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From: Foxbat <foxbat00@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: The Classified Ad 3 (Mf, humil) by Foxbat
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Date: Mon, 21 May 2007 02:10:04 -0400
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The Classified Ad 3 (Mf, humil) by Foxbat


Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
my website (thanks to ASSTR) at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/www/ where
you can find all of my work as well as some recommendations.  All
the content is also available via ftp at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/


Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and
appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com





The Classified Ad 3 (Mf, humil) by Foxbat


   When we had finished our coffee, there was a pause in the
conversation.  Holding my gaze for a moment, he told me to call later
that week on an evening I was free.  With that, he stood and walked
away.

   The intervening week was nearly unbearable, and passed in a haze of
sexual frustration and heightened anxiety.  I was nervous on the
night, but I worked up the courage to call him.  His voice was cold
and dispassionate as I gave him my address.

   Ten minutes later, I heard a knock on the door.  I opened it, and
he strode past me as if I weren't even there.  He walked around my
apartment like a prospective purchaser, squinting here, frowning
there, nodding once or twice before he returned to the door.

   In a sudden burst of movement, he slammed the door shut and
savagely pushed me against it, mashing his lips into mine as his
tongue roughly explored my mouth.  The tingling of anticipation had
expanded into a body-wide frisson XXX of excitement and lust, leaving
me weak-kneed.

   He pulled back for just a moment.

   "Is this what you like?"  He asked, his face an inch away from
mine, any prettiness transmogrified by his roughness, his transitions
from rage hot to ice cold.

   I hadn't realized I was panting.

   "Yes..." I moaned.

   He smiled thinly, pressing himself against me and me into the hard
door, his eyes piercing mine.

   "Be specific.  Tell me what you like."

   "I..."

   I wanted him to continue molesting me; these words were distracting.

   He grabbed my chin until I looked into his eyes.

   "Use the third person," he commanded.

   I felt flush.  "This..."  I paused, searching for a noun.  Girl?
Woman?  Wanton hussy?

   "Slut?"  He suggested.

   "This slut likes it when you use her for your satisfaction"

   Oh god.  The embarrassment of having to admit it, like I was an
object, just a toy for his fulfillment, was overwhelming, but
incredibly exciting.  My face was probably bright red, and I thought
briefly of what other people would think (my girlfriends?  my parents?
 other boys?) before my knees got weak again.

   His hand moved from my chin to my neck, applying light pressure,
holding me up from collapsing in shame.  His other hand thrust up
under my skirt, clumsily, fumbling for the waistband to my panties
which he yanked down.  His hand pushed between my legs, where I was
soaking wet.  Without purpose or destination the hand roughly moved
through my sodden folds, causing waves of pleasure (and embarrassment,
as he was nearly a total stranger) to course through me.

   He withdrew his hand from my skirt, holding it up to my face.  My
wetness glistened for us both to see.  Without hesitation, he wiped it
across my face, forcing me to smell my own arousal.  Then, with his
face only an inch away from mine, he licked my face.  Not a tentative
kiss-lick, but a lick like a dog gives, when you feel the
wet-roughness of the tongue that pulls your skin with it.

   His hand released my neck, and I half collapsed as he pushed me
down in front of him, guiding my descent with one hand wrapped in my
hair.  When I was situated on my knees in front of him, he gave me my
orders.

   "Get my dick out.  No hands, slut."

   I put my hands behind my back, and tried to start undoing his belt
buckle with my teeth, but I was interrupted.

   "Open your legs, slut."  He prodded me with his foot, encouraging
me to kneel spread in a more submissive posture.

   I resumed the attack on his belt, managing to get the leather strap
free from the belt loops.  The zipper and button were harder, but
worst was trying to get his dick out from his boxers without using
teeth.  Eventually I was succeeded, and was rewarded by being slapped
across the face with his now serious erection.

   Without further ado, he pushed into my mouth, his hands in my hair
forcing my head down until I gagged.  He made a derisive comment about
my lack of abilities, before he settled for fucking my face, pushing
his cock against my cheek and prompting me to lick around it in my
distended mouth.  Periodic cock-slaps spread saliva all over my face,
leaving my makeup in ruins.  I did my best to keep up, trying not to
gag and licking wherever I could.  After ten minutes of so, he pulled
me off his cock, locked his eyes with mine, and ejaculated white ropey
strands of spunk over my forehead and nose.  He looked proud, like an
artist regarding a masterpiece.

   "Aw.... I was greedy, and now little slut muffin is still horny,"
he said, mockingly.  I stood and he remove my drenched panties before
pushing them into my mouth with false gentleness (a favorite
masturbatory detail of mine).

   He sat on the edge of the couch, stretching his legs out straight.

   "Come on horny bitch, you can hump my leg... we can't have you with
an itchy vagina now."

   My face burned red once again, but my vagina was definitely itchy.
The spunk on my face was beginning to dry, and the smell from my
panties in my mouth was nearly overwhelming, but I obeyed, straddling
his leg just above the knee and grinding my crotch in a desperate bid
for sexual satisfaction.  He just stared into my eyes with a bemused
expression, and I had trouble holding his gaze as a stew of buried
feelings and questions bubbled through my mind - why did being treated
like an object excite me so much?  I was humping the leg of this
stranger after servicing him in the most demeaning way possible, and
yet this was the fulfillment of one of my most powerful fantasies.

   He pinched my nipples and slapped my tits, as his erection
returned, and I approached orgasm.  Just as I was about to trip over
the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm of epic proportions, he pushed me
off.  I moaned through the panties, unhappy to be denied, but he
roughly pitched me back onto the couch headfirst.  Before I could
move, he put his bare foot across the side of my face, forcing my head
down and leaving my ass up and exposed.  With no warning, he
penetrated me fully from behind and fucked me furiously.

   I came.  Hard.  My mind disintegrated in a fireworks display as the
fucking, the stinky footsweat and stale couch smells and the slaps
that rained down on my ass melded into a synesthesiastic experience.
When I came back to reality I realized he must have come some time in
the interim because whispered into my ear how he wanted me to let his
deposit run down my leg later in the day to remind me of what a cheap
and dirty whore I was.

   Without further ado, he wiped his cock off with my hair,  zipped
his pants back up and walked out of my apartment, leaving the door
open.  For a minute I remained in position, letting the experience
soak in:  my panties still in my mouth, my shirt yanked up and my bra
pulled down so my tits were hanging out, my ass in the air and my
dress in a bunch, with a load of cum in my freshly fucked pussy now
beginning to trickle down my thigh, and dried and crusty spooge all
over my face and hair.  I had used the third person, had begged to be
fucked, had humped his leg like a bitch in heat, had let him fuck my
face and pull my hair and slap and choke me.  And I was thoroughly
satisfied by it all - I had finally broken out.




---


Kinda decided to take this story in a different direction.  I've come
to realize that BDSM isn't quite a monolithic kink, and that
humiliation/shame can be just as exciting as the raw power dynamics I
also like.  So this was my exploration of that other side.  Perhaps I
may add another part, but I've also got one more story percolating
that I'd like to hammer out.


As always, I love to hear what you think (good, bad, ugly, or just any
similar fantasies or thoughts you have).

Yours,
Foxbat

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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