Before you read the following story, there are some things that you should know about me. I am, by nature, quite a well-behaved girl. Although I’m open minded about sex, I wouldn’t consider myself to be a risk taker. Normally I only have sex with people I know well and have some respect for. Only on a very few occasions have I done something as dangerous and foolish as I did in this story.
None of my friends in real life would believe that the following tale was about me. They just wouldn’t imagine that I could get myself into the following scenario. That’s why I’m writing about it here, in Literotica. I have to share it with someone. The magical anonymity of the net has always allowed me to explore a side of myself that I generally hide in real life.
For those of you who have read my first story, “Emily”, you will remember me as a rather naive and chubby little teen. Let me get you up to speed. I’m currently twenty-three and my body has changed more than a little. I’m something of a gym addict now. I’m happy to describe my body as “athletic” and if I stand in front of the mirror, naked, I can actually look at myself. I’m happy with my body and it’s given me a confidence I didn’t have in my teens. I have also noticed the appreciative looks that other people give my body and, in this place, I feel happy to admit that I love the attention of their eyes.
Loving attention is what got me into the sticky situation that follows. As you can probably imagine, I love to unwind on the internet. I love Literotica, pornography, chat rooms and simple browsing. The net is like a huge city where I can be whoever I want and visit even the roughest alleys without fear. As long as I’m sensible, I’m in no danger.
By now, some of my readers might be thinking that I should get to the point. I’ll do my best to move things forward but it’s important for you to understand the background if this story is going to have any impact on you. You need to know that this is autobiographical, not just titillation.
Last weekend I wasn’t sensible. I had the house to myself all weekend, which is unusual. I’m an au pair, so I am normally looking after the family which employs me. However, when they go away, I’m left to my own devices. I got up lazily on Saturday morning and had coffee while browsing the net. I started off with good, simple comedy, reading “the onion”. Soon, though, I drifted into my usual chat rooms, just to see what might happen. I spoke with the usual regulars, perverts, fakers and fantasists. I’ve been a chatter for a while and I think I can recognize most types. Sometimes I indulge them, sometimes I indulge myself. It depends on my mood.
I got chatting to a “woman” who was supposedly local to me. She had chosen the nickname “hotsexybitch” in the room and I immediately assumed that “she” was in fact a male faker. However, I sometimes entertain myself by leading them on. I was willing to play a little. Eventually the chat moved to MSN and I gave my special “playing” addy.
Imagine my surprise when we got there and “hotsexybitch” offered to go on cam. She offered first and did not request pictures. Intrigued, I told her to go ahead. To my massive surprise, “hotsexybitch” was genuinely hot, sexy and female. She was bleach blonde, slim and pretty, probably about twenty-five. She was sitting at her computer in a bra and some jogging bottoms. The room behind her looked plain but well decorated. She was smoking a cigarette.
It’s extremely rare that I go on cam for people that I don’t know from real life. However, I was feeling quite playful by now (all the fault of Literotica, I might add!) so I dug my cam out of the drawer and set it up. “Hotsexybitch” was called Michelle, or so she said. She was eager to see me. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted me to go on cam and do more than just wave. Despite my normal shyness, I thought that I might break my own rules.
After some struggling, I got the cam set up and working. Michelle was impatient and slightly aggressive until the cam started to work. I was only wearing a nightie, a long white t-shirt that I sleep in, something I stole from an ex.
Her reaction on seeing me? “Ur fuckin hot babes.” I grinned at her blunt response. “Thanks”.
Her next comment was “Want to see my tits?”
She didn’t wait for me to reply. She quickly took off her bra and began to massage her breasts and squeeze her nipples. The action was strange, somehow fake. It was like watching a porn-star or stripper trying to arouse the viewer. However, she had gorgeous breasts. They were bigger than mine by far but very shapely. I found myself wondering if she had had a boob job. If she hadn’t had one, she was a very lucky girl.
“Hot,” was my reply. I’m normally more articulate but she was moving faster than any woman I’d ever met online.
“Wanna suck them? get naked,” she leant forward to type. after typing, she stood up and pulled off the jogging bottoms. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. I pride myself on being hard to shock. I’ve had all kinds of fantasies, cyber-sex and even real sexual experiences that might shock some ordinary people. However, Michelle’s attitude was completely new to me. I was not used to women being so fast. I had played on cam with girls before but there had always been a long lead up to it. Michelle had a man’s approach: straight to business.
I knew I had a simple choice. I could turn off the computer and do something else or I could do what she wanted. You know the choice I made. I’m writing this story, so you know I didn’t turn off the computer.
My heart began to beat hard and my throat tightened as I stood up and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Underneath I was completely naked. I could see myself in my cam. I looked good. I compared my body to Michelle’s. My breasts were smaller, perter. I was slightly less curvy, my stomach more defined. I could relax. She would not criticize me.
“Ur hot as fuck,” she typed, staring at her screen with a facial expression that was almost angry with desire. I could tell immediately that she wanted me. It was strange for me to see such a look of open lust on the face of a woman. Her hand reached down between her legs and she started to rub herself, almost absentmindedly. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, her top lip almost sneering. I felt as though she half wanted me and half hated me. There was a look of disdain on her face. “Gonna play?” she typed, clumsily, with her left hand.
Now, I’m used to more foreplay than that. If anyone else had been so forward they would have been blocked in a moment. Michelle, though, was attractive to me. I almost didn’t want her to be but I can’t fight what my body wants. I’ve been bisexual since I can remember, I’ve always found women and men equally exciting. Michelle, now sitting back in her chair with her legs wide, was being vulgar and abrupt but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her. “Yeh,” I typed. To my surprise, I found myself sitting back, opening my legs, and beginning to stroke my neatly trimmed pussy.
Michelle was shaven. She picked up the cam so I could see right between her legs. I’m not a fan of close ups, I prefer to a person’s face, but I found myself even more aroused seeing how wet she was as she slid two fingers into herself. I told her to put the cam back, I wanted to see all of her. She did as I asked. Her face looked flushed. She was rubbing her clit and squeezing her breasts in a way that looked quite painful. I found myself masturbating not for her viewing-pleasure but for my own desires. Her gaze was fixed on the screen of her computer, the white light of it bathed her face. Sometimes she leaned close to get a better view of me.
I was teasing my clit with soft, quick motions but Michelle was plunging two fingers into herself with an almost vicious motion. She was biting her bottom lip as she played, a look of intense concentration on her face. She stood up from her chair and bent forward, her hand still moving quickly between her legs. She was alternating between rubbing and finger-fucking herself. Her face, close to the camera, looked pained with frustration. She was desperate to cum.
I repositioned the cam so that she could see my pussy more easily. Then I spread myself wide for her. I loved watching her expression change, her eyes widening. She liked what she saw. I pushed two fingers deep inside me and let out a gasp of pleasure. I began to fuck myself hard, just as Michelle had done. That seemed to be the trigger for her. She shook visibly and her eyes closed. Her face grimaced for a second and then she look shocked, gasping and gripping her desk with her left hand. Seeing her cum was all that it took for me to push myself over the edge. I’ve had bigger orgasms, especially when I’ve taken my time, but it was intense. It was more than the physical sensation, it was the novelty of the experience. I was totally exposed to a woman who was a stranger and she loved what she saw. I’m insecure and vain: this was the kind of compliment I needed!
When my short orgasm was over, I was slightly breathless and pretty embarrassed. “That was well gud,” typed Michelle. “Yeh that was great,” I replied. It seemed such an inarticulate way to express what had happened.
“Wanna come round?” Michelle typed. She looked serious. My mind immediately gave me a hundred different scearios: I might go round and have amazing sex; I might go round and she would murder me; I might go round and her boyfriend would rape me; I might chose to say no and wonder, forever, what might have happened. My mind whirled through hundreds of variations on these themes. To buy time, I typed “LOL”.
“I mean it,” typed Michelle. Her face was serious. She was almost angry. Then she typed her address and mobile number. She was only twenty-five minutes drive away. “Bit fast, isn’t it?” I typed.
“I want you to come,” she typed. “Im bord. Im lonely. Plz.”
I won’t bore you with the discussion that took place inside my head. The many different ideas argued amongst themselves. It was over in a few seconds. “What time?” I typed. I could always back out later. She didn’t know my number or where I lived.
“Need an hour to get showered and that,” typed Michelle.
“OK me too,” I replied.
“Wikkid love ya kiss kiss phone me when ya comin lol,” she typed, smiling at last. Then she went offline.
I was, unsurprisingly, stunned.
What had just happened? Would I go through with it? I knew the risks. I decided to just keep going with my day as though I was going to do it. I could always back out at any time.
I showered and dressed in a half dream. My mind was consumed with throughts of the best possible and worst possible outcomes. In half of my mind I was in ecstasy with Michelle and I had found myself a new girlfriend; in the other half of my mind I was being beaten to death by Michelle’s gangster friends. The woman was clearly unstable and a lot rougher than me. That was a bad thing. It was also a sexy thing.
I chose clothes that I thought suggested a casual cup of coffee, even though I knew Michelle had other plans. Plain white underwear, my pink superman t-shirt to show that I had a sense of humour, my “everyday” jeans and some white trainers. Nothing about me said that I wanted to get laid. I did my hair and some subtle make up. I could play the situation in any direction. I was in control.
Now came the first decision. Call her?
I dialled the number and tried not to tremble. Nothing to be nervous about. Just a phone call.
“Yeah?” she answered. She had a local accent and her voice was slightly hoarse. She was clearly a smoker and a party girl.
“Hey, it’s me, Sarah,” I said.
“Right babes? You gonna come see me then?” she asked. I tried to judge her tone. She sounded hopeful. She sounded as though she was longing for company, not just sex.
“Yeah, if it’s ok,” I said. I didn’t want to force the issue. If she changed her mind, that was fate telling me to let it drop.
“Yeah, course it is, wicked,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“No harm, is there?” I asked.
“Nah course, not, I don’t bite,” she giggled. I expected her to make a joke but she resisted the temptation. “You know how to find it?”
“Just gonna get a map from the net and then I’ll be on my way,” I said. I was amazed at how relaxed I sounded. Oh yes, this was the sort of thing I did every day. Web cam sex with a stranger? Of course! Meeting them the same day? Why not?!
“Yeah, wicked. Hurry up then,” she said. She was so eager.
“Ok babes, see you in a bit,” I replied, already searching online for the map.
“In a bit. Love ya,” she said and ended the call.
So. I was going to do it, apparently. There was the map in front of me. A simple journey. I knew the area. Near the university. Not very rough. Nothing frightening.
It was a warm day but the sun kept going in and out. The weather was reflecting my mood, changing from light to dark. Soon I was driving my knackered little car through familiar streets, feeling like I was on another planet. If I couldn’t find her address, I would just go home. Let fate decide.
The place was easy to find. Not the wealthiest neighbourhood but wholesome enough. I parked on the street and looked at the house numbers. I was close.
My legs felt like jelly as I walked towards the place. It was an ordinary suburban house. The front garden was a little uncared for. There was a good car in the drive. How could she be so normal and so strange at once? There were blinds in the windows. I couldn’t see in.
The door. If I knocked there was probably no way back.
Michelle answered the door. She was taller than me and looked older than I had at first guessed. She might be in her thirties. She was dressed in a short summer skirt and a tight vest-top. She didn’t look completely slutty but her make-up was quite overdone. She had an all over tan that suggested sunbeds. I felt like I was seeing an escort.
“Hey babes, come in,” she said. She was almost dismissive. I felt like a regular visitor to her house, not someone who was practically a stranger. I came in, closing the door behind me. It felt incredibly final, shutting myself in with her.
Her house was extremely neat. I wondered if she was obsessive compulsive. It felt like a show-home, not somewhere that a person lived.
She had walked through to her kitchen. The blinds were down here, too. “You want a drink and that?” she asked, not looking at me. I wondered if she was as nervous as I was.
“Yeah, coffee, please,” I said, keeping my distance.
“Wicked,” she replied, still not looking at me properly.
“So have you done this before?” I asked.
“What?” she said, turning to look at me now. She looked defensive, as if I was about to criticize her.
“Met someone from the chat room?” I asked, trying not to react to her strange attitude.
“You think I’m a slag, then?” she asked. She looked angry.
“No not at all! No!” I said, anxiously. I was beginning to feel scared. “Just wondered if you had done it, because I haven’t.”
She turned back to the coffee. “I’ve tried to do it before but lots of people are time wasters. They say the are gonna come and they don’t. Or they turn out to be guys and I tell them to fuck off.”
I giggled nervously. “Well you know I’m not a guy,” I said, shyly, hoping to soften her mood.
She turned round as the kettle began to boil. “Yeah, course I do. I’ve seen you’re not a guy.”
I giggled again, hoping my little routine was breaking through her hard exterior. “You’ve seen way more than I usually show on a first date.”
“Have I?” she asked, looking oddly shy.
“Definitely! I’m not normally someone who strips off that quickly,” I said, feeling that I was gaining control at last.
“Why did you do it with me?” she asked, smiling gently.
“Cos you really turned me on,” I replied, honestly.
“Really?” she asked. She looked faintly embarrassed now. “You think I’m hot?”
“Very.” I felt myself beginning to shade from fear to excitement. She really was hot. I remembered the webcam and realized that I may have made the right decision.
“So are you,” she said, turning back to the coffee. “You’re gorgeous. How old are you? I forgot.”
“Twenty-three,” I told her.
“How old you think I am?”
“Twenty-six,” I lied. I thought it was best to flatter her.
She laughed and looked at me happily, not seeing my lie. “You’re blind, love, I’m thirty-three.”
I faked astonishment. “Wow! I thought you couldn’t be much older than me!”
“I take care of myself,” she said, coyly. “I’ve got to cos I do modelling and that.”
“Wow,” I said again, feeling slightly stupid. “You’re definitely pretty enough.” I wondered if she was lying. Perhaps modelling had paid for the house and the car. It might be true.
“You ever done modelling?” she asked as she lead me through to the living room. She put the coffee cups down and sat on the sofa. I sat at the other end of it. We were like two friends catching up. The tension though, was incredible. We both knew what had happened that morning. We both knew where this was going to lead. Right now we were in a strange limbo. Polite strangers who knew each other far too intimately.
“No I’ve never done it, I’m too shy,” I said. I was more comfortable now. We seemed to have got past the initial awkwardness.
“You weren’t that shy this morning,” she said, grinning slyly.
I giggled. “Neither were you!” I said, happily.
She nodded, pleased with herself. “That’s nothing to me, I’m used to taking my clothes off in front of people.”
“You do glamour modelling?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I reckon if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“You’ve got the body for it,” I said, letting her see me checking out her breasts.
“I’ve always had massive tits,” she said, unselfconsciously grabbing her breasts and squeezing them. “When I was a kid all the lads wanted them.”
“I have fairly small boobs. They used to be bigger but I used to be chubby,” I told her. This conversation was making things easier. She was becoming a known quantity.
“You have a wicked body,” she said, repaying my lustful glances. “You must go to the gym loads.”
“Yeah, quite a bit,” I said, enjoying her compliments and her gaze.
“I should go more, I’m dead fat,” she said, pinching her waist.
“You’re not fat,” I assured her.
“Yeah I am. I’m gross. I wish I had a body like yours. Your stomach is totally flat,” she said, and she reached over to stroke my tummy.
“It didn’t use to be,” I murmured, paying little attention to my words and more attention to her stroking hand.
“Feels well nice,” she said, stroking firmly from the waist of my jeans to the underside of my bra.
“That feels nice too,” I whispered, putting my hand on hers. I edged her hand upwards towards my breasts. She didn’t need much encouragement. She gripped my left breasts much harder than I had expected and I gasped.
“You like it rough or gentle?” she asked, relaxing her grip a little on my breast.
“Um, bit of both,” I whispered. Even though we were alone, I felt I had to whisper, I had to keep this a secret.
“You’re dead nervous, aren’t ya?” she asked, enjoying my fear.
“Aren’t you a bit?” I asked, trying to make my voice louder.
“No,” she retorted, dsidainfully. “I know what I want and I get it. I don’t get nervous.”
“I do,” I whispered, thinking that she enjoyed my apparent discomfort. I might as well show her my fear if it turned her on.
Yeah I can tell,” she said, looking smug. “You a good girl then?”
“Don’t know,” I said, wondering how she would define the term.
“Yeah you are. You’re a good girl. You’re a posh girl, int ya?” she said, looking like a happy school bully with a new victim.
“Yeah, I suppose,” I said, feeling incredibly turned on and slightly uncomfortable at the same time.
“Come closer,” she ordered, urging me across the sofa. I shuffled nearer to her. She quickly got up and straddled me, sitting on my lap, staring down at me. I feebly put my hands on her hips. I was starting to feel out of my depth again. She leant forward to kiss me and press her mouth roughly onto mine. Immediately she was pushing her tongue into my mouth, kissing me forcefully. I responded to her kiss with an open mouth, trying to match her for energy. She grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands from my hips, spreading my arms wide and pinning them to the sofa. She kissed me passionately, almost violently, holding me in place. She was trying to grind her crotch against me but my flat stomach offered little stimulation. She broke the kiss and looked down at me, her face almsot sneering. Her lipgloss was around her mouth, making the whole area look wet. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t ya? You’ve never done anything like this have ya?”
“I’ve done some things like this, never so fast,” I replied, not wanting to seem like a complete novice.
“No you haven’t, you liar,” she said, directly contradicting me and smiling. “Don’t pretend. You’re a good girl. I’m a bad girl. I’m gonna show you what bad girls do.”
I realized that this must be her fantasy. She was telling me what I was. She didn’t know the real me and wasn’t really interested. She had decided on who she thought I was and there was no point in trying to change her mind. “Ok,” I said, pretending to be even more nervous than I was.
“Yeah, you know it,” she said. She looked intent on being completely in charge so I did not disagree. I would show her that I was harder to shock than she thought. She groped my breasts again, even more roughly this time, studying my face as she did it. I gasped at first and she looked elated. Her twisting became positively painful and I involuntarily said, “Ow fuck!” That made her laugh and stop twisting.
“You love it,” she whispered. I considered contradicting her and telling her that she had been too rough but, to my shame, I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Even though she was moody and odd, she was still hot and I still wanted to go further.
She heaved her top over her head and threw it on the floor. Then she reached behind herself to unhook her bra. She pulled that off too, apparently irritated at her clothes. She tossed it across the room and then turned back to me. “Remember these?” she asked. “You asked me to get ’em out on cam.”
Again I thought about contradicting her but I decided to let her enjoy playing the game her way. I was too aroused to want to spoil the scene. I began to move my hands from the back of the sofa when she snapped, “Did I say you could move?! Stay fucking still!”
I was shocked at first but I quickly settled into this new development. I had had dominant girls in the past. I could paly this game.
She studied my face, trying to gauge my reaction. Whatever she saw, she seemed pleased. “Yeah, you know it,” she said. “You do what I say, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I replied, meekly. I would let her have her fun.
She grabbed my head and pulled it between her big, warm breasts. I kissed between them. “Yeah, you know you love it,” she murmured. She grabbed her right breast and thrust it into my face, smothering me with warm flesh. “Suck it, posh girl!” she hissed.
Obligingly, I sucked her nipple into my mouth. I sucked hard, assuming she would like it as rough as she gave it. I had guess right and she began to grind herself harder against me. I kept my hands in their position on the back of the sofa, trying to give the impression of the trapped slave. She reached beneath her skirt with her left hand and began to frenziedly rub herself. “Ahh, fucking suck it! Suck me!” she moaned, almost suffocating me with her breast. I sucked as hard as I could, trying to hurt her in the hope that she would appreciate it.
She came so quickly that I first thought she was faking it. However, her movements and moans seemed so genuine that I wondered if she was, in fact, living out a fantasy. Enjoying a good girl, a posh girl, seemed to be her fetish. I had no problem with that. My own pussy was already soaking wet. I just hoped she would be less rough once she had got over her initial excitement.
She sat back and her breast left my mouth with an audible sucking sound. She was panting, looking aggressive and proud. Her left hand was still moving under her skirt. She reached down further and I could tell she was entering herself. After an ecstatic look and a few deep thrusts, she pulled out her fingers and pushed them into my mouth. I was going to resist but her movement was so firm that I had little choice. “Clean them!” she ordered. I licked and sucked her fingers as she slid them in and out of my mouth. Her own mouth was open and she licked her lips as she watched me. She was fascinated. I shut my eyes and moaned in pleasure as I tasted her. Despite her rough treatment of me, I was enjoying myself. She had a hot body and the taste of her pussy was making me even more aroused.
“Arms up,” she ordered and, before I had even reacted, she was tugging my t-shirt over my head. Clumsily, she got the t-shirt off and threw it aside, just as she had done with her own clothes. Then, she began to awkwardly unhook my bra. I tried to move forward to make it easier but she was pulling me around like I was a doll. Eventually she managed the hook and I helped her get the bra off me. “Nice,” she murmured to herself. Then, using both hands she began to grip and twist my tits. Her touch was so hard this time that I immediately cried out.
“Too hard!” I complained, looking up at her, hoping for some understanding. Her movements softened until they were just bearable.
“Sorry baby,” she whispered, for a moment looking genuinely apologetic. She leaned forward and kissed me again. Her kiss began softly but soon it was as rough as before. At the very back of my mind, I started to worry that she was too unbalanced. I did not know if I was completely safe. I hated myself for being turned on by my own fear.
She broke the kiss and hissed, “Finger me!” She grabbed both my hands and stuffed them under her skirt. “Quick!” she snapped.
I fumbled her thong to one side and quickly thrust two fingers into her. She was even wetter than I had expected, literally dripping. I used my other hand to hold her thong aside and to rub her clit. She moaned so loudly that I felt worried for a moment that her neighbours would hear. She ground her pussy against me, enjoying my fingers on her clit and deep inside her.
“More,” she moaned. “More in me!”
I pushed a third finger into her. She was totally open to me and it slipped in without any difficulty. She bounced on the fingers, doing most of the work for me.
Soon her movements changed and she began to struggle to stand up on the sofa. As she grabbed my head, I realized what she wanted. I slid down a little as she stood up. She pushed my face under her skirt and I did my best to lick her clit in the awkard position. Her upper body was pressed against the wall as she forced herself into my face. I was uncomfortable and could have licked her much more skilfully in another position but she seemed oblivious.
“Fingers too!” she moaned, and I reached up her thigh and pushed three fingers into her once again. “Fuck more!” she cried and I slid my little finger inside. Then I reached up within her and rubbed at her g-spot. I knew she liked it rough so I didn’t worry about caressing. I pounded my fingers in and out, rubbing her hard. I knew that this action on my own pussy brought about the most powerful internal orgasms. Sometimes it even made me squirt.
She was moaning and swearing as I fucked her. I wondered how much of it was exaggeration but if she was faking, she was faking very well. After a few minutes of this, my neck was in agony and my face was soaked. Her thong was rubbing quite painfully against my mouth and I was getting close to telling her I had to stop. However, her pussy was gripping harder on my fingers and I knew she was about to cum. Deciding to endure, I pumped harder, much more roughly than I would with any other girl. She cried out and her pussy spasmed. I felt myself pressing jets of hot liquid out of her and down my neck and breasts. She was moaning, grunting and panting like an animal as she came.
At last she was done and she collapsed onto the sofa next to me. My aching neck felt a surge of relief. I reached up and felt my breasts and neck. Soaked and slippery.
“Oh fuck that was good!” she murmured. “You made me cunt squirt. You’re not really a good girl, are ya?”
“Sometimes good, sometimes bad,” I said, licking my lips and tasting her on them.
“Wanna go upstairs, babes?” she asked, standing up and reaching out a helping hand. “Give you some fun too, yeah?”
I smiled widely. “Love to,” I said. She led me to her bedroom.
The bed was huge and had a brass head and foot. It was the kind of bed that my ex-boyfriend and I always called “bondage beds” because of the huge number of places that you can secure your victim. The room was as precise and neat as the rest of the house. The furniture looked expensive and I knew that she had money coming from somewhere. There was a wide screen tv on a chest of drawers, facing the foot of the bed.
“Wanna watch one of my pornos?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, looking around the room. Nothing here suggested that she was anything other than a normal suburban person with a neat, clean home. The world would not know from the surface. It was the same with me. Nobody could know me from the surface that I presented.
“Get ya clothes off while I put something on,” she said. The tone was less aggressive but she was still in charge. I stripped out of my remaining clothes and sat on her pristine, white bed. She busied herself with the tv and dvd player. When she was happy with her choice, she dropped her skirt and stepped out of her thong. She joined me on the bed and settled back against the many pillows, wielding the remote. I won’t give the exact title of the DVD but it was along the lines of “Real UK Bondage Sluts”.
“You’ll love this,” she said, starting the first scene.
Suddenly I knew where her money came from. Michelle was on the film. She was dressed in variation on the cat-woman costume but it was clearly her. “It’s you,” I murmured, feeling slightly idiotic for saying it.
“Yeah, it’s wicked. I’ve done loads of porno. Mostly I just do pictures but films are cool. I used to just do escorting but I thought I might as well do films and earn more money.”
I was completely astounded. I found myself revolted and thrilled, simultaneously. She was a whore. I had licked a whore’s pussy. I was already beyond the point of no return.
We watched the movie progress and Michelle studied my face, testing me. There were three men controlling her. She was made to kneel and suck them. They pulled her around like she was an object, not a person. I watched as they rammed their cocks into her throat until she choked. Her eyes watered and she gagged again and again.
“It’s very rough, isn’t it,” I said, sure that my discomfort was clear to her.
“Yeah, it’s wicked though, innit?” she asked. I didn’t dare to contradict her. I thought she was somehow daring me to disapprove.
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
She was being slapped around and tied up. They had attached her to a massive cross, a huge X shape. The men were brutally fingering her pussy and arse. She was moaning in pain as they did it.
“You like bondage stuff?” she asked me, watching me watch her.
“Um, well, I like watching it… some of it…” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that this was a bit too far for me. I had watched lots of rough bondage before but never with one of the stars.
“Wicked,” she said. “You wanna do a bit?”
My chest constricted. Part of me longed to test my boundaries. Another part, the sensible part, told me not to take risks. “What you got in mind?” I asked.
“Nothing much,” she replied. “Just thought I might cuff you and lick you and that.”
“Nothing too rough, though,” I said, firmly. “I’m not good with pain.”
She laughed. “Don’t be stupid I won’t hurt ya.” She was already getting up and going to her wardrobe. “Got me boxes of tricks in here.”
On the TV she was being fucked in her pussy and arse at the same time. The men were calling her every dirty name you can imagine. She was not complaining but her screams sounded quite real.
She had dragged two storage crates from the wardrobe. I couldn’t see the contents. She withdrew two pairs of cuffs and approached the bed.
“Get on all fours and face the telly,” she ordered. “Bring ya hands close to the bars so I can cuff ya.”
Feeling terrified and foolish, I did as she told me. I knew then as I know now that I was taking a massive risk. Firmly and skilfully, she cuffed me to the brass bed frame. I realised I was trapped. I hoped and prayed that I wasn’t going to regret this.
“Keep watching,” she said, moving her crates and herself to the other end of the bed where I couldn’t see her. On the TV she was now tied to a hurdle. They were taking it in turn to fuck her arse. Sometimes the camera would swoop in for a close up of her gaping, wet anus.
She was kneeling behind me, stroking my thighs. Soon she had had hands on my pussy and was stretching my lips apart to inspect me. “Mmm you’re pussy’s nice,” she said. “You should shave it totally tho, not just trim it.”
I didn’t respond. I was so aroused and so scared that I couldn’t speak.
She began to fondle my clit and she slid a finger into me. “Fuck you’re well tight,” she said, apparently with admiration. She worked another finger into me. I was pleased at how gentle she was being. I looked down underneath myself and then tried to look back over my shoulder.
“Don’t look at me, watch the telly,” she ordered. I watched the film, seeing her anus being pounded and stretched. Her mouth and arse were being used hard and they were slapping her as the did it.
I could feel her shuffling around behind me. Then I felt her face against my pussy. She was licking and kissing my clit, filling my body with pleasure. Then she worked her tongue against my hole, making me long for something bigger. Finally, she pressed my buttocks apart and started to rim me. I’m often cautious of anal play but her hot tongue was beautiful. I watched the porn and she pleasured me with a gentleness I hadn’t thoguht her capable of. Soon, she had me gripping the bars of the bed and begging her to make me cum. Her tongue and fingers were expert. Even when she pushed the tip of one finger into my arse, I didn’t tell her to stop.
My orgasm came as I watched her being fucked anally by two cocks at once. The whole situation was so strange that I thought I might be dreaming. The feel of the cold cuffs told me that it was real.
“Like that, babes?” she asked, stroking up and down the length of my back.
“God it was amazing,” I replied, trying to look back at her.
“Don’t look!” she said, not unkindly. “Don’t make me blindfold ya.”
“OK,” I giggled, feeling more comfortable. She knew the limits.
“OK,” she echoed. “Shut your eyes and open ya mouth for me.”
“Um, right,” I said, my voice wavering.
“Just trust me babes, it’ll make you hot,” she assured me.
I did as she asked, feeling ridiculous. My eyes were tight shut and my mouth hung open. I heard her come around in front of me.
“Keep ’em closed,” she said, softly. Then there was something between my lips. Hard, cold, rubber. She was fastening it in place. I knew what it was. A ball gag. I had seen them but never, never, imagined myself really wearing one. I started struggling but it was too late. She had secured it to me.
“Just trust me babes, you’ll love it,” she said, heading back to the other end of me.
I moaned around the gag. I was not happy with it. It was too far. How could I tel her that I didn’t want it? I struggled against the cuffs and looked round at her. She smiled at me and said, gently, “Babes, just trust me, yeah?”
I shook my head and, to my horror, she yanked my legs backwards. I fell flat on the bed, winded. “Just behave yourself!” she snapped. “I’m not gonna do anything bad to ya.”
I struggled to get back onto all fours, but she lay on top of me, crushing me to the bed. “Stay fucking still!” she hissed in my ear. “We can do it easy or we can do it hard but we’re gonna do it. So it’s up to you. Easy way or hard way?”
I had no idea what she was planning but I knew that I wanted the easy way. I was terrified at this point, no longer feeling in control. I relaxed underneath her, trying to show that I would consent.
“Yeah babes, that’s better, just trust me,” she murmured, slipping her hand between us and down between my legs. She knelt up and forced my legs apart, working two fingers deep into me. Despite my fear, her fingers felt wonderful. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate on the pleasure, rather than the terror.
Her fingers explored me. She was massaging me, feeling every part of my pussy. I winced a little as she guided another finger into me, stretching my tight hole. I tried not to look at the screen where the three men were ejaculating into her open mouth.
She was pushing another finger into me. I looked back at her pleadingly, trying to tell her that I was just too tight. She grabbed my head and turned it back to look at the TV.
The scene had changed. One woman tied in a sex swing. Another woman, Michelle, in leather. I watched as the scene progessed from light whipping to deep fingering. Then, my heart sank. She was pushing all her fingers into the woman. It was a fisting scene. That was what she had planned for me.
I turned to look at her, shaking my head violently and thrashing my body.
“Hold fucking still!” she yelled. “You’re gonna take it and you’re gonna love it. If you fight it’s gonna hurt but it will still fucking happen. So hold still!”
I continued to struggle but she straddled my back and pinned me. She was facing backwards so that she could still hold my legs open and get to my vulnerable pussy.
I knew it was hopeless. I couldn’t appeal to her with words and all of my strength wouldn’t break the cuffs. Feeling the tears start to fall down my face, I tried to relax. I had made this mistake and I would pay for it. The only thing to do was wait to be released and then get away.
She pushed all her fingers into me and I groaned. I could take them, just. It wasn’t as agonising if I didn’t struggle or try to push her out of me. I glanced at the TV. The woman in the swing was taking Michelle’s hand up to the wrist. I told myself it had to be possible. I had been filled before. I had never been fisted but it surely wasn’t impossible. If that was what she wanted to do, I could endure it.
I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, focussing on opening myself to her. The fingers were pleasurable. I was stretched but not in agony. I told myself to let her in.
She was aware of my submission. “Aw yeah, babes, that’s it,” she murmured, far more gently. “You can do it.”
I decided that I would work with her. It was the simplest way. I began to pump my pelvis against the bed, aiding her hand in it’s exploration. In response, she worked her thumb in amongst the bunch of fingers. I barely noticed the extra thickness.
“Come on babe, come on baby, you can do it,” she was muttering. She removed her hand from me and I heard how wet I was. She climb off my back and returned to between my legs. “Better angle here,” she explained. The hand returned and, this time, it slid in far more easily and a lot deeper. “Oh babes, that’s it! Nearly there!”
I glanced at the TV again. The woman in the swing was loving the experience, or at least seemed to be. I looked at the close up of her wide cunt, filled to the wrist with Michelle’s fist. I could do it. I angled my hips up to make myself deeper. Her knuckles were right up against my opening. The pleasure and pain were getting mixed up in each other. With each thrust, she came closer to getting her hand into me. I had never been so filled. I couldn’t resist it. I began to truly enjoy it. I wanted her to do it. I wanted her to force it in. Half of me said that at least then I could bring this all to an end, the other half said that at then I would know ecstasy.
At last the moment came. It was so sudden and unexpected. My pussy relaxed just a little more and I felt her hand curl completely into me. “Yes!” she cried in triumph and I moaned into my gag.
I was being fisted.
A woman’s fist was inside me. It was absurd and grotesque but it showed me a pleasure I hadn’t imagined. My hips moved of their own accord, ensuring that the hand within me found every spark of pleasure that it could. She began to pull out and I experienced a new pain as my pussy refused to free her. Then she sank back into me and I was filled again.
I cannot describe how it felt to be fucked by her fist. It went on for minutes. As I became accustomed to it, I could take it harder and rougher. By the end, she was using her hand in me like a vast cock. I have never experienced anything more intense. When I came, I thought I had lost control of my whole body. I was completely helpless in the grip of pleasure and her power.
After my orgasm she stayed in me for a while, letting my body relax and release her. When she pulled out, I felt strangely lost. I could hear the grunts and moans from the TV but I just buried my head in the bedclothes. I wanted to vanish away. I wasn’t sure if I had been raped or if I had enjoyed myself. I lay there, resting, as she moved around by the side of the bed. Eventually she returned to me, stroking my whole body and whispering, “You’re so fucking hot, babes. I knew you was a bad girl.” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
She had got back onto the bed. I hoped she was going to uncuff me. I was shocked when I felt her pouring something cold and wet over my backside. “Gonna lube you up,” she murmured. My body jerked in fear. I looked round. My fear double. She was weaaring a strap-on. It was a huge, thick, black dildo, bigger than any man I had ever taken. I could feel her massaging the cold lubricant between my buttocks. This was too much.
I grabbed the bed frame and tried to pull it from the bed. I used all my strength, trying to kick her and thrash out of her grasp. She roughly grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. “You know you ain’t getting away, so just take it, babes!” she shouted. This time I would not submit. I continued to fight and struggle against her. She pushed me down and held me in place with her body. Without my arms I was useless. My wildly writhing legs couldn’t remove her from me.
It took her a long while to position the tip of the dildo between my buttocks. I did all I could to make it hard for her. It didn’t matter. I soon felt the cold wet tip of it nudging my tight anus. I would not relax, wouldn’t give in, even when she pushed harder. I tensed right up until the moment that the head of it pushed inside me. I snorted and screamed against the gag.
“Oh yeah, babes, you know you love it,” she whispered in my ear. I wondered how she could be so oblivious to my obvious distress. Either she didn’t care or she simply couldn’t comprehend what I was going through. Tears spilt down my face and I closed my eyes, trying to go away from the world.
I groaned, feeling sick, as I felt her work her hips and guide more of the dildo into my arse. I’ve had anal sex in the past and, on occasions, enjoyed it. This, though, was something new. This felt like violation. I wondered just how much of the thing she intended to push into me. I was open enough to take it now, so at least the pain of stretching wouldn’t increase. The depth, though, worried me. The dildo had look far too long. I struggled a little but this only forced the dildo further. After that I remained still and let it into me. There was no point in anything else. I shut my eyes and lay there, limp.
When she was satisfied that I had taken enough inside me, she began to fuck. It hurt. That is the simplest description. It stabbed and stretched and filled me. The rhythm of her fucking increased in speed and I knew that I would have to endure worse before she was finished. The lube had at least made me slick enough for the sliding not to burn. I lay underneath her while she panted and grunted, pounding away at me. After a while, she reached underneath me and rubbed at my clit. I tried to forget the pounding and stabbing and only think of my clit. It felt good. I was sensitive and aroused. I thought that if I could at least cum, she might feel that the game was over. Weakly, I tried to respond to her fingers.
That was what she had wanted. “Yeah baby! You love it! I knew you would love it!” she cried, relieved. I wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how deluded. I couldn’t speak. Instead, I moved in time with her, making my pain ease a little. “Gonna make your arse cum, baby!” she whispered in my ear, speaking as though I should be excited or pleased.
I shut my eyes and felt the movements on my clit. They were fast and frantic. It would be enough. As I got closer to orgasm, the feelings of the pounding dildo did, truly, heighten my pleasure. My pussy could feel the thrusting and I gave in to the pleasure that shone through the pain. I let myself cum, shuddering violently beneath her. She cried out in joy, “Yes my baby! Yes!” She sounded so innocently happy that I wondered whether she had any understanding of what she had put me through.
When she withdrew from my aching arse, I felt disgusted. Wordlessly, she cleaned me up with wipes and tissues. Once she had cleaned me, she lay next to me holding me close. I did not respond. “Was it good babes? Want me to uncuff ya now?” she asked. I nodded my head, not looking at her.
Once I was uncuffed and ungagged I thought about immediately attacking her. There was something about her, though, something pathetic, that made me pity her. As we got dressed, she asked me, “Was it good, babes?”
I looked at her seriously. “It was too much,” I said, without malice.
“In a good way?” she asked. She suddenly looked vulnerable and scared. I realized that she was more damaged than I was.
“Not all of it, no,” I said.
She began to cry.
I won’t go into the rest of our conversation. I stayed much longer but there was no more sex. I haven’t seen her since although we have spoken on the phone. I have written this story so that you can experience what I did. Was it rape? I don’t know. Was I aroused at some points? Definitely. Will I being seeing Michelle again?
I’m afraid to say, that the answer is yes.