I’m sitting waiting as ever. He’s always late. As far as I can tell its part of the game. He’s always liked being in control.
I’m sitting waiting as ever. He’s always late. As far as I can tell its part of the game. He’s always liked being in control. It’s mildly bugging me now, I’m not a stupid little girl anymore and I’m ready to play my own games.
I’m not a supermodel by any means, my figure isn’t great, I’m shockingly clumsy but what I am is smart, smart and clever and intelligent. Oh, and young. Well relatively anyway.
I’m Lauren; I’m 23, a student at one of the top universities in the country. I’ve excelled all my life, everything I do turns to gold, except for men. I’m shocking when it comes to men. In my earlier life I loved a man dearly and he fucked me over. Some of you will know about this already. Loving Scott has been new for me, I don’t care if he’s a control freak, if he cheats and lies and uses me. I’m obsessed. I go to sleep thinking about his body; I wake up and find the I’m soaked with my own juices from thinking about him.
You get the picture. I’m a girl, no, a women, possessed. I want him, I need him.
So, anyway, I’m sitting and I’m waiting. I’m pressing my legs together tightly to prevent the twinging sensation. I’m weaving my long black hair through my fingers and tugging at it. I’m fantasising about him doing the same much later.
He arrives and we drink. He drinks more than me, I get incredibly silly with more than a couple of glasses of wine. He strokes my legs, his hand creeping up under my ever-so conservative preppy skirt. I want to kiss him and snuggle into his chest: he wants to fuck me.
I’m embarrassed that the men at the bar can see this: a silly girl of a student being fondled by a much older professional man. His hand sliding under my cashmere cardigan, pinching at my nipples making them stand up under the thin, soft wool. I’m trying to act the part I always play: the child. In all truth my body is reacting as an adult, I can feel moisture sliding out of my shaven cunt. I can feel the trembles starting in my lower back.
The bottle empties, he gets another and we head back to the room. I’m young and silly, I don’t understand yet what a luxury sex in the middle of the day is. I trip on my heels but don’t fall. His hand lingers on my back as we pass through the building. Supporting me, the older man, looking after me, being the friend I so desperately need: about to screw me until I scream.
In the room the act is over. He’s not going to be polite, he’s not going to respect me or ask how my exams went. I’m bent over a table facing a mirror. My hair is untied and my skirt is pulled up over my back revealing my smooth, ample arse. I’m wearing sensible pants. I can tell he doesn’t like them from the frown I can see reflected in the mirror. He takes them off.
He opens the blue hold all he has with him and places it on the chair next to me. I can’t see in the mirror.
I’m physically shaking now, I can’t take it anymore, I need him in me so much. He lights up a cigarette and I lick my lips.
(as a good college girl, I don’t smoke, as Scott’s little slut I smoke all the time but only for his pleasure)
He hands me the cigarette and I take a long drag on it. I like the way the smoke curls up in front of me as I exhale. He says: “good girl”. I’m not required to say anything yet.
I feel something wet around my tiny, puckered arsehole. I hate this. I hate it so much, but its necessary. His fingers creep in one by one, it hurts so much and I whimper in protest. I receive a slap for that.
In the mirror I see he undoes his trousers, sliding his pants down and off. I catch a glimpse of his cock standing erect, large, thick and ready. He comes back to me and allows his cock to nestle teasingly at the opening to my pussy. I attempt to buck backwards to make him enter me. He laughs and moves away.
“Smoke some more princess” he says
I do and he watches silently in the mirror. His hand goes back to my arse. His cock goes back to my cunt. I wonder what’s next.
He takes off my cardigan and massages my back. He leans over me and kisses the unblemished cocoa skin on my shoulders, strokes my hair. His hands are firm and sure. I’m lulled to a daze, wanting nothing more than this man to touch me for ever. The pain is a shock.
The huge intrusion into my tiny resisting anus. I scream. I pull away. I can’t bear it. The tears come; I know he hates them so much. He whispers to me:
“be quite little whore”
I cry more, I don’t want to be his whore I want to be his princess.
“smoke for me” he says
I do. Each time the huge object in my arse is thrust further in I exhale streams of cloudy white smoke.
It hurts so much, he pushes it harder and harder, deeper and deeper, faster and faster and each time I cry out.
“Please Scott no, please it hurts, please stop, please, I love you”
He stops then. He hates that I love him.
“Be Quiet you stupid little tart, be quiet, if you love me you’ll be quiet”
I’m quiet, or I’m trying to be. He takes the cigarette from me and hands me a new one.
He takes the thing out of my arse and shows me. It’s a huge dildo, an absolute monster, I gasp audibly and he slaps my arse. I throwaway gesture on his part but it stings.
In it goes again. It feels better this time. He smiles and calls me his good girl. I get the idea that he’s laughing at me but I’m too pleased to care. He pulls my hair and I pull back. I love the feeling of being used.
His cock is still hovering at the entrance to my dripping cunt. I’ve forgotten about it but now he enters me. I snicker gently in pleasure, like a kitten being stroked he always used to say. He tells me:
I don’t want to.
He slaps my arse, hard.
“I said touch yourself”
No, I say
There are no questions, its only orders. He spanks me again, repeatedly, each time in a different place. His face doesn’t change as he does it which puzzles me. The pressure forces the dildo further into my arse.
I don’t think I can take anymore. I feel so full. His cock stretching my tight pussy and the dildo stretching my almost virgin arse.
He pulls my hair back so that my back arches and my neck hurts. I know him too well, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. I give in.
I touch my swollen hard clit. It’s the first time it’s been touched all day. I use the middle finger of my left hand. He watches me in the mirror. I gently press down on it and I come.
I can’t stop myself and I hate myself for it. I buck and moan and cry out. He watches me in the mirror savouring my abandon. I can’t take any more, I really can’t, but he hasn’t even started.
He fucks me now; his face is focused on the task.
All I want to do is lie down and sleep. My body is spent. I’m sore and tired.
But still he fucks me. His cock is like a hard rod driving deep inside me. It feels like he’s banging against something. I’m sobbing but he doesn’t stop.
“Shut up until I come”
He does but his face doesn’t change. He likes that, the control. He withdraws from me, his creamy white cum dripping down my legs already. He strokes some up onto his finger and traces it over my lips. I lick it, loving the taste of his juices and mine mingling.
He smiles now, his face relaxes and I know its ok for another month. He draws me towards him and hugs me tight. I nuzzle like a kitten he says. He tells me he’s “very fond” of me and I love him more.