Snippets 2 by Foxbat (MF NC Bondage) Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor. Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered. For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out http://assm.asstr.org. You can search by title or author, or just browse. Happy reading. Thanks to ASSTR, I also have a website at http://www.asstr.org/~foxbat/ where you can find all of my work. This is also available via ftp at ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/foxbat/ Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com Snippets 2 by Foxbat (MF NC Bondage) Maybe it was because it was easier to say yes than no. Maybe I just didn't see what was wrong with it. Either way, I was what guys referred to as "an easy lay." I was the class slut, the village bicycle. I was the girl that other girls hated for breaking rank and whetting the appetite of boys by letting them sample the forbidden fruit. I was "she" in "but she used to let me do that." --- It was time for "Sexy Lessons." In the weeks since her kidnap, it consumed at least an hour a day, and often involved a tears, of frustration if not punishment. She began by reviewing what she'd already learned. Walk towards him, maintain eye contact. Lick lips, but subtly. Embrace, just above the waist. Gently clutch his shirt with both hands, right above his kidneys. Rest her head on his shoulder for a moment, before looking up into his eyes. Kiss. Soft, gentle. Sensual. Eyes closed for the first one, open afterwards. Remember, it's about him, not her. Slowly move down his chest unbottoning the buttons of his shirt, while beginning to massage his cock and simultaneously kissing the chest as it became revealed. Eyes big. Always maintain eye contact. Puppy eyes. Eyes are the most important. Show awe, appreciation. Picture the best thing in the world - look at the cock like that. Gently pull down the trousers, underwear, trailing nails against skin. Gently kissing, breathing almost, on the cock. Maintaining eye contact, big eyes. Never crowd the cock - always make it look big for its owner by keeping hands at its base when exposed and using no hands when it's in the mouth. Stroke the cock while licking the balls (but always keep them together!). Working on adoring eyes. Licking the balls loosely, then rooting lower, using her breath as much as her tongue to excite him. Her neck arched awkwardly as she worked lower. Crap - she had to get on her knees. "Move gracefully." His thighs clamped down painfully on the sides of her head. "Never clunk down. Think ahead where you need to move - don't interrupt the experience." He glared at her, as she peered back upwards. He reached down and smacked her left breast painfully hard. "Continue from here." --- China shattered and she cringed, still holding the tray helplessly from one hand. Tea soaked into the carpet in the silence. From his arm chair, he glared at her. The incident hung in the air, tormenting her with anticipation of his reaction. "You fucking worthless slut! I fucking pay you to come here and cook my fucking food and make my fucking tea and all you can do is spill it all over my goddam floor!" She felt like shrinking, but she couldn't leave or respond because that would mean losing her job - which she desperately needed to keep. "Don't just stand there you dumb fuck. Go clean it up!" She went into the kitchen, red-faced, to get a towel. He surveyed the damage, and waited for her to return. --- Jan 1st 2008 "You may cum now." I mouthed the magic words. I came hard, bucking against the restraints that held my legs up and apart, chained to the wall of the large dog cage I had bought. I pumped the two dildoes back and forth, one in my pussy, one in my ass, as the best orgasm I had had in 4 years washed over me. In its wake, I felt only a small guilt. About the same as I felt after two or three months of my enslavement. I knew enjoying it was wrong, but my need to cope was overpowering. *** I had woken up on the side of the road, dressed in the same clothes I'd been taken in. Three years of my life had elapsed since He'd captured me. At first, it felt strange - everything which had become familiar was gone. There was media, shrinks, and relatives to contend with. I felt angry - that years of my life had been stolen, buttressed by the opinions of everyone else around me. I was the victim. Now I've come to accept things differently. If it's ok for me to like the things he did to me, then it's ok for me to sometimes wish or pretend I was back. And that makes me wonder why he got rid of me. It's almost embarassing in retrospect. I hadn't realized what was going on at the time. A new girl had appeared, wide-eyed and terrified, just like I had been when I first arrived. He kept me around just long enough to see her break, for me to see him enjoying himself with his new toy. I know keeps two girls always, rotating them on offset three year terms: the other girl was released a year ago. *** When I left (I know that implied it was voluntary, but that's how I like to think of it) one of the first things I did was to have all the piercings he'd installed removed. In guilty moments in the intervening years, I sometimes fingered the scars on my nipples, my labia, thinking of him. Now they're back - a sort of tribute to him and what he's done to my life. If I could have chosen for it never to happen, I would have, but since it did happen, I can't help who I've become. *** She was "that girl" when every other girl says, "I don't care if that girl let you do that." She was just really really good at fucking. In every way imaginable. And utterly modest, often almost embarrassmed of her obvious skill. I remember in college - she was famous for her blowjobs. I got one once. *** She was on her knees in front of me. We'd been hanging out and drinking, playing some pong, earlier that night. Flirting, but very casually. As the party had dwindled, and we were getting ready to go, she pulled me aside in the house hallway. She leaned close. "So do you want to?" she had asked, with a completely neutral look. I was surprised by the question, but had quickly nodded. Now we were in the bathroom. She unbottoned by jeans, gently pulling them and my boxers down. My cock was already half-hard, and she slurped it up, so it went immediately down her throat. Her eyes flicked up to me. She let it comes mostly back out before swallowing whole again. This time, she stayed down, and I could feel the tip of her tongue poking against my balls. Her pretty eyes looked up at me, her mouth smiling self-conscouisly around my dick. After a few more deep thrusts, she let my cock go. "You can do it like this if you want." She placed my hands on her head, moving my hips with her hands on the back of my thighs, getting me to literally fuck her face. She remained largely passive, occasionally stroking my balls, but otherwise just allowing me to rail her. I was blown away by it - I'd never really seen anything quite like this. I'd learn later than she, for whatever reasopn, basically just had no gag reflex. This discovery, upon her her first time blowing a boy behind the bleachers, led to her high school nickname of "Hoover." It delighted her that she could so easily make boys contort in pleasure - and it wasn't until her third or fourth time that she learned from her girlfriends how unusual her talent was. I ground my public bone against her nose, watching her deliberately opening her mouth and pushing her lips further down on my cock. I could feel her tongue again, slathering back and forth against the front of my balls. Her throat continually making swallowing motions, massaged my cock as I came, hard. Without a tear in her eyes, she wiped her mouth, leaned back and smiled - unable to fully hide her pride in her talent.