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Message-ID: <62655asstr$1366978202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Cheryl Allen Tessler <cat47@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Sex Memoir, part nine, M+g, Fg, bondage
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Date: Fri, 26 Apr 2013 08:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Memoira_pt_nine.doc" begin>

A Sex Memoir
Chapter 9

I thought it was too early to retire, but the men were worn out.
As soon as they finished the pizzas, they were ready for bed. 
Lance and Johnny slept in the bedroom, Eddy on a rollaway in the
living room, and I was given a blanket and a pillow and told to
make my bed on the floor.  I showered before going to bed, then
lay awake for an hour contemplating the life I would lead for the
next seven days.  Nothing that crossed my mind made me nervous,
except Rene's parting words.  His invitation to return to his
shop made me uneasy.

The following morning, not long before noon, the men were up. 
All demanded a blow job, and I was gratified to see that each one
had recovered from the previous day.  It was very nice not having
to trek across town for sex, as I had to for Jared and his
friends, and sex early in the day was a nice change.  On Friday's
and Saturday's, I usually waited impatiently until I could go up
to the college.  Now the college had come to me.

Lance, Johnny, and Eddy went out to explore the environs after I
had sucked them off, leaving me alone.  They returned briefly to
give me two breakfast sandwiches from Burger King, but then left
me alone again.  I idled in their room, watching whatever I could
find on TV.  It was deadly dull knowing, as I did, that there
were men all over the motel.  I could sometimes hear them talking
as they passed by on the balcony outside my room.  I had been
instructed, however, to remain inside, and I was confident things
would pick up when Lance, Eddy, and Johnny returned.  When they
did, they set about the task of finding something for me to do. 
Their first instinct, I'm happy to report, was to fuck me.  That,
however, didn't take more than two hours and they were again at a
loss.  It wasn't even eight yet.

"Shit," said Lance, "we didn't see Crawford anywhere.  He told us
he'd be here by now, him and some other guys.  We could set Cat
up with them, but that's hard to do if they aren't here."

"Crawford's a space cadet," said Johnny.  "The only thing you can
count on from him is drinking all the beer at a party and then
face planting."

"He probably went to the wrong motel," said Eddy.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut.  "Probably did.  Well," he said
emphatically, slapping his hand on the armrest of the couch, "I'm
going to go out and see what I can find."  He walked out onto the
balcony, not closing the door behind him, and stopped.  "Hey," he
said, "come take a look at this."

Johnny and Eddy joined Lance on the balcony, and I tip toed up
behind them, standing in the doorway trying to see what had
caught Lance's attention.  In the large courtyard below, which
was well lit, I could see two men sitting on a couch that had
clearly been taken from one of the motel rooms.  The men were
naked and sat at opposite ends of the couch.  A crowd of people,
men and women, had gathered in front of the couch, and the men on
the couch were smiling and beckoning to the girls in the crowd. 
I could hear some girls giggling, but most of the crowd didn't
seem that interested.  They were standing around, drinking,
talking, and laughing, but doing nothing else.

"I know what those two want," said Lance, "and I can get it for
them."

"Yeah," said Johnny, "and once you get it for them, everyone else
will want it, too.  I thought you were worried about keeping
track of our girl."

"We'll be able to watch from up here," said Lance.  "We can even
take turns.  We'll know where she goes.  Chances are, though, she
won't go anywhere.  She'll be right out there where we can see
her."  He turned to walk back into the room and almost ran over
me.  "Get your cuffs," he said.  "You're going to a party."

Given the size of the crowd, and its potential for growth, I
wasn't wild about the plan Lance had suddenly made for me.  But
it's hard to argue with, much less refuse, a man that you've
sucked off several times in the last thirty-six hours.  Lance
took the cuffs I handed to him, bound me, and led me out of the
room and down the stairs.

Our arrival didn't go unnoticed, and Lance had no difficulty
pushing me through the crowd until I was standing squarely in
front of, though several feet away from, the man sitting on the
right side of the couch.  He smiled and beckoned to me with his
forefinger.  Lance patted me on the ass, and bid me go.

I had been naked in a room full of men before, but only three
times, and I had never performed outside for an audience.  The
prospect that I was about to be the center of a very large gang
bang made my stomach tighten.  I was noticeably trembling as I
walked up to the man who had beckoned me.  Trapped as I was, my
options were limited.  I got on my knees, took his flaccid dick
in my mouth, and began stroking.  The giggling from the girls was
almost completely drowned out by the laughter from the men.  The
only way for me to hide was to keep my head down in my partner's
lap.   He let me suck his dick for as long as it took to get him
hard, then pulled my head up, stood me up, bent me over the
armrest of the couch, and began fucking me.  My face was turned
toward the crowd in front of the couch, and I could see the men
laughing heartily, some girls giggling, and some girls cringing.
The man fucking me was exclusively interested in focusing
attention on himself, though, and I could tell from his gyrations
that it was his performance that mattered, to him at least.  The
whole situation was anything but erotic for me, and I was as far
from arousal as it was possible for me to be while being fucked.

As I was grimacing from embarrassment at my situation, I noticed
a girl being pushed to the front of the crowd by a well-dressed
man, much too old to be a college student.  He appeared to be in
his late thirties or early forties.  Just as Lance had done to
me, he patted the girl on the ass and then urged her forward. 
She pulled off her top, dropped her shorts and, as I had done,
walked over to the man on the other side of the couch, knelt in
front of him, and began sucking his dick.  Another round of
laughter and giggles went up, and I was glad to have attention
shifted from me to this later arrival.  And, just as my partner
had bent me over the arm of the couch, she soon found herself
bent over and being fucked from behind.  The crowd's reaction
after that puzzled me.  They watched, though not avidly, as I and
the other girl were fucked.  The atmosphere resembled that of a
large party that was going on around us, but I and the other girl
were simply side shows, interesting side shows, but not the
center of attention.

The man fucking me, I could tell, was doing his best to cum, and
I was doing what I could to help him, but we weren't advancing
very rapidly toward the goal.  He varied his pace and the depth
of his thrusts, but there was little passion in his fucking.  I
got the distinct impression that fucking was a commonplace for
him, that I was one of many girls he had had, that fucking didn't
really excite him.  As for the girl opposite me, I could see that
she was simply tolerating being fucked and wasn't particularly
engaged.  Her expression mirrored what I was feeling.

The sex, if you could call it that, went on for at least twenty
minutes.  Finally, out of boredom or exhaustion, the man fucking
me pulled his dick out of my pussy and, I assumed from the mild
reaction of the crowd, threw his arms over his head in triumph. 
Almost simultaneously, the man fucking the girl across from me
did the same thing.  Then the two of us were left alone.  I was
sure that the real gang bang was about to begin, but none of the
men in the crowd made a move toward me.  Not knowing what to do,
I did nothing.  I looked at the girl across from me.  She had a
bored expression on her face.  But like me, she remained bent
over her arm of the couch.

The two of us remained where we were for at least two minutes. 
Every second I expected to feel a man's hands on my hips, but it
didn't happen.  Finally, the girl opposite me stood up and picked
up her clothes.  Then she came over to me, took my arm, and stood
me up.  I looked around at the crowd, but noticed very few men
(or women) looking at me.  It was as though I had been part of a
show, and now that the curtain had fallen the audience could no
longer see me.  My show partner whispered in my ear, 'Come with
me,' and I was led through the crowd, which parted obligingly, to
the door of a room on the first floor of the motel.

"My name's Ann," she said as she opened the door and led me
inside the room.  "What's yours?"

"The men just call me Cat," I said, "but my real name is
Cheryl."

"I like Cheryl better, so that's what I'll call you.  You're a
pretty little thing, but you look a little young for this
crowd."

"I'm seventeen," I said, "but I don't feel too young."

"Well I'm twenty-three, and I'm glad to meet you, Cheryl."

Ann shut the door as we stepped into the room.  She was about
three inches taller than me, with short brown hair, and very
pretty brown eyes.  Her demeanor was serious, almost somber, but
I got no negative vibes.  "Can I take your cuffs off for you?"
she asked.

"Ah, no, better not," I said.  "I'm probably not done with men
for tonight."

"You wear cuffs whenever you're with men?" she asked.  Her tone
didn't hint that she was surprised by my comment.

"Yes, nearly always," I said.

"OK," she shrugged, "I'll leave them on.  You're planning more
sex tonight?"

"I was expecting a lot more than we just got," I admitted.

The room had only a single dim light in it, and out of the
darkness a female voice assaulted us.

"I drove all night and all day to get here, and I'd like to get
some sleep.  If you two want to natter, go someplace else."

"Cheryl is thinking about hooking up with a man," said Ann
calmly.  "We need to plan."

"Then take her to the beach," said the voice wearily.  "Either
that or shut up."

Ann put on her tank top and shorts and led me outside.  "You
really want to hook up with a man?" she asked.

"Might as well," I said.  "That's what I'm here for."

"Then the beach isn't a bad place to go," she said.  "It's dark,
and the only reason men hang out there at night is to get laid. 
I'll take you there."

"What about you?" I asked.  "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get fucked, just like you."  She looked at my
collar.  "That's a pretty collar you're wearing.  I don't think
I've ever seen one like it."

"It's mostly a leash," I said.  "Unhook the loop at the back and
you'll see."

Ann did.  "Very dainty, just like you.  So you must be a slave."

My surprised expression startled Ann.  "You mean you're not a
slave?" she asked.

"No," I answered, "most guys say I'm a slut, but no one's called
me a slave."

"Then I don't get it," said Ann.  "You're cuffed, you're leashed,
you're naked, but you're not a slave?"

I explained how Jared had handed me over to Lance and why Lance
had taken me to the leather shop the day before.

"Cheryl," Ann said in a serious tone, "that's how slaves get
treated.  Am I being too nosy if I ask you to fill me in on the
details?"

"No," I said, smiling, "not at all."

"Then let's go down to the beach.  "I'll hold your leash, but you
can walk beside me.  We won't be bothered if we look like a
mistress and a sub.  Now tell me about this Jared guy and
Lance."

As we walked slowly out of the courtyard and down the broad path
that led to the beach, I gave Ann the details of the last two
days, including my trip to the leather shop.  I felt very
comfortable with her, not only because I was actually talking to
someone, but also because Ann's situation seemed so similar to
mine.  She had been volunteered to fuck in public, as I had, and
she was now going to the beach to do what I was going to do.  I
was finished with my story well before we reached our
destination.

"That guy, Rene you said his name was, he's a master, or at least
a dom.  And the woman, Becca, she's a slave."

"How do you know?" I asked.  "And what's a dom and what's a
sub?"

"In a dom/sub relationship, the man calls all the shots and the
girl obeys.  Becca was jealous that Rene was fucking you, but she
couldn't say so.  So she cheered on Rene, hoping that you
wouldn't be able to take it.  The clincher is her asking you for
sex.  If a slave can't keep her master from fucking another girl,
and she can't, then the slave will try to treat the girl like a
slave, that is, if she's jealous.  I'd bet Becca got her ass beat
after you left."

"But Rene didn't say anything to Becca while he was fucking me,"
I retorted.

"A master doesn't call down a slave in front of company unless
it's really serious," Ann replied, "but Becca got a lesson in
humility as soon as you left.  There's one other thing, too. 
Becca is a slave's name.  Slaves usually have short names."

"Like Cat?" I asked.

"Just like Cat," said Ann.

It was at this point that we reached the beach.  There were five
fires, camp fires, surrounded by groups of men and women.  Far to
our left, I could see a camp fire that was barely burning.  Ann
pointed to it.  "Let's go over there.  There's no crowd, but some
men will see us and come over to check us out."

We walked down the beach to the smoldering camp fire.  It was
bounded my logs, rather large and very long, which were clearly
set for those around the camp fire to sit on.  Becca led me to a
log that was nearest the water.  She stripped off her top and
shorts, wrapped my leash around my neck, then positioned me about
three feet to her right.  We were standing with our toes nearly
touching the log.  She looked to her right, where all of the
crowd on the beach was gathered.  "Get ready," she said, "a
couple of guys are coming this way."

A few seconds later a man was standing in front of me.  "Hey
there, girl," he said.  "You look like you're dressed to party."

"I guess I am," I said a little sheepishly.  He put his hand on
my thigh, then slipped a finger inside my pussy.

"Then we should party," he said.  He pulled off his shirt, took
off his shorts, put a hand on my shoulder, and pushed me to my
knees.  When he squatted in front of me and pulled my head down
on his dick, I found that the log was just the right height to
support my midsection.  It was also restraining my thighs,
preventing me from moving forward.  His dick was very hard, much
harder than the four men I had sucked on earlier that day.  He
was truly aroused, and stroking him was truly pleasurable.  I
didn't notice, until the man next me said something, that Ann was
in the same position.

Only two minutes passed before we were joined by two more men. 
"Looks nice," said one.  "Mind if I score a little pussy?" he
asked.

"Fine with me," said the man with his dick in my mouth.  A few
seconds later, I had a dick in my pussy.

Being fucked over the log was similar to being fucked over the
armrest of a couch, with the noticeable exception that the log
severely restricted my freedom of movement.  I couldn't move
forward and the man behind me made moving backward nearly
impossible.  The only way I could move my tail, except from side
to side, was up as the man fucking me thrust forward.  Even that
modest freedom was denied when the man fucking me put his hand on
the small of my back and held me down as he stroked in.  Now all
I could do was quiver, or tremble, and each time he stroked in I
felt the full length of his dick and the force of his hand on my
back.  It was touch, greatly magnified, and it was intensely
erotic.

The beach was a quiet spot.  I could hear in the distance men and
women talking and laughing, but it was far off and very muted. 
The men with whom I was having sex said nothing, as though they
were in a library that enforced a no talking rule.  The most
prominent sound came from Ann, as she occasionally slurped on the
dick she was stroking.  I could hear water lapping on the beach,
could feel the darkness surrounding us, and the whole thing had a
very romantic quality.  Even the men who had joined us as
spectators, whose presence I only suspected, were quiet.

The only words I heard the entire evening were spoken low and
soft after the man fucking me was finished.  "Push down on her
ass when you fuck her," he said.  "It feels fabulous."

That was just what the second man to fuck me did.  I didn't have
an orgasm until the second man in my mouth came, but all the
orgasm did was make a night already spectacular even better.  For
three hours, silent men, using only touch, banged me lightly. 
All the assistance they needed to hold me place was the log and a
firm hand, gently applied.  I was completely carried away, and
the last man to fuck me lingered inside me for three minutes
after he came.  I only wished that he had stayed longer.

As if the gang bang was scripted, Ann and I were left alone at
nearly the same time.  We both lay, draped over the log like wet
noodles, for a few minutes.

"I guess that's it," said Ann quietly.  She sat up and looked
around.  "There's hardly anyone left on the beach."  I sat up. 
"I could hear you humming, just barely, the whole time.  You
sounded sweet and happy."  She helped me to my feet, then sat me
down next to her on the log.  She put her arm around me and I
trembled a little.

"Something wrong, little girl?" she asked.

"No, I said, "nothing.  Everything is right, just right."

"But you shivered when I put my arm around you," she said.

"I'm just very sensitive to touch," I said.  "It feels nice when
you hug me."

"You weren't kidding when you said you wanted to hook up with a
man," said Ann.  "Do you want to go back to the motel?"

"No," I said, wiggling a little closer to Ann, "I like it here."

"I like it, too," she said.

We sat for half an hour, saying nothing.  The only thing I felt
was Ann's arm around my shoulder, and once, her hand on my
thigh.

"So you know all about me," I finally said.  "What's your
story?"

"I'll tell you if you let me kiss you once."

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked.  "You're not a lesbian,
are you?"

"No, I'm not.  I like men as much as any girl.  But there are
more than just men in the world."

I had never considered doing anything with a girl, even once.  My
sexual history was dominated by men, and a few boys, and it never
occurred to me to want anything else.  But Ann was so sweet and
gentle, and I doubted that she was a lesbian.

"OK," I said, "but you promise to tell me about yourself if I let
you kiss me?"

"I promise," she said, and almost before she had finished saying
it she leaned down a little and kissed me.  Just as a boy's dick
had been a revelation to me the first time I gave a blow job,
Ann's kiss was a startling revelation.  It was exquisitely
sensuous, so much so that I involuntarily kissed her back.  The
kiss lingered for ten seconds, maybe more, before she lifted her
head.

"That was even nicer than I thought it would be," she said. 
"You're still excited from doing all those men, aren't you."

"Yes, but you can kiss me again if you want.  It was very
sweet."

"Let me take your cuffs off first.  I want to feel your arms
around my neck."

"I I don't think you should do that," I said.

"Why not?" she asked in surprise.

"I just feel more comfortable with my wrists bound," I said. 
"It's like being bound and having sex go together.  Does it
really make a difference if I'm not bound?"

"You think you're better when you're bound?" she asked.

"Yes, definitely," I said.

The second kiss turned into a third, and then a fourth.  We spent
half an hour making out on the beach and, though I didn't want to
admit it, it was the most romantic half hour I'd spent in a
month.  There had been a few men in my life for whom I felt a
very strong attachment, but my relationship with Ann was, well,
romantic.

"OK," I finally said, "that's enough.  Now you tell me about
yourself."

"You're shaking like a leaf on a tree," said Ann.  "Are you OK?"

"No," I said, "I mean yes, I'm fine," I added quickly.  I
straightened up.  "So go ahead.  Tell me about Ann."

"Well, I came down here, met a beautiful little girl, and spent
the happiest hours of my life with her on the beach."

"Stop it," I said firmly.  I would have looked down in my lap and
smoothed my skirt, if had been wearing a skirt and my wrists
weren't bound.

Ann smiled at me and sat up straight.  "OK," she said, "here
goes.  You saw the man who was with me just before I started
sucking that guy on the couch?"

I turned toward her.  "Yes, I did," I exclaimed, "and I meant to
ask you about him."

"Well, he's my master.  I'm a slave."

2013, by Cheryl Allen Tessler.  Other works by the author can be
found at <a
href="https://sizzlereditions.com/?s=SearchResults.asp%3FCat%3D25
0&search_404=1">https://sizzlereditions.com/?s=SearchResults.asp%
3FCat%3D250&search_404=1</a>


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