August Showers
It was almost time for dinner and Jack could not have been more thankful even if
it was to consist of something beside dorm food. He had been sitting in front
of his computer working for the past three or four hours, his only respite from
the English paper he had to turn in next week coming in the form of a mysterious
e-mail from his... she was not really his girlfriend. But to think of her as
anything else left a bad taste in his mouth. To allow himself to see her in any
other light, especially the light she herself sought to cast on the topic, was
far too much.
She e-mailed him at least once a day no matter what was happening in her day to
day life, and often sent him e-mail three or four times a day: morning, noon,
evening, and before bed. She never had very much to say, but what she said was
often more than enough. From the internet links she asked him to look at to the
files she attached to her messages and what she said in the messages themselves;
everything was very blatant in purpose and meaning. She was trying to draw him
into the lifestyle she'd been born into, the one she had fallen in love with and
did not appear to be able to escape. He wanted nothing to do with it.
It was not that he wanted nothing to do with her. He might have been all over
her in an instant, indeed had been very close on several occasions. She was
highly intelligent, incredibly attractive, and he enjoyed her company. She was
getting good grades in her final year in high school and seemed to have every
intention of pursuing higher education. She had refused to tell him what school
she was looking at, but he feared she might be following him to his own college.
The only problem was--
The phone rang, startling him. He had been on the verge of clicking on one of
the links she sent, but shook off the thought and reached for the receiver on
the back of his desk. "Jack's residence, Jack speaking," he answered in his
usual, glib tone.
There was no voice on the other end of the line, only the sound of slow, even
breathing. It was her.
"Cat, may I help you?" he asked, trying to coax her to speak. Sometimes she
called him merely to hear the sound of his voice, it seemed, to imagine herself
being close to him. It was definitely odd.
Her voice quavered slightly with her soft reply, her breathing becoming more
erratic. "You have communal showers, right?"
Where could she be going with this question? He answered affirmatively.
"Describe them."
"They're a lot like the little cubes in a restroom, except that they have
curtains instead of doors," he answered.
The breathing stopped. She had climaxed, he knew, and his face grew red at the
thought. "Thanks," she forced out, her voice only a whisper. "I'll meet you
there at midnight."
"What?" he shouted at the phone.
But it was dead.
Dinner normally tasted somewhat like dirt. This time was more like bleached
filter sand, utterly without any redeeming qualities. What did she mean? He
had no choice, of course. He had to find out.
Visiting hours at his highly conservative school ended at seven in the evening.
Girls were not allowed inside without escort, and also had to sign in at the
front desk. Could she even get into the building? And if she did, what would
she do in the showers? Hide behind the curtain, of course, probably with the
water on. Why couldn't she just be like normal girls?
# # #
The girl wore a pair of old thong sandals with broken straps that dragged a
little on the ground as she picked up her feet for each step. She had refused
to wear anything else at all on her feet, the nearest thing to an exception
being the iron bracelet that adorned her left ankle. It was a symbol of
something that was not, but that she hoped would someday be.
Her denim shorts--far too small and cut off so that the legs extended only just
below the crotch, held in place only by a half-inch wide, spiked belt that was
so long it wrapped around her waist twice--rode low on her hips and revealed the
bottom of her cheeks at the bottom and part of her crack at the top. Had she
pulled them up to hide that any better, it was almost certain that her pouting
cunt would have made an appearance somehow, either beside one leg or the other
or split by the shorts' crotch. She could not have worn anything beneath them
even if she had wanted to, unless she wanted to put it on display for everyone.
Her back pocket carried her car keys and the five metal clips she had brought
along, their sharp teeth threatening to cut into the tough material, and locked
onto her belt--but tucked inside her pants so as to be somewhat concealed--were
not one, but two pairs of handcuffs. She traveled light.
What served her as a top was in fact a thin white baby tee cut to become a band
that wrapped around her chest bosom, displaying everything above and below the
ideally-sized cups of her breasts. She knew from experience that her tits were
large enough to play with, to tie with ropes or even fuck, but small and firm
enough to grant her freedom from the tyranny that other girls put up with, the
bras and the sagging. Were it not for that fact and the fact that the shirt
itself had been too small when she bought it and was even now quite tight, the
top would never have stayed in place. In fact, were it not for the the rings in
each of her pierced nipples, it might have fallen off anyway.
Her silky, light brown hair ordinarily hung just below her shoulders, but was
now tied up so that it could hide nothing at all about her, and she certainly
had nothing to hide. If her whole body had been displayed no one could have
perceived even a single blemish on her skin. There was not even so much as a
tan line to be found, nor any body hair for that matter. She was as near
perfect as any man could ask for, and she had come to give herself away.
Just for the simple pleasure of it, Cat removed her flip flops and ran three
times around the two-mile-long rubber jogging track that circled the campus,
savoring the springy, hot surface that caressed her tough feet. She had enjoyed
running since junior high and had developed her stamina over the years. She
took pride in her endurance, more so in the looks that the graceful, athletic
lines of her body, the smoothly outlined muscles and the defined limbs that drew
such attention, especially when shining with sweat and accompanied by the slow
in and out of her breathing. When she stopped to rest for a moment outside
Jack's dorm, several guys found convenient excuses to examine her, in secret,
they thought.
The last mile had been the first mile to tax her and she stretched on the
sidewalk before doing a few wind sprints, down the block and then back again,
then down the block again, renewing the sheen that coated her body and making
her lungs and muscles burn all the more. She loved the sensation, but had, of
course, known that she could waste no more time here. She enjoyed putting on a
show for the guys, and she was certainly radiant in the setting sun, but she had
other things to attend to. And so, drenched in sweat--and other things, near
her nether regions--she made her way up the steps to the lobby and into the
dorm. The night watchman looked in her direction and then back to his
newspaper, but then his gaze locked onto her. Wondering if she might be
breaking a rule, she slipped on her thongs and nodded toward him.
She knew why he was looking, of course. Even her shorts were soaked and were
far darker than they would have normally been, but if her shorts were wet then
her shirt was positively dripping, very nearly transparent. Her hard nipples
pressed against the material, their darker color standing out against the skin
tone beside it, their flesh standing out from the flesh around them. Of course
running turned her on, but running in such a near naked state had almost brought
her to orgasm by the second mile, and she'd maintained her composure only by
sheer will. The sight of her erect nubs caught the man's eyes, of course, but
she verily exuded sexuality, a thing that absolutely could not be missed in
sight, smell, or sound; indeed it could be felt and tasted on the air.
The top had been pulled down by the weight of the sweat it had caught and by the
motion wrought by her running and was on the verge of revealing her. She
refused to correct it and instead walked right up to the front desk and the
security guard as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. Ordinarily this
would have mortified her, but she felt she had to make an exception in this
case. Under better circumstances it would be the duty of her master to do this
sort of thing to her, but in the event of his unwillingness she felt compelled
to do it for him.
"I'm here to see my boyfriend," she said. "Is that all right with you?"
"No guests after seven," he said robotically, his eyes only flitting above her
neckline. "Sorry."
"But I really need to see him," she said, the tone of her voice leaving all
sorts of things open to the imagination. "Is there anything I can do to change
your mind?"
Not that she waited for his response.
In a flash she had gone around the desk and was on his side, crawling beneath
it, pulling his chair up to the counter and unzipping his pants. His tool
sprang out already hard, a considerable accomplishment for the fifty-seven year
old man. In seconds she was gulping down his seed, glad for the protein and
carbohydrates. But she did not stop there. She kept working until he did it
once more and, for the second time, greedily swallowed all that the guard
produced, enjoyed the salty tang of his gift and its heavy aftertaste.
A whisper issued from beneath the desk. "May I go see my boyfriend now?"
During that entire episode people had been walking in and out of the lobby,
trying to ignore the guard, who alternated between looking as if he were in the
throes of a heart attack to seeming peacefully asleep. Three thoughtful young
gentlemen, however, appeared to be somewhat more on their toes than the average.
She was startled to hear their reply: "Not just yet, sweetheart."
# # #
They marched her to the room behind the desk, where all the recreation equipment
was stored. The guard seemed to go along no more or less willingly than she,
still in the half-trance she had put him into moments before as he pulled out
his keys to unlock the door and allow them all in, then lock it behind him. He
came around very slowly over the course of the next few minutes and the five of
them were alone amid the balls, bats, Frisbees, and board games. She had only
rarely felt so naked and so vulnerable.
"You want to go visit your boyfriend, do you?" a young man with striking blond
hair asked.
"We really shouldn't allow that, you know," said another with a buzz cut.
"We ought to punish you for even thinking about it," the third, black hair and a
goatee, chimed in.
The arousal that had been awakened in her by the run and heightened by what she
had done with the guard only grew greater here, the sense of danger driving her
even higher than before. She knew that it was indeed a very real danger and
that she could be in trouble here, but all the same something inside her told
her to stay calm and enjoy it while she could. What else could she do?
"How about if I just pay a little toll instead?"
"That would definitely depend on the toll," Beard stated nonchalantly, and the
others, even the guard, who Cat had been almost certain was spent, expressed
agreement.
"In that case," Cat said, feigning a little nervousness, "what if you pay the
toll? I could collect from each of you and go on my way." She laid her
innuendos on heavily, knowing there was no way they could misunderstand.
They did not understand, but neither did they immediately accept her bargain.
"What do you think, fellas?" Beard asked the other two, ignoring the guard. He
had apparently decided the guard had had enough as well.
"I think we should definitely take a toll on her, not the other way around,"
Blond asserted, and Buzz agreed with a nod.
They wanted her cunt, of course, but she dared not let them have that. Things
were in danger of getting out of hand here, if they were not already. She made
another attempt at taking control. "I'll let you all screw me--" she began,
much to their pleasure, "if you can make me beg for it. Otherwise I'll only
take your sperm and go. No more than twice each, though, and only once for Mr.
Guard; you've already had yours."
"Hold up, bitch, I don't think you're in--"
"Take it or leave it," she said, cutting off Beard's protest almost before it
could begin. "Take it or I'm going home."
Perhaps they were more confident in their abilities than they had at first
seemed, or maybe it had simply been too long since they last experienced
anything remotely like what was set before them, but either way, it was as Beard
put it, "Looks like you've made us an offer we can't refuse." They had
accepted.
But Cat had eyes only for the guard, who she was trusting to keep her virginity,
or at least that of her pussy, intact. If she got the boys started, who would
be able to stop them? None but the old man, if anyone, that much she knew. It
was still all playing very close to the edge.
"Should I get us started or would you like to do it?" she asked them, her
fingers caressing the upper border of her translucent top.
The three boys were already started and made it very precisely what they wanted
of her, stepping forward to take command of her body in no uncertain terms.
Beard took her arms and pulled them behind her back, holding them in place
tightly, almost painfully, while the other two set about undressing her. First
the blond pulled off the thongs on her feet and Buzz pulled her top down off her
bosom, down to her waist where it caught on her belt. Buzz loosened her belt
and undid her shorts, fumbling a little with the top that kept getting in the
way, and then everything fell to her feet, leaving her body completely naked
before their eyes. All that they had imagined previously was now laid bare in
plain fact, and the truth was far better than any fiction they might have
conjured. They made much ado about her complete lack of any underwear, as if
they might have expected anything else under the circumstances. If that had
surprised them she could only imagine what they thought of the cuffs, because
none of them said anything about them. Could they really be that naive?
One of Beard's hands left her arms to release his hardened flesh from its khaki
confines and she felt it smack against the small of her back as it sprang forth.
The other two followed suit shortly and even the guard sought to get into the
act, opening his fly once again and fondling his own soft appendage as if he
might yet coax some life into it. He started to have a bit more success when
Beard's hand grabbed Cat's bald sex and roughly proceeded to penetrate its soft
exterior.
Cat gasped at the attention but got control of herself in short order. "I
really should get to work collecting those tolls," she said, keeping her voice
low and sultry. "Who wants to be first?"
Beard's prick hardened further at those words and she could feel him shaking
with anticipation at the very thought, but he said nothing. He did not seem the
type to be happy with second place, and she felt he was probably hoping that
something better would come along if he was patient. In this case, she thought,
good things come to those who cum, not those who wait. She would never ask them
to screw her and resolved to deny herself pleasure at their hands, decided to
preserve all for her master.
Blond, on the other hand, was nowhere near so reserved as either Cat or Beard,
and stepped forward immediately. He had to make a conscious effort to stop
stroking his dick and allow Cat to take over, which she did with talent and
enthusiasm as soon as Beard allowed her the leeway to do so. He released her
arms and she knelt before the blond, taking his meat in both hands and planting
a gentle, loving kiss squarely on its engorged head. She smiled tenderly up at
him, not a put on smile at all, but rather a real smile given freely of her
happiness, her joy at doing this for the chance to see Jack. She went to work.
His penis had only just brushed the back of her mouth once when he gushed inside
her and she had to act quickly to swallow or else humiliate herself by choking
on his seed, something she had not done in years. He seemed a little
embarrassed by the lack of his endurance, but her satisfied look and the
pleasure he felt disarmed him and he could not feel glum for long.
Buzz-cut came next, in more ways than one. He had been pinching his cock in an
attempt to curb his eagerness but it did not appear to have been working and she
took a page from his own book, nipping at him with her teeth and pinching with
her short, sharp fingernails as she bobbed back and forth and up and down,
providing the pleasure he craved and mixing it with a little pain. When she
first began he actually almost struck her, but by the time it was over he
demanded that she allow him to pull out of her mouth so that he could pump his
semen onto her face as he pinched and twisted his own nipples.
Cat looked over her shoulder at Beard, who had not moved since she began, her
face pleading. He shook his head and pointed toward the guard, who had somehow
managed to rise to the occasion one last time. It had probably been decades
since he displayed such virility, and Cat was more than a little flattered at
the response she was getting from him. He lasted far longer this time than the
last two times and still seemed to enjoy himself immensely, going so far as to
swear aloud in the room where everyone had been trying to remain as quiet as
possible. When it was over this time he declared himself spent for the night
and thanked Cat sincerely for giving herself so freely. She had not felt so
good about being so naughty in ages.
Again she looked to Beard, still behind her, still silent. He shook his head
once more and indicated the two young men in front of her, standing tall
already. She grinned and took one in each hand, pumping hard for a moment or
two before placing them side by side at her mouth and going back and forth for a
while. They answered her with smiles and groans but it was clear that this
method was not going to take them far enough, not this time around. She was on
the verge of trying something new when she felt a pair of hands caressing her
tits, squeezing and kneading her flesh in time with her motions, pinching and
twisting her sensitive nipples, tugging at the tiny metal bits as if he thought
to rein in a willful horse. The hands left her nipples and immediately they
slapped her, hard, on the sensitive skin of her armpits, and a moan passed her
lips.
She shuddered as the pain combined with her arousal to bring her dangerously
close to orgasm and she forced the feelings down inside her, took her mind
somewhere else for a moment as she tugged absently on the cocks in front of her,
waiting for the waves of pleasure to subside.
By the time they had gone the hands were back, one of them playing with her
breasts, tormenting them each in turn, the other tugging and pushing against her
cunt, exploring the lips of her pussy and the mouth of the canal that led deep
within her, one of the two places on her body that she had kept pure and unused
for her soul mate. She gasped in fear as one of his fingers slipped inside her,
penetrating to the knuckle, and she hoped fervently that he would go no
further--then she felt another finger poised at her entrance. "Just a little
friendly hint," she said, her voice hoarse with her pleasure, "it works better
at the clit."
Thankfully, he took her advice. Of course, that meant more sensation that she
would have to counter, but she was thankful that there would be no possibility
of him breaching the sign of her virginity.
And so he pinched and massaged her parts, keeping her on the very verge of a
climax for the next two minutes while she tried doggedly to coax her payment out
of the other two young men. Gasping for air and sweating anew, it was probably
the shudder and moan that accompanied a particularly harsh attack on her right
nipple and clitoris in unison as Beard pinched and pulled for all he was worth,
that brought Blond and Buzz over the edge. They began to spurt at the same time
and the feeling of their warm white spray coating her neck sticking in her hair
added to the list of sensations she had to suppress to keep herself from orgasm,
the strain on her body worse than anything she had ever felt while running six
miles. She whimpered and sobbed when their dicks convulsed for the last time
and thanked them both, taking each of them in a hug with her arms flung around
their waists, pressing them close against here with their softening flesh thrust
near her face.
She took Beard's hands in hers and turned on him with a vengeance, a wild,
ravenous light in her eyes as she locked her lips on his and embraced him,
lowering him slowly to the ground. She tore his khaki pants down to his ankles
and tightened the belt to restrain his legs and then pulled open the buttons on
his shirt and tugged it halfway off of him so that his arms were held back,
prevented from doing anything devious. She gave him another kiss that went on a
long while and then sat up to catch her breath for a moment before lowering her
mouth to his pole, pulsing harder than any of the rest had been since it had
been forced to wait far longer.
But he succeeded where the others had not in that, even after the suspenseful
waiting he had endured, he managed not to explode the moment the heat of her
mouth enveloped him fully and the weight of the experience struck him. She went
slowly for him, caressing the skin with her lips, her tongue, her teeth, making
sure he felt every square inch, every movement on her part. You were a worthy
adversary, she admitted to herself. She placed the head of his organ at the
back of her mouth and pulled back, knowing he could no longer resist. He
squirted into her open mouth, some of the pearly stream falling back out and
onto his penis, then she clamped her mouth over him and collected the rest at
the back of her throat, leaving no evidence of his climax on his rod.
Cat leaned forward to kiss her victim again, letting him taste a little of his
own sperm before sitting up straight once again to make a show of it to the
others in the room. The sight was too much to resist and they found themselves
beating off even as she began to stimulate herself, twisting the metal in her
nipples and pulling at her clitoris. She breathed heavily through her nose and
began to rock back and forth, standing on a razor's edge and ready to plunge...
Her breathing stopped, her chest still heaving for air and reflecting what
little sunlight managed to sneak through the blinds off of her flesh, oiled with
sweat and semen and bright like burnished bronze. Slowly, she came back down
the long slope and exhaled at last. With one more breath in through her nose,
she let the contents of her mouth fall squarely onto her tits, then rubbed them
together to ensure they were each well lubricated, as the space between them.
Beard's eyes grew wider as she lowered herself onto his prick, hard again after
her display of blatant sexuality. Her breasts brushed against him, their
cum-slick surface tickling against him as her hands pressed them together,
fingers pulling at the metal in her nipples. "I'm sorry," she said, puzzling
him. "This is as close as you'll ever come to fucking me."
He burst a few searing moments later, preceded a little by the three others, who
had been masturbating to the sight and deposited their loads across her back and
the very top of her ass. One of them rubbed his hand across her ass to smear
the cum and rub it in, then slapped her a few times, hard, calling her a good
girl and laughing a little. Cat ignored the three men behind her and
concentrated on the one beneath her, lowering her body so that her nipples
brushed against his and his soft member pressed against her cunny. She kissed
him one last time and thanked him as she had all the others.
The other three, having made themselves fairly decent, made for the door to
check and see if the coast was clear. They nodded to her as she peered at them
over her shoulder, still kneeling on the floor. "No one's out there right now
as long as you're not headed toward the lobby," the guard said. "Is your
boyfriend on the left from here?"
Cat nodded her head and started to stand but Beard latched hold of her hand, no
simple task for someone in his situation.
"Wait--what's your name? Who's your boyfriend?"
She smiled at him and picked up her clothing, not bothering to put any of it
back on. Cat made her way out of the rec storage room and down the hall to the
left, steeling herself against the thought of being caught. Cum ran down her
back, her face, her neck, her tits. She was dirty. She had been used like some
kind of toy. She was almost caught twice en route to the shower, once as
someone exited a flight of stairs and then ducked into another flight across the
hall, a second time when she realized that there was a room just across the hall
from the showers and its door was open. The young man inside was engrossed in
chemistry homework and did not notice as she walked by, not even when she
stopped to read the clock. Big red numbers glared 10:00 for all to see. Just
enough time to get ready.
# # #
Jack sat at a table in the back of the cramped club and glared at the friend who
sat across from him. "They're great, huh?"
"I figured you'd be interested," his friend told him. "Hell, I might be right
about them--it's not like you've heard them yet. I'm telling you, by the end of
the night you won't regret this."
"They're an hour and a fifteen minutes late!" Jack exclaimed, reading the time
on his watch. It was five till eleven, and things were supposed to have gotten
under way at 10:30. "How good can they possibly be if they can't even keep
their appointments?"
"Just wait and see," his buddy told him and went back to reading his physiology
book.
The club's management had gotten desperate and asked another band to set up the
equipment for the absent act and try to keep the crowd at least minimally
entertained. The crowd had grown smaller since that ill-fated decision but at
least once the guests of honor arrived it wouldn't be long before they were
ready to play.
"Aha! There they are!" his friend exclaimed, pointing at the entrance and five
people in black who were making their way to the stage. "What an entrance."
"Fashionably late would've been an hour and twenty minutes ago," Jack muttered.
"This is asinine."
"Shut up."
Tense minutes passed slowly as the band warmed up and tuned and told a few lame
jokes. Jack made a point not to give them even a sympathy laugh. A pretty
young woman wearing a dangerously short skirt, corset, and trench coat stepped
up to the mike, apparently the primary singer for the group.
"I must apologize to all of you tonight," she said with hesitation, "because it
is really all my fault that we're late. I would never done this to any of you
fine people if I had any choice about it, but the mistake was made and I must
accept the blame."
No one cared about her dumb apology. Jack was certain everyone was of like
mind: they had yet to hear any of the music they had come for and she was
wasting their valuable time. Worse, it looked as if she had not finished
speaking. Why did she not just spit it out and be done with it?
"...and the punishment," she finished at last.
Punishment?
"What the hell does she mean by that?" Jack wondered aloud.
"Damn!" his friend exclaimed. "I didn't know they were serious about this
crap."
"What did you say they called themselves?" Jack asked suddenly.
"PFP."
"I know that--what's it mean?"
"Pain for Pleasure," his friend answered immediately.
"Hell."
The girl on stage left the microphone but then apparently decided to say one
more thing for the audience. "It's a damn good thing this is a private club,"
she said with a nervous, forced laugh.
No one else was happy about that; the club was in a dry district, which only
meant that the students had to pay extra to drink their booze there. But what
did it mean tonight?
She pulled off her trench coat and the other members of the group went back
outside again. Jack assumed they were going to fetch something they had
forgotten but upon their return he decided he was wrong. Two men carried what
looked like some kind of odd exercise equipment, a free-standing frame from
which one might hang weights or perhaps do some chin-ups. The next two, a man
and a woman, carried a large wooden chest.
The girl returned to the microphone again. "We don't do this at every show,"
she said, another attempt at humor. Everyone else in the room was too confused,
too shocked, or too amazed to laugh at anything she might have to say. "No
sense in being bashful."
She dropped her skirt to the floor to reveal a leather thong with an odd bulge
in the front. Her finger shifted the front part of the thong carefully to one
side for long enough to reveal and then remove a vibrator from her sex, and then
she smoothed the thong back into place. No one responded. No one believed what
they were saying; they were too sober, since the partiers had all gone elsewhere
when they heard that the band would be late as they had no desire to get drunk
with no music.
The other four band members set up their equipment and opened the trunk, pulling
out a pair of cruel five-tailed whips
"We were about an hour and a half late, weren't we?"
General murmurs of agreement from the crowd.
Her words caught when she spoke again. "I'll take one lash for each minute we
were late. Does that sound fair?"
Not much of a response.
She gave the crowd a final smile and stepped back from the microphone, but one
of the band members glared at her and nodded toward the mike, then shrugged.
"Oh," she said, moving toward the mike once more. "Would you prefer me gagged
or not? I mean, do you want to hear me scream?"
She was all smiles. Jack could feel it in the crowd--they thought this was all
a big joke! They chuckled and she giggled as well, and they thought they were
laughing with her. But they were probably right. It had to be some kind of
stunt. Of course they were right. On the other hand, his girlfriend would
never joke about anything like this. He read most of what she sent him, the
links to various articles--even if he tried not to look at pictures--and this
was almost exactly the kind of thing he was afraid she might try someday.
The crowd was yelling. Make her scream! Make it burn! Whip the shit out of
her! Jack knew it, but he did not think he really heard it. He ignored them as
he made his way up to the stage where the girl slipped out of her corset,
revealing, to no one's surprise, the last hidden portions of a very fine body.
Though she was not darkly tanned it was clear that she was not a stranger to the
sun either, as her breasts were somewhat lighter than the rest of her. The
other woman in the band tied her hair back behind her neck and then did it up in
some sort of bun or something so that it would not be in the way, then kissed
her and walked away.
The girl offered her hands to two of the men in the band and they responded by
binding her wrists with padded cuffs, which were attached to cables that they
used to pull her off the ground by her arms. The crowd grew wilder as they
watched her strain and wriggle and pant for breath.
"This'll never work," one of the men said as he pulled a small knife from his
pocket. "These have definitely got to go." And he sliced the thong on both
sides of her waist and pulled its remnants away from her body, leaving her
totally bare and exposed. "Barry, bring the weight bar will you? Can't have
her swinging too much."
And they spread her ankles with a metal bar that, in addition to keeping her
from pulling her legs together and thus forcing her to expose her sex to the
fullest extent, also added greatly to the pull on her arms. They took their
time with each step of the preparations and by the time they had finished she
was already sweating under the hot stage lights. Jack was staring straight into
her eyes. She could not have been that good an actor. This had to be real.
He could hardly believe it, but she was staring back down at him. He could not
resist. "Is this real?" he mouthed, knowing that there was no way she could
have heard him over the crowd. For a moment he was not certain she had
understood him, but then she nodded her head in response. He believed her.
Her breathing was already labored when they finally got a microphone to hang
down in front of her face as they had been trying to do for the past several
minutes. "Ninety lashes," she struggled to say, "is a whole lot, as I'm sure
you all know from personal experience." Still trying to be funny. The chanting
grew a little quieter as she spoke. "Anyway, I don't want to take too much
time, so I won't be counting them all. I'll try to be thankful for the pain you
give me. In return, I'd like you all to remember that everything I'm doing up
here, I'm doing for you, for the fans." She smiled broadly. "How many of your
girlfriends can claim to have done anything like this?" She nodded to the two
men holding the whips, and the beating began.
The first strokes fell hard upon her body, giving no opportunity to warm up to
the sensation. The microphone picked up every detail of the violent impact,
from the whips slamming into her flesh to her initial restrained responses, the
hissing intake of breath, the high-pitched but nearly inaudible ouch that
escaped her lips on the fifth stroke. Following that stroke the two swinging
the whips waited a little longer and she managed to say quite graciously, "Thank
you. Would you all mind counting for me?" And they began again.
The five-tailed whips fell on her back and front, belly and tits, both tits at
the same time, and the speakers amplified her moan so that everyone could hear
it. Lashes struck her thighs and back once again, and then one of the men swung
his whip upward at her pussy, throwing all his strength into the stroke. She
cried out for the first time. "Well--" a whip thudded into her as she spoke,
"You've he-eard me scre-eam now."
The whipping went on. Sweat dripped down her body. Her voice became hoarse as
she rasped, "Thank you," over and over. "Thank you all," she said. "Thank you
for the pain!" she screamed. "Thank you for hurting--" a moan of pain
interrupted. "Thank you for hurting me tonight."
Jack was counting the strokes with the rest of the crowd, watching as she began
to call out less often, started to grunt rather than moan or wail, as she began
to give in to the pain. She was exhausted and they were only halfway done with
her. One of the men stepped up to the microphone. "Would you like to quit
now?"
She shook her head emphatically. "No," she said, sounding as if she were on the
verge of tears. "No," she repeated and shook her head again, and this time
sweat dropped from her nose and chin. "Whip me," she said. "Harder! Beat me
till I bleed!"
They laid into her once more.
"I deserve to be hurt!"
More lashes.
"I deserve the pain!"
Strokes to her pussy, inner thighs, armpits.
"More! Give me more! You can't hurt--" whips fell on her, breaking her voice
for a moment "--me too much! Never enough!"
One of the men stopped to grab a whip that had only a long, single tail, and he
began to work with it while the other man switched as well. It was difficult to
use the bullwhip on her while she hung in the frame, but both of the men had
great skill and soon they were wrapping it around her, laying it across tits and
into her pussy, popping her nipples with startling accuracy.
She was sobbing, screaming at each stroke, tears pouring down her cheeks. She
could no longer thank them for the pain; her sentences were not that coherent.
Jack realized that they were almost done and he was torn between wanting it to
be over and wanting it to go on forever. Her eyes were still locked on his, his
on hers, and he could read the deepest desires of her soul through written in
the depths of those sparkling blue pools--she felt exactly the same, torn
between wishing the torment to end and a need for it to continue.
Each inhalation was torture, each breath out was a word broadcast for everyone
to hear: "More... more... more... more... more..." She said it over and over,
faster and faster.
"Hurt--me--hurt--me--hurt--me--hurt--me," the girl panted, her head drooping.
The other woman in the band pulled her head back by the hair and she screamed as
the whips touched her again.
"Stay awake," they heard over the microphone. "There's more pain to be felt."
"More pain," the girl repeated blankly.
Whips continued to fall and she continued to speak. "Hurts," she said, and
again, "feels so good--hurts so good. Hurts soooo good..."
Blood dripped from tiny cuts on her nipples, red welts decorated her body, and
people in the crowd wondered at the special effects and how such a small-time
band could afford them.
Jack said ninety, but they kept beating her, she kept begging for more. "One
hundred and ten," he said, and they made no sign of stopping. "One hundred and
fifteen." Would they never quit?
She could make no more sound, merely hung there limp in her bonds. Could she
feel the pain any longer? Did she know they were still hurting her?
Jack didn't know when it happened, but he climbed onto the stage. "One hundred
and twenty five," he said firmly. "That's enough."
The girl's eyes were misty, distant, but they still seemed focused solely on
him. He looked very intently back at her, into her eyes, and told her, "That is
enough."
She shook her head. "Never enough," she breathed, too quiet for the microphone.
"More than enough."
She could not accept it, shook her head again. "One more. Please, master, one
more."
One of the men smiled at him and gave him a whip. What the hell? How stupid
could they be? He had no experience at this! Or at least he had not in a very
long time, not since high school.
"Do it!" they ordered.
It was a lucky stroke, perfectly accurate, but he had hit far too hard, much
harder than he had intended, and blood ran down her legs from the new cut he had
placed precisely atop her sex.
There was no sound this time, only the movement of her lips as she tried to say,
"Thank you."
He carried her sweaty, abused body off the stage, wondering where her spirit
might have gone.
# # #
He waited for ten minutes before she finally appeared fully aware of her
surroundings. He had laid her on the couch--prepared first by removing the back
cushions and laying a pair of clean tablecloths on top of it--in the over-large
closet that served the club as a dressing room, sure that this was the first
time the room had been used in ages. Apparently the band was no stranger to
this sort of thing because also in the chest were all sorts of little items that
would be useful in an occasion exactly like the one Jack found himself in now,
from cotton swabs to alcohol. Jack wet a washcloth at the sink to bathe her
body.
The girl moaned, but it was more a moan of satisfaction than of pain.
"Mmmm--thank you," she said. "Are you the one?"
He had a feeling that he probably was but he did not offer any answer. Instead
he said, "That was very stupid. Of all of you--the whole band, including you.
Stupid and dangerous."
"I can handle myself," she disagreed, "and I can handle those two." But her
voice was still weak and she could hardly move enough to place her hand on his
to keep the washcloth away. "I like to leave as much of the evidence as
possible."
Jack shook his head and sighed.
"I thought you were great for taking control of things," she whispered, "but I
expected you to be different."
"How so?" Jack asked. He doused a pair of cotton swabs with the alcohol and
proceeded to clean the cut on her sex.
She sucked in a sharp breath and smiled. "You are really merciless," the girl
teased. "I like that in my men." Then she saw where he was going next with the
alcohol and steeled herself against the coming pain, and even so could not
prevent the whimper that passed her lips. "God that burns. Pain makes you
tired, you know. You can resist and resist, but only so much, and then it's
just too hard."
"You were incredible," Jack said, surprising himself. "At first I thought there
was no way you were going to last, but at the end--"
"--Shh. I know. I was there. Part of me, anyway."
She forced herself to a sitting position, something that to Jack now seemed far
more courageous than anything she had done on the stage.
"I'm so weak!"
"You'll have to get used to that," Jack commented wryly. "That's what happens."
"That wasn't your first experience, then?"
Jack shook his head. "I have a lot of experience," he said, "but it all seems a
lifetime away now. I kept thinking that I wanted nothing to do with any of it,
too. But I can't escape it. Like now, for instance. All I wanted was a rock
show." She probably would have laughed if she could have. "What's your name?"
"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "This is not the way I meet love
interest."
"I understand. But I'm still worried about you. You really shouldn't do things
like that." He imagined her pain-wracked body on the stage again, wondering at
how she willingly let herself undergo such hurt. Then again, she wanted it.
But she had taken such risks!
With a sigh she admitted at last, "I know. They put the other girl in the
hospital once--luckily it was something that wasn't obviously sexual. I've been
thinking of leaving, especially now that I'm going to school full time, but I--I
need them."
Jack pulled a pen from his pocket. "You call me when you need me, then," he
said, and wrote his phone number across her sex. "You take it easy in the
meantime then, ok?"
"They won't be hearing me sing again tonight," she joked. "But wait: do you
have a girlfriend I should know about?"
"I have a friend, but not a girlfriend. She's into this stuff as bad as you
are. You two should meet. Maybe I can arrange something." He grinned.
Painful thoughts seared his mind, of Cat on that same stage enduring the same
hideous performance, the same needless danger. "--Shit! I was supposed to be
back at the dorm by midnight! See you later, maybe."
# # #
He had no sooner entered his dorm room than he began to strip down to his
boxers, and in fact had begun while still in the hallway. He grabbed his towel
and key card and was off again like a flash, throwing his too-persistent sock
through the door as it slammed shut behind him. Damn. He'd forgotten the old
el cheapo sandals he always wore to the shower; there was no way he was going
without those. And so, after wasting another thirty seconds, he walked
quickly--but hopefully inconspicuously--down the hall to the showers.
How had she planned on pulling this off, anyway? Where had they been supposed
to meet? Was she still here? It was nearly one o'clock, after all, and by now
she would have been waiting for over an hour. At any rate, there was certainly
someone in the shower. He could hear the water running as he turned the corner
from the tiny dressing area and into the next room where the showers were found,
a simple setup with three stalls on each side and a drain in the center. Soap
ran across the floor from the shower on the far right, accompanied by a muffled
humming sound. Water was also running in shower nearest the entrance on the
left, and a great cloud of steam rose from the top and filled the room. It
seemed she was not here.
But what if she was? How would he find out? Needless to say, peeking was out
of the question. Too bad he had no soap to drop. 'Could you kick that out
here, please?' he imagined saying. But he had to know now and he was not going
back to the room first. So he entered the middle shower on the left, turned on
the water, and began to sing. He was part way through the chorus of Rudolph the
Red-Nosed Reindeer when he heard a thump in the stall beside him, as if someone
had dropped something, and peered down to see if it was soap or something else
of that nature. It was not. It was knee, protruding under the little wall, and
it was on the end of a very shapely thigh.
He turned off the water and moved to the other shower, ignoring the way the
painfully hot water soaked him and the boxers he had yet to remove. He thumped
the shower head a few times so that it sprayed mostly toward the and put on a
little cold water to temper the heat while he tossed his towel over the curtain
rod, and when all that was done he looked down to take in the sight before him,
thankful that she had not been standing in the path of the hot water the whole
time, else she would have been boiled by now.
She looked up at him in silent submission, motionless and nude on the filthy
floor, and he somehow was not surprised that she had bound herself as well, her
right wrist handcuffed behind her back to her left ankle and vice versa. What
was more, quintet of alligator clamps plied her flesh: one on each nipple,
another on each of her labia, and a fifth applied directly to her clitoris. How
could she stand it? Her skin glistened as if she had recently bathed in oil due
to the perspiration brought on by the heat and humidity of the shower--and quite
likely the intense pain of her bondage--and mixed with the little water that
must have found her. It made her shine with beauty, like a princess anointed in
fragrant oils. She looked to have been anointed with more than glistening oil,
however. He could see the sticky remnants of someone's cum in her hair, on her
face, and smeared across her tits. He reached down to point to it, raising an
eyebrow in question, and she leaned forward to show him even more all up and
down her back. She had had a very full day, it seemed.
Jack found the keys to her cuffs on the soap dish, near where her clothing hung
on the knob for the hot water. He bent over her very carefully and, as quietly
as he could, unlocked the cuffs and laid them on the floor. Placing his hands
beneath her armpits, he helped her to her feet and supported her until he was
certain she could stand on her own, becoming more amazed at what she had done
with each passing moment. He bent down to pick up the handcuffs, again careful
that they make no sound as he did so, and hung them on the knob for the cold
water. Suddenly mindful of what someone might think upon seeing two pairs of
feet under the shower curtain, he guided her bodily to the back corner of the
shower, noticing the tears in her eyes.
"Are you ok?" he mouthed, lending a tiny amount of the air to the words. He
adjusted the stream of water to make as much noise as possible, pointing the
shower head at the curtain behind them.
She shook her head and winced, motioning her hands toward the clips applied to
the tenderest parts of her body. Jack raised an eyebrow and moved his hand
toward one of them as if he might remove it for her.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed hard as she whispered, "No! That will hurt!"
He was well aware of that, but what else could he do? It was not as if they
could leave them.
"Wait till he leaves," she suggested quietly, pointing in the direction of the
other occupant of the showers in case Jack did not hear, but he heard and
understood perfectly since he had been thinking the exact same thing.
The humming had stopped a little while ago to be replaced by singing, or a
hip-hop rhyme at least, which continued, unhurried, from the far stall. Jack
knew who it was. "How long has he been there?"
"Not long," she said, her voice strained, stretched, near breaking. "Don't
worry," she told him. "It's been numb for a while now." Of course that was
what worried the two of them. Jack flicked one of the clips on her nipple to
provide a fresh jolt of pain and she hissed, pinching his nipple in return.
"He'll be there fore a while yet," Jack told her. "We call him the 'four hour
shower.'"
"Shit."
"Want to go ahead and take them off?"
"I could barely stand to put them on! Even that made me squeal a little."
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. This night had not turned out as expected
for either of them, he knew. It had opened up a few new horizons for him,
perhaps, but it had been a terrible disappointment for her. And now he felt
guilty and angry all at once, angry because she made him feel guilty, angry
because this was all her fault in the first place, guilty because he didn't want
to be angry at her for doing this to him. He wanted to thank her and he didn't
know how. And he couldn't believe how beautiful she was at that moment. But
then he had an idea about what he might do.
"Odd," he whispered. "I thought you liked pain."
"You know it doesn't work like that," she protested.
"Lying slut," Jack said loudly, and Cat's mouth fell open at the sound of his
voice.
"What'd you say, Jack?" the young man in the other stall hollered across the
showers.
"Just talking about my girlfriend," Jack answered, his heart pounding in his
chest. "I said she's a lying slut."
"Aren't dey all," the other agreed, and went back to singing--this time some
song about pimping bitches and hoes. Jack didn't recognize it, as usual.
Jack placed his hand carefully on Cat's chest, between her breasts, and felt
that her heart was pounding as well. "The bitch likes to suck cocks," he
growled. "And not just mine, either. I bet she would take on all of Davison
Hall if she got the chance."
Laughter was his only reply.
"Of course, she couldn't possibly fuck anyone," Jack went on. "At least she
never fucks me. Never sucks me either, come to think of it."
More laughing. "Damn, yours sounds a lot like mine."
"I'm beginning to think that maybe if I slapped her around she'd do what I told
her," Jack said with a smile directed at Cat. "I think she's into that kind of
thing."
"I don't see how that would help you," the other young man joked. "Beating your
woman only helps if she don't like it. Least tha's why dad said that's why he
never hit my momma."
"Maybe you're right," Jack said. "But it would sure make me feel better
sometimes." His eyes were locked onto hers, cutting deep inside her. "Like
right now."
She swallowed.
Jack watched her nipples swelling inside the painful maws of their captors as
the flesh of her bust became engorged with the blood of her arousal, knowing
that the same was occurring with the her cunt lips and clit. He allowed a
crooked smile to cross his face as he lifted his eyes to hers once again.
Her hands sought his once again and lifted them to her bosom, placing them on
her tits. "Do it," she whispered emphatically, her eyes never leaving his. "Do
it." Her hands left his and hung nervously at her side for a moment before she
decided to put them behind her back, each hand grasping an opposite elbow. She
closed her eyes waited with her breasts thrust out in front of her, bare and
vulnerable.
"Stay quiet," he said teasingly as his hands began to play with her boobs.
First he caressed them gently, careful to cause no hurt and avoid the nipple,
then he started to play with her piercings. Next, the flesh around her nipples
was subject to twisting and pulling, and at last he began to pinch her tits with
his fingernails, tiny, painful bites that made her gasp and her eyes flutter
open to gaze at him once more. And then suddenly he snatched off the alligator
clips and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace as she did the same
with him, sobbing silently on his shoulder as the pain flared through her and
then subsided.
When they finally released one another the peaks of her perfect mounds were
harder than ever and her eyes were filled with need. Jack noticed light red
streaks running down from her nipples, evidence that they had bled earlier that
night. She had chosen to use standard alligator clips complete with bare teeth,
even though it looked as if they had been worn down slightly.
Jack's hand descended to her nexus to flick the two outer clips there and she
could only look helplessly at him. He even went so far as to grab the clip on
her clitoris like he was going to remove it then and there, even though he had
no such plans. She only gritted her teeth and tried to prepare for the hurt he
would cause her. He patted her head and tweaked a nipple as he pulled his hand
back and held her close again.
"Do you think you could stay quiet?"
She shook her head.
"You must really love pain, using clips like that," he commented softly. He
felt he knew what her answer would be, but this was more a test than a question.
She shook her head again. "I can get off on it," she answered, "but only for
you."
Exactly what he'd expected. "What were you thinking of when you put these on
your tits?" he asked.
She had to think for a moment, which he found odd. "I was hoping you would
appreciate what I was doing for you. Hoping you'd appreciate my sacrifice."
"How thoughtful of you," Jack said with a grin. "What about this one?" He
tugged lightly at the clip on the left.
"I imagined your face when you found me."
He pulled at the clip that bit into her other lip, twisted it a little bit, and
she bit her lip and let her head fall against his chest. Jack coughed and
growled as cover, just in case. "And this one?"
This time he could tell she knew her answer and didn't want to say it. "I--I
was thinking of your cock. And how long and hard it would be when you saw me."
Her voice became dangerously loud. "I imagined what it would be like to have it
in my mouth."
His hand went to the final clip, the one attached to her bud, and gave a harsh
twist and a pull as he joined the man in the other stall in singing for a moment
to cover her shaky groan. "How on earth did you get that one on?"
"Stick to honky songs, cracker," the person in the other shower joked, and Jack
heard him turn off the water. Their singer was leaving them.
"Gladly," Jack said, and then added to Cat, "Pick up your feet," and he placed
his hands beneath Cat's arms once again and lifted held her off the ground as
she bent her legs at the knees so that their company would have no chance to
spot her as he left.
At last, they had a small chance to talk. "How many dicks did you suck to get
in here, slut?" he guessed after he put her down. "Or did they all find you in
the shower?"
"I sucked off the night watchman and three students, Master," she answered
softly. "Multiple times."
"Anything else I need to know about?"
She shook her head. "I didn't fuck anyone, if that's what you mean."
"You drove here?"
She nodded.
"I hope you parked across the street at the bookstore." And again she answered
affirmatively. "What time did you get here?"
"At about fifteen 'til eight," she said. "I ran around campus a few times and
then came in. I got to the showers at around 10:00 and got ready for you."
She had been waiting since ten o'clock! He tried not to look too amazed,
realizing that she had no clue what time it was. "You are a true whore," he
said, "if you let everyone see you dressed like that."
"I walked from the front desk to the showers completely nude," she whispered,
"with cum all over me."
Jack released her from his embrace and pinched both her nipples, hard, saying,
"Worthless cunt. All because you like pain?"
"No!"
"You do."
"I like your pain," she said, leaning on 'your.' There were tears in her eyes
again when he finally released her nipples, and marks from his fingernails in
her tender flesh. She panted to catch her breath. "I love your pain."
He hugged her tight with his left arm as his right hand pulled off both the
alligator clips on her nether lips, and she released her pain as a sob as he
squeezed even harder. "Thank you," she rasped out when at last she could speak
again.
"No, about that last one," he said. "You didn't answer my question."
Her head still rested against his chest as she answered, "I did that one before
any of the rest. I was already horny from the run and the cock sucking." Her
voice lowered and she took a deep breath. "And I masturbated first, almost to
orgasm. I thought about you fucking me just before I put it on." She looked up
at him when she said, "I almost came, but I held back--for you."
"I bet," he muttered. "Slut."
It was at that moment that some other bastard decided to interrupt them. The
door to the showers banged and then Jack heard sandals slapping the wet floor on
the way to the same shower recently vacated by the other student. Jack could
feel Cat's heart fluttering in her chest and wondered if she could feel his own.
"Do you want my cock inside you?" he asked her, ever so softly.
"I want to please you."
He nodded his understanding. "That would be my pleasure." And he removed his
sodden boxer shorts at last, kicked them into the corner. Of course he was
already quite long and hard.
Cat needed no prodding to go to her knees, no instruction for her to begin her
magic on his member. And indeed, magic it was. She looked up at him innocently
all the while, as if completely unaware of what she was doing to him. He let
her go on for a few moments before doing anything. Then he said, "Frig
yourself," and added, "Do not cum--until I do."
She nodded, hesitant but unwilling to question anything he said.
At first he had been able to simply enjoy everything she did to his meat, but
soon he found himself having to consciously guard himself against climaxing. He
kept himself completely under control, but it was at no small cost on his part.
Soon his efforts were beginning to tell on him, sweat beading on his brow,
muscles clenching and releasing, the occasional long, careful breath. And, by
the look on Cat's face, she was undergoing the same torture.
He knew that her masturbation could be only partly pleasurable because of the
pain it caused, and that, at least for now, she would not be able to play with
her clit, thus making it difficult for her to profit much at all by it. But he
also knew that the simple act of pleasuring him was giving her as much pleasure,
if not more, than masturbating alone could ever have done, and it was not long
before she too was having difficulty keeping her breathing quiet. They joined
one another in the exquisite torment of delayed gratification.
He leaned to one side to catch a better glance of what she was doing to herself
and realized that she was now tugging at the jaws attached to her button. It
was time.
She had somehow managed to keep her eyes focused on him the entire time and he
returned her gaze as he caressed her hair and said, "Take off the clip."
Cat's face was a picture of shock.
A picture of shock, and of submission.
Jack felt her swallow three times as she took his length all the way into her
throat so that her nose pressed against him and she could have no more, and her
eyes closed for a moment as she prepared herself. Then they opened once again,
misty, but filled with trust and love as well as tears, and Jack hoped in that
trust that she could do his bidding and do it well, ignoring fears both that
they might be caught and that she might bite down in her agony. Her teeth
squeezed a little, like some kind of inside joke, before releasing him again as
she started to rock her head back and forth, fucking him with her throat.
He was on the verge of climax as she removed the last alligator clip and held it
out to him, an offering of her love, and moaned deep into his prick, and kept
moaning. His pulse flew as fear of discovery took him, but fear could not stay
long in the place of all he felt, the sensation of voice vibrating around him
overcoming all his resistance. He climaxed, releasing his load into her throat.
She swallowed again and again, driving his climax on as she shuddered and shook
around him. It seemed an eternity before they were through and she released him
to collapse to all fours.
Jack helped her off of the floor and knelt to examine her pussy. The same
telltale discolorations, like spots of rust, told him that she had bled there as
well, especially from her clit; after all the attention it had received there
was dark red blood running down her moist slit, but not enough to worry too much
about.
"Did he hear?" she asked when he stood again.
But as Jack listened, then cracked the curtain for a peek, he found there was no
one else there. Their visitor must have left while they were still in the midst
of their ecstasy. "No. There's no one here."
She melted into him and ran down his chest like warm, sensual water, licking and
nipping at his nipple as she went. She had him hard again in no time at all,
though Jack wished she would go on forever, and looked up at him. Cat released
his dick and began to massage it with her hands.
"Hurt me," she begged. "Hurt me like no one ever has before, please." Her eyes
closed and her words became more like a prayer than a request. "I want you to
hurt me deep inside. I want you to fuck me."
Then he was biting her nipples, hard, tasting the blood that squeezed from them.
Her arms were around his neck supporting his weight and her legs wrapped around
his middle as he held her at the hips and guided her onto his hard rod. Jack's
flesh spear penetrated deep inside her to where nothing had ever gone before,
breaking open all that was left and rending the last vestiges of her virginity.
He hurt her deeply, and continued to hurt her with his teeth on her neck and his
hands on her tender mounds, squeezing the flesh and attacking her nipples, and
when it was all done they each felt a kind of pleasure they had never felt
before, the completion of man and woman, each whole in the other, fulfilled
entirely.
And when it was all over she begged him again, with tears in her eyes: "Hurt me
more."
# # #
It had been almost one o'clock when they began and Jack was not certain he
wanted to know what time it was when they finally stopped. He had experienced
sweetest release in each of Cat's wonderful holes, though she had to beg him to
take her ass, and then fucked her aching tits before she finally appeared sated,
at least temporarily. Driven on by the sheer thrill, he had ordered her to lie
on her back on the slimy shower floor while he sucked her to orgasm twice, and
then watched as she, on his orders, got herself off one last time. It seemed to
take forever, as if her limbs were made of lead and her pussy benumbed, and he
at last helped her out by returning two of the alligator clips to her nipples to
feast once again. Now she looked up at him, her body enervated, hurting, her
life poured out before him. And yet in all the years he had known her, he had
never seen her so glad.
For the last time that night he tugged her to her feet and he turned the water
back on, carefully tempering the hot with the cold to provide what he hoped
would be a fairly pleasant temperature. She played with the knobs until she was
satisfied--much hotter than he had expected--and they let the water wash over
them for a few moments in silence.
"How do you plan to escape?" he asked.
"Any way you like," she answered confidently.
Jack pulled the ties out of her hair so that it fell freely and ran his fingers
through it a few times. "You really are a beautiful slut," he told her. "It's
a good thing no one found you before me. I don't think there'd be anything left
of you by now."
She smiled at him and kissed him. "There's always a little left for you," she
told him, her voice a low purr, her tone suggestive.
"Save it for next time," he muttered. "Some of those stories you sent me gave
me a few ideas."
"Well, I'm glad something came of it. What made you change your mind?"
He knew precisely what it had been, but didn't want to reveal too much to her
too soon. Maybe later, if the singer from the band contacted him, he would let
her know a little more. "I just decided we were better off together," he said
at last. He turned off the shower, cold water first, and looked at her for a
while as he pondered. "You can't leave tonight. You're too tired, and I don't
want you driving home."
"And I suppose I can just stay in your room?" she joked, fully aware of the
strict rules against that and the penalties enforcing them.
"Of course," he said. "My roommate pulled the same stunt last month."
"Where will I sleep?" she asked after she accepted that he was serious.
Jack considered a few different options, including the floor, curled up on the
foot of his already tiny bed, and underneath the bed, but finally settled on the
least conspicuous. "Right next to me, bare ass naked and in constant contact
with my dick." He handed her his room key. "Go make the bed and get ready to
get in it."
He had given her no clothing nor offered her his towel, but again she refused to
question anything he told her to do and made him proud by striding down the hall
as naked as the day she was born. Of course she had the common sense to check
to see if there was anyone in it first, in case a random student turned out to
be a Resident Assistant instead, but she was in luck. He followed a moment
later. The room was dark and empty, save for Cat, and he recalled that his
roommate was gone for the weekend.
They did not go to sleep for a very long time and it was three o'clock the next
afternoon before Cat finally got on the road back home, with firm orders to
return again the next weekend. Next time around, however, she was to run a
single mile as fast as she could and meet him on the front steps. She would
need her energy.
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