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From: Clevernick <passportcollectors@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: From Zealot to Harlot Chap 1& 2
Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2007 04:32:22 -0700
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===================
Chapter 1 - Jesus
I woke up and checked the clock in my tiny room and cursed - I was
late for work. If I ran into the shower I could just make it. I
quickly sprinted to the bathroom and as I got there, saw that I'd just
beaten Liz, my obnoxious church-lady housemate, apparently also late
and running, to the bathroom.
Oh, well, she'd had the same chance as I did. Now she'd have to wait.
Our other three housemates had long since left for work.
As I locked the door behind me she shrieked, and shouted at me through
the door -- she seemed to believe that I'd deliberately waited till
the last minute just to make her late for work. Unusually obnoxious.
Amazingly, she continued shouting and pounding on the door,
sermonizing (she's a Baptist and a great sermonizer) about my extreme
inconsideration. She was yelling at me like I was a naughty child.
"This is very rude of you. You must be feeling very small now. Simon.
SIMON! Simon, I expect this misbehavior to stop right now. Aren't you
feeling small, acting this way?"
This was really getting annoying. I could hardly hear her through the
shower, and yet she wouldn't stop. Pound and shout. Shriek and pound.
And the word "small" kept recurring, almost like an obsession of hers.
Was this a sexual challenge?
I'd been considering for weeks what this misplaced missionary
deserved, and I'd even gone so far as to purchase a couple of toys
that might help teach her such a lesson, but I had never thought of a
good way to begin. But now I thought I knew. And she had just called
me "small" once too often.
Without turning off the shower, I padded out, naked, silently over to
the door, which she was unbelievably still pounding on, challenging my
manhood still.
I mentally rehearsed the motions for a moment, then quickly opened the
door, grabbed Liz by the front of her bathrobe, pulled her sharply
into the room with me, and punched her twice in the solar plexus to
quickly knock her wind out.
It was harmless but would keep her still for a minute or so. Her knees
weakened and she clutched her stomach, trying to breathe. I took this
opportunity to run back to my bedroom and fetch 5 pairs of handcuffs,
a ball gag, a few other toys, and a key on a bracelet.
I had the toys and was back in seconds. Liz was still unable to draw a
full breath, concentrating fully on trying. Her hands were still at
her stomach, so I quickly yanked the yellow robe off her shoulders and
down to her hands.
While the robe pinned her arms down, I cuffed her wrists together just
above the now crumpled sleeves. While she was trying to react to that,
I reached down and did the same to her ankles.
She reached down, too late, to stop me cuffing her ankles, and the
robe dropped to the floor. As she tried to pick it up, I used cuff
pair number three to connect her ankle chain to her wrist chain. Now
she couldn't straighten up, reach her face, or do much else for that
matter. I regarded Liz naked for the first time.
Well, nearly the first -- I had once walked in on Liz in her bedroom
by accident, but that was a short glimpse. That was when I had
realized that her body was actually quite nice, even for a 20-year-old
university girl.
Slender, blonde, shapely and taut, with slim legs, full hips, small
waist and pert, conical b-cup breasts, her body was begging for
recognition. And the full-length mirror I had caught her posing
before, that first time, told me that she was aware of her appeal
too.
In fact, even her face wasn't all that bad. Her mouth was a bit too
wide, her lips a bit too thin, perhaps a little underbite on her. Not
supermodel material, but not bad. I had honestly thought her hot, when
I'd first met her. But knowing her better, she was ugly inside, and
her face had lost its appeal for me.
Finally she was catching her breath, in great gasping heaves. I waited
for a few of these great breaths so she could re-oxygenate, and as
they were about to stop, used her wide-open mouth to pop in a large
ball gag.
As she tried to take it out and realized she couldn't reach, I
efficiently strapped the gag on, and locked it behind her head. I
didn't see any need for her to contribute to the conversation, and her
usual talk of Jesus was even more tiresome than her belittling
insults.
I intended to be nice to her now, to make up for the brief violence,
and it would be a lot easier if she didn't talk.
Her heavy breathing continued for a while, snot bubbling through her
nose and spattering her reddened face. "Poor thing," I said, and
gently wiped her face with a Kleenex, then helped her blow her nose on
a second.
I wanted to be sympathetic but it was difficult. This woman was as
close to evil as I'd ever met. (Of course, I was young.) Liz was a
slob of a housemate, yet self-righteous, small-minded, and
hypocritical.
She was constantly trying to convert me from my religion to hers,
despite my repeated requests to leave it alone. She didn't just do it
to me -- she did it to everyone. Very invasively.
Her dinner talk was about how Baptists were the only true Christians,
and Christianity was the only true religion. Or about her Bible Study
friends and her family, and how wonderful the parties she was throwing
for them, in our house, with our help, but that she couldn't invite
non-Baptists to, of course. That's right-we could help, but not
attend. She expected us to "go the extra mile" as if that explained
it.
She preached constantly the virtues that she herself had none of, with
constant recourse to such parables, biblical quotes, and churchy
clichés. Maddening. I wondered if I could make her see this, now that
I had a captive audience.
As she recovered, she began trying to harangue me through the gag.
"MMM-mm-MMMM! MMM-mm-MMMM!" Over and over. Probably "let me go," in
her most commanding tones. Oh yes, Liz was also a 'voice of command'
type. She expected people to obey her because she shouted. Well, it
wasn't working.
I picked her up under the knees and back, carried her over to the bath/
shower, and placed her in it, sitting down at the back, facing the
faucet. The shower was still running, so I went back in myself, in
front of her, and continued shampooing my hair.
Shampoo got in her eyes, and she couldn't wipe it out. I waited a bit
and watched her clamp her eyes shut, whimpering, and then said "I'll
get that."
I carefully rinsed my hands and wiped her eyes for her, until she
could open them again. Then I went back to shampooing. She was looking
at me, trying to shout again, her commanding tone changing
occasionally to pleading, then back.
I washed myself thoroughly, taking special care with my own naughty
bits, and ignored her for a while. (My cock had obviously registered
her nearby decent body, but I pretended not to.) When I was all clean,
I began on her. I redirected the shower toward her head, and she
winced as the spray hit her face directly.
I soaked and shampooed her hair, and then carefully rinsed it clean.
Washed the shampoo from her eyes again and wiped them clean and dry.
Then I used the soap, and carefully sudsed up her shoulders, arms,
chest, and belly. Her breasts felt quite firm and slippery. Mmm. Nice
body, too bad about the soul.
I washed her back, then rinsed it all off. And then lifted her by the
hipbones and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. Since her
hands were unable to move far from her ankles, this put her butt high
in the air, weight on her shoulders, and her head on one side on the
tub. I checked that she could breathe okay.
Then I cleaned her butt and legs. And crotch. Non invasively, just as
she would probably do it to herself; like a nurse might. Let her
wonder. Hmmm -- blond pubes. Never seen those before. Felt very soft
and straight. She protested as I stroked them curiously. The pubes
were not trimmed, running up onto her legs, since she was a slob.
Her ass was still in the air. She tried to tip herself over a couple
times while I was washing her, but I had tipped her back up until she
stopped. She had stopped "talking" for a while.
Okay, time for a little sermon of my own. I spoke to her ass, mostly,
glancing down at her face once in a while for confirmation.
"Liz, you've just been very impolite."
She snorted something obscene through the gag.
"Let's not discuss that then. Let's discuss your religious fervor
instead. You have to realize that other people think of their religion
as a private thing. If they don't ask you to discuss it with them,
it's because they want to keep it to themselves. And in general,
they'd like you to keep yours to yourself, too. Do you understand?"
She tried to speak, but I didn't think she understood yet.
"It's just like everyone takes showers, but you were pounding on the
door of mine. That's obnoxious, too. Showers are also private. Maybe I
could explain with an analogy. These here are your private parts."
I placed my hand on her. She grunted a sharp protest.
"You normally don't go waving them around in public. Here's mine."
I moved my hips forward, showing off my now very erect cock.
"You don't expect me to show mine in public either. And you certainly
don't expect me to force you to accept mine."
I paused to let her wonder if I was going to demonstrate. She looked
at me silently, hatefully.
"In fact, having someone else forcing their religion on you feels much
like having Jesus shoved up your ass."
I used a bit of hair conditioner on my finger and swirled it around
her anus. She shook her head and protested through the gag, but I
thrust my finger inside her anyway. Her anus was tighter then I
expected. She clamped down on my finger and I slowly removed it. She
whimpered, which made my cock harder.
"That was only my finger."
I reached behind me and picked up the Jesus figurine that she'd left
by the sink.
"See this? This is Jesus." I showed it to her. "And this is Jesus up
your ass."
Out of her sight, I brought Jesus around behind her still-raised ass,
swapped him out for a nice butt plug and popped it in, hard. Even
though the conditioner had lubed her opening, she squealed. It wasn't
a big plug, but in her presumably virgin ass, she probably believed
she'd taken the whole figurine.
I let her continue to think so. I liked the idea of owning that bit of
her mind, too. I was altering her reality a bit.
"Now do you understand?"
She nodded vigorously, and protested, probably demanding I take Jesus
out. Her eyes showed discomfort, and shock, and she was using that
commanding tone again. She was squirming, trying to tip onto one side,
but I wouldn't let her.
"This is an important lesson, so I need you to remember it. Every time
you try to force Jesus on someone, please remember what it feels like.
Do you think you can remember this?"
Again she nodded vigorously and vocalized.
"Good. Now let's talk." I turned off the rapidly cooling shower, and
knelt down behind her, straddling her bound legs and arms, one hand on
her butt. I changed the cuffs running from her wrists down to the
ankle cuffs, clipped the bottom cuff directly to her left ankle, and
removed the ankle hobbles entirely. Her right leg was free, but
supporting her.
I kneeled between her legs, forcing them wide apart. Her upper body
still rested on her head and shoulders, her arms uselessly bound to
her left ankle below.
I ran the bathtub faucet behind me, put a little shaving cream in my
left hand, and took a disposable razor in the right. Facing her from
behind, I spread her legs a bit further with my knees, and lathered
her. She jumped as I began to shave her pussy lips and inner thighs.
"Hold still, and cooperate. You don't want any shaving nicks on these
parts." She stopped squirming.
"You'll need to remember this lesson for some time, so I'm giving you
a gentle reminder of our meeting today, which should last a few days.
I'm just going to shave you nice and smooth, so you will always feel a
little different. This should remind you of the important lesson.
"The lesson itself, just you and me together, will be here in the
bathtub, for just the rest of today." She squealed and wriggled, but
I'd anticipated this and lifted the razor away for a bit.
"What, you don't want to stay here with me and Jesus all day?" She
made it clear this would be bad. I kept shaving until her lips and
legs were bare from behind.
Then I put down the razor, tipped her over and helped her up to a
sitting position. She had to draw her left knee up because of her
hands attached to the ankle. I pushed her chest backward, and she
grunted with pain from the weight on the butt plug. She had to lean
back further, pulling her tethered leg back, to ease it.
I forced her free right leg down and sat on it, leaving her legs far
apart and scissored open. With more shaving cream, I trimmed her blond
pubic hair away from where her legs joined her torso. She whimpered.
I knew what she was thinking. "I guess you're worried about your job,
right?" She nodded.
"So you'd like to go to work right away, right?" She nodded again,
faster.
"But the lesson's not done yet." I got off her right leg and she drew
it up automatically. I cuffed it to her wrists and removed the cuff to
her left leg, sat on that one instead, letting me shave the other
side.
"This lesson will take you several hours to learn. Nobody changes
their behavior in just a few minutes. Can you?"
She paused, then lied by nodding her head. I didn't believe her and
said so.
"But I'll give you another option. Either you stay here with me for
the rest of the day, while I teach you sensitivity to other people's
religions, or..." By this time I'd trimmed her triangle to a neater
but largish triangular patch in front, not reaching her legs or
belly.
"...or I can let you go now, and you can come to me in my room for sex
and sensitivity training, every night at 10:30, for the next two
weeks."
She glared at me from her awkward position, lying back, holding one
leg. I didn't think she had a boyfriend, here in this strange city, so
she shouldn't have had any trouble making such a promise. And with the
disconnect between her religion and her actions, she couldn't possibly
be a virgin. I'd have bet on that.
Of all the five housemates, I was the only one with a private room
(since mine was too small for two.) So this could work. Besides
getting laid regularly, I'd have the opportunity to bring her into
line, control her properly. My own tame God Squad member. I grinned at
the thought.
She was either desperate to get to work, or to get Jesus out of her
ass, or actually interested in the deal -- she was nodding, trying to
get my attention back.
I noticed I was having trouble finishing the shaving job -- I couldn't
reach properly between her legs. I lifted her free left leg, pushed
her carefully over onto her back. Her right leg came with her arms,
rising in the air, then hovering, bent, over her body as she displayed
her mostly-shaved, slightly open genitals for me. She tried to hold
her legs together, retain some vestige of dignity, but I placed my
torso between them as I worked.
I finished between her legs, and pulled her stray left leg down again
beneath me, leaving her on her back with one leg up.
"Here's how it will work." As I spoke, I used a new razor to shave a
large letter "S," Superman-style, into her newly neat pubic triangle.
I also carefully trimmed the bottom of the triangle, holding her labia
down as I shaved them, leaving her lips and hood entirely bare. At
last, her body was visibly mine.
"Every night at 10:30, sharp, you will be in my room, naked. You will
not speak. You'll simply show up and wait for me to tell you what to
do. After we have sex, I might wish to sleep with you, but I might
instead tell you to return to your room. You will do as I say. This
will go on for 14 days."
"I may also wish to test you on your memory of this lesson. The
letter "S" you see in the mirror should remind you of me. It stands
for "Sensitivity," and "Silence," and of course it's my initial too.
So you know you're mine. It stands for "Slave" too.
"Part of your job over the next two weeks is to keep the shaving job
neat, and the "S" clearly visible. Do you understand?"
She nodded, bumping her head on the tub.
"Do you prefer this deal to staying here with me for the rest of the
day?"
She nodded again, more carefully.
"Do you agree to all the terms?" I asked, carefully.
Chapter 2 - Agreements
She nodded, quickly. She was still lying naked in the bathtub,
handcuffed, with one leg raised and bound, the other leg trapped
beneath me. Her eyes held resentment and betrayal; I strongly
suspected she was lying, agreeing just to get out of this fix. But I
could swear she was getting aroused too.
Her bare nether lips had pulled apart and were thicker, a little
darker. And she had agreed to my terms faster than I'd thought she
would. I pulled her arms to help her back up to a sitting position,
and she yelped in pain from the weight on her butt plug.
I helped her kneel in the tub, and added one more pair of cuffs
linking each wrist to the same ankle, around the outside. I removed a
few extra cuffs. Now her wrists were linked together, and she was
kneeling, hands loosely bound around the outsides of her legs, to her
ankles. Her legs were not hobbled. Her eyes held a question now.
"You're asking me to trust you that you'll hold to this deal and I
have no reason to trust you yet. I'll give you a token of trust, and
you'll give me another, okay?" She nodded.
"Would you like me to help out with Jesus back there?" She nodded.
"Okay, I will." I pulled her forward, reached around and pulled the
plug out of her ass. She squealed briefly, then looked relieved and
relaxed. I made sure it was Jesus she saw coming back around, not the
plug.
I wondered aloud, "Does humiliation turn you on, Jesus-girl?" She
shook her head vigorously. I reached between her now slightly open
pussy lips and stroked, feeling her extreme wetness giving the lie to
her assertion. Fascinating.
Liz clamped her legs shut, wanting and not wanting to be touched
there, but she had just found out something new about herself, and she
knew I had too. "Apparently it does, darling." Her eyes showed anger,
and something else.
"Okay," I continued, "for your token of trust, you can seal the deal
by walking over here on your knees and fucking me." My erection was
straining and this was a great way to end the lesson. More
importantly, she was far more likely to show up this evening as I
demanded if she'd already started having sex with me. I had to
establish control now.
She didn't want to, though. Perhaps, as I suspected, she had never
intended to show up.
"Ah, I get it. You're a devout Baptist and you're a virgin, right?"
She looked at me, her expression unreadable for a moment, and then I'd
swear I almost saw a little smirk around the ball gag. At least she
wasn't going to lie about it.
"Didn't think so. On the pill, right?" She nodded.
"Well, I'm not surprised you chose sex over God. Your body's pretty
hot, you know." That last bit slipped out - I swear my erection had
started talking through my mouth. Still she held back, though the
combination of the religious humiliation and the compliment had
definitely aroused her. Her pupils were dilated.
"Your choice, Jesus-girl. You can fuck me every night for two weeks as
you just promised, starting now, and go back to work. But I won't have
sex with you against your will. You can still choose to stay here for
the rest of the day -- no sex, just me and Jesus." I picked up Jesus
again; motioned to put him behind her.
I think it was the arousal as much as the promised discomfort that
decided her. Liz shook her head "no," and walked toward me on her
knees. I sat down in the tub, legs between hers, and watched as she
knee-walked up toward my hips and mounted me easily, sliding her
weight down onto my shaft accurately.
She was tight, but very wet and obviously not virginal. I gasped with
pleasure, took her breasts in my hands. "That's right, Jesus-girl. Be
a good little slut and ride me hard."
She pulled back quickly, her face screwed up with humiliation as the
epithet hit home, probably because her own thoughts were not much
different. She was angry, looked ready to leave, so I grabbed her
nipples and pulled her back down again. She yelped. I could see the
humiliation fighting with her arousal, and she slid down again,
exhaling thickly.
She moaned a little, pressed herself into me, seeking to press me in
harder, deeper. Then she raised herself again and came down hard.
"Good slut. You love the cock, don't you?" She whimpered with the
humiliation, but instead of stopping began riding me, coming up almost
off my dick, then slamming down again hard, grinding her clit into me,
painfully.
I realized after a few such impacts that she would need some help or
I'd be bruised, so I grabbed her now-creamy cunt with my hand,
anchoring it by sliding one finger inside between her and my cock, and
rubbing her clit lightly with my thumb.
She gasped with pleasure as she rode me faster, more lightly. With my
other hand I rolled her nipples, one at a time, feeling their shape
and hardness, pressing and pulling them, rubbing in circles to match
the action on her clit with my thumb. I wondered what some more
humiliation might do.
"You're the best little cowgirl in the world, aren't you? You've done
this before, slut, and you're good at it. That's right, ride that cock
like the expert whore you are." I saw her flinch visibly with each
taunt, but it seemed to push her further and harder, and her cunt felt
wetter, her clit swelling.
She rode me faster, and I slipped my middle finger further into her,
pulled her toward me with it, pinched her clit back with my thumb. She
was very close, but I was closer. I pulled her breast toward me with
my other hand and bit her nipple with my molars. She cried out and
gasped as she came, soaking my hand. My own orgasm came a split-second
later and I filled her with it.
"Good slut," I repeated, soothingly, over and over, as she leaned
against me. I had my arm around her shoulders, while I kept my other
hand in her pussy, massaging gently as my cock softened and slipped
out. She shuddered twice and was still.
I slid out from under her and washed myself off. I ran the water and
washed her pussy again, inside and out this time, and cleaned the
conditioner out of her ass. She moaned token protests. Then I got out
of the tub and dried off, went to my room and dressed, leaving her
kneeling naked, clean, wet and helpless in the tub.
I came back dressed. I undid and removed all the cuffs except those
holding her hands together, leaving her gagged, and handed her a
towel, saying, "Good girl. You can get dressed for work now. Come to
me downstairs for help with your hands."
And I left the bathroom, taking my other toys and key with me.
****
As I was finishing breakfast in the kitchen, Liz came downstairs. I'd
called in late for work, so I was relaxed. She was wearing grey
pantyhose and a grey knee-length skirt, nice work shoes, and a ball
gag - she couldn't call her office and was now very late. She looked
stressed and resentful, not to mention topless.
She was carrying her white starched blouse and bra, and a pastel pink
dress jacket. She couldn't put the top on over the cuffs, so she was
holding her extra clothes over her bare chest. She looked pretty good,
if I ignored her resentful eyes and stretched lips. She'd put her
makeup on already, the best she could with the handcuffs and the gag,
and done her hair.
She was in a hurry. She stood beside me, glaring, arms holding the
clothes to her chest, wrists toward me to be unlocked.
"I can't see your titties any more. I think I'll wait until I can," I
said. She blushed and glared, looked up at the open kitchen window,
back at me in disbelief. This was not a private room. I looked her in
the eye and waited. Slowly she lowered her arms, partly exposing those
nearly conical breasts I had just recently met and befriended, turning
her body away from the open kitchen window.
"Put the clothes down. Good. Come over here." I got out my key,
paused. "You're too hunched over. Stand up straight, arch your back,
hands behind your neck." This was hard on her - Liz had never
followed anyone's commands before, and wasn't intending to start.
The open windows were too much for her. She reached out fast for the
key but I pulled it back. She stood there impatiently, holding out her
cuffs to be unlocked, ignoring my demand. She said something obscene
through the gag.
I went back to my breakfast and ignored her. She snapped angrily at
me, and I sipped my tea and looked away.
After my tea was finished, I finally looked back up at her, though
she'd been trying to speak for some time. Liz was standing exactly as
I'd demanded, back arched, displaying her perky breasts just for me in
the kitchen.
I smiled and weighed her boobs in my hands, squeezed them gently,
pinched and rolled the nipples until they were hard again. She closed
her eyes and tried to ignore me, so I came round behind her, turned
her to face the open window, and continued to play with her nipples,
now straining hard with embarrassment.
I continued until she felt a bit aroused again, began to moan a bit,
and suppressed it. I knew she just wanted to get to work.
Then I took pity on her. I removed the ball gag, and she gasped and
retched a bit, brought her hands down. I cleaned her face gently with
more Kleenex, put her hands back behind her head and offered her some
water, held it to her lips, hand on her back as she drank.
She coughed and spilled some water on her chest, and a single drop
rolled down onto one still-hard nipple. I grinned and licked it off.
Then I politely cleaned the rest off her chest with another Kleenex.
She whimpered.
I helped her finish her water without further interruption.
Finally, with her humbly silent at last, I took her hands back down,
removed the cuffs from her wrists so she could leave.
She looked me in the eye, and slapped me hard on the cheek.
Instead of reacting to this (I was half-expecting it), I instantly
grabbed her wrist and cuffed it again, then reached out for her other
arm, yanked it over and cuffed it too.
I had anticipated I might need the cuffs and toys again, so they were
sitting on the chair next to me, under the table.
I held one wrist and pushed it back inward, driving her to her knees,
letting me put another pair of cuffs on her pantyhose-clad ankles.
I stood her up again with a little wrist pressure the other way, then
pulled her arms down so I could add the third pair to hold the wrist
chain to the ankle chain, and she was now once more bent over
double.
She was yelling obscenely, loudly, so I pulled her hair back behind
her and quickly popped her gag back in, buckled it on. I was glad I
was able to restrain her with just brute force and speed this time -
it told her I could do it again anytime.
"Oh boy," I said, "are you in trouble now...."
While she breathed heavily through her nose I unzipped her skirt and
slid it down her legs. Quickly I slid my hands under the waist of her
pantyhose and pulled them down just past her knees, along with the
pink cotton panties beneath them. She tried to stop me but couldn't
reach. She protested, shouting, commanding through the gag.
I walked around in front of her, unclasped her shoes. I slid the
pantyhose and skirt a little further down her calves, and added cuffs
from her lower left calf to her left wrist, and another on the right.
Then I removed the other cuffs, leaving only one linking each ankle to
the same-side wrist.
Now behind her, I pulled her hips toward me, and she fell, unable to
right herself. I caught her between my legs and lowered her gently to
a sitting position. Then I walked around in front again, removed her
shoes, and pulled off the skirt and pantyhose, now conveniently below
the new cuffs.
She was sitting naked on her ass, on the kitchen floor, wrists and
ankles linked, hunched over, legs slightly bent and spread before her.
Before she could figure out that she'd be much more comfortable with
crossed legs, I went round behind her and lifted her up, by the
behind, until she was standing again.
Now bent over double, and breathing somewhat heavily through her nose,
with snot messing up some of her makeup, she was trying to command me
to do something again.
I neatly folded her clothing and put it on the kitchen table in a neat
pile. I stood before her and said "Look at me." She raised her head,
cramping a muscle in her neck, since it was a hard angle. She stopped
talking and quickly lowered her head.
"Okay," I said, "we'll make that easier." I walked around behind her,
took a nice kitchen chair, and sat down comfortably, straddling the
back. Her straight legs were supporting her slightly oversized ass,
which stuck up as the highest point on her body. Liz's newly shaved
pussy pointed directly at me, and at the kitchen window.
It looked like a young woman's pussy, hardly used, closed, and taut.
Her head was down between her knees. "Look at me," I repeated. She
opened her legs slightly to see me, and looked at me, upside down,
between her legs, with gag in mouth. Her eyes held worry, and anger,
and resentment.
"You broke our agreement already. I'm disappointed in you." She shook
her head. "What, you think I'd trust you to keep it after you hit me?"
She looked sullen, didn't reply. I took a Kleenex and carefully wiped
some snot off her face as she stared at me between her legs.
"You will eventually realize that you have been at fault here, and you
will desire to make it right, to pay whatever price is necessary. When
you feel that way, and not before, you may sit down comfortably on the
floor." I continued to watch her, through her legs. "If you sit
before you feel that way, I will know it, and you will be punished."
She watched me, resentfully, probably feeling exposed and angry.
I waited, and she remained standing defiantly, though it must have
been painful by that point. Her face was quite red, and her knees were
slowly bending as the hamstrings pulled. I took out the disposable
razor, came over to her, and said "don't move for a bit -- I missed a
spot."
I dry-shaved a little stray fuzz from between her butt cheeks, near
where they joined her legs. She trembled with humiliation and sore
muscles. "Okay, now I'm done".
With a sigh, she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs, for the
first time looking natural and comfortable. Her ankle-to-wrist cuffs
were almost unnoticeable in this position, not putting any strain on
her. She was so relieved that she forgot to be embarrassed that she
was exposed and spread open. I walked around in front of her and
looked her in the eye.
"Okay, Liz. Penalty time. You've fucked up, and to make it right,
you'll need to agree to some extra terms. Ready?" She nodded, a tear
in her eye.
"First, for the slap, it's three weeks you'll be coming to see me, not
two. Fair?" Liz shook her head, shouted in wordless frustration. No.
Perhaps she thought her one time this morning had been generous
enough.
"Okay, stand up. On your feet." She remained seated, cross-legged,
glaring. I understood why, but it wasn't acceptable. I went to the
freezer, took out the ice cubes, popped a round one out, melted it a
little in my hand.
I put my other hand between her shoulder blades, pushed her forward
and down so far her butt came off the floor, and then quickly forced
the ice cube into her ass, hard. She jumped, squealed and shouted,
shook her body like it was on fire.
"I've been very good about keeping everything to agreements and
suggestions and choices, Liz. But every time you refuse a direct
order, you'll be punished, and I suggest you don't ever do it again.
Understand?" She ignored me a while as she jumped and squealed.
Eventually she numbed a bit and settled down.
She had heard my question and she nodded, moaning with the cold
intruder, shivering, forlorn. She stood as I'd commanded, with her
head upside down, between her legs once more, but squirming, now
unable to stand still as the ice burned her inside.
"You sat down before you were willing to admit you were wrong. Bad
move. I warned you there would be punishment. This time, stay standing
until you're sure you're ready to admit that and pay the penalty."
Her legs couldn't hold up so easily this time, her ass was cold, and
the fight had gone out of her. She sat down once more, still
squirming, and turned herself to face me. She nodded, grunted
unhappily. I thought she was ready now.
"As I was saying, it's four weeks you'll be coming to my room for sex.
It was three, but now it's four. Understand?" She nodded, sadly.
"There's more. You won't speak at all to me during those four weeks,
not in my room, not outside it, not today, not ever unless I
specifically say you can. You will also not speak of religion to
anyone but your family and Bible Study friends. Agreed?" She nodded.
"You will be coming to my room for four weeks, so you're probably
expecting time off for your period. You don't get that excuse. During
your period, you'll wear tampons. And you'll bring a clean ass, well
lubricated. You'll have to show off the little string when you come
in, so I'll know what end of you to fuck." She shook her head, drew
breath, eyes shocked.
"Haven't you had anal sex before?" I said in pretended surprise. She
stared.
"Well, maybe we can start you on that shortly," I continued, ignoring
her glare. "I hear it gets better with practice." She shook her head,
moaned in the negative.
"Are you refusing to please your man?" She paused, and tears came to
her eyes. She didn't seem ready to give in. "You like that ice cube, I
see. If my dick's not good enough for you, I could make a nice frozen
dildo instead." She moaned and shook her head.
"All right then. Do you agree to come to me during your period, naked,
with your ass clean, lubricated and ready for my pleasure?"
She was ashamed, but nodded quietly. She was sitting hunched over her
crossed legs, very humiliated, and amazingly, I imagined I could see a
bead of wetness in her open vulva, which I'd swear was not there
before.
"You will not be wearing any clothes by 10:30 each evening. I don't
care how you manage it, but when you enter my room, you will be naked
within 5 seconds. Agreed?" She thought, then nodded meekly. Now I was
sure about the wetness.
"And one more thing. I'm sorry about making you later for work, but I
must know that you are trustworthy. You will spend the next 45
minutes, right here, being a perfectly obedient sex slave.
"This is your practice for this evening, and how you will convince me
that I can trust you to keep your word this time. You will not only do
everything I say without question, you will do your damnedest to
convince me you're enjoying it. Agreed?"
* * *
I put a piece of writing paper and a pen before her, on the kitchen
floor. "Write the following: 'I have been bad, and I need to be
punished. I will be yours from now until August 13, every night, to be
corrected and disciplined. This I vow before God and before those I
love.'"
She had stopped questioning, and wrote the words as fast as she could.
She had her knees up, each ankle still tethered to the same side
wrist. "Now sign your name, and date it."
She did so. "Now write your home address, not this one, but where your
parents live." She did this too.
"Write your mother's name and your father's, and the minister's." She
looked up at me, her eyes a question. I looked hard and stern, and
said, "Don't forget to smile while you follow orders." She tried to
fake a smile around the gag, couldn't, looked back at the paper and
wrote the names. I looked at them and nodded. I took the paper away
and folded it, kept it.
"Stand up," I told her. She did, a bit awkwardly, with each wrist
still attached to a calf. Once again her ass was her highest point.
With my left hand, I stroked her from behind, checked her pussy for
wetness. There was very little left. A small trickle of dirty water
was leaking down her leg from her numb ass.
I wiped it off her carefully with paper towel. She whimpered with
embarrassment, and I asked soothingly, "Would you like to go to the
bathroom, pee and clean up a bit first?" She nodded. "Well, it's going
to be impossible to get up the stairs with those cuffs on," I pointed
out. She nodded again, nervously.
I came around in front of her, stood between her legs, and reached
around behind to lift her naked butt. She was light, and now her
linked arms and legs were wrapped around me as I carried her by the
buttocks.
I carried her over to the double kitchen sink, sat her on the edge of
it. "You'll have to make do with this. I'll help." I slid her back a
little. Her naked back faced the open window. "Start by peeing in the
sink."
She registered shock and disbelief. Her face darkened. I looked her in
the eye for a bit, but she resisted. She hunched over, away from the
window, and looked sullen, ready to hold out for some time.
I noticed that the ice cubes were still out on the counter. Not good,
couldn't have them melting. I walked the two steps to the ice cubes
and she protested loudly, begging for my attention. I turned back
toward her and saw her sit up and begin to urinate in the sink. I put
the ice cube tray in the freezer, then turned back to watch her.
She reddened as I drew near and watched the chaotic stream emerge,
intermittently, from between her outer lips, having trouble emptying
her bladder with me watching. I leaned on her legs, smiling, amused,
and her embarrassment grew.
The liquid splashed sporadically around the sink in all directions,
coming in spurts. When she couldn't squeeze out any more, I ran some
water into the sink behind her, rinsed it off, and used my hands to
wash her off once more. I carefully cleaned her in front, beneath and
behind like a baby, with a little soap and running water.
She was flushed and keening with embarrassment. Her hands were still
on her legs, unable to help or to stop me. "Very good," I said, "but
you got some on the counter-top. You're a naughty girl. You need to be
punished, don't you agree?" She looked mortified, whimpered, but I
waited sternly for her meek nod.
Each wrist was still bound to an ankle, and she was gagged, but she
had no other bindings on her.
"Bend your knees back." As she brought her legs up behind her, her
arms followed, and automatically went behind her. I tipped her over
sideways, brought her knees straight, then laid her on her front
across the kitchen sinks, hips on the edge between the two of them.
Her ankles were kicked up behind her back, cuffed to her hands. Her
breasts hung down in the washing sink, her legs over the drying sink.
"You'll need a little spanking now," I said, and slapped her rump,
gently at first. Her hands and legs tried to get in the way, so I
stopped and told her to spread her legs and arms so that her rear was
totally exposed. She had no choice; she did so, and I spanked her
slowly until her bottom was a lovely red. She yelped with each slap,
but the gag muffled it down to moans.
My other hand massaged her breasts, pulling and pinching her nipples
as they hung in the sink. A quick finger check showed that she was now
quite wet inside again, her swollen pussy as red as her behind now.
I looked out the open window, wondered if anyone was watching as I
continued stroking her from inside with my thumb, fingering her clit
gently. "That's a nice red bottom," I said, "I wonder what they think
of it across the street?" There was nobody around, but she couldn't
know that.
She gasped, tried to sit up, but could barely raise her head, and
moaned as I continued to stroke her clit, then spanked her some more,
harder, and back to the clit, until her breathing was thick and
hoarse, and she was close to climax.
"You'll never see dishwashing the same way again, will you,
exhibitionist slut?" I taunted, and rubbed her nubbin fiercely. She
caught her breath, shuddered, and orgasmed quietly over the sink.
"Good girl," I told her, petting her back and behind as if she were a
cat. She was near tears with embarrassment, yet more aroused than she
had been when we'd had sex in the tub.
============
These two chapters are the first of the novella "From Zealot to
Harlot", just published at
http://www.bdsmbooks.com/listoffers.htm
The book itself is advertised at:
http://www.bdsmbooks.com/emailssent/072707.htm