It Was Only a Story                  John J. Jones

Well,  I  HAD  written  the story about her, but I didn't think it would
come  to this... Well, maybe I dreamed it would, but I never had an
idea of  what  the  reality  of  it would be like... intense,
passionate, and fearful... I guess I knew the word all along...
submission. But as often as  I'd  written  about  it;  as  often  as  I
 experienced it in my own imagination,  it  was  nowhere  near  the
reality of it. But wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start
from the beginning.

I  write  stories, erotic stories. Obviously you know, that's why you're
reading  this. I've written a variety of stories, from the normal to
the bizarre.  I've  even  put  a  few on the net. Anyway, I had this
fantasy about  a  woman  at  work:  Corey. She's a college girl. I'm in
my 40's. She's  beautiful,  has curly, shoulder-length, strawberry
blonde, almost red  hair.  She has a smile that would melt steel. But
her eyes... those are  what  get  me  the  most.  I usually have a
knack for determining a person's  personality  and  thoughts  by  their
eyes.  In  a  way she's different, in a way, I suppose she's not.

At  first,  it  seemed  I  could  tell some things about her. She seemed
sweet,  friendly. Then one day when I helped her with a computer
problem at  work,  I turned to ask her a question and there it was...
that look. It  sent  a shiver down my spine. I went weak and helpless.
That was the first time I realized that my ability to read people was
being turned on me. She was looking right through me. It was as if she
knew my innermost fantasies  and  thoughts.  It  was  in  her  eyes  
and  the sly smile. I instantly  grew  nervous  and  forgot  what  I  
was doing. In a panic, I fumbled with the keys trying to get a grip
again as I looked away. I was almost in a cold sweat.

This  had never happened to me before. It was scary, but deep inside, it
turned  me  on. All the feelings I've had when I was writing about
being dominated  by a woman (or women) came sneaking to the surface
right then and there, and I was embarrassed. As I regained control, I
told myself I should relax. She couldn't know about any of this. I had
just met her. I was  just  over-reacting,  miss-interpreting  her  
look. When I finished fixing  the  problem  on her computer and looked
back once more, she had that  friendly  nice-to- know-you smile on her
face again. I drew a sigh of  relief  and talked with her a few moments
before I left her cubicle. Still a bit flustered, but a little more
relaxed.

Corey  is taller than me, but extremely well endowed. So I thought about
her a lot after that first meeting. I would go and talk to her once in
a while.  There  were  a  couple of times I thought I saw that look in
her eyes  but I would glance away. I was nervous. When I'd look back,
it was gone.  If  she  was doing this on purpose, she was good. Very
good. Then one  day I stopped by when she was wearing a skirt. She
turned around in her  chair, with that look on her face. I swear, I
almost dropped my cup of  coffee.  If she could have seen into the cup,
she would have thought there  was  an earthquake. My hand was shaking.
Her legs were fantastic. Again, I looked away and struggled to make
idle conversation.

It  was after that visit that I had to write a story. I had to vent. The
feelings   I   got   from   her   were  driving  me  crazy.  I  wrote  
a domination/submission story that was probably the most passionate I
ever wrote.  Passionate  in  the  sense  of  sex  and  the  sensation  
of raw submission.  I  understand  how some may find it difficult to
understand how  this could be defined as passion, but trust me... it's
just as much a  passion  of  taking  the woman you fantasize about into
your arms and making  love  at the time you're most ready, then putting
it into words. Even  after  completing  the  story,  I  would reread it
and get excited again.

I put the story onto my private site where only a few friends knew about
it.  I  received  a  few  comments  about  how  silly  the  idea of
male submission was, but everyone said the story was exceptionally hot.
After writing the story, I got more relaxed with Corey and decided I
would ask her to lunch.

I'm  kind of a talker, and I think I express myself well; it's necessary
for  my  job.  But  I  found  myself at a loss for words during lunch.
I talked  about  anything.  I  was  like a nervous kid. I was afraid I
was making a fool of myself. She never looked that way at me during
lunch, I was  just nervous. The topic of my story writing came up and I
mentioned the    public   site   where   some   of   my   stories   
were   posted, http://www.eroticstories.com. I thought she might like a
couple of them. They may even turn her on! Of course, I didn't say
that.

As  we  walked back, I summoned up the nerve to ask some questions about
her. She made it plain she would answer straightforwardly if I asked
her anything.  The  only  real  question I remember was what kind of
guy she liked,  and  the  only real portion of her response that rang
in my ears was  "I  like a guy who can take orders". She made that
statement with a smile and a giggle. Inside, I freaked.

The  words  rang in my head like a gong. Not merely for the fact that it
implied  she was a dominant, but something else. It was in my story.
The exact words. This happened on a Friday, just before we went our
separate ways  for lunch. The rest of the afternoon went right down the
toilet as far  as  work  was concerned. I was distracted, confused and
excited all wrapped  up  in  one  overwhelming emotion. Had she seen
the story about her?  I  had  changed  her  name,  but  there  were  a  
lot of beginning circumstances  that  would  have  left no doubt about
who the characters were.

The  rest  of  the  weekend  was  just the same kind of blur. I couldn't
concentrate,  I found myself pacing at times. I tried to watch movies
to divert  my  feelings,  but  nothing  worked. Friday night, I sent
her an email  with  a  link  to  the  public  site, just for something
to do. I struggled  with  the thought that she couldn't have seen my
private site and I had not physically shown the story to anyone else.

Saturday  was  no better. I woke up at my usual time, but didn't get out
of bed. I lay there thinking about her and the situation. Or was there
a situation?  Was I imagining things? If I wasn't, what was I going to
do? If she knew about the story, how could I face her again at work?
What if she  wasn't  really dominant and just thought I was some kind
of weirdo? Saturday  and  Sunday both found me pacing and looking for
things to do. Simple  things,  concentration  was  at  a  minimum.  I  
even canceled a computer consultation appointment with a client because
I didn't want to deal with the effort it was going to take to keep my
mind on the job.

What  was  I  going  to do on Monday when I went back to work? Where she
sat,  I  could  probably avoid her. I had taken vacation for the rest
of the  week,  so  I'd just have to avoid her Monday and Tuesday. But
did I want to? Did she want me to?

By  now,  you  can  see  how confused and tortured I was. I use the word
tortured  to  describe  the lack of direction to take. Well... then
came Monday.

I  tried to keep my mind on work, keep myself busy. I thought that would
be  the  key  to getting through this. But every hour or so, one
thought would  shoot  through  my  mind. Should I go over by Corey? The
confused thoughts  that  raced  through  my mind every time the
question came up, once  again,  distracted me from whatever I was
doing. Just before noon, the question had been answered for me.

"Paul,  Cory  called.  She  said her PC wouldn't start". Panic. I looked
around.  There  were  no  other  technicians to take the call. "She
said everything  looked  like  it was plugged in ok. You know how that
goes." The  receptionist  said,  grinning. Cindy was in her area! I
grabbed the walkie-talkie. "She asked for you." The receptionist said
as I picked it up. Well, that was it. One way or another I had to see
her.

Thoughts  again  flooded  my  mind  as  I hooked up my walkie-talkie and
headed  out  of  the  office  door.  She didn't seem the kind that
would embarrass me in front of everyone, so I didn't have to worry
about that. But  what  suggestions  or  comments  would  she make? I
could easily be embarrassed without anyone else knowing what was going
on. I was careful enough to use a "writers" name on my stories, so I
couldn't be connected with  them. I always used other names and places
IN my stories, so I was safe there. What was going to happen? Had I
done something stupid? Was I overreacting?

My  palms were sweaty and my hands were shaking as I neared her cubicle.
My  heart  was racing and I felt flush. I stopped just short of her
cube to calm down. "Paul! Whassup, guy?" a friend chirped up as he
walked by. Oh,  no!  No  time  to  calm  down.  She  had  to  know I
was there now. "S.S.D.D.!" I muttered as I continued my mission.

I  walked  around  into her cube with my usual smile, and I was in luck!
She  wasn't  there!  I set down my tool kit and started checking
cables. The  PC  monitor was hooked to the machine in a manner that
didn't allow the machine to be pulled out very far, so I had to get
under the desk to check  the  connections on the back of the machine.
Then I felt her. Her foot brushed my leg as she sat down in her chair.
I froze.

"There he is!" she chirped. "How was your weekend?" I went flush. Was it
my  imagination  again, or did her tone reflect knowledge of what I
went through?  I  looked down. She was sitting with her legs slightly
parted, wearing  the same skirt she had worn before. I could see into
the skirt, that  she  was  wearing  pantyhose, but no panties.
Everything above the waist was above the desk. "Paul?". I jumped at her
voice again. I took a deep  breath and realized I better say something.
"Sorry didn't know you were  talking to me! Too short, as usual! How
about you?" I responded as I  regained  my concentration and noticed
the power cord was halfway out of  the  machine.  It  could have been
kicked... or something. I avoided looking at her legs again as I
crawled out from under her desk and stood up. She wasn't looking at me,
but she had a smile on her face. I clicked on the machine and it came
to life. "There ya go!" I said, a bit anxious to leave at the moment...
yet... not.

"Sent  you an email about another problem I'm having." She continued. "I
had  a  file  attached  to  it  that I couldn't open. Did you get it?"
I hadn't  checked  my  email all morning. It's one of the things I
forgot. "Not  yet,  sorry!  I'll look as soon I get back downstairs." I
replied. "Good. Thank you for getting here so quick!" she said and
turned to look up  at  me. The look was half there. She wasn't upset
with me obviously, but I didn't know what to make of it.

My  heart slowed down as I went back to the office. It may be ok, I told
myself. Let's see what's in this email.

I  sat  down  at  my  desk and fired up email. Her message was there. It
explained  the  problem she had opening the file. I checked the file.
It was  a WordPerfect 4 file. We used MS Word at our office. This was
going to  be  an  easy one. I called her and told her that Word would
not open this  version of a WordPerfect file. Her voice, although it
was soft and sweet,  crackled  like  lightning  over  the  phone.  "I  
know.  I  have WordPerfect  4  at home, and it's not opening there,
either. You consult on the side, right?" I went numb. I thought I
swallowed my tongue. There was dead silence for what seemed like an
eternity.

"Sure!"  I finally managed to almost squeak out. Confusion about what to
say  set  in  again, but it didn't matter. "Good. Here's my address."
It obviously wasn't a question as to whether or not I would come out
there. She  gave  me her address. "Tonight or tomorrow night?" she
asked. There was  no time to think about it. "Tomorrow night will be
fine!" I blurted out. I looked around and was relieved that no one was
nearby to hear it. "See  you  around  6?  I'll have something for
dinner!" She had an early shift,  since she went to college on
Wednesday and Friday, but for me, 6 o'clock  was  pushing  it.  I had
to get home and get the car and get to where  she  lived  in  less than
2 hours, but it was possible. And I was excited  and  yet apprehensive
as a school kid. "I'll be there!" I said, looking around before I said
it this time.

Another  afternoon  at  work shot to hell. So was half of Tuesday. I was
excited,  passing off the harder problems, whipping out the easier
ones; not  telling a soul about anything. On the way home on the train
Tuesday Evening,  it  hit me... my story... I had my first encounter
with her in my story at her place! And I had gone over to fix a problem
with her PC! I  became  oblivious  to  everyone else on the train as I
felt myself go flush.  It  couldn't  be... it was just coincidence... I
mean, I work on computers. She knows that. She just needed help or she
was just using it as  an  excuse  to get me over. It couldn't have
anything to do with the story.  It  was a hardware error in the story
anyway... I almost blew my stop  on  the train. I walked into the
house, washed up and changed. All the  while  thoughts  running through
my head about what the night would hold. I picked up my jacket and car
keys and walked to the car.

Traffic  was  pretty bad, but I made it to her front door at about 5:55.
"On  time! I like that!" she said coolly as she opened the door. I
stood in  shock. She was wearing a one- piece midi skirt, red, bright
red, and tight.  Just  like  in  my  story.  My thoughts raced as I
instinctively turned  and  looked  at  the door, then downward. Oh,
geeez, is this all coincidence? Or does she know?

"Are  you coming in? Or are you going to stand out there all night?" she
smiled.  I  was  startled  slightly and apologized as I stepped into
her townhouse.  It was attractive and you could tell it was a woman's
place; clean,  orderly and kinda "homey". "Let's eat first." She
quipped as she took  off  my jacket. Well, that was different. In my
story, I fixed her computer  first.  "This  way."  She  said  after  
she hung up my coat. I followed  her  down a short hall checking out
her beautiful legs and ass as she walked. Her hair was beautiful
against her neck and shoulders.

I  froze  one again as we entered the small dining room. Two red candles
placed   at   the   sides  of  the  table,  not  in  the  middle.  
Brass candleholders,  red  tablecloth, glasses of red wine. But the
kicker was the  napkins.  They  were  black.  This was all exactly as I
wrote in my story.  The  odds  were now too high for my comfort. Cory
continued into the dining room and looked back at me where I stopped.

"Something  wrong?"  she asked with a sly tone in her voice. I swallowed
hard.  Do I say something, or do I go along with this? I could feel
that my  face was flushed and my palms were getting sweaty again. If
she knew the  whole  story,  this  could  be  the best night of my
life... or the worst.  I  regained my composure somewhat. "Nice
arrangement." I managed to  say.  "Thank you!" she replied. "I
especially like the idea of black napkins  against  a  red tablecloth.
Your idea?" I asked. She smiled and practically  glared  at  me.  "No,  
probably  saw  it in a catalog..." I proceeded into the dining room.
"Or read it somewhere." She continued.

I stopped by a chair, took a deep breath, tilted my head back and caught
myself  closing  my  eyes.  "What's wrong?" she asked slyly. "You ok?"
I opened  my  eyes,  stared at the curtains on the dining room wall
across from me. "Ok, look, I'm sorry." I muttered. She walked around
behind me, as  I  stood  there  frozen,  like  a deer caught in the
headlights of a speeding car.

She  stepped  up against me, he breasts against my shoulders. She had to
turn  her head down slightly to whisper in my ear. Her perfume filled
my nostrils.  "You're  sorry?  Why?  Did  you do something wrong?"
Again, a different  location  in my story, but the exact words she had
said. If I had  been  any  more  nervous,  my  teeth  would have been
chattering. I couldn't  answer.  She  stepped  away and into the
kitchen. "I don't see where you've done anything wrong, so why don't
you sit down?"

I moved to a chair and sat down. I sat there quietly as she moved around
in the kitchen. Oh, no... the food, I thought. In my story, the meat
was filet  minion, with corn and mashed potatoes. Since she couldn't
see me, I  closed  my  eyes.  I'm  not  sure  if  it  was  a prayer or
a general statement.  Please... let this go well, I thought to myself.
I knew this evening could go either way from this point on.

She  brought  dinner out. It was pork chops. She set two more bowls down
on  the  table,  then  moved  to  the  other  side  and  sat down.
"Help yourself," she said smiling. First I took a pork chop from the
plate and set  it on mine. Then took a bowl. I removed the lid. Mashed
potatoes. I spooned  some  slowly  onto  the  plate,  trying  not  to
look at her. I replaced  the  lid  and  took  the next bowl. Corn. I
stared at it for a moment. "Don't like corn?" she asked. I jumped
slightly at her question. "Oh,  it's  fine..."  I  replied.  I spooned
some onto my plate and then started  cutting a pork chop. "Like pork
chops?" She asked. She piped up again before I had a chance to answer.
"Not a real beef person myself... steaks are usually too tough". I
dropped my fork on the plate. The sound echoed in my ears like a plate
glass window shattered by a brick.

"It  seems like you're nervous," she said. "Are you sure something's not
wrong?"  I  wiped  my  hands  on  the  napkin.  "I  said I was sorry."
I muttered.  She  smiled,  picked  up  her  fork  and  started eating.
She swallowed,  took a sip of her wine and smiled at me again. "Oh, you
must mean  the  story.  It  was  about  me, wasn't it?" It was final.
All the torture was over. I was busted. But how did she... it didn't
matter now. I  sat  for  what  seemed to be an eternity staring at my
plate. "Wasn't it?" This time it was more of a demand for an answer
than a question. So much  so, that I jumped. "Yes, yes it was." I
replied. Again, I couldn't move while she continued to eat. I felt like
a trapped animal.

Her  voice  was  soft  again. "You really should eat something." I still
couldn't  move.  "You  may  need  the  energy  tonight."  Her words
shot excitement  and  fear  through  me  as  I sat there staring at my
plate. "Paul."  There  was the command in her voice again. I picked up
my knife and fork and began eating.

"You  know,  you're  one hell of a writer, Paul" she said between bites.
"But  has  it  ever  happened  to you for real?" The fear and
excitement started  a  stir  of  sexual tension that I'd only nearly
felt before in writing my stories, but this was more intense. I felt an
erection coming on. "No, it hasn't" I muttered.

"Hmmm... I really don't get into the word "mistress"... But I like to be
called  by  my  name. You wouldn't mind calling me Miss Corey, would
you Paul?"  I  hesitated.  "No." "No?" she piped back. I almost choked
on my food.  "I'm  sorry. No, Miss Cory." "Good" she replied. I felt
toes move their  way  up my leg to my crotch and stop to rub against
what was soon becoming a raging hard-on. "This is going to be a very
interesting night for you, Paul. Very interesting. Interesting for me,
too."

It  was  a short... but long dinner. The few times I looked up at Corey,
she  was  watching  me intently while she ate. One time, she clamped
her teeth  on  her fork and drew it out slowly. I was literally shaking
with fear,  anticipation and lust. When we were done eating, she stood
up and walked toward my side of the table. "Come with me." She said.

I  followed  her down another hall to the bathroom. She leaned against a
wall.  "Shower  is  right  there"  she said. My mind flashed back to
the story.  "Unless  you're  going to shower with your clothes on, I
suggest you  strip"  she said without moving. Now my erection was
dwindling... I began  to  undress.  I  had  my  back  to  her  as I
finally took off my underwear.  "Turn around." She ordered. My pecker
by now was all reduced to  about  an inch and a half in length. I
turned around. "Funny, felt a lot  bigger  than  that under the table!"
she smiled. She was twirling a toothpick in her mouth.

She  stepped  past me and pushed the shower curtain aside. My heart fell
into the pit of my stomach. In my story, there was a chain and
handcuffs attached  to  the  showerhead.  Corey had two pair of
handcuffs on a bar positioned  at  each  end  just  under  the  
showerhead.  "Look, I..." I started. I didn't even know what I was
going to say. "Get in, Paul." She interrupted firmly. I got in. She
took my left hand and brought it up to the handcuff on the left side of
the bar. I was standing there naked and confused. She took my other
hand and locked it to the other side.

Corey  stepped  back  from the shower and started stripping. "Yes, Paul,
it's  going  to be an interesting night." She said as she peeled her
red bra,  stockings,  garter and panties off. As she stepped into the
shower behind  me,  she  said,  "You  see,  Paul, I don't trust my men
to clean themselves.  They  never  do  a  good enough job for me. I
have to do it myself." I shuddered as I recognized it as another line
from my story. I was  in  for  a cleaning I was not going to soon
forget, and if I didn't stand  and  take  it,  it  was  going to be
worse. In my story, John was threatened  with nipple and ball clamps if
he pulled off the showerhead, so he had to hold his arms up and hang
on.

She  pulled the shower curtain closed and as she snapped on the water, I
muttered,  "please  don't  hurt  me." "What?" she replied. "Please
don't hurt  me,  Miss  Corey,"  I  repeated  more  loudly  through  the
water. "Remember,  Paul... I read the story. I know you're not into
pain. But I also  know  the  ways you make a man hurt without using
steel and pointy objects.  Yes,  Paul...  you're going to hurt. But if
you're a good boy, you'll  be  rewarded."  "But  if you're a good
boy...", yet another line from my story. She remembered quite a bit.

I was positioned so the warm water was running directly down my head and
body.  Corey  reached  over to the liquid soap dispenser and dispensed
a large  amount  of  soap on her hand. Then she reached over to the
window and  grabbed a small brush with a strap. She started rubbing the
soap on my  back,  then  washing  it  with the brush. The first few
seconds felt good,  but  the  brush  was stiff and it became more like
scrubbing than rubbing.  My  skin was beginning to hurt. She proceeded
to scrub my neck and  shoulders.  Then  she reached around to scrub my
chest and stomach. Next  were  my legs and feet. I looked down at
myself and saw that I was all  pink  from the scrubbing and my skin
stung all over. Just like John in my story.

The  first  test was coming. She washed my hair and face with a rag, and
then lathered up again. "Let's see... this was a "test" wasn't it
Paul?" she  said  as she kicked my feet apart, one at a time. At the
thought, I was  already  getting  an  erection.  "And... if you failed,
you'd get a really  long,  cold,  rinse,  right?  Isn't  that  the way
it went?" she continued.  Oh,  geez...  that  was the agreement. She
was to thoroughly wash  Johns'  crotch  and he was not to climax. At
all. John managed it, but in reality, I didn't believe there was a way
in hell I could undergo that  type  of  treatment  from  Corey,  from  
any woman for that matter without  climaxing.  She  pulled open the
shower curtain a small amount, revealing a small clock on the sink.

"Let's  see...  5  minutes,  right?"  she  hissed,  as though she knew I
wouldn't hold out. Both hands filled with lather, she reached around
and took my now half-erect cock in one hand and brought the other
between my ass  cheeks.  She  started  massaging my cock firmly with
the lather and shoving the fingers of her other hand down across my
asshole and into my crotch.  My  cock  rose  in an instant as she
pumped slowly on my prick. Slowly,  methodically  she  probed  and
pumped. I knew I wasn't going to make it. Her lips came close to my
ear. "John may have," she said softly as she pumped and played with my
ass. "But I don't think," she hesitated and  stuck  her  tongue  into  
my ear. "You're going to MAKE it!" As she emphasized  the work MAKE,
she rammed a finger deep into my asshole. She pumped my cock harder and
faster.

It was only 3 minutes and it was as good as over. My knees buckled and I
caught  my breath, clenched my teeth, trying to hold it back, but it
was senseless.  She  won,  as she knew she was going to. I exploded
into the shower  wall  as  she kept her finger in my ass and kept
milking my cock until  I  couldn't spend any more. "Aw, too bad... not
as good as "John" at  this,  are  you?" she said. I was almost hanging
by the handcuffs as she rinsed my cock and ass. She pulled the shower
curtain back enough to step  out.  "Pardon me while I dry off. Oh
yes... the deal." She reached back  into  the shower and snapped the
faucet all the way to the left. I was instantly accosted by an onrush
of ice-cold water.

From  my  position,  the  most I could do was pull my face back, but the
cold  water  still  cascaded  over my chest, shoulders and down my
whole body.  No  matter  where  I  moved I was still pummeled with cold
water. After  having  climaxed  and  been  scrubbed until I was pink,
the water seemed  even  much  more cold. I turned to look out of the
shower to see Corey  seated on the closed toilet applying shaving cream
to the already small  hairs  on her pussy. As she picked up her razor,
she looked in at me.  Probably  expecting  I wouldn't hear her through
the running water, she  mouthed,  "You're  next", pointing at me. That
wasn't in the story, either.

I  was  starting to shiver now as I changed positions, trying to get the
water  to change direction on me. I glanced out at Corey every couple
of minutes hoping she would uncuff me, but she was taking her time,
shaving her  pussy  clean.  Finally, she wiped herself clean and stood
up. Now I was  quivering  in the shower. "Are we cooled off yet"? She
asked coyly. She  reached  in  and turned off the shower. "Oh... I'll
be right back." She  said as she stooped to pick up my clothes. It was
quiet now, except for  the  water  dripping  off  me. Even the warmth
of the bathroom felt better now.

Corey came back into the bathroom wearing a red silk robe. She had a key
and  started  unlocking  the cuffs. "Your clothes are in the washer
now, but  that's  ok,  you  won't be needing them for the rest of the
night." Another line from the story. I remembered that John had
complained about walking  around naked and for his complaint his
mistress made him wear a pair of her panties around the house. I wasn't
saying a word. I was sore and shivering as I stepped from the shower.
She handed me a towel. "When you're  done  drying  off,  meet  me in
the living room" she said as she turned away. Then she stopped. "Oh,
and leave the towel here, Paul."

I  dried  off  quickly  as I could. The heater kicked on and I aimed the
vent up at me to warm up. I sat for about 5 minutes under the warm
heat. It was apparently taking too long. "Paul?" I heard from the
living room. I  hung  the towel on the rod and slowly made my way to
the living room. My pecker looked like it was half an inch long...

"Come  here..."  Corey  said  as  I walked into the room. She was on the
couch in her red nylons, garter, panties and bra once more, with the
red silk robe on over it. The shades were drawn and the room was only
lit by one lamp next to her. There was a pan of water by the coffee
table. This wasn't  in  the  story.  "Sit  down on the edge of the
coffee table" she said.  I  sat  down. "Lean back on your hands." I
did. "Spread your legs wide".  I  obeyed. She picked up a pair of
scissors and leaned over from the couch. She began trimming the hair
from my crotch.

"Please  don't  do this, Miss Corey" I asked softly. She just smiled and
kept  trimming. "What, might look bad to the guys at the club?" She
knew I  was  the  member  of  the health club near work. I didn't
answer. She finished trimming and took a washrag out of the pan of
water. She placed the  pan  on  the  floor  at  the  edge  of the
coffee table and started squeezing  the  water from the washrag onto my
crotch so that it ran off the  edge of the table into the water. Then
she reached into the cushion and  pulled  out a can of shaving cream.
She applied it to my crotch. It was cooling. Then she reached for the
razor.

"I  also  like  my  men  hairless  here, like me. Now... if you sit real
still,  you'll  be okay through this. If not, well, I hate to think
what could  get  cut  off,"  she  said  smiling. She began to shave me.
I sat still.  REAL still. When she was done, she rinsed me off. And
told me to stand up. My whole crotch was bald.

As  she  dried  me  off,  she asked, "Have you ever REALLY eaten a pussy
Paul?"  I  gave  her a matter-of-fact look and looked away. "You
haven't answered  my question." "Yes, Miss Corey" I replied. "Did you
enjoy it?" she  asked.  I hesitated. "Sometimes" I answered.
"Sometimes? Right. How many  times have you made a woman come with your
tongue Paul? Don't lie. You know by now I can tell if you lie." I
closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  Somehow,  I  knew  she was
right. She'd know. I opened my eyes. "Twice" I admitted. "So
"sometimes" you enjoyed it? Does that mean once? Or both times? Or
neither?" I couldn't answer.

"You know, I've found that most guys who want to be dominated are afraid
of  pussy, Paul... is that you? Are you afraid of a woman because of
her pussy,  Paul?"  I  was  sitting there naked in front of a tall
beautiful woman  and  my  secrets  were  being  pulled  out  of me as
if a cop was grilling  me.  She was determined to have me bare
everything, inside and out.  "I  don't know," I muttered. "You don't
know? Paul, Paul, Paul..." she  said  as she stood up and walked around
behind me to the other side of  the  coffee table. "You're a grown man!
Don't answer like a cornered child! You are, or you aren't. Are you
afraid of a woman's pussy? Answer me!"  Now I was confused. I knew I
wasn't AFRAID of a woman's pussy, but I  didn't  know  what  I WAS
afraid of. "I don't think so, Miss Corey" I said. "Another childish
answer." She said.

Corey  leaned  on  the  table behind me and gently licked the base of my
neck  by  my  shoulder.  "Or  are  you  just afraid of women, Paul?"
she whispered hotly in my ear. One of my hands slid off the coffee
table. On one side of the living room wall were mirrors. I heard her
step away and looked  over into the mirrors to see what she was doing.
She picked up a small  footrest  by  an  easy  chair and set it next to
the coffee table behind  me.  It was even with the height of the coffee
table. She saw me looking and looked over at me in the mirror and
smiled.

"Lay  down,  Paul."  I  laid back on the coffee table. "Now, move up." I
slid  up  until  my  head  was resting on the footstool. She went to
the couch  and  brought two small pillows back with her. We were back
to the story  again. I knew what was going to happen, as she placed a
pillow on each  side  of  the stool. "I liked your story, Paul. And I
think it's a great  way  to  REALLY  introduce  you  to  pussy!  
Obviously, it hasn't happened,  because  it  was  just a fantasy,
right, Paul?" I took a deep breath.  "Please Miss Corey..." I begged.
"Oh, yes, Paul. Beg. I love to hear a man beg. Especially a man who's
afraid of a woman..."

Corey  reached  under  the  coffee  table and brought out two ropes with
leather  cuffs  on one end and metal and rubber clamps on the other.
She fastened  the  metal and rubber ends to the legs of the coffee
table and when  she  reached  for  my arm, I instinctively pulled it
away. "Please don't."  I begged. She stopped. She gently stroked my
hair, the suddenly grabbed  a  handful and pulled. I yelped. "Now Paul,
you said you're not into  pain.  Let's  not  find out, shall we?" I
relaxed. She attached my wrists to the ropes then adjusted them so they
were tight.

She turned around and stood over me, so I was looking right up the front
of  her. Her nylons, garter, red silk panties and large breasts,
tightly restrained  by  the red silk bra. Then she slid her hand into
her crotch beneath  her panties and started playing with herself as she
spoke. "So, our  mistress  in your story got her panties real wet
first, right? That won't  be  hard.  I'll  just  think about what I'll
be doing to you in a little while, and what you'll be doing FOR me" she
smiled.

"I  know  you  remember  what  happened  in  your  story,  right?" I was
confused.  I  was  genuinely  questioning  my  situation now. "Yes,
Miss Corey"  I mumbled. Corey pressed her silk panties into her crotch
as she continued  to  play  with herself through them. Even in the dim
light of the lamp behind her, I could see a wet spot forming on them.
She pressed even  harder,  and  I  could hear her moistness beneath her
fingers. She took a deep breath.

"Oh, yes, Paul!" she gasped and bit her lower lip. "You're going to LOVE
pussy  by  the time we're done here." Her fingers were moving around
her clit  and it was almost visible now as the sounds of her moisture
became more  prevalent.  My  cock starting responding to what I was
seeing. She gasped once again and stopped. "It's time, Paul," she said,
panting. She brought  her  legs  together  close  to  my  head and
started taking her panties  off. Then she sat down on my stomach,
knocking some of the wind out  of  me. She stared at me, folding her
panties so the wet crotch was forward.  "Please..."  I  mumbled,  but
she put her thumb on my chin and opened my mouth. She stuffed the wet
crotch of her panties in and closed my mouth on them. I could taste
her. It was sweet, and yet tart.

"I  like  this part next, Paul. Are you ready?" I took a deep breath and
closed  my  eyes. I knew what was next. When she moved, I opened my
eyes again,  just  in time to see her fingers had her lips spread wide
as she pushed  her shaven pussy down onto my face and nose. She was
hot, wet... very  wet,  and at the moment, suffocating. She moved her
hips around in circles  as she let her weight down slowly on my face.
Only the width of the  footstool  kept  her  from blocking my view
upward. She looked down past  her  breasts at me, smiling, squirming,
and then biting her lip as she moved slowly forward and back against my
nose. I, on the other hand, could  not  breathe  and was starting to
panic. Like the story, but this was too real.

I  twisted  my  head,  trying  to  escape her thighs, then moaned loudly
against  her,  panicking,  struggling  uselessly  against the ropes.
She lifted  herself, panting. "Is it just like your story, Paul? Do you
feel like  John?"  I  sensed this was not to be a long reprieve and
grabbed a deep  breath  before she planted her pussy over my nose
again, this time leaning  forward  as  she  moved back and forth
against my nose. She was using it to get off, just like in my story.

"I love this, Paul. Don't you? I love my pussy on your face! You know, I
think  I'll  cum  on your face a few times before make you eat my
pussy. What  do think... 3 times each before you get a break? I mean,
I'll come on  your face 3 times, then I'll teach you to eat my pussy
until I cum 3 more  times.  Yeah,  that  sounds good! How come you're
not answering me Paul?"  She  looked  down  at me, smiling, her breasts
bouncing from her movement.  "Oh,  that's  right!  You're  not  
breathing! And besides, my panties  are  in your mouth!" She laughed,
panting. I could tell she was getting close to cumming. I grunted again
to beg for air, but she didn't stop  until  I  once  again  started
twisting and moaning loudly, on the verge of passing out. She got up.

"Ooop! What's wrong, Paul? Don't want you passing out on me! You have to
go through this awake!" I struggled for breaths of air, and on my
second breath,  she  pushed her wet, dripping pussy back onto my face
and nose. She  proceeded  to buck against my face again, wilder this
time. She was going  to cum. Her pussy was hot and sopping wet against
my face, as she started  moaning  and  bucking.  She  grabbed my hair
and forced my face harder  into  her pussy as she came. It was
trickling up my nostrils and down  my  throat. I couldn't choke,
because I couldn't breathe. I pulled harder  against  the  ropes.  Her
cum soaked her panties that were in my mouth  and  now  I  had  the  
stronger, bittersweet taste in my nose and mouth.  She  was  panting
and bucking against my face like a wild animal now.  I was running out
of breath again. She stopped and moved back onto my chest.

When  I  tried  to breathe in air, I inhaled her cum. That wasn't in the
story  either.  I  choked  and  tried  breathing what I could around
and through  her  panties  in  my mouth, which were now soaking wet
with her cum.  My  face  was  wet  and cold, and I felt her cum
dripping down the sides of my face as well. Eventually, my nose and
throat were clear, and she  was  still  sitting  on my chest,
preventing any deep breaths on my part.

"Well,  Paul!  That  was  nice!",  she  said panting, still playing with
herself.  "Aren't  pussies fun? Oh, sorry, you can't talk yet. I'll
tell you what, when I cum two more times, we'll talk a little then
before you start  learning  to  eat pussy." She watched as I breathed
normally. She continued  to  play  with  herself. After a few minutes,
she was panting again.  She  said  "Uh-Oh,  Paul,  I'm getting hot
again. Are you ready? Well,  if  you're  not,  too  bad!" And she
jumped forward, planting her still hot pussy back on my face. I grabbed
as much air as I could before she started again.

Immediately, she started with circular motions, pushing my nose and face
deep  into her hot, wet pussy. It was different this time, even if for
a moment.  I  felt  myself getting hard again. Maybe because I had time
to take  a  breath; maybe because to have a woman's pussy on my face
really was  a turn on. But it didn't take long before survival began to
kick in once  more.  I  tried  to  turn  my head, I moaned and she kept
going. I moaned  again  and again. I was getting light-headed, scared.
She jumped off.  "Oh,  Yes,  Paul! Almost there! Breathe little boy!
That's all you get!"

I  had  managed  to  grab  a  couple of short breaths before she started
riding  my face again. Her lips were swollen now, and her clit passed
on either  side  of  my  nose  as she went wild, more so this time than
the last.  She  bucked against my face and let her weight down, so I
thought my head would be crushed. She was so far down on my face, my
nose was so far  inside her that her lower belly was touching my
eyebrows. Just as I was  about  to  panic  again,  she  began to cum.
Again, running down my nostrils  and  into  my  mouth,  around the
panties. This time there was hardly  any  room  for  the cum to escape
down the sides of my face. She hopped  of  once  again,  this  time,
turning to sit on the coffee table beside me, huffing and puffing.

"Oh,  GOD,  Paul,  YES! We have to do that one more time!" I choked once
more on the cum in my nostrils and turned my head to the side, trying
to get  them  to  drain out, swallowing what I had to. When they
cleared, I looked  over  at  her.  She  gently  pushed  her fingers
into her pussy, flinching,  more slowly this time. She took them out
and put two fingers into  her  mouth  licking them off, watching me the
whole time, panting, catching  her  own  breath. She bit her lip, as
she began to rub herself more intensely again.

I  was  having  mixed  emotions  now.  At  times  I was turned on beyond
explanation,  other  times,  I  was truly afraid. Then there times I
was both.  I  felt  like crying. I wanted it to stop, but I didn't. I
pulled helplessly  at  the  ropes  as  I  saw her fingers working
faster in her pussy.  Could I take another session of this? Much less
four more? I was weak now. I could hardly pull on the ropes any more.
"Yes! Yes!" I heard her  again  as  she started to move. There was no
choice. I was going to take it again.

She  jumped back onto my face and began the same motions as the last two
times.  Panting  heavier  now, looking down at me as she did. "Last
time this  way,  Paul!  Next  time,  you're  going  to  make me cum
with your tongue!"  She  panted. She began riding my face again,
forward and back, her  clit  rubbing against my nose harder and harder.
Side to side, then again  in  a circular motion. This time, just as I
started to worry, she let  me  breathe.  I found out why. "Breathe,
little boy!" she said. I'm about  to  come  again and I'm not giving
you another one until I do!" I took  breaths  while  she  was panting
out the order. I got one deep one before she took over again.

I  knew  she  wasn't  far off; she was quivering as she drove down on my
face  and  continued  circular motions this time, around and around,
but still not enough for me to get air. But she wasn't coming fast
enough. I started  to  struggle again and began moaning. She looked
down at me and smiled.  "Uh-Uh...  not  yet..."  she  said  panting.  
She kept going... watching  me  as  I  stared up at her, trying to
plead with my eyes. She looked  up  finally,  moaning loudly, but kept
going. I got light-headed again and everything went black, just for a
second.

I hadn't quite passed out, and I came to my senses choking cum out of my
nose and throat once more, but I couldn't see anything yet. My eyes
were blurry as I struggled for consciousness. I felt the panties
removed from my  mouth  and  grabbed  all  the  air I could. As I
grabbed air, I came around  again, my vision started clearing. After a
few seconds, I lifted my head and looked around. Corey was back on the
couch, twirling her wet panties on her finger, panting and smiling.

"Love  your  face, Paul! Is that how you felt when you wrote about it in
your story? Or was it a little different?" I squirmed against the
ropes. It  was  different... quite a bit different. "Please..." I
gasped, still recovering. "Please what? What do you want?" she said
slyly. "Please let me  go..."  She  stood up and giggled. "Let you go?
Let you go? Paul, we haven't  even  reached  page  6!  She opened a
drawer on the stand table where  the  lamp  was  sitting  and took out
a small stack of paper. Oh, God... it was my story.

"Not  to mention, before we can cover the rest, you have to learn to eat
pussy...  the  right way... remember? You know... you picked the
perfect night  for  this.  I'm off tomorrow and you're off tomorrow! We
can take all  night!"  She started leafing through the pages of the
story. "Whew! And  this COULD take all night, especially if you have to
learn to do it right,  first.  And  page  15...  I can't wait..." I
thought back to the story. She couldn't... could she? She glanced at my
shriveled cock. "You know, I LOVED cumming on your face. I'm going to
love doing it more. But you  know  what  else  sounds  like  fun?"  The
things in the story were zooming through my head. It was easy in my
imagination, but this was too hard. I wondered if someone could really
stand everything I had written. "No, Miss Corey" I replied. "This." She
said.

She  moved  down  the  couch and reached under the coffee table again to
pull out two more ropes. She proceeded to tie my feet to the ends of
the coffee  table.  I knew what was coming as she positioned herself
between my  spread legs. It was great in the story, but I didn't know
if I could really  take  it.  If  she  was  going  by  the  book, this
was only the beginning  of  a  very  long pleasure/pain process.
Writing the story, I could stop and masturbate to relieve myself. But
in the story... "I love to  make  a  man  hard..."  my  thoughts  were
interrupted. "But I never refused to let a man cum... well, for so long
that is." I closed my eyes as I felt her tongue brush gently against my
naked balls and up my cock. The  sensation  was nothing like I ever
felt before. My groin begged for more immediately.

But  I was aware that if she knew what she was doing, it would not last.
It  wouldn't  last  until  I came, anyway. She would stop. In the
story, John  wasn't  allowed  to  come  for  a  long time, but he was
teased to aching.  He  begged  to  be released and she wouldn't let
him. This went through  my  mind  as  she  starting licking all over my
balls and cock. Teasing  the sensitive area, licking mercilessly at the
head, then down, slowly.  The  sensations  of  her tongue on my bald
skin were driving me crazy.  I  was  hard  in moments, but she kept
moving slowly, to keep me from  cumming.  After  what seemed an
eternity of sensation, she finally put  my  cock  in  her  mouth  and  
starting riding it, slowly at first, teasing,  then  faster.  I felt it
starting. For a fleeting moment I was sure she was going to make me
cum. Then I felt it throb. So did she. She stopped  and  squeezed  the  
base  of my cock as it throbbed against her fingers.

"Gaaaaaaa!"  I  moaned  as  the throbbing slowed down and the climax was
stopped.  "Oh,  PLEASE",  I begged. But she giggled. "That's not the
way the  story  goes,  Paul,  you know that!" She let go, and my cock
bobbed around  momentarily before it began getting soft again. She sat
down and picked up the story once more flipping through the pages. She
smiled and put down the story.

"Well,  since  you've  only  eaten  pussy a couple of times, I think you
should  have a couple lessons first, before we continue. Don't you?"
She stood up and headed around the coffee table for the footstool once
more. I  whimpered.  I couldn't believe the sound came from me. She
stood over me,  poised  to  start  the lessons. "Poor little Paul..."
she said. "He gets  his  fantasy come true, and he's questioning his
ability to handle it,  aren't  you,  Paul?"  I looked up past her
nylon-clad legs. She was unhooking her bra as she talked and she tossed
the bra away.

"You're  not answering me Paul." "Yes." I said weakly. "Say it Paul, say
that  you're  not  sure if you can handle it. Say it." "Yes, Miss
Corey, I'm  not  sure  if I can handle it." I whimpered. She smiled
down at me. "But  you  will, Paul, you will. Believe me. You'll have
your fantasy if it  takes  all  night."  Then she licked her fingers
and put them in her pussy.  The  lessons  were  about  to start, and
there was nothing I was going to do about it.

======================================================

Opinions welcome!  mrjjones@mail2chicago.com

----------------- This story may NOT be posted to any other web site or
printed in any hardcopy publication without the author's permission.

Copyright (c) 2002 John J. Jones