Perchance to Dom Ch. 3 by DiscipleN

Rating: 86%, Read 8458 times, Posted Nov 26, 2014

Fiction | BDSM, Cruelty, Oral Sex

Chapter 3

I called off my date with Gina. I told her in person.

"Too bad. I was considering buying black fishnets for the occasion."

"On you, they might have turned into a fetish for me."

"Instead, you turned into a shit." Her shaking head underscored disapproval.

"Look. You're only interested in playing, pretending more than participating. I won't get what I need trying it with you.

"I would have made it worth your time and, ahem, effort." Her swallow following her words spoke truer. Gina didn't back down or apologize to anyone. That she would hold out a reconcilement...

"Gina, I-I didn't think." I reached to hug her.

She swatted my hands away. "I've got an engine to overhaul." She left me then. I retreated home.


"I'm trying to think."

I let her be. She found me in my room half-hour later. "Have you been crying?"

"Yep. But it's not related to what I wanted to ask you."

Mother seated herself on my desk chair. "Ask."

"What does love feel like?"

"I can't tell you, not the love I think you're asking about."

"I feel sad, powerful, stupid, horny-"

"You've taken a big chunk of love already. You'll get there."

"What would you do if you loved me with this kind of love?"

"I'd tear off my clothes and prostrate myself before you." Mom laughed, "What a question!"

"Silly answerBoy finds challenge in emulating his parents BDSM lifestyle. noted." I looked at my feet.

"May I leave?"

"Okay." My swirling thoughts missed her clue, and my memory lost the chance to contemplate it later.

Ten days passed. I was looking at colleges again when Bette's email arrived. She said she had peeked into Father's work computer to get my address.

I wrote back, "There are misdemeanors, crimes, and governance in this world. Only the government can get away with illegalities without punishment." I told her I expected her in my room that night for governance.

"Bette, what a pleasant surprise." Mother greeted her at the door. "Did you forget something from the other night?"

"I came to see, Walter."

"Please come right in." Mother's voice lost some of its pleasure. "Walter, Bette Travers is here to see you."

"Thanks, Mom. Tell her to wait."

"Please wait for my son." Mother returned to her laptop in the kitchen.

Without an offer to sit, Bette waited standing.

I chose to meet her a few minutes later. "Hello, Bette."

"Ms. Travers, is more proper, Walter."

"Mom, she came to me. It's Bette."

Father had been sitting in his chair, the entire time, reading a wilderness survival guide. I thought, after dinner he had retired to his den. I thanked the gods that Bette hadn't said hello to him. Then I remembered, she'd worked with him for years. She knew.

"Come on." I told her.

She followed me to my room.

"Close the door." I waited for her to comply. "Did you bring it?"

"N-no, should I have?"

"I didn't specify it. It's not related to what you've done, not much. I left your email on the screen there."

She saw it.

"That is your email?"

"It is."

"You stole into my father's computer to learn my address. That's what it says."

"I did."

"Do you know how unbelievably stupid that is?"

"I'm not stupid!" She flared. I had said the wrong thing.

"W-wisdom and intelligence... er, two sides of the same coin. Foolish, then." I waited.

She didn't lash back, nor replied.

"I asked you to consider the magnitude of your trespass and to drive slowly getting here. You tell me how many stripes you think you deserve. I tell you how they'll be applied."


"That's an intelligent number, a good number but they're going to be a very hard twenty. Espionage is not in the same league as a flirt."


"You've given your number." I printed the email. I leaned over the printer and unplugged the power cord from it. "Drop down to your knees and unplug this cord from the wall. Stay on your hands and knees."

She handed the cord to me.

I waded the printout and held it before her face. "Open." I placed it between her perfect rows of teeth. "Bite down, and close your eyes. Don't do anything else until I tell you. If you spit that out of your mouth before I'm through, you will leave and never contact me again."

I stood tall and weighed the power cord in my hand. It was a nasty tool. I had received it very sparingly from my father. There was a trick to using it as safely as possible, but it could never be considered a safe tool. Twenty were going to cause some damage, no matter how carefully applied.

I had told her to wear a skirt. I reached for it, pulled it over her ass, revealing nakedness.

She concentrated on the empty wall socket.

I heard Father and Mother passing my closed door. He took her into the master. I looked at the weapon in my hand. My cock stiffened. I needed this. I set down the cord and retrieved a belt from my closet.

I wailed twenty strokes against Bette's darkening ass. I was furious with myself and horny beyond belief. I wanted to plunge my cock into this willing hole and hit her with my fists. Instead, I hurled every stroke with all my pent up anguish and desire.

I feared my parents would hear Bette's cries barely muted by the wad of wet paper in her jaws. I shouted, "LEFT! RIGHT! RIGHT-RIGHT! LEFT-LEFT-LEFT!" and so on, to mask Bette's wailing.

Twenty strokes later found us emotionally exhausted. I helped her to lay face down on my bed. I sat on the edge beside her. My plan was to sit there until our tears had dried. Hers were far more and wetter.

Despite her pain, she reached to my trousers and felt for my erection. It seemed to reassure her, that some good had come out of her suffering. I opened my fly to her gentle knocks. "Go ahead." I said.

She took my cock into her soft hand and stroked me. "Left. Right. Left-Left-", and so on. Her humor surprised me.

I came upon her hand and my pant legs. I finished more exhausted and more alive. I sought to her needs.

"Pull your skirt up. I want to see your sorry behind."

Bette whimpered. "Mercy, please, Sir."

Damn if her submissiveness didn't make my satisfied prick harden a bit. I reached under my bed for some lube.

"Raise your ass. I don't want to get this stuff on my bed."

She obeyed and I spread the cool gel over her blushing patches. She had a wonderfully plump ass. When my hand reached between the back of her thighs, Bette cooed.

I was groping my toy's wet pussy when father knocked at my door. "Walt, what's going on in there?"

"I'm engaged in a private matter with Bette, Father."

"Finish up and tell her to see me in the living room."

That finished us, right then. I withdrew my hand from Bette's wet hole. I wiped with a tissue while she adjusted her skirt. We met Father a minute after his knock.

My worst fears were realized when I witnessed Father urge Bette to transfer to another department in their employer's company. He didn't want to see her around ever again.

I yelled at Father after Bette had driven away. He tore up my temporary driver's license. It was conditional on a parent's signature.

"You did nothing wrong until your outburst, Son. Ms. Travers was using you to coerce me into an act of infidelity." He handed the shreds of paper to me for disposing.

Something wasn't right. He'd had no problem with Bette going into my room. I clenched the paper bits in my hand. There was only one person who could have influenced Father. Had he been topped by his bottom?

I didn't seek out Mother until the next day. She sat in a posture more relaxed than I'd seen before. Her fingers seemed to dance upon the keyboard easily with few errors. Her cute little bulge of a few extra pounds wasn't thick enough to support the breadth of her chest. Her flowing auburn hair bent slightly from ends stuck in the middle-back of her wool sweater. Father kept the house at a cool 68F.

"I thought you didn't place conditions on Father's fidelity."

Mother stopped typing and sighed. "Father instructed you to not interrupt when I'm working." She pulled out the heavy firepower.

"It seems, Father's decrees aren't absolute in his house. What exception did you use to stop Bette from coming here again?"

"Your father has his own definitions for pride and honor. I asked him if he thought they were synonymous."

"Your saying that his honor to be faithful to you was endangered by his pride of me becoming a responsible adult."

"You're inferring a lot from a simple question. You're more wrong than I could convince you." Therefore it wasn't worth trying to convince me.

Mother's sly evasion was fuel for my passions. I remembered recent times when I yearned for this woman who had created me. She was strong and beautiful and a spirit few had the ability to own. I didn't, yet.

I put my hand on her shoulder. My grip startled her for a second. "You'll see Bette again, just not as often." She said.

"Did Father bring her here for me the first time?"

"That's not the sort of thing he tells me."

I released her shoulder when I saw her hand reach for mine. Its warmth would have melted my coldness, my feeble technique to resist falling completely for her. "Thank you, Mother."

In only a few weeks, I would be graduating from high school with honors, but my grades were not the best. A girl, Tamary Benton, enlisted me and a few others from our honors writing class, to critique her valedictorian speech. I agreed half-heartedly. I'd never really paid her much attention. I knew she was one of the smartest girls in school, but like most boys I concentrated my gaze on more attractive girls.

Tamary was not obese. She was fat, but because she was short, it belied her athletic interior. She was second string on the softball team, and she had handed my ass to me when our PE class covered tennis. Her typical student smiling mask, shaded by a clean and brushed mop of un-styled hair, no doubt hid some sadness. Her clothes were nice enough but again without style. I think she dated but not often nor for long with the same guy. I did hear that she had dated a girl on the softball team. Funny how most guys who considered themselves tolerant of homosexuals thought that most girls who dated other girls were "just experimenting".

We met in the school's smaller theater which doubled as the drama classroom. I was lost in thought. I nearly forgot to show up. My ex-boss from the car dealership had called to ask if I would consider a salesman's job for the summer. Did I really want to deal with Gina again? Seeing Cheryl regularly would be a plus - I'd been thinking seriously of starting up with her again, but my pride didn't like that I would backpedal on a decision that had affected others.

I looked up, when Tamary said, "…affects the nations of a school's community." She was talking about sub cultures, and she was carefully maintaining a very dignified posture. My imagination brought me to erection in the next sixty seconds.

She called on me third, after concluding. "Walter, how did it sound to you?"

"I'm still thinking about my notes." I hadn't taken any. I knew what I wanted to say. "I'll tell you after we're done here." I heard a few obvious hums intended to embarrass. Tamary paused, couldn't see if she blushed. That hair! To be kind, it wasn't that mopish, and she'd already said she'd made a salon appointment before graduation. She even showed the dress she planned to wear. The other girls loved it, mostly because no matter what she wore Tamary wasn't in their league of sexual competition.

I would find out that no other girl in the school was able to be in her league.

"Okay, Wally dearest." She winked. I laughed with the rest of her critics. That made it easy to approach her later.

"Wally? Even joking, if a guy called me that I'd have to punch him out just to prevent anyone from taking it seriously." I grinned.

She looked serious. "Do you really have something to say? I saw you spacing out. It's not as if the lights were off in the seats and on in my eyes."

"First of all, you shouldn't start your speech with a joke." I returned. "I know that seems counter to convention, but in your case humor will distract the students from what you say next."

"How could that be? That's a good joke and everyone else said it came off well. Did you even hear it?"

"You wanted a critique, and I say this without malice. A joke won't work for you because you're not beautiful." Her reaction would be critical to what happened between us later.

My words angered her, visibly, but she spoke carefully. "How does that even matter?"

"Because a joke from a fat girl is not respected in this world, especially not by social-status shitheads like high school students. You need to start with something vicious. You need to sound like a threat. They'll pay attention, and when you do make a joke, they'll relax without dismissing what you say." I stepped closer.

"You're, th-the shithead." She stepped back.

I nodded and stood straight. "I'm sorry to be rude. I do respect you, Tamary. You've got a lot of pluck and resilience and smarts. But am I wrong?"

"Maybe. I don't know, right now. I have to weigh what the others said."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

"Is that your whole critique, not to start with a joke?"

"There's a lot more of the same rudeness, but I sincerely want you give a great speech."

She stood her ground. "Okay."

I called her "fat" a few more times and said "ugly" but not about her looks, and few other rude things carefully wrapped in genuine, helpful suggestions. I didn't look at her much, trying not to emphasize the insults. I just wanted her to hear me say them. I discovered a good word when I said, "Poser."

"I've heard enough." She stopped me. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to let your insults bound around the auditorium?"

"I thought you'd stop me before I said five sentences."

"Why are you doing this? A last make fun of the fat chick before graduation? Here we are on stage, and yet you wasted a brilliant dissing before empty seats." She snorted. "Shithead".

"I've been called worse." I grinned.

"Yeah, what?"

"Creep, for one thing. It really hurt. I have a lot of pride in my respect for people. Tamary, I'm not here to make fun of you. I'm here because I'd like to make myself available to you."

"What, to hear you call me 'fat?'"

"Or 'impostor', or whatever you-"

Tears flooded her eyes, and she ran off the stage.

I knew I'd made the wrong call. Tamary could handle insults, but that's not how she wanted to submit. I took a different tack the next day. It was a last chance effort.

I waited for her outside our writing class. When she saw me she turned her head away. I stepped between her and the door. "I just want to say, next time I'll tie you up so you can't run away." I turned and walked to my seat.

She didn't look at me again the next day, except for two very curious peeks. I didn't confront her. I'd said what I had to say. After the weekend, I went to class with my writing assignment, confident in its prose. We always read our work aloud. Mine was short and everyone hated it, even though it got some laughs. Tamary didn't laugh. Instead, I saw her suddenly look down at the floor after the opening paragraph.

"Macy T got caught by a carbon fiber ribbon painted red. It cut into her arms and sucked at her wounds. It tore her dance outfit and wrenched her arms together behind her back. It wrapped her ankles and pulled her to her knees. And all the while the stage manager's eyeballs rolled along the ribbon, peeking into skin crevices and sneaking between ripped sequins. She dreamt of the contract she had willingly signed."

My two page 'work' used bondage imagery to tell of a woman rapper's shame for having to sign a one-sided contract with a gatekeeper, not for fame but just a steady job.

Problem was, I don't know shit about rap music, I just thought rap was transgressive, admired by the youths of today. Apparently it's old hat. I didn't account for my class of mostly rich, workaholic, white shitheads. Rap ignorance was the first thing my classmates pounced on. The second was about blatant (and therefore base) eroticism. At one point I said aloud, "Yeah, I don't know crap about rap. I admit it. I just wanted to write something that turned me on. If more of us revealed our desires, more of us might get them satisfied." School was nearing its end, and I didn't give a shit about my reputation.

I left the room before the class ended. I waited across the hall. After the bell, Tamary came out and spotted me. She stared, not stopping. I held up a page of paper. On it I'd scrawled, "I know the truth about you." I waved my head for her to follow me down the hall in the direction opposite she was headed.

"Trust me enough to decide if I'm worth your trust." I said when she caught up to me.

"You have a stupid way of instilling initial trust." She meant the insults.

"That was stupid. If you can forget that, I'll try to be smarter."

"I can't forget it. I know you weren't insulting me, after I thought it over. You were probing. You hit the wrong button first." Tamary was a girl who had bursts of openness. She was typically more shy.

"So the insults did 'work' for you."

"No." She looked to the floor, walking. "Not, that way." She took a deep breath. "But in the way you said the next day…"

"Let's go outside." We skipped our next classes. I led her to a tree near the edge of the school grounds.

"I'm going to twist your arm behind your back and tell you something." I reached out my hand.

She didn't offer hers, but it twitched in my direction. I took it gently and stepped behind her, drawing her arm back. She kept looking at the ground. I could feel her pulse race in her wrist.

I whispered, "You are very smart and knowledgeable and competent and incredibly productive, and you think you've fooled everyone." I twisted her arm until her first wince. Her breaths gasped between stiff pauses. Her body shuddered. I sensed she was crying but not because she was sad or hurt. It was because she was relieved. I was forcing her to abandon false composure, but I didn't tighten my hold any further.

"If I had a length of soft rope, I'd make it very hard for you to move, hard for you to pretend. And after a time I'd make it so tight you couldn't continue the lie that your future would trap you with."

"I can feel something."


"Not good. It hurts. You're tightening it too hard."

I kept my hold exactly as it had been. "Better?"

She squirmed trying to find an easier position. "Maybe you should let go."

"Maybe I should tear one of your tendons." I kept my hold the same. "I've come too far to back down. Now admit it. Admit you're a fraud. Everything you've got came to you. You didn't spend more than minimal effort. The fat in your belly and cheeks and arms prove that you don't deserve the honors given to you."

"I worked. I worked hard!" She argued. "You're really hurting me."

"Listen to your body. Follow the pain into your soul and look under it. It's there, waiting for you, the gremlin of your worthlessness." I grabbed her neck and shook her head a bit. "See it!"

"No. It's not real. You're lying. I-" Her body heaved. It came from her loins. "Aaahh!" She grunted.

"You can feel him tearing at your belly. The pain is worse there, worse than in your arm. You fool. How long can you repress what you really are?"

"H-he's tearing at me! It's fire in me. I can feel him, hurting." Tamary groaned then. Her body was stiffening in my grasp.

My hand at her neck reached down and cupped a breast. I pulled it to one side. "Look deeper, under the fat and procrastination and deceit."

She convulsed. "Oh! Stars! It's in my cunt."

"Damn it, you almost got away. If I only had a rope! That's what you really need. Isn't it?"

Her body fought against my arm lock. Her other arm flailed. She sobbed. "Yeees! Please. But I can't take more. Ooohh!"

I let go. Her arms hugged her body that was wracking with release. She huffed and gasp. "Damn!"

I waited, amazed at what had happened under my supposed control. "But you want more, right Tamary?"

She caught her breath, slowed her shudders, hung her head, and nodded.

"Give me your phone number. I'll text you first. Text me back when you've bought what you need."

"Do you want a blow-job or to fuck me?" She stunned me. I almost went, "Huh?" She explained, "I don't mind. It's a good way to find out if a guy is serious. I've got condoms."

I held my breath, counted to twelve. "You're not ready for that." I bid her leave and walked home.

The next time I spoke with mother, I thought I was teasing her. "Before next week, I'll be staying late at school. I want to tie up some things before graduation."

"If you're not here when we need you, Father may have to take your cell phone away and give you a strict time to be home."

"I'll be sure my chores are done."

"A Mr. Brian Finch called. He said he wanted to offer a summer job at the car dealership."

"How's my college fund, Mom?"

"It might keep you from being completely enslaved to student loans."

"What did you tell him?"

"That's for your father to decide."

"What do you think?"

"I think car salesmen are lamprey sucking on bottom feeders." She smiled. "You'd be perfect for it."

"I would, depending upon the person at the bottom." I patted mom's shoulder and walked confidently to my room.

Father found me there shortly after arriving from work. "Walt, have you been touching your mother inappropriately?"

"In my judgement, no."

He left and took mother into the master.

Mom didn't sit down during dinner.

I got a text message. Tamary had bought twenty five feet. After dinner, I studied on the internet. I texted her back, telling her how many pieces and to what lengths she should cut them. I told her to get the green room key from the drama teacher.

It wasn't a green room proper. It was more like a coat closet with a mirror and a table and chair. It was just big enough for a couple boys or girls to change costumes during a performance in the little theater. However, the pole for hanging coats was strong.

All that day, in school, I practiced tying six critical knots. They had to be secure, comfortable, able to be made uncomfortable, and could be loosened by the victim eventually if something went wrong, unless it went very wrong very quickly. My job was to make sure that didn't happen.

We had to share the theater with a handful of drama students practicing after hours. But the instructor had told them to respect Tamary's privacy in the changing room.

Tamary locked herself in and recited her speech. Actually it was the same bullshit speech she had originally written. The curious quickly lost interest. She was working on a replacement.

I knocked at the door when nobody was in sight. Shave and haircut is still corny but cool. I greeted her with a hug after re-locking the door. I continued to hold her. I peered into her eyes until she looked away. "Bring them to me." I let her fetch the rope. It was red.

"Keep your clothes on." I hefted a short length. It was expensive cloth rope. Tamary was not a girl of much means. This was important to her.

She stopped unbuttoning the top button of her shirt.

"Hold out your hands and put your wrists together." I slipped a handcuff knot over her hands and cinched it tight. I took a similar length and tied a double half hitch around coiled length between her wrists. The other end I pulled over the coat rod and secured her hands until they were cramped against it. Standing, her head didn't quite reach the bottom of the pole.

I took the smallest length and created my own version of a gordian knot. "Now you can't run away or scream." I stuffed the knot into her mouth. I sealed it in with duct tape I had brought for the purpose. "You were so foolish to trust me like this."

Tamary flinched. Her eyes darted back and forth, her mind calculated. I wasn't going to give her any chance to get away. She tried to kick me, but I caught her foot and wrapped a long length around her ankle and thigh. She had to then stand on one leg. Her hands were tied over and behind her head.

"I'm going to slap you now." I warned. She shook her head and blinked. She uttered, "Uhn-uhn." I smacked her forehead like a stooge would to another stooge. "Silly goose. This isn't about physical punishment. This is about you admitting who/what you really are, a fraud."

She shook her head.

"I've had enough of that." I tugged a long piece of duct tape and cut it. I planted the middle around her chin and twisted the ends up way past her ears. I took a short length of rope, ran it around her bound wrists and tied square knots to the twists. This forced her head back against her arms.

"Now you'll listen to the truth. I told the drama teacher about you. He agreed that this was what you deserved. Why do you think you got the key so easily?" I lied. I grabbed her back with both hands and crushed my belly against her tits. I spoke in her left ear. "You're a liar and a sneak."


My arms wrapped around her fully and my embrace held her more firmly than rope. "He wanted to fuck you, but he couldn't risk it. I bet, though, if I brought him in here he couldn't resist. Rope make you as sexy as you'll ever get. He'll like your whimpering too." I bit her ear.

Tamary cried but not from pain. I hadn't bitten hard. She knew I was lying. She could believe that I wasn't. What if the drama teacher found her trussed like a delicacy hanging in an abattoir? What if he tore her clothes in the right places and mauled her? What if he pulled out a dark dick and spewed seed into her belly? My fantasies were starting to get the best of me. I focused my thoughts on her chest.

For a short fat girl, her breasts were slightly more than a handful. Their size was hard to gauge through her wire bra and shirt. Our bodies pressed together, her tits mashed into my lowest ribs. I dug my fingers into her back. "Think, woman. You deserve to be locked up, trussed up, hung on a public lamppost. The world hates posers and pretenders. Don't try to forgive yourself, or it'll go twice as hard against you. Accept your guilt and repent. Feel your resistance fade. The rope clings tighter, to squeeze out your deceit. I clutched her against me as hard as I could. "Let go of pride."

Her next reaction was strong. I barely held on to her. She had resisted as long as she could. Her nose beat air in and out. Her torso wrenched in my grip. I moved my hands down to her ass and lifted her. She was pretty heavy. I forced her legs apart with my crotch between. "Wrap your free leg around my thigh, you fake, or I'll tell another teacher - how about our honors writing instructor?"

Her leg gripped behind my knee. She was a strong girl. I nearly lost my balance. Her crotch bucked into mine as if we were fucking. I had a painful hardon, and her dry humps grated my briefs against it.

"Think I could convince him to make you write the truth about yourself, make you read it aloud in class? Maybe that's what you should read for graduation." I licked her neck and raked my teeth across it. Biting down I held her like a duck. I felt like I was trying to suffocate a 140 pound salmon by keeping it above the water she could escape into.

She kicked the back of my thigh with her heel. It was involuntary, the only physical piece that could express her mental turbulence. Was she facing her fear? Did her body recoil from or revel in guilt? Were the kicks diminutive echoes of explosions wracking her with pleasure? I felt a powerful groan erupt from her torso, rush through her lungs, and rumble her gag.

"Uuunnnggghhh!" Her eyes rolled into the top of her head. Her entire body convulsed. I wanted to cum. I'm pretty sure she did.

I'm pretty sure she did again when I explained, "Cumming is like a lie detector. Your body tells you the truth. Accept what you are, impostor! Greet your lies with lust and bed down with them. They will make you cum again and again."

I seated her crotch on my right thigh and bounced her. "I'll let you go, if you can stop cumming like a bondage slut." I wanted to rip our pants off and fuck her proper. I knew her purse had condoms. But this was our first time. I had to be cautious. After separating and straightening my clothes, I untied Tamary. I supported her, preventing her from slumping to the floor. I dragged her to the chair and sat down. She knelt beside me, pressing her cheek against my stomach and breathing heavily.

"That w-was, sooo wrong."

"You can make it right." I unsnapped my jeans, unzipped them, and pulled them and my briefs to my knees. My hard cock caught musty air. She took it in one hand and drooled purposefully over it. When her mouth sucked me inside her throat, I worried about instantly filling it. Maybe she did too. She reached for her purse, cock stuffed into her cheeks, and filched a condom. Head bobbing, she unwrapped it. Her hands snuggled latex over my cock head in the instant her mouth relinquished and reacquired it.

I was overjoyed at my fate. This short, overweight, semi-athletic, braniac was the best cocksucker. She bound me with oral pleasure. Her hands were deft as pussy lips, and her mouth was a vaginal maw in need of hot spunk. Tamary sucked two loads from my balls into two condoms and left me hard. She reached for a third.

I thought we were going to fuck, until the drama professor knocked at the door. "Tamary, are you still in there?"

"Yes, Mr. Durst." She gulped. "I'm just making some changes."

"Heh, that's what the room's for. You can drop the key in my desk drawer."

We gathered our belongings. Tamary peeked out the door while I hid in back. She locked me in but returned when the coast was clear. It might have been a long wait except I was floating the entire time. Gods, I hadn't realized how much I would enjoy a good cum after tying and pleasuring a woman! And more joy looked like a sure thing for the last weeks of school.

Away from the auditorium, I told her, "We can't do this every day, but if you want to work on your new speech at my place, I'd enjoy your company."

"That's not a good idea. I have a boyfriend in college."

That didn't stop us from meeting in the changing room twice a week and hanging her up like maggot covered beef. It did stop me from wanting to fuck her for some reason.

During the stupid graduation ceremony, my mother and father sat dutifully. I chatted with friends in my row, and we sneaked a joint around. A couple flask bottles shuffled hither-thither. I passed it to the girl next to me when Tamary Benton strolled up to the podium and grabbed it with both hands. She yelled into the mike.

"One of you amazing kids at this glorious high school tied me up in a closet and forced me to see something of the truth of this world. I'm going to pay you back, right now, in front of all of you sick, beautiful people just to make sure I get the right one. I know who they are, and by they I mean one person who's sex will not be revealed. I don't see where they're sitting, but I can feel the ropes still biting into my wrists and ankles." She held up her arms and bared them.

"Thank you! You can't see the marks that I earned, like you can't see what it took to earn the privilege to speak up here. But I earned it all! I worked and I socialized and I took a lot of shit and gave it back and I was hurt and I found some happiness. Everyone of you should strive for it all, good and bad, until you know what you really need. I haven't found perfect fulfillment, but a tight knot is a good start!"

Faculty dragged Tamary off the platform. We, the graduating class, jumped and cheered! We nearly rioted our way out of the stadium, until we were on our own.

Rating: 86%, Read 8458 times, Posted Nov 26, 2014

Fiction | BDSM, Cruelty, Oral Sex


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