Date: Thu, 04 May 2006 23:18:25 +1000 From: katie slutwhore <handjobexpert@hotmail.com> Subject: 'katie, hj expert' (bisexual, encounters) Usual deal: Don't read this if you're don't supposed to! Thanks to the site(s) that host stories like mine. Support the sites that support us! And write me if you like! - Katie How I got into this is another story in itself. In fact it's a rather long and pointless one, detailing the gradual sexual awakening, exploration and -- eventually -- submission of a teenage girl over a couple of years. And frankly the though of writing a 100kb or more text file is about as attractive to me as reading it is to you I'm sure. So here's a little bit of back ground and what you need to know, if you feel like skipping to the sex sir or ma'am, scroll down `til you see the asterix's: My name is Katie. I live in Melbourne, Australia. I am an eighteen year old (almost nineteen by the time you'll read this: mid 2006. Gifts of cash, alcohol and drugs will be considered!) girl. Longish (shoulder length) dark brunette hair. Slim but curvy body kept in shape by pilates, swimming, indoor soccer and an athletic sex life. I have extremely large (14dd) breasts for someone my age, my doctor says that I'll probably need a reduction at some point in the next few years otherwise I'll start having chronic back problems, but for now they don't belong to me and that's not for me to decide. I am a bisexual, collared and owned submissive slave girl. My Mistress is a 24 year old American expat named Cassandra, or Cassie, or to me, Mistress Cassie, or more simply `Goddess', and more frequently `oh please put it deeper in my ass ma'am'. To her and the people she makes me serve I'm known as cumslut, fuckpig, slavewhore, cumbucket, and I'm sure, many other contractions. I am so totally fucking for real you probably won't believe it. Hell I'm on a couple of dating/S&M sites, try and find me and say hello. I've been collared to Mistress Cassie for the best part of a year now, from the day I turned eighteen and legal. Any relationship we had before that is none of your business. But on that day, we both knew the fun would really being to start. See, Mistress Cassie wants me to be a whore. In theory I am, but my experience is somewhat lacking: sure I've fucked my way through significant portions of the male and female population of my highschool, and a couple of others that feed into my social circle as well. But that's slutty. Slutty is seeing the eight guys you sucked off at the party the same Monday morning, and probably giving one of them another gobbie in the toilets after class if he's brave enough to approach you. Truly whorish is coming home covered in the jizz of a bloke or three who's names you never even got, and will never see you again. I've always had a kinky bent, had nasty fantasies, and a submissive side. Mistress Cassie loves to bring that out and encourage it, not the least because it gives her many excuses to punish me in exquisitely painful and perverted ways for being such a goddamn fucking whore. She wants to see me be a whore, I want to be a filthy whore, it feels great to be a filthy whore; let's find a way for me to be a filthy whore. Now mind you, I may be submissive but that doesn't automatically mean idiot. In fact I can say without false modesty that I am quite intelligent and possibly too analytical for my own good, as I think about, deconstruct and negotiate with the terms and realities of my willful slavery on a daily basis. I willingly submit to obey my Mistress to the letter, knowing that to fail her will result in my punishment, knowing that I won't be rewarded for pleasing her, in fact I'll probably just be punished anyway: I am there to please her. Blessed with a body like mine, I can't help but think I was designed for sex, to pleasure women and men who have the ability to dominate me on an intellectual and physical level, to make me feel like the submissive, inferior piece of meat I love to be. It's half playing a role, and it's half a feeling of degradation and powerlessness that starts somewhere in my cunt and spreads out over my body, making my face flush and my toes curl. In fantasy land I could go out on the street naked, with a box of condoms taped to my forehead, and let any man, woman and/or beast have their way with me, with no consequences. Holy fuck the thought of that just made me very wet. But, as wu tang financial say, this ain't trading places, this is real fucking life. To do that involves breaking all kinds of laws and taboos and runs the risk of abuse and disease. Part of the thrill of this for me is its my dirty little secret. Hell I still even live with my parents, and they have no idea what's going on (lolz)! So for both safety and secrecy, we're lucky we have the internet. Not long after my eighteenth birthday I signed up for a few internet dating sites. Mistress Cassie and I drew up a strict set of rules as to whom I could meet with and what I could do with them. Designed partly for my own protection, and partly just to remind me that Mistress Cassie controls me completely -- like her order that on every fourth day I have to write `this whore is property of Mistress Cassie' on a piece of tape and attach it to my left breast, so its there pulling at the skin all day, reminding me who owns that skin -- these rules are inviolable and to be obeyed to the letter. I'm a good slave girl, and I do what I'm told. Basically I created profiles telling guys I wanted to meet with them to give them handjobs. I am slavewhorekatie, the hj expert! In my role as being a piece of meat designed to please other, superior people (ie everyone who's not me), I was to seek one off meetings with people to serve them, to get them off. Handjobs in particular were considered appropriate as I experience no physical stimulation at all in giving them, beyond the horny thrill of having a thick pulsing dick cumming in my hands of course. Mistress Cassie considered it the ultimate use of my body solely for someone else's pleasure. However, she made it allowable for me to use my talented mouth on guys over six inches in endowment, and offer tit wanks to guys seven and up. Sounds like a recipe for spam, doesn't it? And it is, I get approximately 50-75 emails every day to my profile. To help cull it even more the men had to be aged 18 to 22 with absolutely no exceptions, live within 25 minutes drive, and be available for discrete meetings in places like carparks late at night on weeknights and the like. The concession to my own life demands of work, school and possibly suspicious parents allows me to talk to them online through msn and the like, cyber with them etc if meets can conveniently be arranged, up until the time they can. I'm also allowed to meet girls and couples and service them, and the rules and age restrictions are much more relaxed. In that case, my Mistress reviews their profiles and communications and gives her approval or denial, sometimes at random. One extremely hot girl who lived locally she wouldn't let me fuck. She did however take the girl for herself, and pixt me a few teasing images as they were in the act. So far it's been working out great! The internet provides an online world of perversity and desire that I can log in and out of as the demands of my time and lifestyle permit. I have ultimate control -- perhaps too much control for a slave, despite everything being defined and controlled by my mistress -- creating the ideal safe and pre-defined fantasy situation for me to explore my whoredom. I meet guys, I pull them off, sometimes I suck them, sometimes I even fuck them and report to my Mistress at the nearest available opportunity for the appropriate severe punishments. I meet girls, I've met one couple so far and want to meet more. I'm experiencing a wonderful sexual awakening, and here's just a sample of it. ********************************************************************************************************** I don't think people realize how bitterly fricking cold it gets in the autumn months in the southern half of Australia. It wasn't still an hour and a half before midnight and my exhaled breath was already visible as steam in front of my face. Of course, the way I was dressed was most likely not helping this. I'd gone for the slutty police office look: Tight blue leotard, slit to below my navel, bulged out with my breasts, nipples barely visible under the edges of the slit, black army style belt, fake police badge, cop hat, even motorcycle cop sunglasses. Fishnet stockings making their way down to black converse chuck tailors. A bit incongruous yes, but I can't drive well in my high heeled boots, and can't risk being pulled over like this. That's why most of the ensemble was covered in a long hooded sweatshirt for the moment. Getting into my car and silently releasing the clutch, I let it roll down the driveway and coast out into the street before I started my engine. Ever since I've got my licence, hell even before, my parents were used to me disappearing at night and coming back in a few hours. They figured it was usual teenage things I guess? Maybe they thought I had a boyfriend. So long as they left me alone I didn't care. And so there was no harm in not waking them up anyway. I drove around the corner and parked on the curb. Turning on the interior light I took a small bag full of coke from my hoodie; enough for four lines. Two were chopped out on the dashboard and I blasted both rails in quick succession, enjoying the rush. Kids drugs are bad. But they make me feel good. Officer snorty, on her way to a handjob date, ah the irony. It was a short drive to where I was meeting sexydaleau69; ten minutes up the road, the quiet carpark out the back of a local sports complex. Choice meeting/groping/sucking spot for horny teenagers and closet homos alike. On a freezing Tuesday night in April it would probably be quieter than usual. Sexydaleau69 -- Dale I'm assuming, I don't care about his name, that was the profile name -- wasn't there yet. Not surprising, he lives a good 25 minutes away according to his profile. But that's the thing, when you offer eighteen year old boys a free wristy while dressed in a slutty cop costume in a carpark late on a weeknight, they're usually willing to travel a significant distance. I tilted the seat back and waited, lightly teasing my breasts through the blue lycra and enjoying the feeling of the cocaine and adrenaline mixing in my system. Before too long another car pulled into the carpark, headlights piercing the mist hugging the ground, and pulled to a stop in the row of spaces directly opposite mine. The lights flashed, once, pause, twice, pause, once. The signal I gave him, a little bit of clandestine fun. I shucked the hoodie and with a deep breath stepped out into the cold night. Lit by far off street lights I sashayed my way over to Dale's car, sunglasses and cap on, and knocked on the driver's side window. He wound it down and I said, in my best officer-bitch voice `get in the back seat and open the door please sir'. As I slipped into the back seat of his car I flicked the switch on the roof to leave the interior light on. This spot was private and I liked to see what I was doing, and more importantly I liked my boy to see what was being done to him. Besides, if anyone's watching, fuck it, I'll gladly do them next if they ask. Dale was cute. Young, still a few pimples, wiry, curly blonde hair. Tight jeans and one of those insipid striped polo shirts with random crap stenciled all over them. Glancing at him over the top of his glasses, I intoned, still in my cop voice `lose the pants please sir'. He eagerly wiggled out of them, kicking the driver's and front passenger's seats forward to give us space. `Boxers too sir', I ordered, losing some of the dominance in my voice to the huskiness I could barely control with the heat rising inside me. Those boxers were TENTED^Åoooh yes! He was at least eight inches. Unfortunately this was a day when I was prohibited from any significant blowjob action (8th, 15th, 18th, 26th of each month, Mistress Cassie's orders, lolz), but this was going to be fun, especially those lovely swollen, freshly shaved balls now hanging between his thighs. `Hmmmmm'. It came out more as a low growl in my throat, this was what I lived for, servicing people, getting them off. Tossing the sunglasses aside I crawled across the seat like a prowling cat, and with one feel swoop ingested his whole cock down my throat, balls deep. "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" he groaned and flexed, I could feel muscles in his ass clenching. I kept his cock encased in my warm mouth for three or four seconds before withdrawing, leaving a long trail of spittle stretching along his shaft to my lips. I gave him another slutty smile, tossing my cap aside, before taking my position on my knees before him in the space provided between the back and front seats, in between his spread legs. Using my throat goo as lube I began a strong, confident wanking motion, starting at the head, moving my palm to the base while keeping my thumb on his cum-hole, and moving back up. Slow, powerful, confident strokes, while the other hand massaged his balls from beneath. Dale's thighs were already lifting off the seat. God I love the inexperienced ones. "Please, please^Å.can I f-f-f^Å.ahh^Å.can I feel your tits?" he stammered. A lot of men like that for some reason, and it's not against the rules, only cunt contact is. This leotard can barely contain my massive sweater puppies anyway, and it was the work of but a second to pull it back so they popped out in the space provided. He immediately groped them inexpertly, before his thumbs found my nipples and settled into a circular motion. I was meanwhile working his dick faster and faster, squeezing his balls tighter. Dale was making sounds from the back of his mouth, his breath coming in short bursts his ass clenching and unclenching, his hips thrusting up and down, trying to fuck the air^Åit wasn't until I did this that I understood the idea of cum `boiling' up in a guy's balls. I could almost feel it, with another half guttural, half strangled cry, he tensed, and, ahhh, yes! It started flooding out all over my hands, down his shaft, dripping down to my hand fondling and massaging his balls. Hot, salty, white, gorgeous thick cum. It's times like this I curse things like AIDS because it looked so deliciously inviting, just to lick him clean. But like I said, I'm submissive, not stupid. Instead, I used my hands to massage his wonderful sperm into the shaft of his dick, getting it and my hands wet and sticky in the process. Dale had collapsed back onto the seat, his muscles relaxed, his breath coming in deep gasps. But the only part I cared about of him, that wonderful eight inch cum hose between his legs, was still rock hard. This is what I loved most about the inexperienced. I slipped my hand underneath him, between his butt and the seat. With the balls cupped on the flat of my palm, I found his puckered, flexing anus and stroked it, teased it, with a sticky finger, inserting just the tip of my nail into the hole. My other hand was stroking his thigh, but, after a long, slow lick from base of the balls to the tip of the head, resumed it's wanking action on his thick, pulsing hunk of meat. I don't know what it is, but I live the thick ones the best, the ones that I can barely get my hand around. Dale had this in spades. My patented switch to the light encirclement with just thumb and forefinger, barely touching the skin of the shaft, to prolong the ecstasy, was useless, my small hands wouldn't get around him like that! God I had to have this kid again. He was already grunting and groaning, being much more vocal about it this time. That's what I like, when they're so lost in the pleasure I'm giving that they lose all self-consciousness. By now I'm sure the crotch of my leotard was dark with the juices dripping out of my wet pussy. He seemed to be loving the almost-fingering I was giving his ass too, flexing and humping up and down on the seat, taking me in and out of his ass by millimeters. Oh shit I HAD to have him again. No matter what the consequence, what the punishment Mistress Cassie devised was. No matter how hard she made me bleed, even if she finally followed through on the threat to take a shit on my face and tits^ÅI needed to feel Dale's cock in my hands, in my mouth, maybe even in my sopping wet cunt, again. I could feel his cock literally throbbing. His face was contorted, his hips had lifted his whole ass off the seat. Now for the coup de grace^ÅI leaned forward, and enclose his hot cock with my tits. Removing my hands from between his legs and squashed my tits together. It was enough. He literally shot his load this time, it sprayed up a full inch into the air before splatting on my tits. I sat back and kneeled on my haunches, enjoying the site and feel of his warm sticky load on my skin. He was flushed, all his muscles relaxed, his chest visibly rising and falling with his deep breathing. But before Dale could open his mouth I was gathering my things and out the door. Before I slammed it shut I leaned in from the outside and said `email me, we need to do this again next week'. He smiled, flushed, almost like he couldn't believe his luck, aww, cute. `How about same time next week?' he asked. `The 18th? Let's make it the day after' I smiled and sashayed my way back to the car. Epilogue: When I got back in took a few deep breaths and settled myself, barely aware through the hornyness coursing through my body that my tits were still hanging out of my hardly-there outfit, with some random boy's cum drying on them. I check my mobile, stashed in a the glove box. Shit, a message from Mike. Mike was my fuckbuddy of a few years. A couple years older, stupendously hung, wonderfully dominant. That rare find of guy who's a real sweetie but will still slap you around in the bedroom to the point of a blood nose and a black eye if you wanted it. And that's the way I pretty much always want it. He did me so well that Mistress Cassie allowed my relationship with him to infringe on my relationship with her, so long as she always got preference. The text from him was dated half an hour ago. Had I really spent that long in the back seat of Dale's car? All it said was `come over, now'. Oh god. He wants a fuck. I was so horny but so tired, I was just planning to finish this off with my vibrator. Oh well, you can't say know when you're a slavegirl. The two other lines of blow and I was ready and more than willing to satisfy him with my holes. Mike's place isn't far from mine so it was five minutes drive away. He lives on his own and his driveway is concealed from the road, so I didn't even bother putting my tits back in. I did take the sunglasses off and make a brief attempt at fixing my hair before I put my hat back on. Mike was sitting on the couch of his living room, I could see him through the windows by the light of the tv. Some shitty discovery channel documentary. He didn't bother to get up to let me in, just smirked as I walked in the door; `well if it isn't officer slut, what did you just do'. I giggled and smiled half-arsed coquettishly, and replied `well, usual car park pull off, you know the deal'. `Hah! You're such a whore!' Mike said as he stood up and crossed the room in two strides. Any lingering tiredness disappeared when I saw the bulge in his trousers. As soon as he was in range he reached out and slapped me on the face, twice, hard. My head still ringing, he grabbed me by the belt and dragged me to his room, throwing me face-down on the bed. `That's for making me wait, slut' he said as he grabbed my cunt through my wet leotard, pulling up to indicate that he wanted me on all fours. My belt came off and was wrapped around my throat, Mike grabbing both ends and using them like a set of reigns. OOOOOoooohhhh goody! Choke-fucking! He pulled the lycra off my sticky cunt and tucked it to one side in the crease between my thigh and pussy lip. I heard his jeans unbuckling and before I knew it his thick meat was thrusting into me from behind. From the way he grabbed the belt and pulled it taught against my throat as he rammed his whole shaft deep into me, I knew this wouldn't last long. I needed to make the most of this. That didn't take much effort. Apart from his hard thrusting dick filling up my hungry cunt that'd been aching for something in it for most of the night, I had the delicious feeling of my belt biting into the skin of my throat^Åhis dick filling me up so good, the choking timed with his thrusts, the feeling of being used so well^Åohhh yessssssssss!!! My cunt started clenching around his dick, milking it like my hands milked Dale. He pulled his cock out of my still pulsing cunt, groaning `oh Katie you fucking whore' and shooting his load all over my exposed ass crack. Aww, what a sweetie, he knows I love the feeling of come on my asshole. Well such generosity had to be rewarded, and fuelled by the adrenaline from my cum and the remains of the coke I got on my knees and slurped and slobbered all over his pole until he re-hardened. Treating him to an expert blowjob, he lasted long enough until my jaw almost got sore, before gripping my throat, pulling his dick out and shooting his second load all over my forehead and the top of my hair. He even used my hair to wipe his dick clean. Making my way out in the cold to my car, my outfit in disarray and stained, four loads of sticky cum on my hands, ass, tits and even in my fucking hair, about to sneak back into my parents room and go to bed without cleaning any of that mess up. It's time like that when I always think it: goddamn I love being a whore.