AnneSubmitted by: email@example.com
I met Anne at the gym some years ago while puffing away on a stairmaster. Anne was and is an exceptionally pretty, fair skinned, green-eyed blonde, seven or eight years younger than myself. For most of our acquaintanceship we'd been like two electrons rotating about different atoms in the same molecule. Occassionally our orbits would cross and we would chat. An ultra-casual gym thing - twenty or thirty little chats over the course of many years.
I'm Dan Willis. Six-four, carpenter by trade, forty-six years old as I write this. Broad shoulders, muscular and reasonably fit from a lifetime of physical work, most of my now grey tinged blonde hair still safely attached to my scalp.
I'm a widower, sad to say. Happily, loyally married for almost twenty years to my high school sweetheart; dead from cancer at thirty-nine. Two years of deep, edge of the abyss depression until the black turned to grey and I resolved to survive, get on with life, maybe find someone to help ease the pain.
Meeting women was easy. Though hadn't been with anyone save my dear lost Sandra since high school, once I put out the available shingle, women found me. Over the next couple of years had numerous, invariably awkward dates with a variety of ladies. Young hot ones, middle-aged accomplished ones. Old friends, friends of friends, bar pick-ups, internet meets. You name it. A few aggressive gals contrived to get me into their beds, but I was mostly a washout. Even when I did manage to get it up, the evenings generally turned sour and would often end with me sitting alone in my darkened living room, quietly sobbing, asking myself what was the point.
By the time Sandra had been dead four years, had pretty much given up. I was forty-five, my contracting business thriving, had enough good friends to make my days bearable. Sex? Right hand would do just fine.
From the years of our casual acquaintance, had gotten to know something about Anne. Knew that she was alone. Knew she was an executive of a large corporation, commuting to New York City every day. Knew she liked some of the same movies I did, shared most of my political views, wasn't religious. After Sandra died, Anne was one of the few single women I knew who maintained the same friends only relationship with me that we had had while I was married. Not by word or body language did she ever do anything could be interpreted as flirting and I treated her the same.
So one evening there we were. Me puffing away. Her blithely running the stairmaster at her usual improbable pace. Chatting about movies, our favorite topic.
"So, Dan, have you seen the latest rage - 'The Passion of Christ'?"
"No way - wouldn't give those fuckers my ten bucks if it was the greatest movie ever made."
"You should - tres hot. Two hours of nonstop S&M, torturing this way sexy Italian stud in the most exquisitely nasty fashion. Camera right on his face. Pain etched in every muscle. Greatest S&M flick ever made, not even close. And packaged as religion so it breezed right past the moral guardians of our realm. Sweet."
As have said, knew this woman for years. Straight, normal, solid, might be three adjectives to apply. Sending up Christianity? Sure. Casually admitting an interest in seriously twisted S&M? No way. Which proves how much I knew about Anne. What's more, a new kind of interest perks sharply awake, S&M being my own secret kink, something my friends might be equally astonished to learn . Not that I ever did much about it. Snuck a few magazines when my wife was around - last couple of years spending maybe too much time on the net, looking at movies, jerking off.
"What's the matter Dan, cat get your tongue?"
What's this about? Has Anne had a brain transplant?
"You astonish me, Anne. Might be the last person would guess is into that stuff."
"Oh Danny boy, lots of things you don't know about me." she laughs, looking at me, shining in a new light.
"Maybe it's time to learn some of them."
"Maybe it is."
And simple as that, we're back at her place in an hour, my libido working overtime, my nervous system in a state of anticipatory excitement had feared lost forever.
Anne lives in a nice condo at the opposite edge of town from the gym. The place is done in a style might have been called modern sometime in the nineteen sixties or seventies. Sleek, spare. Black and white motifs. Abstract art on the walls. Edgy. Cold. I want there to be more wood. Instantly want to rip out her corrian and granite kitchen and replace it with maple cabinets and chop block counter tops. At least there's a wood burning fireplace. We fix ourselves some tea and repair to the living room where we build a fire to ease the November chill. Once we get it going, she sits me down on her white on white couch.
"Guess your interested in S&M, Mr. Dan. One little mention and ten years of casual avoidance vanquished like smoke. Any experience?"
"Sad to say just fantasies. You?"
"Are you dominant? Submissive? Both?. I think I like it both ways, at least that's how I fantasize."
Anne laughs at this, a sharp, cruel sounding laugh that she's not shown me before.
"Well at least you know some words. That's a start. I'm dominant Dan. I like to be in complete control and I like to play hard. But if you're nervous, I'll go easy on you today."
Assuming I'm ready to have sex or whatever you might call it without so much as a by your leave. Fucking unreal. No muss. No fuss. All my fantasies and it's exactly this simple.
"Yeah, I'm nervous, real nervous. But Anne," and I look right into her eyes, see the marvelous, hot, incredibly sexy creature who's been hidden all these years, "this is a fantasy have had all my life. To be submissive to a beautiful woman. And we've know each other how long? You want to play mistress - I put myself in your hands." Right off the cliff. Gulp.
She smiles. A big beaming fabulous smile to melt any man's heart.
"Thanks Dan. Yes, I've done this before. But never with someone am so attracted to. Dominating you has been a fantasy of mine for a very long time. Oh yes it has, a very long time indeed. And I promise you Dan, if you really are into being submissive you won't be disappointed. We'll have a great time, a super great time."
"I'm already having a great time Anne. Feel alive, like I haven't in far too long."
"Me too, Dan. Me. too." Anne sighs, gathers herself up, changing in a subtle way.
"OK, so before we get started, let me give you some rules. Tell you how I like to play, how we are going to play:
First, this is personal - between you and me. Not between two invented characters. You're Dan, I'm Anne. Never call me mistress or any phony crap like that.
Second, you are to do exactly what you're told. First time every time. I mean that. I'm in charge. Totally.
Third, whatever happens is for my pleasure, not yours. That's what domination is about. At least the way I play.
And that's it - simple. No bullshit."
"All right Anne, am willing to give this a try, just tell me what to do."
"Oh Dan, this is going to be fun. So much fun."
My mouth is suddenly too dry to speak. She's starts pacing. I'm watching her. So fucking turned on almost can't bear it. Aware of how very long it has been, of how keenly I have missed it. Passion. What makes live worth living. Not sex. Sex is nothing, something you can do with anyone or no one. But passion. The magical feeling that you can never predict.
After a minute or two Anne seems to arrive at a decision.
"OK Dan, get up on the bar," by which she must mean the polished steel surface, about two feet wide, three feet off the floor, running the length of one wall of her living room.
I comply, climb up, feeling like a fool already. Anne goes to her sound system and puts on some nice little Latin thing with an insistent groove.
"Now slowly, very slowly and as sexy as you can manage take your clothes off."
I dance for her. Do a slow striptease. She laughs. When my socks come off I can feel the chill of the metal in my feet. Cold as ice.
"You look so cute Dan. What a trip. My very own Chippendale.
When I get down to my jockey shorts she bides me stop.
"OK Danny Boy. Now take your cock and put it through that hole thing in your shorties."
This is difficult. My cock is about in proportion to my 6'4" frame. And right now it feels bigger and harder than can remember since I was twenty. But I manage.
Anne, who has been relaxing through most of this, sipping her tea, gets up and walks toward me.
"Fucking nice body - nice goddamn cock and so excited to be here - well so am I, in case your interested. So am I." she says while running her hands up and down my legs, about all she can reach.
"Now I want you to do jumping jacks for me - good form - fast as you can."
Humiliating - it's all been humiliating, doing this shit for Anne, for the Anne that I've known and not known all these years. Jumping jacks with my cock sticking out, waving up and down - very humiliating. My face turns red. I can't speak. But my cock remains rock hard while Anne starts to laugh and laugh. Then she sits down, still sipping her tea, the picture of relaxed amusement. I continue till I'm sweating profusely, starting to run down - 45 minutes on the stair master, now this - just about at the end of my energy. She makes me do another five minutes, faster, faster she exhorts. But finally allows me to stop, my breadth coming in gasps.
She then orders me to get down and stand at attention in front of her, my hands clasped behind my neck as she rubs her hands up and down my sweating torso, sending the most intense sensations of pleasure and lust into every part of me, though she doesn't get near the part of me that most wants to be touched..
"Oh yeah, another little wrinkle. Begging. I enjoy it. You want me not to do something, or not make you do something, you can beg. Sometimes I may even grant mercy. Usually not. Make sure the begging is begging, not demanding - I hear anything like a demand in your voice and you will suffer big time. Now get down on your knees."
I do as told, reveling in the intensity of her dominance. She walks over to a large stuffed chair with metal arms and makes me follow on my knees. She's dressed in a mid length black skirt, white blouse, red wool jacket. Sheer black nylons run up her legs, five inch stiletto heels enclose her feet. The sexiest woman I've ever seen.
"Lick my shoes - and do a good job or you will be sorry."
I begin running my tongue over the hard leather of her shoes, already into it enough to know not to let my tongue stray to her stockings without permission.
"Now the heels."
I hesitate slightly at this but comply, licking her heels.
"Now the bottoms."
Yech. Hasn't she walked with me from the gym in these shoes. Doesn't seem cool and, instead of doing as ordered, I look up at her.
"What? Danny Boy. Too fastidious to get a little dirt in your mouth? "
I start to say something, but she interrupts.
"I don't want to hear any excuses Dan, I want you to lick the bottoms of my shoes. Yes, the shoes I've been walking around in all day. Now."
"That's gross, Anne. I don't want to do that."
"Stand up. At attention, clasp your elbows behind your back, feet apart."
Anne is maybe 5'4", maybe a hundred ten pounds. If that. Then, no fucking warning, she punches me in the gut. Last thing I expected and small as she is she hits pretty hard. The air whooshes out and I double over.
"Stand up." she barks in a sharp nasty voice that would have been hard to imagine back at the gym. I do as she commands and she punches me again, this time really knocking the wind out and I double over again.
"Never question my orders Dan, that's the first rule of being submissive. As I said, if you don't want to do something you can beg. But never refuse. Understand?"
"Yes Anne, I understand."
"Good. Now get back on your knees and lets get to work on my shoes."
"Please Anne. Please don't make me clean the bottoms of your shoes. Please?"
"No Dan, this is a lesson in obedience for you. Trust me, your digestive system is made to handle much worse. It's not going to harm anything but your dignity."
"Now, lay on your back, spread your legs and bend your knees and arms like a little doggie"
I comply, getting into that most vulnerable position.
"Good dog. Good doggie." she mocks, scratching my stomach.
" Now stick your tongue out. All the way out."
She moves her chair to where I'm lying, sits, takes up her tea and positions one shoe above my face, pushing the heel of the other into my chest. I have to reach out with my tongue and clean the bottoms of her shoes. It's pretty revolting. All I can do to keep from gagging.
After maybe ten minutes of this she gives me a bathroom break to clean my mouth with disinfectant, in case she decides to allow me the privilege of pleasuring her. When I return to the living room she's stripped down to her bra, stockings, garter belt, thong and heels. I'm still in my jockey shorts, cock still ramrod stiff, poking through the hole.
Anne hands me a small leather strap.
"A cock strap. Your first bit of bondage."
I'm told to take my shorts off, then wrap the strap under my balls and around the base of my cock. There's a series of snaps and I'm told to make it as tight as possible. I pull on the strap, constricting my balls painfully and snap the thing shut.
"Tighter" she commands. So I have to get it on the next snap which causes my balls to be restricted in a really painful way.
Next she has me attach a handcuff to one of my ankles and then lift my foot up and attach the other cuff of the pair to a steel ring in the bar which leaves me balanced awkwardly on one foot. Once this is done, she uses another pair of handcuffs to bind my wrists tightly behind my back. Then stands in front of me, looking right up into my eyes.
"Pain, Dan. Pain. I'm going to hurt you. A lot. For several hours. You're going to sweat and beg for mercy. Maybe even cry. But I'm going to continue. It's what I like most in the world. Inflicting pain on a helpless victim. And helpless you are, bound like this - completely at my mercy, a quality I have very little of.
But you won't be harmed, I promise. No matter how much it hurts, it's really just a bunch of nerves.
"Anne, I'm scared. This is going pretty fast. Maybe you could go a bit easy on me. Please?"
"I could, but I won't. You're excited by this. Think you want it intense, need it to be intense - look at your cock. And there is a certain kind of intensity that we can only have tonite, our first nite, while we are still strangers."
It's true, my cock is quite the pole. And it's true at some deeper level I need this. A purge. A transition, so I can not just go on, but begin to enjoy life again. But am still scared.
"And besides. As I said. This is about what I want. If you like it, that's nice. But not essential."
With that Anne flicks her middle finger into my balls. Those tightly constricted balls are filled with semen and that little flick hurts perhaps more than anything can remember since I broke my arm in three places falling off a ladder while trying to fix somebodies gutter in twenty mile an hour winds.
"Like that Danny - I do."
"No Anne. That really hurts. Not sure if I can take that much pain."
"You're a big strong tough guy, Danny, sure you can take a little pain."
Again she flicks. I suppress a scream, trying to back away as she prepares another but she laughs at my trying to avoid the unavoidable and bades me stay still. She taunts me. Teases me. By the six or eighth flick I'm begging her to stop, by the fifteenth or twentieth me, Dan Willis, carpenter, so called tough guy, begins to cry. Tears streaming down my face, begging Anne for mercy, my cock stiff as a nail.
After maybe an hour my legs begin to cramp from the awkward position am in. Amazingly, except for one stretch where she flicks rapidly for a few minutes, my cock stays hard. The pain sometimes is almost pleasure and there is a corner of my mind that stays apart from the experience, looking at it, awestruck that you can be 46 and find something so novel and intense to get into.
Anne seems calm, serious. If she's turned on, I can't tell. But want her to kiss me even as she tortures me. Want to know that she cares for me. It's very, very strange and new and exciting and horrible and terrifying all at once.
Finally she undoes the ankle cuff and the tight cock ring, massages my legs, runs her nail softly up the shaft of my cock, then allows me to sit, hands still cuffed behind my back. My balls are sore but it is a relief to have the pain stop and I feel good. Great. Marvelous.
"What do you think?" she asks in the more normal tone of voice remember from our old acquaintanceship.
What do I think? What do I think? God, all I can think to say is "I love you", words never thought would think or say to any woman again.
"You've got me Anne. Love being under your control. Best thing that has happened to me in a long time."
"Really Dan - how bout all that pain. You were crying and begging and screaming to raise the dead."
"Hate it, love it, don't know. Confusing. Weird. Fascinating. But you know what Anne. Have been with any number of women since Sandra died and nothing any of em did ever made my cock this hard, or even very hard at all."
"Thanks for saying that Dan. Am awfully excited myself. And this fantasy is at least as good in real life as it has been in my imagination all these years."
"Really? Couldn't tell. It's great to hear though."
"Yeah Dan, really - just love how you can be so averse to the pain, so deeply into pleading for mercy, yet so aroused at the same time - it has so far been quite a rush for me."
"So what now?"
"Anxious to continue?"
"You bet. But can we have, you know, like some regular sex? You can see how am dying for it?"
"Hmm, you mean like fucking?"
"Why don't you get down on your knees and ask me properly."
"Please, Anne, please can we fuck, please?"
"Yes Dan, I do think you have earned a reward for your courage."
So ten or fifteen minutes later Anne has me tied down tightly on her bed, legs splayed, hands over my head. She makes herself comfortable on my face where am more than happy to pleasure her with my tongue while she runs her index finger oh so softly up and down my cock. After awhile she positions herself above my cock and gently eases herself down on it, fucking me in ultra slow motion. Wow does that feel good. I mean sex always feels good, but this is fantastic. I'm not allowed to move a muscle and must beg for every stroke. I get maybe ten. Despite some serious, pathetic pleading on my part she eases herself off goes to her closet and returns with a thin wooden switch.
"I suppose you want some more Danny boy."
"You better believe it Anne."
"So here's the deal - I'm going to whip your feet if you beg me to do it. Every stroke on your feet earns you one stroke of my pussy on your cock. OK?"
How bad can this be? I mean what could hurt worse than her flicking her finger on my constricted balls?
"Please Anne, please whip my feet."
Which she does. And it hurts worse. A blinding searing burning kind of pain that is indescribably unbearable. Then she gives me one slow stroke on my cock. And I beg for it again. And again. And again. The intensity of the pleasure/pain combination threatenning to totally short circuit my brain.
Of course she could do this all day and I still wouldn't cum.
Especially since she intersperses every ten or fifteen strokes with sitting on my face so I can make her cum.
After a fairly large amount of this Anne unties me. We shower together, my cock stiff and unsatisfied. We kiss in the shower and it is delicious. She gets dressed but I'm forced to remain naked. It's after 1:00am - where has the evening gone?
"Unfortunately think it is time to end this for now - Got to be up in 5 hours and I'm exhausted and imagine you are as well."
"And horny and starving."
"Well, I'm starving, but that tongue of yours has sure done a great job on my pussy - thanks Dan. Thanks a lot - this has been one amazingly wonderful evening."
"For me too Anne. Yeah, I'm horny as hell and my feet hurt and my balls hurt but I feel great."
"You want to continue?"
"I have something awesomely intense in mind. My most intense fantasy, in fact. Something you can take home with you to keep the scene going when we are apart."
"Think I'm game for most anything."
Anne leaves and returns with a complicated contraption. I gasp. My own most intense fantasy.
"You seem to know what this is."
I can't speak, just nod.
"Put it on."
"Anne, I'm willing but I really need to cum first - OK?"
"No Dan - that is my most intense fantasy - to have someone, actually not someone but you in particular - in this state and then make them wear my chastity belt. So put it on. Now. Give me total control of your cock."
And I do.
My house lies on a road running up the steeply rising bank of the river, maybe a mile or so from town. I leave my truck at Anne's and walk up the hill, at peace with the beautiful moonlit night, for once happy with myself.
When I get home I strip and shower and examine my chastity belt. Well constructed fucker. Quite ingenious really. Sure, in an emergency could cut it off but doesn't seem possible to "cheat" - to get out of it in a way that Anne wouldn't know. Anne, my god. Just the sound of her name in my head makes my cock want to surge, which, of course it can't in it's confined little tube.
Don't exactly remember falling in love with Sandra. Was just a kid and it happened slowly, over the course of several years. So tonite was in many ways the first time for me. Falling for someone so hard and so sudden. And in such a totally unexpected and bizarre fashion, so many fantasies played out, each better than it ever was in my imagination. The thought comes to me that today has been the best day of my life. The psychic distance traveled from barely coping to my current ecstatic mood is immense and I make a solemn vow to never slip back.
Days pass. My schedule is frenetic, three complex projects, a bevy of workers to supervise, one of the projects relentlessly hurtling towards it's completion deadline. Anne stays over in the city two or three nights a week so it isn't until Friday evening - four days after our initial encounter - that we get together again. Of course by that time am just dying for some sex, for some relief to the building pressure.
On one level it's awful. On another it's utterly phenomenal - like have been gifted the fountain of youth. Every woman I encounter seems hot. Mrs. Curry, the lady am doing a major renovation for - fifty, pudgy - never noticed how sexy she was. Now I can feel her creative energy and wonderful enthusiastic spirit as we design a particularly cool bit of construction together, laughing and joking as we proceed; and I see what a fabulous lover she might be and it is all I can do to keep my mind on the business at hand. The teenager in the convenience store, 16, bored, braces, skinny, barely a female to the old Dan, now she seems the hottest little minx on the planet - and she picks up on it and vamps for me as I fight to control myself paying for some milk. And the gym. All these sizzling, fiendishly fit female bodies jiggling and sweating, enough to drive any male crazy, though just last week I barely deigned to notice.
Frenetic schedule or not, there are still the nights to get through and Anne burns in my mind to the point of fever. The old Dan, the morose, mournful sad eyed middle-aged guy, lumbering through life without a spark has vanished without a trace, replaced by this man overflowing with passion, lust and love for life.
Eventually Friday does manage to roll around. Anne comes to my house this time, right from work in her blue business suit, her black pumps and her charcoal BMW parked next to my red pickup in the drive, the full moon visible through the trees. It's awkward for a minute or so, but I take the lead and embrace her and we kiss for a long time, my cock making an heroic attempt to burst from it's prison.
"Whew, Dan, I don't know - that wasn't very submissive on your part."
"I don't know either Anne but somehow feel we are going to be spending a lot of time together. Don't believe I want to be your slave boy all the time. Don't think that's really me."
"No idea Dan. New territory. My inclination? Let's not make any rules about where the boundaries are - but you wear my chastity belt, you probably do what I say for the most part."
"Okay Anne, no rules about boundaries - let's see how this plays and take it as it comes."
We eat dinner together in my living room, enjoying the fire and each other's company, talking of this and that - politics, religion, children, life. Nothing about her pushes any wrong buttons, think she finds me equally acceptable and little by little we slide into a comfortable, rather sweet lovers intimacy. Another thing have sorely missed. Talking to someone like this. Never quite the same with friends.
We seem to have mutually decided on slow. It's a few hours of conversation before I begin carefully and lovingly undressing her. When she is naked I give her an all over body massage, run her a bath and wash her tight lithe body, hard to believe she's almost forty, gradually slipping into my submissive role. It's a wonderful exercise for me, being this horny, proceeding at this leisurely pace and it's almost two more hours before the naked and squeaky clean Anne binds my hands over my head and attaches them to a sturdy hook she's had me screw into a beam in the ceiling. She unpacks a thin rubber whip from her bag.
"Well, it's November so you won't be going 'round in shorts and you can't have another lover so am going to indulge myself with this whip. It will mark you, but not scar you, or at least that's what the lady at Alternative Lifestyles in the city has assured me and I cannot believe I am getting to do this, no idea how many times have played this scene out in my mind."
Then she begins. From the first relatively easy lash it's fucking intense, different still than the flicking or the foot whipping. Worse in terms of pain, I think. But better cause can see how excited she is, fighting herself for control, not wanting to go too far though her pussy is pushing and pushing her to make it more intense. She spaces the lashes going very slowly, gradually building the strength of her strokes til I fear to be flayed alive. She pauses from time to time to massage my arms and legs to keep them from cramping as I twist and writhe in agony.
It's a very long and very sadistic whipping that Anne administers to me, her helpless victim. She has me crying and begging for mercy, sweating like a hog, going on an hour before she stops. My body is covered in whip marks some of which are bleeding slightly and we are both exhausted, gasping for air.
After a few minutes to calm down, she gets out the key and undoes my belt. My cock springs to life. She washes me all over, puts disinfectant on the parts of me that are cut and then goes into my bathroom and returns with a razor and some gel. It takes her a while of concentration to remove every bit of hair from around my cock, balls and ass. Some of it she plucks out with a tweezers. When she is satisfied she kneels down and starts to lick the shaft of my cock. Putting it in her mouth for a gentle little suck. Needless to say this drives me absolutely bonkers but she is careful to keep me away from the release I crave. I try not to beg but can't help myself after awhile. Not a prayer she says as she goes to the freezer and returns with a washcloth wrapped in ice which she uses to soften my shaft so she can lock me back in the belt.
When she has me safely stored she lets me out of my bondage.
"Don't know if can take much more of this frustration Anne - I really, really need to cum."
"I know you do Dan, that's what makes it so hot to deny you."
"How long are you going to make me wait?"
"Long as I please Dan. Maybe I'll unlock you and let you fuck me a bit later, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe I'll make you wait a whole week or maybe even a month. My choice. Not negotiable. And I don't want to hear any whining about it. You can beg while I'm teasing you but other than that I don't want to hear. Agreed?"
"I don't know Anne, this is pretty harsh, pretty difficult."
"I'm sure it is Dan but that is how it is going to be between us. We can be regular folks in a lot of ways if that is how things evolve, but as long as this lasts between us I control your cock. Totally. Agreed?"
She is staring right at me, lips pursed in determination. If I say yes it is going to be very difficult not to drift into being her slave for real. Is that what I want?
"New territory indeed Anne. Pretty fucking insane... ... . Agreed."
"Really? Are you sure. You know what a sadistic bitch I am, know how torturous am going to make it for you?"
Then I get the smile - that big beaming smile and she starts skipping around the room like a little girl, clapping her hands in delight.
So I spend the next two hours pleasuring Anne with my tongue. Very, very slowly, bringing her right to orgasm, keeping her on the plateau for awhile, then gently nudging her over the edge. She squirms and squeals and moans and gasps with pleasure. It's wonderful doing this to her. Once, twice, three times. We kiss a lot in-between and eventually she falls asleep in my bed.
I can't sleep. The frustration. The excitement. But most of all having this warm healthy human body that is not Sandra lying next to me. I think of Sandra, imagine what she would make of all this, know that if she knew she would be happy for me, happy that I'm happy, everything else doesn't matter. I go into the bathroom and give myself a good cry. Last one I say to myself. Enough of sadness. Life belongs to the living. I go back to the bedroom, lay down next to Anne, spoon with her and fall into an exhausted asleep.
The next morning I awake to the fine smell of coffee and bacon. Anne has made us breakfast. A small thing perhaps but it touches me deeply.
I have cleared my schedule for the day, hoping that Ann and I might spend it together and she readily agrees.
A rocky stream, a foot or so deep in most places, runs past my house and through the forest beyond. After breakfast we don sneakers and jeans and begin to navigate upstream, hopping from rock to rock when possible, climbing up the bank and walking in the forest when it is not, slipping and getting soaked when we misjudge. The weather didn't seem very cold when we started out but it doesn't take long for wet feet and wet jeans to leave us chilled and shivery
We find a pleasant glade, gather some wood and build an extravagant fire which roars and crackles with heat and smoke. We strip. Hang our socks to dry. Stand as close as we dare to warm away the chill. Anne has the key. She holds it up to her eyes, shining with the reflected glare of the fire, turning it about, examining it closely.
"Hmm. Think you can handle me straight up Dan? No games?"
"Yes Anne, I do believe I can," though am of a sudden uneasy. Straight up. Has all this s&m stuff hidden my reservations, my loyalty to Sandra, my fear of getting close to someone again? Probably. But no turning back now.
So we do the thing that regular folks do. Make love. My hard cock in her wet pussy. And it's easy, exquisite, especially the second and third times when I'm calm enough to slow down. We stare into each other's eyes whenever we can, neither of us zoning out. We don't say it, but I feel it and I think she does as well.
When we are done Anne gets some water from the stream, washes me off and locks me back up.
"I wanted you to know what you will be missing Dan. Likely be some time before we do that again."
Over the rest of the day and night we ever so gently slip back into role. I wait on Anne, pleasure her a few more times but she doesn't beat me and we are rather subdued.
Sunday have an unbreakable commitment to help out my aging parents who are trying to hang on to their beloved home. My sister and I have agreed to keep them from a nursing home as long as is possible and we both put in a lot of time doing for them the things they no longer can do for themselves. It's not really much of a chore. I love my folks, my dad and mom still mentally sharp and still going through the affectionate joking routines remember from childhood. I tell them I've met someone that I like a lot and they are happy for me, a burden, I think, lifted from their shoulders.
The next week Anne and I manage an evening together at her place. She has me clean her purposefully left disgusting bathroom with a tiny sponge on my hands and knees, naked but for my belt. She uses her rubber whip to encourage me and at the end makes me lick the caked on shit from her toilet, something I really don't want to do. I beg but she is firm and I realize that humiliating me turns her on as much or even more than torturing me. Yeah, she agrees must be something about how big and strong a guy you are but making you do it is almost enough to get me off on the spot.
By the time the weekend arrives I haven't cum for seven days. The common everyday world is starting to slip away, replaced by a buzzing universe of lust. It's still magical, fun, as if I am young again, but by Friday have started to find it a more than a little annoying. Middle age is really not so bad. Having your sex drive turned down a bit lets one get on with the other parts of life. Being flung back to teenage city is a gas for awhile but do I really want to live there?
Not that I have much choice. Anne spends the entire weekend at my house mercilessly teasing, humiliating and torturing me. No fucking, no orgasms, little kindness. I'm her slave. Period. And she makes sure to hammer the point home at every opportunity.
On Sunday, after having me wait on her hand and foot, then abusing my behind with a wooden paddle til it is covered in bruises and blisters, laughing at my cries of pain, she stretches me over a footstool and anally rapes my virgin asshole with a frightenningly large strap-on. She ignores my very real protests and I come about an inch from losing it, from getting angry and demanding that she stop. But I suck it up, submit to even this level of pain and degradation and it feels a watershed. To this point had maintained a certain detachment, a sense of how erotic and exciting it all is, even while being tortured. A sense also that Anne and I were equal partners who have chosen to play this game because it is fun for both of us. But the anal raping and her leery, nasty attitude while doing it, makes me feel weak, dirty, low; beneath her, merely a toy for her amusement. I have submitted to her at some deeper psychological level and it knocks me out of the safe world of "play", into the frightening world of a concrete relationship that I seem helpless to control.
Just before Anne leaves on Sunday night she informs me she is going on a business trip for two weeks. A bummer to begin with as will have no hope of sexual satisfaction during that time. To make matters worse she assigns me chores to do at her place. Small things really, but a strain to my already stretched schedule. Again feel I should protest - not in the bargain thought I was making, but can find no will and submissively agree.
"Be careful," I call out in goodbye as Anne opens the door to her car and wish I hadn't said it the moment it escapes my lips. She stops, turns around and walks back to me, standing on my porch, embraces and kisses me in a show of affection that has been painfully lacking all weekend.
"You know Dan," she says, "I've never had anyone. Never. Not once in my whole life has it been more than sex. You, my dear fellow, are without doubt the best thing that has ever come my way, " now looking me right in the eye, "and I promise not to die before I've had my fill of you which is likely to take at least fifty years."
And before I can utter a word in response she walks back to her BMW and drives away, leaving me standing there like a fool with my mouth hanging open, completely at a loss.
Page last updated 05-Aug-22 by: Altairboy@aol.com