watching over the house, and I was not to consider him a babysitter.

Babysitter or not, I had no idea what he was trying to get me to do. I shook my head in disbelief and squeaked out a response that was disbelieving and angry.

"What?"

"Put. It. On. Now." And yes, I could hear the periods. Uncle Mitch spoke in a low and reasonable tone but with an undercurrent of demand, as if he knew I was going to obey him eventually and I just didn't know it yet.

Uncle Mitch had never talked to me like that before. He was usually an easygoing guy, and in spite of my fears we'd gotten along pretty well. He worked as a manager in the annuities department of a life insurance company -- all business suits, lunch meetings, Blackberries and talk of cross subsidies and equity indexed products.

Today when he got home he had doffed his white shirt, tie and jacket and changed into a soft suede shirt in a dark shade of gray that complemented his darker gray slacks and almost matched his prematurely dark gray hair. The one splash of color on him was his eyes; a pale sky blue which I'd always been jealous of. But overall he was an all grey man, with an ever-so-slight roughness to him and a stocky body. I'd always thought he was kind of sexy. In a guy-I'd-never-ever-really-do-it-with kind of way.

Uncle Mitch sighed as if I was a willful child who might behave someday if she was only taught some proper lessons. He put his hand on the top of my head and turned me to face the computer. He kept his hand there, forcing me to watch the screen while he typed with his free hand. A few clicks later and what he wanted me to see was up on the screen.

It was me.

And I'm not talking about a picture from my yearbook or the tame ones that I kept on MySpace and facebook. It was a movie. A movie that I'd never seen before, one that I never even knew I was in. My mouth fell open and I blushed in stunned shame.

You could easily see that it was me through the open driver's door of the car, sitting in the passenger seat but bent over so that my face was in the driver's lap, a slight smile on my face and my eyes closed in mute pleasure while I sucked Billy Whittier's dick until it shot a huge load of sperm all over my lips and face. I watched myself giggle and lick everything clean, using my tongue to gather cum from everywhere until my mouth was full. I smiled and showed my bad-girl tongue-load of sperm to Billy. He told me to swallow it all like a good little girl and I did, just before the video faded out.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I remembered that night well. Billy had driven me up to Lookout Mountain, which had long been the local necking spot because of the romantic view of the city. I thought we were going to have some hot backseat sex, but Billy begged me to blow him. Not that I minded. There's something about hot sticky sperm splashing around my lips that I've always loved. I remembered Billy had insisted on leaving the car door open because he claimed he was hot. Of course that also left the dome light on, which made it easy for someone to make a video from the safety of the nearby bushes. The realization that I'd been used by Billy and somebody else so that they could sell the video to a website called Cuntsincars.com made me sick to my stomach.

Uncle Mitch pushed my head down, turning my attention from my cummy lips on the screen back to the studded black leather in my lap.

"Put it on," he said patiently.

"No!" I practically screamed, shaking my head free of his hand. I was so goddamned mad at what Billy had done to me that the anger just spilled out onto Uncle Mitch. I didn't know why he wanted me to put on a stupid dog collar, and I didn't know why he thought that showing me a movie of me with sperm all over my lips would make me want to. I was such an idiot I couldn't even predict what he said next.

"Put it on, sweetie, or I show this website to your mother."

Oh, God.

I couldn't believe it. This was exactly the kind of thing that my father had always warned me about. Being a little too loose with my affections had just led me to a place I didn't want to go at all.

And I bet even Dad never thought that the trouble I'd let myself in for would come from Uncle Mitch by way of Billy Whittier.

If Dad saw the movie he'd kill me. And then Mom would kill me. And then Dad would kill me again. They knew I'd been dating, and they even had seen me kissing a boy now and again, but they probably hoped that I was still a virgin and turned a blind eye to the instincts that told them I wasn't.

You try to hide your sex life from your parents for as long as you can, hopefully until you're old enough to move out. But the lure of all of those hot high-school cocks longing for attention was too much for a girl to resist, and I'd had my share. Maybe a little more than my share. I was so dead.

The video started again, Billy moaning as he shot his load all over my face. My mind raced. Was there a way that I could claim that it wasn't me, or that I was being forced? Nope. The video, though grainy and dark and clearly homemade, showed my face perfectly. And the way that I smiled when the hot sperm hit my lips pretty much belied any coercion. I was screwed.

Uncle Mitch let go of my head with a little shove downward, so that I wouldn't forget his presence or the order he'd issued.

Reluctantly I reached down into my lap and picked up the collar.

I stared down at it, stalling and turning it this way and that in my lap. It was really kinda pretty, and I felt a little tingle between my legs. Why did Uncle Mitch want me to wear it, anyhow?

He cuffed the back of my head hard enough to hurt. Then he said it again, but this time with a trace of impatience. "Put it on."

I was so mixed up. I wanted to scream at him, to unleash some of the anger that Billy Whittier's betrayal had generated in me. I wanted to throw the damn collar at him and storm up to my room to cry and lick my wounds and plot my revenge. I was going to kill Billy.

But there was something else, a sweet little tingle that had nothing to do with my anger. It took me a second to realize what it was.

I'd never been ordered around before.

All of the teenage boys I knew were so pitifully grateful that a pretty girl was willing to pay any attention to them that they'd never in a million years take a chance of displeasing me by daring to tell me what to do. No boy had ever talked to me in that tone of voice before, issuing stern commands that he expected me to obey.

I felt myself blush when I realized I kind of liked it. It was so masculine, and it made me feel shy and girly.

Besides, I was wondering just what Uncle Mitch had in mind. I mean, was he going to make me stand in the corner and take a picture of me to show Mom, letting her see what a slut I was without showing her a video of me with a cock in my mouth? Or was he going to just threaten me with a picture of me wearing a dog collar so that he could blackmail me into behaving forever? Or was he just going to laugh so that I'd be even more humiliated than I already was and yell at me about showing some backbone and stop blowing boys in cars? Maybe he was going to stop me the second I tried to put it on and give me a lecture about not doing just any old thing that I was ordered. That was it. It had to be.

Stalling while I thought, I felt the collar, stiff and heavy in my fingers. The leather smelled rich, and the silver studs and buckle were cool. There was a ring attached to the buckle, so you could attach a leash to your dog.

There was the possibility that Uncle Mitch wanted something more, something sinister. It was a visceral intuition, one that was more a feeling between my legs than a conscious thought. My brain felt deadened and confused at what was happening to me, and I couldn't think of anything else to do. I could not let Mom and Dad see me blowing Billy. That was the one thing I was sure of. Almost without permission from my conscious mind I lifted the collar toward my neck.

Uncle Mitch didn't stop me. He didn't laugh, he didn't whip out a camera. He just watched, my somber grey uncle standing right beside me as I slipped the studded dog collar around my neck and under my hair. Swallowing hard, I fastened the little silver buckle on my throat.

"Good girl," Uncle Mitch whispered, patting me on the top of the head like I was a good dog. I raised my chin, the weight of the collar a tactile reminder of my submission.

Before my head was all the way up, Uncle Mitch grabbed the sturdy metal ring on the collar and whipped out a studded black leash from behind his back and snapped it into place.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, trying to stand and grabbing the leash so that I could yank it away from him. Angrily I tried to throw the leash away from me but since it was fastened to my neck it didn't go far. Uncle Mitch calmly endured my hissy fit and pushed me back down into the chair, preventing me from standing.

With his hand on my shoulder like I was some kind of pet he was trying to train Uncle Mitch picked up the end of the leash and yanked hard, causing my head to jerk and my throat to gag as he wound up the leash around his hand. I frantically tried to swallow away the knot in my throat so I could breathe again. Right away I realized how serious my trouble really was -- with the collar around my neck and the leash in Uncle Mitch's hand there was no way to resist, no way to fight back. All he had to do was yank and I would choke and gag until I did what he wanted. There was no escape.

I was so fucking mad when I realized this I tried to yank the leash again, but Uncle Mitch jerked the leash so hard that it whipped my head around and brought tears to my eyes.

Stunned at how quickly I'd been transformed from a girl looking at YouTube into a scared powerless tart on a leash I seethed in anger -- at myself, at Billy Whittier and his unknown friend, at Uncle Mitch. Dammit. Daddy had been so right.

I was wiping the tears away from my cheeks and still trying to catch my breath when I realized what Uncle Mitch was doing. His hands were on his grey slacks, the end of the leash wound tightly around his palm while he calmly unzipped his pants and took out his cock.

I couldn't believe it.

All thoughts of getting embarrassed, of having my picture taken, of standing in the corner vanished. Uncle Mitch, my Uncle Mitch, was some kind of pervert. And he wanted me to suck him. Or worse.

I tried to jerk my head away, to lean back away from him, my hands on his thighs trying to push him away. But he choked up on the leash until his hand was right next to my neck and he forced me into place, my lips only inches from his fat cock.

And it was really fat. Even though it wasn't fully erect, it was larger around than any I'd seen before. Thicker than Billy's. Fatter than David's. It was even bigger around than the roommate of Trevor's, a boy I'd given a blowjob to without even knowing his name because I liked his eyes. And his cock had been huge. Uncle Mitch's was ruddy and solid, poking out of his soft grey slacks, swelling even bigger as I watched it searching for attention. Searching for me.

I was beyond pissed. No girl likes to have a cock shoved in her face. And never mind that it was Uncle Mitch, who had been a fixture of stability and cool reasonableness in my life ever since he'd changed my diapers when I was a baby. It was so unfair I wanted to cry.

And yet.

There was that tickle between my legs. The only cock my pussy had ever had was Billy's, which was nowhere near this big. And we'd only actually done it twice. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to stop my pussy from screaming me! me! me! as loudly as it could, like it did every time I got a cock in my mouth. I clenched my teeth, my mind racing, frantically trying to decide if there was a way for me to resist.

Uncle Mitch took his cock in his free hand. He'd wound so much of the leash around his palm that his hand was snugged up against my throat, and he pulled my lips closer to his cock. I struggled, but his grip on the leash was too tight.

I tried to push myself away again, even harder this time, but Uncle Mitch just steadily pulled on the collar until I thought I'd choke. And he didn't stop until I stopped pushing. My throat hurt, and I was gasping for air.

There was no other choice. I was going to have to do it.

My mind raced, trying to rationalize my decision. It couldn't be so bad. Anything to get that damned collar off and get Uncle Mitch to leave me alone. Then I could find some way to stop him from blackmailing me, and maybe even figure out a way to get even. Besides, there was that damnable tickle between my legs, begging me to go on.

I opened my mouth.

"That's better," Uncle Mitch said as he took his cock in his hand and slid it into my open mouth. I could feel it stiffening, growing harder and longer. That was a new sensation for me, because all of the cocks I'd ever blown were already hard by the time I got my lips on them.

The funny thing was, once it was in my mouth I didn't mind so much. It was familiar. I knew this. I knew what this cock wanted. It was no different than all the others -- Billy's and David's and Trevor's roommate's. It just wanted to be stroked and loved and then gush hot sperm. I could do this. A few minutes and it'd be all over.

My mouth watered.

Cautiously I slurped Uncle Mitch's fat cock, his hand resting on my head and holding me in place. I tickled the underside with my tongue and sucked just a little on the end. It swelled even larger in my mouth, and it made me feel all girly to realize that it was what I was doing that was making it bigger.

I reached up to take it in my hands, to stroke it while I licked, but Uncle Mitch smacked my head again and said, "Did I tell you to do that? Put your hands down."

My head hurt and I wanted to yell ouch, but with my mouth full of Uncle Mitch's cock there was no way. I put my hands on his strong thighs, the grey material of his slacks soft and warm under my fingers. He started to slowly fuck my mouth, pushing his fat cock a little deeper down my throat with every thrust. I was surprised at how long he could do it without cumming. None of the boys I'd given blowjobs to had ever lasted this long. Uncle Mitch just slowly drove himself into me, over and over, and after a while my lips and throat got really sore. I tried to pull away to give my mouth a rest but he cuffed me on the back of the head again and yanked me back into place with the leash.

I'd been turned into some kind of fuck machine, without needs of my own, without consciousness.

It didn't matter that I wanted to reach between my legs and rub my pussy. It didn't matter that it hurt having that cock pushed so far into my mouth. It didn't matter that I was mad or that I didn't want this.

It was as if the physical connection between the hard cock and my mouth rewired me, made me ready for sex no matter what my mind thought. My pussy was tingling and crying for attention just like it did when I was willingly blowing Billy or David.

With one big difference.

When I gave blowjobs to boys I was the one doing all the work. I licked, I sucked, I bobbed my head up and down and used my hands to do it right. I had this thing I did where I'd twist my hands in opposite directions around his cock while I sucked the end, and all the boys would moan. But this was totally different because I wasn't allowed to do anything but sit in a chair with my mouth open.

It wasn't until I started gasping for air that I really realized how excited I was, how wet my pussy had become. I tried to swallow, as if that would convince my pussy to stop reaching for an orgasm. This was a blowjob. That's all. But the fact that I was being forced to obey, to do only what Uncle Mitch demanded was thrilling in ways I'd never experienced before.

So I was crestfallen when he let out a deep sigh of contentment and pulled his cock from my mouth.

"Why did you.." I didn't even get the word out before I was cuffed on the head again. It's not like it hurt. Not really. But it sure was getting annoying. And I was catching on -- don't talk, and don't do anything you're not told to or you'll get cuffed. Again.

"Come along," he said, giving a gentle tug on the leash and walking away from Dad's computer desk.

I scrambled to get to my feet, which immediately made Uncle Mitch angry. I could tell by the look on his face. I didn't get cuffed this time, but he seized the leash near my neck and pulled my head towards the ground. My face was almost on the carpet and I was definitely off balance when he gave the leash a tug and I fell onto my hands and knees.

"Good girl," Uncle Mitch whispered, ruffling my hair. I got it -- if you're wearing a doggie collar you're supposed to walk on all fours like a dog. Grrr.

I didn't know whether to bite him or just pant like a puppy. I didn't have the time to feel as humiliated as I wanted to, because Uncle Mitch immediately walked towards the staircase, giving the leash a little tug to tell me to follow. I scrambled on my hands and knees to keep up, which kind of hurt, even on Mom's plush carpet.

When we got to the staircase Uncle Mitch stood aside and tugged the leash up the stairs, signaling me that I was to go up ahead of him. I hadn't crawled up those stairs since I was three, I thought as obediently went up. I tried not to wiggle my bottom, really I did.

Uncle Mitch came up the stairs behind me, holding the other end of my leash. Right when my hands touched the second floor he tugged me to a stop and said, "Stay."

At least, that's what I thought he said. It was kind of hard to tell, because suddenly his voice was soft and kind of raspy, coming from right behind me, and I do mean behind. I could tell his blue eyes would be almost level with my ass, which felt infuriatingly warm. It was definitely getting hard to breathe, and I couldn't tell if it was more from arousal or fear.

What was he going to do? I needed to be fondled almost as much as I feared more attention from my uncle. The thought that he might want to use the part that only Billy had ever touched made me weak and trembly.

I felt Uncle Mitch lift my short skirt. He pushed it up and let it rest on my back, so all that was between my uncle and my nether regions was a tiny pair of pink cotton panties.

I gulped.

Uncle Mitch didn't hesitate, though. He pulled firmly on my leash, holding me in place with one hand while he pulled my panties down my bare legs to my knees.

"Oh, my," he said. "I'll bet Daddy doesn't know about this, does he?"

My dizzy mind hadn't quite fathomed what was happening to me at all, and so it took me a moment to realize what he was talking about.

Suicide Girls.

I had discovered them online a while ago. They have nothing to do with suicide. It's sort of an online community of really cute sexy girls who are outside of the mainstream, the kind of girls who would have been called 'fringe' in high school. Their website is a sort of Myspace, where they hang out and talk to each other and show off pictures of themselves in sexy poses.