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Walking on the Wild Side Ch. 03 by Nikita © 2005
Synopsis: When two beautiful roommates explore the wild side of life, they meet with unexpected consequences. Kymber gets swept away by Michael, an older man who sees her as a challenge to control. She turns into his sex slave and the training is brutal.
The arrogant Cindy, a human Barbie doll, meets her match in Patrick. He makes Cindy debase herself in a place where she is the queen, turning her into a slut.
~The Most Important Rule~
Quiet and demanding, Michael was a mystery, and I adored him. He owned my heart, and although I wanted to give him more, he wanted one thing, to control my orgasms. He said they were hard for me to give up and that is why he wanted them.
How did I get myself into this situation? My friends would be shocked to see their assertive, princess-like bitch reduced to a cum-begging slut. Flushed and happy from head to toe, in spite of the cane marks he was applying on my ass, I wished it would last forever, until, he began to demand control of my orgasms.
When I began my lessons as Michael's pet, I was a bundle of contradictions, a defiant streak contrasted against the appearance of the little girl who was lost. Either way, I was his toy all wrapped in layers of ribbons and tissue.
He put me through a series of choreographed games that were designed for me to fail, but, so what? I thoroughly enjoyed the thrashings because ultimately, the orgasms that followed were mind-blowing. So, the rule was set in place, no cumming without his permission.
~Guilty Pleasures~
One time, I tested the boundaries he'd set and I was quickly shown to the door. It was his way or the highway. I promised to be good, but that was not enough. He made me do what I didn't want to do, practice, practice, and more practice waiting to orgasm until given the command.
"Did my little bitch behave today," he teased as he kissed me.
I knew that question would come up as soon as he walked in.
"Yes, sir," I said looking down.
"Of course, if you didn't, there would be consequences, right, my pet?"
He snooped around the room. I avoided his eyes but it was hard. He couldn't guess, could he? Was the smile on my face a little tense? Maybe I was a little too chirpy. Oh, save it, he won't know.
Nervously, I straightened the pillows on the couch checking for evidence of how I used them this afternoon. It hadn't been the first time, either. The cum was gentle but sweet. Sooner or later, I'd have to pay the piper, but I wasn't ready yet.
What if he found out? I'd be punished, or worse! He might leave. I'd be so sad. Should I admit that I lied and hope for the best? No! I'm going to stick to my story.
But I was busted. He could tell from my placid expression and calm demeanor.
"Go get your toys."
It didn't sound like he wanted to play with them.
"Bu . . . but . . . why . . . ?"
"You know why."
I challenged him petulantly. "How do you know?"
"I know."
And he did.
Whining, I stamped my foot for emphasis.
"But I gave you my word."
It was not a smart thing to do.
He pointed to the door and said, "Go and get them or don't come back."
"Oh, all right."
I felt like a teenager being made to pick up my room.
~Show and Tell~
Later, carrying a loaded gym bag, I returned like the prodigal son. Ironically, 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction' was playing in the background. Michael took the bag and dumped the contents on the floor. His hands were on his hips as he grimly surveyed the stash. I hung my head in shame.
"Strip."
Surprised, my pout disguised my glee, but, as I removed my clothing, my body was betraying me. There I stood, like a penitent, head bowed, hands behind my back, and my legs spread slightly apart.
"Name each one of them and describe their features. Don't skip a single detail."
Michael fixed his twinkling eyes on my face. He didn't want to miss a word as I began my descent into disgrace.
"May I sit?"
He nodded.
Sitting cross-legged, as if sharing my toys with a friend, I laid them out in rank, from favorite to least favorite. I stumbled through the features of each item with growing difficulty.
"What do you use this for?" he questioned, as he pointed to a jiggley double dildo.
I didn't answer fast enough, for he pulled a rope out of the pile of toys. His eyes narrowed when he realized I was squirming. I stopped. My pussy was flowing like a faucet.
"I can't hear you," he said, arranging a little bottle of rosemary oil, lubricant, and an ice pack on the side table.
My eyes clouded at the prospect of a nasty admission. The toy I used with Cindy was almost destroyed.
"Mm, uh," I stalled. He tapped his foot impatiently. "Cindy brought it home one night. We were bored . . . and. . ."
I couldn't look him in the eye. He knew what we did with it.
"And . . . " he waited, as I was compelled to lie but couldn't.
"I'd stick one end in me and the other end in Cindy," I said, running the words together so he wouldn't understand them.
"And who enjoyed it most?"
"Cindy."
It was a fib.
Then, he picked up the long-handled vibrator with the hefty head. It was my beloved Hitachi, but it looked like a weapon in his hand. He shook his head solemnly.
"And whose is this?"
"Cindy's." I answered belligerently.
Michael knew that all the rest of the toys would be Cindy's.
"What does she do with it?" he asked, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.
"She plugs it into a socket," I yielded, "It makes a LOT of noise."
"I bet."
"The big head vibrates my pussy until I pop." I confessed and was miserable at this personal revelation.
"Okay, let's see how it works."
Using his long, strong arms, Michael ensnared me.
~Lessons in Obedience~
"Kneel."
Never having seen him like this, I was scared. Once he fastened my collar and cuffs, I had just enough spirit to struggle and continue to piss him off.
"Little gamine, you are a frustrating bitch."
Michael laid me face up on the oversized coffee table and tied my ankles to my thighs, leaving me painfully exposed. I looked like a trussed turkey ready for stuffing. My face was a picture of a cat being held against its will, my lips peeled back from my teeth, fangs glistening. An evil laugh erupted from him as he secured the flailing wrists to my torso with a wide leather belt.
Offering the wand in one hand and my favorite riding crop in the other, he started a favorite game.
"Choose."
I knew if I chose one, he'd use the other. We've played this game a number of times and he was very predictable. But THAT was what Michael wanted to shatter, his predictability.
"The wand." I said meekly.
"We aim to please!"
He spread my labia and gently blew warm moist air on it. My eyes were closed and cat-like smile danced on my face. He flicked all around the labia, alternating with the clit using his long, pointy tongue. I was totally relaxed and into the oral stroking, and soon, my pussy had reddened.
Michael applied rosemary oil on the head of the wand. With the expertise of a sadist, he applied the wand directly on the stubby nub. I had never experienced the sting of rosemary oil on my tender bud and it took a few minutes to take effect. I acknowledged it with a piercing scream. Tiny shards of electrical pulses sluiced through my nether lips.
He cooed at me, removing the wand to watch my face as tears of pain flowed like a fountain over my now distorted face. My body convulsed for several minutes and cries turned to whimpers. It must have melted his heart. Perhaps he had been a little harsh with me. An ice pack was applied to my burning hole. The shock sent me into a series of spasms that ended in mewls. Then I rested, with the ice pack firmly ensconced between my legs until my breathing returned to normal.
"Let's try this little fellow," he said, wiggling the dildo menacingly.
As he slicked it up with rosemary oil, I moaned at the anticipated burning.
"Oh no, not again!"
I tried to roll my hips away, but it was useless.
Michael pulled my bubble butt to the edge of the coffee table. Cold, viscous lubricant cloaked his condomed cock and he moved his steely rod against my bum.
Understandably delirious, I wasn't quite ready for him and he'd been looking for that moment. He wanted to see my face as he forced me to yield to him. Slowly, he pushed the head inside my sphincter and paused until both rings gave way, one after the other. I grimaced in a concentrated effort and my back arched as I opened to him, forgetting everything except the natural inclination to be frightened of my Achilles heel, letting loose.
He saw the beads of sweat between my breasts and dew on my upper lip.
"Face me. I want to see your eyes. Now!"
Drowning in the sea of green eyes, he pushed in an inch at a time with practiced self control. It hurt a little on every thrust as I sucked air. I hoped it would always be that way. I pushed back against him. As he moved deeper, my eyes looked through him, thoroughly ensconced in the feeling of his hardness sliding in.
"Please." I whimpered, as he removed the interfering dildo and threw it aside.
Michael strummed the apex of my mons, stopped at every third stroke, then began again. My eyes were fixed on his with intensity, visibly begging for release. Gently twisting my nipples, he started my ascent.
"Don't break contact with my eyes," he panted.
I knew he would stop. The very thought briefly struck a masochistic chord. I hissed at the transition between pain and building ecstasy. Michael reveled in the sensation of firm resistance against his firm cock as he continued to plow my asshole.
"I need it to end . . . please!" I begged with tears in my eyes.
Lifting me off the table, he grabbed my hips to steady his target. He looked at me, his weeping slut, and nodded. I heard a piercing scream that sounded like a wounded animal and realized it was me. Then, he gently rocked me on his pole as I rode the waves.
It was just a matter of will, his will. I learned to submerge myself to it and he spoiled me just a little, to keep me wanting more. And I wanted a more, a lot more.
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