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Sarah was looking for work when she happened into a used/ vintage book store owned by Mr. Davis. He gave her a job and soon they were more than colleagues
Chapter one – My beginning

I now call myself Sarah, and I am about 18 years old. I say I am called Sarah “now” because I spent most of my years bouncing around from Foster home to Foster home being called another name. That life is behind me, so I needed a new name. My drug addled mother ended up killing herself by accidentally burning our house down when I was a preschooler, as I have been told. All our family information was lost in the house fire, and I was rescued by firemen just before the flames got to the room where I was sleeping. Thank God for firemen.

So, all the information about me, my birth records, and anything my worthless mother had kept, was lost in the fire. I then went through a dozen or so foster families, who tried to keep me. I was a problem child, to say the least. Since my mother was a druggie, I probably was not conceived with the best genes. No one knows who the father was, since he apparently split the scene right after my mother knew she was pregnant. I am sure we lived in squalid conditions when I was young. But there are no surviving photos or evidence of our lives or that she even existed, except for me. I heard she tried to give me away many times when I was an infant and a toddler, but I really don’t know. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I am supposedly an adult and have started my own life, despite my dubious beginning.

I have lived in women’s shelters, vacant buildings, and with street friends. I am a bit unusual for a street person in the fact that I am a cleanliness nut. I am constantly needing to wash myself, even though I don’t usually have a place to do that. I have learned to use public restrooms, or facilities in stores or businesses that have walk-in traffic. I can wash my hair and entire body in just a few moments in some of those restrooms and can even wash my shirt or pants too if I am lucky. And I know that by current standards, I am an attractive girl. I can tell by the way men look at me that they want me, if only for sex. But the one thing I do not do, is trade my body for a meal or place to stay. I am more clever than that and have talked my way into more free meals or places to crash than any man could….because I am cute.

There are two things that define me as a young woman now. I have a love/hate relationship with pain and I am constantly looking for a Daddy figure to take me in. I guess because my father abandoned me before I was born, and he never gave me a chance to make him love me. I am constantly looking for a substitute Daddy to love me, and I would do anything he wanted. ANYTHING, if I thought he was genuinely interested in me.

My need for valuation from a Daddy figure is what ultimately got me run out of nearly every foster home. I would slowly try to seduce the father in the family, we’d eventually get caught and I was changed to a different host family. The Foster Care people did not dare reveal my personality quirk to any foster families because it would have killed my chances to be taken in. I tried to curb my desires to make a daddy “love” me. But it never worked. The situation always came up where I was caught sucking my “daddy’s” dick or doing more. Then, I would be banished from that family, and must start over.

I am intelligent enough to know how to keep myself out of trouble. I rarely steal anything, I don’t overtly cause trouble (except for the “Daddy figures I routinely seduced), and I rarely let anyone fuck me in the pussy. I know I can get pregnant, and I am not about to be like my birth mother. I learned to give great head when I was a middle schooler, and have been taking dicks up the ass since I was an early teenager. Most men like anal sex just as much as fucking a pussy anyway.

I found that if I went into a convenience store or a small restaurant in non-busy times, and ask for temporary work, I sometimes could get a job. I am pretty good at banter, and bullshitting my way into a job, and I am a willing worker. Who wouldn’t be willing to work in an air-conditioned building, stocking shelves or washing dishes? That is such easy work, and I am always up for it. My problem has always been walking to the job if I was staying in a half-way house 2 hours away. It is tough to keep a job when you have to walk everywhere. One of my early purchases was to buy a bicycle from a resale store for just a few bucks. It opened my world for getting to work. But it was soon stolen by the lowlifes that I was surrounded by. I had to save up again for another bike, and I am guarding this one with my life. And it has made a huge difference to me. Now, when I ride up to a business and ask for work, they think I am just a free spirit, on my bike, making my way thru life. Rather than a street bum, willing to work for a day but never show up again.

Chapter two – the bookstore

My employment luck changed when I went into a used/vintage bookstore to ask for work. I spoke to this middle-aged man, Mr. Davis, who I learned later owned the place. I lied and said I loved books and always wanted to work in a place like this. Mr. Davis was very soft spoken, and probably saw thru my fake interest in books, but he took pity on me. He said that there was always something that needed to be done in his store. He let me work there a few hours a day as a trial.

I was ecstatic. Here I could work quietly, stay clean, and earn food money. Mr. Davis was a kind person. He showed me how to care for the antique books and package them when they were sold as mail orders. He had me clean the toilet, and his office and keep the place tidy. He knew I was a clean freak so those were great tasks for me.

He had me unpack shipments and put new stock on the shelves. I loved the methodical way that books were organized. It was like living in a world of order where my life had been a world of chaos. I eagerly came to work each day and had to be chased out at closing time. Mr. Davis only paid me for a few hours work each day, per our agreement, but I was there full-time anyway. Mr. Davis was single, and never married. He was much too timid to date a woman. He had just learned to live within the walls of his bookstore and within the pages of many of those books. He knew passages verbatim from many of the classic novels that he sold and could be a charming conversationalist, unless it was a woman client who came into the store. He froze up and could not talk to a woman.

Mr. Davis and I became friends, as he began to trust me. I would run errands, even go to the bank or post office for him. He would give me money for sandwiches while I ran his errands, and we would eat together. By this time, I had been working for Mr. Davis for several weeks. I felt I could confide in him and told him a cleaned-up version of my life’s story. He knew that I was currently living in an extra room of a friend, but I could not stay there much longer. He also knew why I sometimes came to work wearing wet clothes because I admitted to him that I had washed them in the sink of the local gas station.

One evening he suggested I stay for dinner. His apartment was upstairs, and he planned to roast a chicken. It was too much food for just him, and he thought I would like a home cooked meal. It was during that dinner that I got to really know Mr. Davis. He was a gentle man who was just too quiet and humble to ever approach a woman. I noticed his hesitance on more than one occasion when a female customer came in and ask for a specific book, or gift recommendations. He would freeze up and not be able to say much to her, and it cost him customers and sales. He needed to be dragged out of his shell and I was just the girl to do it. Mr. Davis became my mission. I was going to turn him into a confident man. At the end of that evening, I gave Mr. Davis a big hug and told him he meant a lot to me.

Chapter three – my own place

One day he gave me the task of clearing out an unused storage area on the second floor of the bookstore, which adjoined his apartment. The storage room was full of outdated magazines, old publisher promotional posters, and decades of worthless junk. I jumped at the task and by the end of the day had disposed of all the trash and moved the old junk out of the room. I was exhausted from all the lifting and hauling. He told me “Before you go home, you can use my bathroom to get cleaned up. You don’t need to go to a gas station anymore”. At that moment, I saw something in his face that changed everything.

The next day he said we were going to close the bookstore early. He and I had a joint errand to run. I wondered what he had in mind when we pulled up to the resale store which was down the street from the bookstore. He said he wanted to convert that storage area I had cleaned up into a spare bedroom. And he wanted me to stay there. I was shocked. No one had ever offered anything so thoughtful to me without some kind of ulterior motive. We found a single bed and linens and a few more clothes for me. Together we hauled the stuff to his apartment. I set up the bed and he helped wrestle the mattress up the stairs. He was quite fit for a man who did not do much except look at books and the computer all day. It did not take me long to arrange the few furnishings that were there, but I thought it was a palace. I sat on the bed in silence. Wow, I had my own room. Not having to bum for a place to sleep. This was like heaven to me.

The next several days, I was on cloud nine, as I woke up in my own place and had all my stuff safely with me. I didn’t have to worry if my bicycle would get stolen during the night, or where I could wash before work. The little things that most people do not consider important were my highest priorities. And I had Mr. Davis to thank for it.

A few days after I moved into the “spare bedroom”, a woman came into the bookstore looking for a vintage book for a friend. Mr. Davis did his usual act of freezing up and not really being able to talk to her, so I stepped in. She and I began a conversation about the person she was buying the book for. I roamed the shelves and found a couple of old classics, first edition books that might be nice to give. She loved them and bought them both. Mr. Davis was very happy that I had been able to help the lady and told me to help like that anytime a customer came in. He knew I was a master at finding out what people wanted.

Chapter four - celebration

That night, Mr. Davis said, “We should celebrate your first sale”. He opened a bottle of wine and we toasted ourselves for being a great team. He had the store full of books and I had the personality to sell them. I am not much of a drinker, and neither is Mr. Davis, but we finished that bottle quickly. He was sitting at the table when I got up and walked behind him. I reached around and gave him a hug. I kissed his neck and told him I thought he was a lovely person. He was embarrassed and just sat there. I told him he did not have to make small talk with me, but I was going to train him on how to become more comfortable with female customers. He stammered on about not needing to since I was here now. I told him he was my project and to relax. He was under my tutelage, which started right now. He finally just said “OK”.

I pulled out his chair and slid in his lap. I kissed him lightly on the lips and held him close. He smelled like musty shelves, but I loved his aroma. I kissed him more and he began to kiss me back. He had no idea how to hold me, so I draped his arms around me and told him to relax and enjoy the touch of a woman who cared about him.

We moved to the couch where we continued to cuddle. I placed his hand on my breasts and told him to touch me as we kissed. I do not wear a bra, so he had full access to them. He was good at following instructions. My fingers wandered down to his trousers, and I felt his shaft which was beginning to stir. I wanted to pleasure Mr. Davis in the best way I knew how, so soon I was on the floor between his legs. I undid his pants and pulled out his penis. He was shocked but completely silent as I prepared to blow him. He gasped as I placed my mouth over the velvety head of his penis and lightly nibbled on it. I felt his body relax as he accepted my gift.

As I was down there, I wondered if he had ever had his dick sucked before. But that is not something a polite girl would ask. It was a treat for me to image him being a blow-job virgin, and I planned to rock his world. His fingers glided thru my hair as I kneeled before him and bobbed up and down on his member. I ran my tongue along the veiny surface of his penis, giving it tiny kisses and long licks. I have sucked a lot of cocks in my life, for payment, or to get out of trouble. This was the first time I ever did it only to please the man I was fellating. It was as pleasurable for me as it was for him.

I went slowly. I wanted this to be my best blow job ever. I did not want Mr. Davis to feel any urgency to cum, and I wanted him to know I did it because I cared for him. I looked up at his face and he was smiling at me with an innocent youthful look. He could not believe it was happening, and what I was doing. I broke off my ministrations and told him I wanted him to cum in my mouth. He mumbled something, then I went back at it and made an effort to deep throat him. He had a beautiful cock and it felt perfect in my mouth. Soon I could tell he was struggling and was about to have an orgasm. I looked up at him again, and did not take my mouth off him, but slurred “Do it. Cum for me”. He grunted like an animal, held my head tightly and exploded in my mouth. A torrent of cum flooded my mouth and I struggled to swallow it. I wanted every drop of his jizz. He gasped and said “Oh my gawd!” as he released my head. I calmly licked his shaft clean. When I was done, and his penis began to soften, I crawled back up into his lap and snuggled. No words were spoken for quite some time.

I got up and told him how much I enjoyed doing that for him, and that from now on, he would get that kind of benefit from me. He looked at me in a hurtful fashion. “I did not ask you to move in just to get sex from you”. He was silent after that, and I felt bad that I said anything. “I only meant to say that I would love to give you my special attention”. He finally muttered “OK” and we both said goodnight. It was an awkward end to a beautiful evening.

The next day, we did not speak much. I was busy stocking the shelves with an order of old books to resell. He seemed to be pre-occupied with something on the computer, and I did not want to interrupt him. We closed the shop and silently went upstairs together. I stopped in mid-flight and turned to him. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I think you are a very special person. And I want to treat you special in the best way I know how. So please let me”. He looked me in the eye. Pondered his answer, then mumbled “OK”.

Chapter five – fooling around

That was all I needed. I told him to take a shower. We were going to play around. Again he said “OK”, but with piqued enthusiasm. I heard the water running and I stripped down and joined him. He was not expecting me but was delighted. “I have never had a shower with anyone before” he confessed. “Well, we need to save water, so get used to it”, I smiled. I soaped him up in all the right places and he did the same to me. That shower did not save any water, but it was the most entertaining shower I ever had.

When we were dry I led him to his bed. I told him that I was his instructor, and he was to use me to learn how to please a woman. He said he had always been a good student, and eager to learn new things. He did not actually say that, he just said “OK”, but I knew what he meant.

He lay on the bed and I crawled on top of him. I ravished him with kisses, then began my trek south for a repeat performance of last night. Mr. Davis was eager to repeat this learning experience, and he finished in my mouth with a healthy load of cum. I loved receiving it. Now, for his first lesson on how to please a woman. I told him how to properly suck a woman’s nipples. I wanted him to be gentle since many women are very sensitive and do not want their nipples attacked. Mine were soon hard as diamonds after he went to school on them. I told him to gently squeeze my breasts as he sucked on them since that sensation is also what most women like. Once again, he was a fast learner. I had my first orgasm from him just from him playing with my tits. The evening went on.

I told him how to eat a woman’s pussy and properly play with the fleshy lips of her vagina. He caught on quickly. He found my clit and teased it with his lips. I grabbed his head and guided him to precisely the spots he needed to focus on, and he proceeded to exceed my expectations. My heart rate went up and my entire body shook as he caressed my clit and bathed it with his tongue. He lapped up my juices and used his fingers to spread his saliva on my enflamed cunt. I am not sure I have ever been eaten out more perfectly than as Mr. Davis did it. It was glorious. When I got close to my climax I could not speak or process thoughts. All I could do was concentrate on what he was doing between my legs. My whole world was now limited to his mouth on my cooch, doing magical things to me. I could no longer hold it back and I had an explosive, squirting orgasm. I am not sure I had ever squirted before. Mr. Davis gently slowed the pace of his tongue on my tender clit but kept teasing me with his touch, causing aftershocks of pleasure. When he was sure there were no more tiny climaxes to milk out of me, he crawled up and spooned me. We fell asleep entangled together.

The next several days were fantastic for both of us. We playfully grabbed each other’s crotches if there were no customers in the store or we made innuendos about sexual activities that two lovers might engage in. It was fun, erotic, and energizing. Mr. Davis finally said to me that since I have sucked his dick, I should perhaps stop referring to him as “Mr. Davis”. I guess he was right. But it was kind of fun calling him that especially after we became intimate. He was the first man I recall sleeping with that I wanted to be with. And he says I am the first girl that he was ever with, period. That was amazing to me, and very nice to know. He took me to get a pre***********ion for birth control very soon after we became lovers.

His progression in learning how to please a woman took a turn that Mr. Davis may never have conceived of. In one of my early statements in this story, I mentioned that I have a love/hate relationship with pain. What I mean is that sometimes when I am in the throes of lovemaking, I need a little pain to push me over the edge to reach an orgasm. Sometimes I need more than just a little. It is just one of my hidden desires that has been left unexplored, even though I knew it was there.

I would never dream of confiding in someone, other than Mr. Davis, about my fascination with receiving pain during sex. It is such an intimate act. You must know your partner well enough to be confident he will push you to the edge of your pain threshold without exceeding it. That is a tricky balancing act. I did not know if I should explore that part of me with Mr. Davis. He might be so turned off that could ruin our beautiful relationship.

We began vaginal sex right after I started on birth control. Neither Mr. Davis nor I wanted any unwanted accidents and me getting pregnant would have been a huge one. Once I was on it, he fucked me in my pussy every night. Up until then, any penetration was in my ass. I happen to love anal sex. It can be very sexually fulfilling, especially with the right partner. When Mr. Davis would ease his dick into my asshole, it felt wonderful. He always did the right prep work. He would eat me out and give me an incredible first orgasm. And in that process, he would slip a lubed finger into my ass after he had inserted two into my cunt. His tongue was part of the action and between the three fingers and his tongue I had the best possible orgasms. He was remarkable.

So, when we started penetration sex, and I was not on birth control, it had to be anal only. I was fully on board with that, but he was hesitant. He did not want to hurt me. I, on the other hand, thought the pain was exquisite. He would get behind me and one of us would guide his cock to the opening of my ass. Then he would inch it in gradually until he bottomed out. Then he would slowly stroke in and out of me, caressing my anal walls with his perfect cock. I loved having him balls deep in my backside. It made me feel connected to him in a way that oral sex did not do. I could feel his member throb when he paused a moment to enjoy the sensation of being inside me. It felt hot and hard and I loved it filling my rectum.

He would grab a fistful of my hair draw my head back as he pounded into me. I barked at him to shove his dick as deeply into me as possible. The moments as he climaxed were divine. I could feel him release his load into my bowels, and continue pounding me, as if to pack his spunk inside me. Then he would collapse onto my back. He smeared me with his sweat, and I felt bathed in erotic wetness. I often asked him to stay inside me after he had cum, and we would try to sleep still connected. He would eventually get soft, but the few moments we lay like that were magical.

By the time we started having vaginal sex, I had already gotten hooked on doing it anally. So, that is how we would typically finish a night of lovemaking. Oral first, then vag, then finish in my ass. Sometimes, I wanted him to cum in my mouth, so I would tell him to pull out of my ass and feed me his cum. He was reluctant at first, since that was a little too kinky for him, but I loved it, and I knew he secretly did too. It is a very intimate act to suck the dick of your lover no matter where it has been.

Chapter six – play time toys

Our progression to more adventurous sex turned on a dime when I happen to see a website that he had visited on the store computer. It was an adult website featuring bondage gear, whips and restraints. When I saw the site, my cunt literally began to throb and get wet. When I saw that people could buy devices to be restrained and whipped, I had to learn more. This might be the kind of pain that I have always desired but never knew about. I used his company credit card and ordered some play toys for us.

I was very excited when the package arrived. Mr. Davis knew nothing of it, so I had to figure out the best way to introduce him to this new area of sexual pleasure. I had no interest in inflicting any pain on him, but I wanted him to give it to me. Big time. I was so excited about being tied up and whipped that I could hardly keep from spilling the beans on what I had in mind with Mr. Davis.

Since I began sharing his bed, the storage room that I cleaned out several months ago was unoccupied. So, I set up the bondage ropes on that bed so Mr. Davis could tie me down. I bought nipple clamps, pussy clamps, and a riding crop for him to use on me. When I touched those devices, I could imagine the energy that they would release from me when we were fully engaged in a bondage excursion. I even bought a ball gag, to suppress any screams I might let out that would scare Mr. Davis.

Mr. Davis and I did not need a reason to celebrate anything, since every day we celebrated finding each other. But we did reach a milestone of record sales of old books. He had become an expert at discussing vintage books and collectible editions with men and women, and so his sales significantly increased. That was enough of an excuse for me to tell Mr. Davis I had something special planned for the night. I was very reluctant to introduce him to the world of bondage and pain. But I wanted him to beat me in the worst way. Just like the song says “hurts so good”. I knew the pain would hurt so good. The question was would he willingly hurt me?

I told him to wait 10 minutes before he came into the spare bedroom. I quickly stripped down and tied my ankles to the ropes connected to the legs at the foot of the bed. I had previously attached ropes to the headboard with loops ready for my wrists. I laid out the nipple and pussy clamps, along with the whip and the ball gag. Oh, and I also bought a giant black dildo. All these toys were on the nightstand. I had the lights off and a few candles burning to set the mood. I told him to take his clothes off and come in. To say Mr. Davis was taken aback by the scene would be an understatement. He was stunned. But I told him, as I lay prone on the bed, that I had been wanting this all my adult life. I just did not know I wanted it. He said “OK”.

I told him to tie my wrists with the ropes, which he did. He then carefully placed a nipple clamp on each nipple. They hurt like hell at first, then the pain morphed into a searing pleasure. There was a chain that connected the two nipple clamps which Mr. Davis tugged on causing me to squeal in agony and pleasure. Mr. Davis was beginning to get the hang of this new activity.

He was not sure what I wanted to try next, so I told him to use the riding crop on me. It was a springy whip with a small leather flap on the end that is used to whip a horse to racing faster. It does not hurt the horse, but a human’s skin is much more sensitive. My cunt flooded with wetness as I anticipated the hurt.

Mr. Davis began testing out the whip to see how responsive it was when he snapped his wrist. It made a quick popping sound when he struck his palm with it. It stung when it landed. We both were anxious to see what it did to my tender flesh.

My nipples were hard as diamonds and throbbed with each heartbeat. Mr. Davis took aim with the whip on the tops of my breasts, very close to where the clamps were tightly attached to my prominent nipples. As my breasts were struck with the whip, the sting sent waves of delicious pain to my nipples which were extra sensitive due to the clamps. I involuntarily arched my back in reaction to the pain, and Mr. Davis was instantly appalled at what he did. He mumbled an apology. I told him to shut up and whip me again. He got over his insecurity and mumbled “OK”, then gave me several sharp hits on each breast. In just those few moments, my cunt swelled and spat out the squirt of my first pain climax. The sting of the whip pushed me into a euphoric orgasm.

Mr. Davis witnessed firsthand the pleasure that this riding crop gave me, so he was willing to continue. After I briefly recovered from those first whip blows, I needed more. My legs were spread apart, and I wanted my bare, unprotected cunt to be the next victim of the whip’s sting. I told Mr. Davis what to do. He stood quietly beside the bed and raised the whip. He quickly snapped it. The flap of leather struck my pussy dead center, and I screamed bloody murder. I had no idea the pain would be that intense. “Do it again” I croaked. He hesitated, then popped me again. “Yeeeahhhh oh my gawd… again!” He repeated it three more times in quick succession. I began squirming and cursing as the pain hit my brain. The pleasure signals boiled out of my cunt. It was on fire with sensations. “Again, please! I begged, Don’t stop”

Mr. Davis knew what I wanted. He beat my pussy with that whip more than a dozen times. Then he moved back up to my breasts and beat them until they were bright red. As he whipped my breasts, he pulled the chains connected to the nipple clamps to tease me even more. Then he gave me a dozen more smacks against my glowing, swollen cunt. Just as the last of the smacks hit my pussy, I had an uncontrollable climax that I thought would rip my organs from my torso. I screamed as my body fought my bindings. My orgasm was triggered by my pain receptors being flooded in my brain, then they twisted into pleasure signals. I was forced over the cliff of pain and fell into the valley of pleasure. I fought to catch my breath and waved off any further whip strikes. Mr. Davis, ever the gentleman, tossed the whip away and buried his face in my tortured cunt to comfort it with his tongue. I am not sure I could take that intense level of orgasm very often but it certainly was an incredible experience. Thank you for everything, Mr. Davis.
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