For The Love Of Legs And Feet By Michael F.

I no longer know how to stand.

It is the way she is seated on the bench by prearrangement, her husband on the other side of her with his newspaper turned open as he feigns to read the latest headlines when in fact his eyes are perusing me.

My body aches its way toward the vacant spot next to her on the bench.  My hand then does as we originally discussed, moving slowly, lightly, as casually as a leaf in the breeze, toward the nylon clad thigh that awaits there, the smooth knee beneath the mesh, the rising and tapering calf, the foot deep into a wave of straps and spike and leather, flitting unceremoniously back and forth near the walkway where the pigeons gather restlessly for remnants of some other stranger’s crumbs.

When my fingertips make first contact with the nylon I am a fountain of arousal, the sensation extending as if through my bloodstream down into my legs which weaken with it, my heart beating out a military cadence, my throat as arid as Sahara, my passion rising so that I must cross my legs in order not to divulge it.  Divulging it would go against the rules that we have predetermined.

This is to be casual, her husband’s gravelly voice demanded, it is to be innocent while at once be fiery with suppressed desire.  For the love of legs and feet, of stockings and leathers, is alternately arousing and hidden in the nature of our society.  There are many like me who wander about day to day, dazzled by the click of certain footsteps on the walks, the faint pungency of a shoe half dangled from a stocking foot, the gentle arch of said same foot like a triumphal passage into a conquerable and conquered city.

My reach extends further onto her thigh and even slightly up the skirt which has convenient slits along the sides for such surreptitious inspection, my hand flat against her hip, my body sorely tempted to drift over to her, closer to her, when it must not.

As if anticipating my anxiety she adjusts closer to me and the pressure of my hand against her hip grows more fervent, stronger, deeper, warmer and more proximate.  She opens her legs ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly to the passing eye but to me it is the parting of the Red Sea, a biblical proportion of exposure, almost as if I could smell the oceanic conjure of her desire in the deep crevasse between her legs.

In another setting, in a closed room, I would surely by now be down upon my knees, rubbing my hands against her thighs in order to open them still further, burying my face deep within her, rending a tiny slit within the crotch of her panties so that I might taste the full pungency of her desire.

Instead I must content myself with the hand deflecting off and brushing along her calf as I traverse my way downward, falsifying motions like I am offering a crumb to one of the bobble headed pigeons nearby when I am in fact now caressing the heel of her shoe and seeking to open it ever so slightly, for all of this is about opening, all of it is about the concealment of this special form of lust and then opening it in all its raw red beauty to the world around us so that it must forcibly accept it once and for all, so that there are no more assignations on park benches to leave its occupants to later masturbate in darkened rooms.

No instead there should be a full exposure of the shoe, the foot, the leg, the nylons, so that there might be full exposure of my desire as well, and then hers, so that the pornography, the atomization of the body into these component parts, at last bears a connection to the tongues and fingers and penises and vaginas that will bring the entirety of the figures into total climax.

Instead I recognize the gesture of the husband folding his newspaper to tuck beneath his arm, his hand encasing his bride’s, the two of them standing up and dusting themselves off as if from my contact, he nodding, she nodding, I nodding, all of us like ridiculous wind-up dolls bobbing and nodding as we depart from one another sans climax, sans satisfaction, just bearing memories that we will take to other rooms and other lovers and scatter them like pollen in the covers to plant deeper seeds within our souls.


Nympho Librarian By Mike Sharlow

I visited my friend Tom, almost always without notice, because he didn’t have a phone. Tom was about six-two with a bushy unkempt moustache and long curly blond hair similar to Custer’s. Tom had bad teeth, because he pathologically avoided the dentist. He said that he couldn’t stand to have someone sticking their fingers, anything in his mouth. It made him have panic attacks. The way he talked about it, it made me think someone at sometime stuck something truly rotten and revolting in his mouth. Now his teeth were decaying.

Tom smoked generic cigarettes, and being a recovering alcoholic, he washed them down with coffee rather than booze. As long I had known Tom, he had never been employed. Like a lot of recovering alcoholics, he discovered, that once he stopped drinking, the mental illness he had always had took the opportunity to rear its ugly head now that the booze no longer kept it at bay. Supposedly, Tom’s mental illness was so debilitating that he couldn’t work. He got social security since he was disabled. I kind of thought it was bullshit. Granted, he was kind of fucked up, but I didn’t know anybody that wasn’t. I guess the stress of a job was too much for him. It would cause some kind of break down for him. Tom appeared to function quite sanely, lucidly, and even highly functioning. He was quite intelligent, and spent much of his free time in the library reading up on any subject that interested him. Sometimes he got a little abstract, which some people found strange, but he made more sense to me than most people I knew.

I knocked on his door. I heard the TV on inside so I knew he was home. Before he answered the door, he turned the TV off. I thought it was his etiquette, but after I got to know him very well I realized that he didn’t want anything else in the room vying for my attention. Tom liked to dominate conversation, and he liked an audience, even of one. Tom felt like he deserved an audience. He believed his intelligence gave birth to ideas and thought that the rest of the world should pay attention to, and at least give him the proper respect he deserved. Tom talked like he was an undiscovered genius, and he was resentful that mankind hadn’t acknowledge him yet. But I wanted to ask him, “Don’t you think you should do something of genius for mankind to acknowledge that you have that value?”

“Hey buddy,” he said when he opened the door. He was visibly happy to see me. He always was, to varying degrees.

“Hi Tom.”

“What’s new? Have a seat. Wanna cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” I said.

“How’s the kids?” he asked, although I think he only saw my kids once, the one time he visited my house. He was visibly uncomfortable being in my home. I never took it personally that he didn’t want to visit me. My life, my home, reminded him of everything he didn’t have. Tom lived in an efficiency apartment. I had a house, a family, a decent job. He envied my life, but I also envied something he had that I didn’t. Freedom. Free to do whatever he wanted to do on any given day.

Most of our conversations were about writing. That was how we became friends. Tom was a friend of one of my brother’s friends, so we crossed paths at some birthday party for someone neither of us knew very well. The subject of books came up which led to writing, and I shared that I had published a novel in the small press. Tom was a poet, but he had aspirations to write a commercially viable science fiction novel, something that would make him a lot of money, something that would get made into a movie like a Michael Crichton novel. Tom wanted to collaborate on it with me. I got the feeling that it was why he wanted to be my friend. Tom was a man of a lot of ideas but little action. I saw exactly how it would have worked out. He would be feeding me plot and storyline, and I would be pounding the words out. The whole idea of collaborating with him gave me anxiety. I finally convinced him that he could do it on his own. And he did write it. It was a crappy piece of shit, but a lot of crappy pieces of shit go on to get published. His never did. But while we wrote our novels, we became each other’s muse. I always left his apartment feeling creatively charged.

I hadn’t seen Tom in few days, so we spent a couple of minutes catching up.

“Writing much lately?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have been. My wife has been giving me a bunch of shit for how much I have been. You know, if I published a book and made a million dollars it would be a different story.”

“Course it would,” he said and got that look on his face that showed restraint. I know he wanted to tell me that she was fucking bitch and that I should leave her. Even if I wanted to, I didn’t know how I could. “You’re a lot different than she is,” he said. It was his way of saying that I shouldn’t be with her.

“How’s your writing going?” I asked. I didn’t want to talk about my wife anymore.

“I just sent my novel out again. I still don’t know what I want to write about next. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to invest the time in another novel, until I see if something happens with this one.”

I figured this was the way a lot of pseudo-writers quit writing. They don’t acquire the success they want and they quit. I always thought that writing wasn’t a choice. For me, it was something I needed to do, had to do to feel like my life meant something. Without it, I think I would eventually blow my brains out. It was how I defined myself. Mind you, this didn’t ever mean that I was a good, or even an adequate writer. It meant that I didn’t feel like I had a choice. Doing it was living. Not doing it was a slow death.

“I went to the library today,” Tom said.

So, I thought, you always go to the library.

“I found some pictures.”

“Pictures of what? What kind of pictures?”

“They fell out of the paper towel dispenser, when I pulled a towel out to dry my hands.”

“They fell out? Pictures of what? Nude pictures?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said and smiled uncomfortably. Tom wasn’t a prude, so I didn’t quite understand his apprehension.

“Who are they of?” I was asking for specifics like, male or female, old or young. I was looking for physical attributes to see if I wanted to see them. “Do you have them?”

“They’re of one of the librarians,” he said.

“What the hell?”

“Yeah,” he said then paused. “Want to see them?”

“Yeah,” I said excitedly.

He started to get up, and then he said, “I don’t know I feel lecherous showing these pictures. I’m sure she doesn’t know they were in there. Probably some pissed off ex-boyfriend put them there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t tell anybody about them.”

“I won’t. I understand.” Tom didn’t give a shit about exposing this woman. He was concerned that I might rat him out. He could be a bit paranoid.

He handed three 5×7 color photos to me. She was kind of cute. She had mid length reddish-blonde hair, and it was her true color. All of the photos were basically the same. She was completely naked. She was lying or leaning back with her legs spread apart to varying degrees. Her pussy looked very red and swollen like she had just had sex.

“Wow, I think I recognize her,” I said. I was no stranger to the library either. Odd as it was, I stared at her face as much as the rest her body at its vulnerable best. She was a little chunky with pale Irish skin. She was smiling like she was pleasing someone or had just pleased them. I think both. I wanted to keep the image of her face in my head for the next time I went to the library, which would be at my first opportunity. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I thought about giving them back to her so she knows what some asshole did to her. I’m all for taking the pictures, but he didn’t have to do that to her.”

I was thinking that Tom probably jerked off to her more than once since he found the pictures. Who wouldn’t?

“As unlikely as it seems, maybe she put them there herself,” I said.

“I doubt it,” Tom said. “I think I’ll just throw them away.”

“Don’t do that. I’ll take them off your hands,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“I won’t show them to anyone.” Both of us knew I was lying. I would be discrete with them, but at some point I would show them to someone. How couldn’t I?

“I think I’ll just throw them away,” Tom said with a tone of integrity in his voice that I thought was probably bullshit. He was one of the biggest horn-dogs I knew. As long as I knew him he hadn’t had a girlfriend, nor do I think he had even gotten laid, and it wasn’t for lack of want or trying. He wasn’t going to throw those pictures away. If there was a possibility that they could get him laid, he would use them. What assumptions or conclusions he would come to in his somewhat complex and convoluted mind were the unknowns. Once Tom and I went to a strip club, and on the ride home he kept talking about one of the strippers and how she had special interest in him. “She kept looking at me,” Tom said. “I think she really liked me. Damn, I should have asked her for her number.” I don’t know how someone can be so intelligent and so deluded at the same time. The girl was a stripper. Her job was to make every man think he was special. That was how she got tips. It had been way too long since Tom had gotten laid. Jerking off satisfies a temporary urge, but only real sex truly treats the malady

I went to the library a couple of days after I visited Tom. For some reason I didn’t think she would be there, but she was. At first I wasn’t sure it was her, because I imagined her shorter from the picture. She had also gained some weight from the picture, but for all I knew she might have gained and lost a couple of different times since the pictures had been taken. She was wearing a dark blue skirt with nylons and a buttoned up white blouse. Her shoes, although I didn’t know what they were called, were also conservative looking. By the way this woman dressed, I didn’t think she would pose for the kind of pictures she did.

I checked out a couple of books I knew I would never read. Not that I would never read these books. It was just that I had a pile at home I was working through. The other librarian checked me out, but I got a better look at the red head, and I heard her voice. It was high and young in tone.

It was probably just me, but I got a sense that she knew I was up to something. After I left the library, and as I walked to my car, I realized how much I must have been staring at her.

Four days later I had a chance to visit Tom again. I wanted to tell him that I had seen her. I wanted to see those pictures again after I had seen her in person so recently.

I heard the TV on inside. I thought it was strange that he found so much to watch even though he didn’t have cable. Without cable only five stations were available. For a guy who lived alone I could see how the background noise of TV could help alleviate loneliness.

Tom turned off the TV and opened the door. He was as glad to see me as he always was.

“I saw her,” I said.

“Yeah, so did I. A couple of times. I talked to her.” Then he hesitated for a moment and said, “About the pictures.”

“Really? How did that go?” I hoped for the best but expected the worst.

“I asked her if I could to talk to her in private, and we walked up to the nonfiction upstairs way in back.” Tom introduced himself and learned that her name was Cindy. He told her that he found something in the men’s restroom, and he handed her one the pictures in an envelope. Tom left the other two at home. How would she know that he found three? She stared at the picture, and her pasty Irish complexion became a dark pink, as her green eyes welled. Tom told her he was sorry, but he thought she should know.

“Do you have any others?” She asked. She obviously knew how many had been taken.

“She was really intimidating. I didn’t know what to say, but I said no, and she didn’t believe me.”

“I want the others,” she demanded. Being a librarian, she knew how to talk harshly but quietly.

Tom admitted to having two others.

As she snatched the one from his boney fingers she asked him why he didn’t bring the other two.

“I said I wanted to take her out on a date, maybe for coffee, but she called me a freak and accused me of knowing her ex-boyfriend and that we were in it together.”

“In what together?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have a chance to.”

She stuck her finger in Tom’s chest and told him that he better go get the other pictures, “Now!”

“Then she pushed me. That woman is strong.”

Tom reeled back and fell into a book shelf. The shelves didn’t domino over like in the movies. Library shelves and sturdy and well supported, but Tom said, as he crashed into the stacks that about a hundred books fell off onto the floor, and ended up on the floor himself.

“I hit my head. Look at this lump,” Tom said meekly like a battered husband, as he pulled his hair back to show me.

He had a small knot.

“Did you take her the other pictures?”

“Not yet, but if I ever want to go back to the library I’ll have to,” he said and sighed heavily.

“It will be okay. I’ll go with you if you want?”

“No. I hoping that she’s had some time to cool off, and we can still have that cup of coffee.”

“Really?” I didn’t think there was any way this woman would be interested in establishing a relationship with Tom based upon an introduction from the chance finding of explicit pictures. “Would you want to go out with someone that has the ability to physically abuse you? Maybe she beat the shit out of the other guy, so he retaliated by humiliating her with strategically placing the pictures in the library.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Tom said.

“I would just drop the other two pictures off and walk away. Let it go.”

The next time I saw Tom he told me that he tried to give her the pictures and walk away, but Cindy found him a little later, when he was browsing through the fiction section. I know Tom well enough to know that he wanted her to approach him; otherwise he would have left the library after dropping off the pictures. “She apologized for pushing me. And thanked me for bringing them.”

“That’s good,” I said.

“She asked me if I showed the pictures to anyone else who knows she works here, and I told her I didn’t, so don’t say anything when you meet her.”

“What?” I said.

“We went for coffee, and then she took me back to her place and fucked my brains out,” Tom said with his chest puffed up like a rooster.

I had never seen him feeling quite so good about himself. I was dumbstruck and then envious. I didn’t know if I should congratulate him, or be concerned for his welfare. “When do you think I’ll meet her?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see how things go.”

Well, I never did formally meet her. Tom only saw her one more time when she came over to his place and screwed him a couple of days after she screwed him the first time. Tom thinks she wanted to be sure he had given her all the pictures. But he also believed she had a thing for him, because she didn’t necessarily have to fuck him twice to find out if he gave her everything he had. Of course, he regretted ever telling her how many he found. “If I had only said I had one other at home.”

“At what point were you going to use it to have her screw you again. And do you think it would be worth the ass-kicking she’d give you afterwards?”

“She couldn’t take me. I’d be ready for her next time,” Tom said and nodded subtly but confidently.

For the next six months I listened to him talk about Cindy and the lost opportunity. And for the next six months Tom parked himself within eyeshot of the bathroom, and after almost every visitor to the men’s restroom (he didn’t bother with the real old guys), Tom checked the towel dispenser.

“Don’t you end up going into the restroom a lot? Doesn’t anyone ever say anything to you?”

“One of the librarians did, but I told her I had a bladder condition.”

Tom never did find anymore pictures. I have to admit, when I go to the library and use the restroom, I slide my fingers up the paper towel dispenser just to make sure.

Olivia’s Ordeal By DirtyMartini

So many things were going through Olivia’s young mind as she rode in the back of the van. Though she was uncomfortable from the cuffs and leg irons digging into her lovely olive skin, this was barely a distraction as she replayed the recent events of her life over and over in her head. It was dark in the back of the transport van, and the 20-minute ride gave her plenty of time to think. How could she have not known her boyfriend Kenny was dealing drugs? He seemed like a nice guy and always bought her nice things. How could he have set her up to take the fall? He had told her he loved her and they would always be together. What was life going to be like in her new home? She heard so many stories. Were all those dykey girls going to be staring at her pretty young body? God, the thought of it made her cringe…

She can still hear the judge’s words, “90 days in the woman’s unit at the county jail”. She can still hear her lawyer telling her what a great plea bargain deal he got her. Great deal for whom, she thought, him? He gets paid and gets to go home to his wife. I’m the one going to jail.

After what seemed like an eternity, the van finally arrived at the main prison entrance. The driver said something into the radio and Olivia could hear the main gate squeal loudly as it slowly rolled open. Once inside the walls the van slowly drove down the long road to the intake building. As it rolled past the streetlights, each shone its light beam in through the small window on the side of the van, lighting up Olivia’s blank expression with a slow motion strobe effect.

After a few minutes the van stopped at the loading dock. A few more minutes and Olivia could hear voices on the other side of the van door. The door opened quickly and Olivia could see two female guards.

“Step out of the van please.”

Olivia got up and slowly walked to the back of the van, the chains from the leg irons clanging in rhythm with every step she took.

“Watch your step.”

The two armed officers slowly escorted Olivia past the loading dock to a door. When they arrived at the door, one of the officers spoke into the intercom.

“One prisoner from central holding.”

A loud buzzing sound signaled the unlocking of the door and Olivia was led in. She was escorted to a small, hard, wooden bench and told to sit. One of the guards took out a key and released the handcuffs from one of her wrists. She then took the freed cuff and locked Olivia to a large metal hook on the bench. Next, she bent down and released the leg irons from both ankles and tossed them in a heap against the wall. The guard then went over to a desk where a large female officer sat and handed her an envelope containing Olivia’s jewelry and personal property. After a few moments of small talk, the two guards that brought Olivia in left. As they passed by Olivia one of them spoke, “Someone will be with you in a few minutes.” Then they walked back out the door.

Gee, someone will be with me in a few minutes, Olivia muttered to herself. Well, they can take their sweet time. I’m in no hurry. She looked over at the officer sitting at the desk. She was a large, black woman about 30. She did not look up and did not seem in any hurry. At no time did she even acknowledge Olivia’s presence.

Olivia looked around the jail. It was cold sitting on the bench. Olivia had goose bumps and the small hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She was not shivering, but she was cold.

The gray painted cinder block walls did nothing to give the place a feeling of warmth. There were girls’ names etched into the walls everywhere. In some cases a heart would surround two girls’ names. Olivia stared at the wall where ‘Lisa loves Pam’ was prominently etched in bold letters and let out a small chuckle. ‘That could never be me,’ she thought.

After a half-hour or so, the large black officer finally got up. She walked over to Olivia and stood directly in front of her. She was a large, imposing figure with a look of authority. She held some papers in her hand, which she kept looking at. After a moment she asked, “Your name?”

“Olivia Diaz” was the reply.

“Your age?”


“Social security number?”

“178-88-4953” was Olivia’s quiet reply.

The officer then pulled out a key and unlocked Olivia’s handcuffs. “Follow me” she said.

Olivia followed the officer to a small room down the hall that contained a desk with a computer and not much else. The officer reached into a closet and pulled out a plastic storage bin. She then removed a paper form from the top desk drawer and began filling it out. As she did she handed the plastic bin to Olivia.

“Remove all your clothing and place it in the bin, including your underwear. I see you have a shirt, pants, bra, panties, two socks and a pair of sneakers. I also need you to sign this property receipt.”

“Can’t I keep my underwear?” asked Olivia.

“No. You can’t have anything you can hide things in.”

As soon as she handed Olivia the property receipt, the officer reached in the bottom drawer and removed a pair of latex gloves from a large box. She put the gloves on.

“I need you to turn around and face the wall.”

As Olivia turned and faced the wall, she could feel the officer’s fingers probing her ears, bending each one back slowly. She then lifted up Olivia’s long black hair and ran her fingers slowly through it in a deliberate methodical kind of way.

“You have anything on your person you should not have?”

“No,” said Olivia; “I was searched just before I entered the court house.”

“I have to do it again. Procedure, you know.”

Olivia could feel that the officer let go of her hair as it fell back onto her neck and shoulders.

“Bend over for me.”

‘Oh God,’ thought Olivia. Olivia could feel the officer’s gloved hands gently spreading her butt cheeks. She could feel her fingers probe her butt hole. Her fingers started to work their way down.

“Bend over a little farther for me. Touch your toes.”

Olivia could feel the officer’s fingers make their way down to her womanhood. Suddenly she felt a finger being inserted slowly into her and she let out a muffled moan. This was so degrading, she kept thinking. She tried not to think about it but the officer’s slow movements actually felt good. After a moment she removed her hand.

“Turn around for me.”

Olivia did as told.

“Open your mouth, wide.”

As Olivia opened her mouth, the officer pulled out a small flashlight from her pocket and started examining her mouth.

“Lift your tongue.”

Again Olivia did as told. As the officer turned off the light and put it back in her pocket, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. The officer walked over to a small cart and came back with a one-piece orange jump suit.

“Put this on. This is what you will be wearing for the remainder of your stay. The snaps go in the front.”

Olivia put on the jumpsuit as the officer watched intently. As she put it on she noticed only two of the four snaps actually worked. She could see in a nearby mirror that her breasts were clearly visible from the sides and if she leaned over, the top portion of her neatly trimmed pubic hair was exposed.

“Do you have another jumpsuit? This one is missing snaps. Please.”

“No,” said the officer. “It is the only one in your size.”

Olivia was frantic. ‘Oh my God,’ she thought. ‘This is a nightmare. Someone please get me out of here. Please.’

The officer led Olivia out of the room and down the hall to a holding cell. There was another inmate in the cell, also in an orange suit.

“Wait here till we have your cell ready,” the officer said. “It should be soon.”

The officer closed the door with a sharp clang. Olivia tried not to stare at the other inmate. She was a large woman with close-cropped hair and faded monochrome tattoos. Olivia could make out the name Wendy tattooed on the girl’s forearm. Oh My God, she thought. I would hate to be her cellmate.

“Hi, I’m Andy,” said the other girl. “What you in for?”

“Possession,” quipped Olivia. “My boyfriend set me up.”

“Sounds like a boyfriend you don’t need. Ever been with another girl before?”

“No, and I don’t intend to,” said Olivia sharply.

“Don’t worry. You will. You’ll be Gay for the Stay, just like all the rest. You’ll see.”

Gay for the stay. Those words cut through Olivia’s mind like a hot knife through butter. There was no way Olivia would ever let that happen.

“Andrea Jackson?” a guard asked at the cell door. “Come with me.”

Andy was led out. Olivia was hoping she could get her cell soon so she could lie down in peace and collect her thoughts. She was cold, she felt naked and she was scared. About 20 minutes later another guard appeared at the door.

“Olivia Diaz. Come with me.”

Olivia was led down the hall to her awaiting cell. There were a few hoots and whistles from some of the girls in the cells as Olivia passed by. They finally arrived at the cell.

“24 North,” shouted the guard. “Open.”

The door opened with a loud buzz.

“Welcome to your new home.”

Olivia didn’t say a word as she walked into the cell.

“You get the top bunk,” a voice said from below. Olivia could not see the face at first, but the voice sounded familiar. It was Andy. Oh my God.

“Hey, look who it is. We’re going to have a real good time, you and me.”

Olivia climbed up to the top bunk and lied down. She was tired. It was a long day. In a little while she was asleep.

Sometime later Olivia awoke to find a hand on her thigh. It was Andy. “What’s up precious?”

“Please don’t touch me. Please. I’ll scream.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” with that, Andy put her hand over Olivia’s mouth and began climbing up the bed and into the bunk. She got next to Olivia in the bed, keeping her hand over her mouth the whole time. There was barely room for the two of them in the small bunk. The big woman had her leg between Olivia’s legs, her thigh firmly pressing Olivia’s thigh and moving her leg up and down along Olivia’s legs.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

Andy began to feel Olivia’s breasts with her free hand. At first she gently caressed them and then she firmly squeezed her left breast.

“Oh, these are nice,” Andy said, “I can see we are going to have a good time you and me.”

Andy gave Olivia’s left nipple a soft kiss. With that she released her breast and stopped stroking her leg.

“I’m going to release your mouth and if you say a word your ass is mine.”

Olivia was paralyzed with fear as the girl took her hand away. Olivia just lied there shaking as the other girl got down.

There was no other incident the rest of the night. Still, Olivia had a hard time sleeping. The other girls in the cellblock made noise all night, hollering and talking trash. The hard mat was so uncomfortable. Of course it was cold.

The next morning started with breakfast. The whole cellblock ate at the same time. Olivia quickly got her food and found a seat. She felt the whole room was staring at her. She hoped she could eat quickly and keep a low profile. Her hopes were dashed when she looked up and saw Andy approaching. Andy put her tray down in front of the seat right next to hers and walked up behind Olivia. Olivia began to get nervous in anticipation of what might happen next.

“Hey all, I want to introduce you to my new celly, Olivia.”

“She looks fine. I’ll give you a carton of smokes for her!” one of the inmates shouted across the room. There was laughter from other inmates.

“No, she’s a keeper. All mine.” With that, Andy started to run her fingers through Olivia’s long black hair. She then started caressing her neck and ran her hand up and down her cheek.

“Keep your hands off me!” screamed Olivia. With that, Olivia picked up her orange juice and threw it in Andy’s face.

“Bitch!” shouted Andy as she slapped Olivia hard across the face, knocking her onto the floor. Andy got on top of her and the two started going at it. Olivia’s nipples could be seen plainly exposed by her ill-fitting jumpsuit as the two rolled on the floor. Other inmates gathered around and started cheering. It was instant mayhem as the two girls went at it like animals.

The ensuing struggle brought almost immediate attention from the guards. In moments two correction officers were standing over the sweaty girls breaking them apart. One of them lifted Olivia up off the ground by her shoulders. Andy got up.

“Alright, what happened here?” shouted the guard. “Hey Andy, welcome back!”

“Yea, glad to be here, Pam,” said Andy. It was clear they knew each other.

“What you in for this time?”

“Picked up on an old warrant. Bullshit,” answered Andy.

“I have to take yous and write yous up you know.”

“That ain’t fair, she started it!” said Olivia.

“Don’t matter. There is no fighting.”

Pam led the two down the hall to a small office. She seated them and proceeded to fill out some paperwork. After about ten minutes she handed a paper to Andy and told her she could go back to her cell.

“We all taken care of?” Andy asked.

“Yea, we good,” Pam said, “You can still get shit?”

“Hell yea!” quipped Andy. It was clear these two knew each other and there was something going on other than a normal inmate guard relationship. “I got peoples coming next week. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t forget me,” said Pam, “You go. I want to have a talk with the new girl.”

“OK. I’ll get back at you next week.” With that Andy left the room.

Andy’s exit left Olivia alone with Pam. Pam smiled up at her with a sinister looking grin and then walked around to the front of the desk. She sat down on the edge of the desk and stared at Olivia with that grin on her face.

“I have to write you up for fighting, you know,” Pam said. “That is a whole ‘nother charge. Could keep you here another six months, maybe longer.”

“Please, no, please!” pleaded Olivia.

“I have no choice. Sorry.”

“Please, please. I’ll do anything! Please!”

“Hmm. That is what I wanted to hear.”

With that Pam removed her nightstick from its holster and started to slowly rub her own crotch with it. Slowly, up and down she rubbed the front of her pants between her own legs.

She then took the nightstick and in one sharp, quick upward motion undid the two snaps holding closed Olivia’s jumpsuit. Olivia’s breathing became so heavy you could hear every breath. Pam started to tease Olivia with the nightstick. First she started stroking her cheek with it, then on down to her breasts. Pam got off the desk and walked around behind Olivia’s chair.

“Get up,” she said as she hoisted Olivia out of her chair. As Olivia got up her jumpsuit fell to her ankles. She was standing in front of Pam stark naked her beautiful olive skin in full view. It was a feast for Pam’s eyes. Pam took the nightstick and dragged it up and down Olivia’s butt crack. She then walked around in front of Olivia and stuck it hard right between Olivia’s legs. Olivia closed her eyes as she let out a sharp moan. The nightstick was cold against her clit. Pam started to slide the nightstick up and down against Olivia’s neatly trimmed bush. Pam could hear Olivia’s faint moans and sighs with every stroke. Pam again walked around behind Olivia.

“Bend over, bitch!”

“Oh please, no!” Olivia pleaded.

“It’s this or six months more. Your choice.”

Olivia slowly bent forward. She again felt the nightstick against her butt this time edging slowly against the resistance of her butt hole.

“Lean against the desk with your arms wide,” Pam insisted.

Olivia did as told. She could feel Pam back the stick off her butt, but instead Pam started to ease it into Olivia’s tight pussy. Olivia started to moan as Pam slowly started to ease the cold nightstick in and out. First it was just an inch or two, then farther and farther. The stick was cold and its large diameter was more than Olivia was used to. Pam kept at it, each time pushing the stick up further and further into Olivia’s tight, moist cunt. Pam started to push it in and out faster and faster as Olivia felt Pam’s finger’s from her other hand reaching between her legs and finding her clit. As degrading as this was it was starting to feel really good to Olivia and in minutes she started to moan deeply and could feel an orgasm coming on. Within moments Olivia was spread out on the desk, writhing in delight, the nightstick humping her tight pussy like a dog.

Pam slowed her movements down as Olivia came back down from her climax. Pam quickly jerked the stick out of Olivia’s pussy and thrust it into Olivia’s butt in a quick motion that caused Olivia to scream. Once again Pam started pumping the nightstick. Her thrusts became quicker and quicker and Olivia’s moans became louder and louder. Once again the girl became overcome with pleasure, wetting the desk with her cum and wetting Pam’s hand. The inside of Olivia’s thighs glistened with her juices and her back was shiny with her sweat. Pam pulled out the stick quickly once again and placed it down on the desk next to Olivia’s face.

“Put your jumpsuit on and get out of here,” Pam said. “If you tell anyone, you’re a dead girl.”

As Olivia started to walk out, Pam suddenly jumped up and stood in front of her. “You know what?” Pam said coyly, “I don’t think I’m done with you. Down on your knees Bitch!” Pam was shouting at this point. “On your fucking knees, Bitch!”

With that, Pam took the nightstick and put it between her thighs up by her crotch. The stick was angled up at about 45 degrees, like an erect penis. “I want you to suck me off! And make sure I cum.”

Olivia hesitated. Pam grabbed the girl by her hair and held her head inches from the stick. “Are we going to do this the hard way? I can shove it through your teeth!”

Olivia opened her mouth and slowly placed her lips on the hard stick. She could see streaks of shininess from where the stick had just come out of her own ass.

“Come on Bitch, make me cum!” She began to move Olivia’s head up and down by tugging at her hair. Her movements became more and more violent with every thrust.

“Come on Bitch!” she was shouting once again, “Come on Bitch! I said make me cum!” Pam was aggressively moving Olivia’s head up and down on the stick. You could hear Olivia’s mouth making slobbering sounds as the saliva ran down the stick. Pam kept shouting,

“Come on Bitch! Make me cum!” as she just kept getting more and more violent. She was wildly moving Olivia’s head up and down on the nightstick as Olivia’s drool ran down the stick and started to puddle forming a wet stain on Pam’s pants. Finally, after about five minutes Pam stopped.

“I guess it ain’t gonna cum. I bet it’s the hardest dick you ever had!” She was still shouting. “Snap up your suit and get the fuck out of here.”

Olivia ran out the door as fast as she could before Pam could change her mind. Once around the corner she stopped and leaned against the wall in an effort to catch her breath. She was panting from excitement. She couldn’t talk, just pant. A few minutes later she walked back to her cell.

Upon being buzzed into her cell, Olivia immediately climbed up to her top bunk and lied down.

The ordeal she just went through took a lot out of her. She was hungry, tired and felt the need to take a shower badly. She asked Andy when lunch was, and was told she had just missed it. She also asked about taking a shower and was told shower privileges were at two. That was about an hour away. She had time to rest and try to calm her mind.

Two o’clock finally arrived and the inmates would be allowed to move about the jail, within limits of course. Inmates could watch TV in the dayroom, play basketball in the gym, use the phones or take showers. Olivia really looked forward to the shower. She got a clean towel and facecloth from the trustee for her cellblock and headed down to the shower room.

When she arrived at the shower room Olivia was pleased to see it was not crowded so there would be no wait. Olivia undid the snaps on her jumpsuit and let it drop to the floor. She picked it up and placed it on a hook on the wall. She made a mental note to try to get another clean jumpsuit as soon as possible. Hopefully one with all the snaps in the front.

Olivia got in the shower and turned it on. The water was a bit cold but boy did it sure feel refreshing. She stood there for a couple of minutes and let the water just run over her body, the drops running off her long black hair and down her back. Oh, did it feel good.

After a few minutes of this Olivia grabbed the soap from the rack and began to soap up her body. First her arms, then her legs and on up. As she stood there soaping herself up, with her eyes closed and her face pointed up towards the oncoming stream of water, Olivia suddenly felt a hand on her butt. She turned around to see Andy and two other girls, all completely naked. She was so engrossed in the shower she did not notice them enter the room.

“Looks like you need some help soaping up,” said Andy, “We’re here to help.”

Andy bent down and took her bar of soap and started soaping up Olivia’s legs one at a time with long firm strokes while her two friends each held Olivia by the arms. Andy started to kiss and nibble at Olivia’s lovely firm ass which was right in front of her face. She then slipped her tongue between her butt cheeks and darted it in and out while going up and down her butt. She continued moving the soap upward from her legs and started to soap up Olivia’s ass with firm massage like motions. She made sure to carefully soap up her asshole and as the running water ran down Olivia’s butt crack, Andy would flick her butt hole with her tongue and re-apply the soap. In the meantime, the other two girls were nibbling at Olivia’s ears and soaping up her upper body paying special attention to her breasts and hardening nipples. Olivia was covered with quite a bit of soap at this point. The girls turned her around and Andy judiciously soaped up her soft bush.

“I could use a good cleansing brush,” she joked as she rubbed her face against Olivia’s soaped up mound.

“Looks like it’s time to rinse her off,” Andy said and with that the girls each grabbed Olivia under the arms and Andy grabbed her by the butt and they hoisted her up with her legs in the air with her soapy mound nearly eye level directly under the stream of cool water. Olivia shut her eyes and let out a moan as the cool water hit her clit. Andy moved her right hand up to Olivia’s pussy and slowly inserted first one, then two and finally three fingers, vigorously working the girl into a frenzy. The water was rushing over her body and with her butt aimed high in the air the soapy water was rolling down past her rounded breasts and streaming down her long black hair. With her head tilted back her hair nearly touched the floor as the soapy water dripped off it forming a slippery puddle on the tile floor. The girls continued to soap and fondle each other in the shower for some time enjoying the feeling of the water rushing over their bodies. After it was over they took turns toweling each other off accompanied by lots of giggling and caressing. After a bit of playful towel snapping and long kisses they helped each other get dressed and headed off to the dayroom.

Later that day at dinnertime Olivia and Andy sat next to each other. Andy would sometimes reach over and caress Olivia’s leg or arm. If she was bothered by it, she certainly didn’t show it.

Olivia ended up getting released after serving half her time. She did the remaining time on probation.

When it was time for Olivia to leave, Andy handed Olivia her phone number on a slip of paper. “I should be out of here in a couple more months,” she said.

Olivia took the paper and thought, ‘the nerve of her, I have a boyfriend.’ Olivia thought about her recent past and what Kenny had done. She stuck the piece of paper in her pocket.

Sister Patience By Jerome Brooke

Mother Superior – As you have instructed me I have written a confession of my many sins, and the kind efforts by you and the Sisters of the Order to save my soul. Pray for me. Thank you for giving me refuge in the convent of the Sisters of Perpetual Sublimination, and allowing me to atone for my sins. I ask that you administer punishment for my transgressions. I hope that I will soon be free of my sins, and given the resolve not to sin again.

# # #

Mother Superior, I pray that you will forgive me. I will continue to seek to expiate my sins. Sister Patience has shown unswerving determination to reform me, without complaint. Glory Be! Brother Theo.

“Follow me to my cell, Brother Theo!”

Sister Patience led me down the hall of the convent, to her room. The cell was barren save for a narrow cot, a kneeler and a few items of furniture.

“Take off your cassock! Hurry!”

I removed my garments, and found Sister Patience had taken off her habit.

“Kneel at the tub!”

The holy woman stepped into the shallow tub, and poured cold water over her form. I watched as she continued her bath. She was a woman of mature years, with dark hair.

“There! I see proof that you are not pure in mind! Mother Superior will be disappointed!” warned the holy woman.

After her bath, Sister Patience went to her cot, after donning a white shift.

“Come, lie beside me. Remember, you must be pure in mind tonight. After I fall asleep, be firm, and do not touch my secret parts. We will be like brother and sister.”

# # #

Mother Superior, forgive me for my sins with Sister Patience. I will do penance! Glory Be! Sister Virginia has also sought to have me do penance for my many sins. Brother Theo.

“Mother Superior has asked me to take personal charge of your discipline! You must obey me in all things!” Sister Virginia frowned, shaking her finger in my face.

The holy woman was a woman of age, with white hair and a deeply lined face. She was plump, having been plagued by the sin of gluttony all her life.

After her bath, in cold water, she lay upon her cot. She summoned me to her side.

“I am confident that my purity will be safe with you this night. Do not touch my secret parts after I fall asleep. Say the rosary till you yourself fall asleep, Brother.”

# # #

Mother Superior, forgive my sins with Sister Virginia! I woke in the night to find the good woman at my person. She would give me no rest till I had served her desires. I only pray that the other sisters will desist from smiles when using her name! In a spirit of kindness, Sister Constance has taken me in hand. She has spared no efforts to save me from perdition. Glory Be! Brother Theo.

# # #

Mother Superior, bless me for I have sinned. Sister Concepcion has been unable to help me reach sublimation. Glory be, Brother Theo.

“Brother Theo, You must intercede for me with Mother Superior. When I go to services at the Cathedral, everyone stares. Even the Cardinal shook his head, when I saw him at the entrance. Many of the women are amused by my condition!”

“Your period of confinement is fast approaching. We need to decide on possible names. I will ask Mother Superior to set up a day care centre, here at the convent.”

“Last time the homily was on the Immaculate Concepcion. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and staring at me. This is all your fault!”

“We must pray!” I said.

# # #

Mother Superior, I will be pleased to confer with you on a more formal basis. I understand that you, like us all, feel a need for spiritual guidance. Glory Be! Brother Theo.

“Hello, Mother Superior.”

“Hello, my son. Do come in, sit here on the bench.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“I often feel a sense of isolation, Brother. I have spent my life here, and have yet to reach sublimation!”

“Holy communion, the sacramental meal – the host, is always of value, Mother Superior.”

“Yes, you are right, my son.”

The holy woman rose, and came to me. She knelt at my chair, and raised my cassock. I stood to offer her communion. She opened her mouth in readiness. I thrust into her open lips. She began to practice the holy rite, using her hand to assist.

When she had reached exaltation, she pulled back, and bowed her head in prayer for a moment. She rose, caught my eye, and swallowed.

“Come each day at this time, my son. Daily communion will be of great value. But come, I desire to seek sublimation.”

The holy woman sat upon her chair, raising her black rode to her face. She spread her legs, in invitation. I knelt before her, and drew close.

# # #

Mother Superior, I am pleased that you have decided to have me instruct the novices in the fundamentals of sublimation. Your suggestion of private confession and chastisement is very wise. I will also offer holy communion to them. Glory Be! Brother Theo.

# # #

Mother Superior. I am most pleased to hear of the miraculous events. The immaculate conception of a child by a number of the novices, demonstrates the power of the goddess. I am humbled that you have reported the events to the Elders.

I am overwhelmed that the Senior Abbess of Order of the Sisters of Perpetual Sublimation has chosen to elevate me to Sainthood. I am gratified that the Elders will permit me to become a man of the cloth. I will be pleased to take holy orders. I will meet with you for the laying on of hands. All this has been possible only thru your aid and encouragement. Glory be! Father Theo, ST.

# # #

Father Theo. We have elected you to the Board of Elders. Your first term of duty will require you to inspect all convents of the realm, to determine if the sisters of the faith are true to their vow of chastity. By Order of the Board.

A Little Bit of Lovin’ and a Bushel of Winter Wheat By Charles Langley

The Lincoln Town Car pulled up in front of  Millie’s Boarding House and State Senator Misty Garth got out without waiting for the driver to open the door for her. She stepped gingerly

around the mud puddles and mounted the steps. Millie came dashing out the door, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she ran.

“Is it all right to hug a Senator?” she asked.

“It’s all right to hug an old friend,” Misty said, grabbing her in a bear hug.

“Bill with you?”

“Left him in Raleigh to take care of things. Since he sold the farm, he mostly just cleans up business matters for me.”

“Best thing you ever did, marrying that man. I knew when you moved out on Jed Purdy and went back to school, you were going places. Marrying Bill cinched it.”

“Bill got me started off in politics. They wanted him to run for Councilman. Told them he didn’t have the time. Suggested they offer it to me. Backed me all the way ever since.”

“You sure look different now from the way you did when you came here offering to work for room and board. You still have that little girl look, but now it has authority attached to it.”

“Still have that little girl feel. Especially with Bill’s arm around me. Nothing  like a good man to convince you life is worth living. And nothing like a no-good one to let you know it isn’t.”

# # #

When Jed Purdy brought home a bride from the backwoods of Mittford County, neighbours took bets on whether she would freeze in front of  the fireplace without a sufficient supply of logs or starve in the lean-to that served as an ill-equipped kitchen. There was the third possibility that she would work herself to death trying to clean up the mess and grime that had accumulated there since  Purdy had taken over the hardscrabble farm. Whatever her future, they felt sorry for the fourteen year old waif who arrived with her entire wardrobe on her back and a pair of ill-fitting brogans on her sockless feet.

“With twenty more pounds on her skinny carcass and some tar soap for her hair, Misty would be beautiful,” Lee Petersen opined, “but as it is she’s just cute as a pearl button.”

If you were extremely kind you would say Purdy was a victim of hard luck and misfortune, but it you were at all truthful you would add that the hard luck and misfortune that accounted for his downfall was Jed Purdy himself.

Each Spring he either planted his crops so early that late frost killed them, or put them in so late that they didn’t have sufficient strength to survive the rains. What little crops he was able to reap went quickly to the society for the preservation of itinerant moonshiners or ended up an ante in the pot of Bud Hawley’s everlasting crapgame.

Misty decided on death by hard labour and set forth on the Herculean task of cleaning up the equivalent of the Augean stables. In no time at all the wide pine boards that were the floor gleamed from lye and hand scrubbing. The inside of the log walls was whitewashed. Years of smoke stains were removed from the mantle and fireplace front and the run down premises began to take on signs of human habitation.

Folks thought her habit of hard work would rub off on Jed, but such was not the case. He fished, and hunted, drank and gambled, but still had no time for chopping wood or tending the farm.

“Bill Garth got more of everything than he will ever use,” Jed told Misty. “I want you to go over to his place and git us some wheat for flour.”

“We got no money to buy anything,” she answered. “How you ‘spect to get wheat?”

“Garth ain’t had a woman at his place since his wife died four years ago. I’m sure you got something you can swap for food we need,” he told her.

She looked at him in astonishment.

“It ain’t like you was a sweet young thing never done nothing,” he continued. “You can give away all you want and still have plenty left for any three men.”

Next morning she walked the two miles to the Garth place.

“Jed wants to know do you have a spare bushel of wheat?”

“I don’t keep any more of my crop than I can use,” he said. “The feed store can accommodate him.”

“We got no money for the feed store. He thought maybe I could swap somethin’ for the wheat. Something kinda personal like.” She turned her face away from him while she was talking, so he wouldn’t see the blush on her cheek.

“You mean what I think you mean?” He saw by the look on her face that she did.

“That worthless son-of-a-bitch. Swapping your body for things he should have earned. I’ll give you the wheat, you don’t have to do anything. But tell him not to send you back again.”

“I cain’t take no charity. I cain’t swap for it, we’ll just have to do without.”

Misty went into the tidy bedroom and began undressing. She shed her housedress and petticoat and was taking off bloomers with the Gold Medal flour trademark still evident when Garth came in. She lay back on the bed to wait for the ten minutes of grunting, thrusting and moaning that was considered love-making in her home.

Half an hour later he was still kissing her on her eyes, her throat, her breasts. His hands were caressing her, bringing her to fever pitch, in a feeling she had never had before. When he finally took her it was with tenderness and care.

“I’ll leave the wheat at the millers,” he told her as breathlessly she was putting on her clothes.

“You can pick up your flour tomorrow.”

When she got home Jed was waiting.

“Sure took long enough,” he told her. “He have to grow the wheat?”

She said nothing, just went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Jed came in, pushed her backwards on the bed and climbed on without taking off his shoes.

Misty tried to push him off, but he was too strong.

“Don’t you even want to kiss me or put your hand on me first?” she asked.

“What other whore things he teach you?”

“He didn’t teach me nothing. It’s jest there’s more to it than wham, bam.”

“You ought to know, Whore.” he spit out the words. “No, you ain’t even a whore. Whores git money. All you’re good for is a bushel of wheat.” He grunted and groaned for a few minutes, then rolled off and went into a drunken sleep.

Two weeks later Jed had needs again.

“Bill Garth got cords of dry firewood under tarpaulins. More’n he’ll ever use. I want you to go over and git us a cord of that wood. Gittin’ cold in here with jest picked up branches.”

“You got as much timber on your place as he has. All it takes is cutting and stacking.”

He struck her across the face with the back of his hand.

“When I tell you to do something, do it. Or else I’ll  larn you a thing or two.”

Next day he came back from a hunting trip with a fruit jar of corn squeezings but no game. A pot of pinto beans simmered on the stove, but Misty was long gone. He unscrewed the jar top and started on the liquor. More important things to do than worry about a woman.

Misty went to the boarding house with just the scanty clothes on her back. Good help was hard to get and Millie greeted her warmly. Weeks later when Misty went to the town’s only lawyer to inquire about a divorce, she got a surprise.

“No record of you ever being married,” he told her. “No license taken out and the preacher who married you was never ordained. You’re free as a bird.”

But not for long. Bill Garth came courting as soon as he heard she was free.

# # #

“Thing’s turned out so well for you,” Millie told her over a pot of sassafras tea. “And to think the whole thing started so simply.”

“You’re right. My life and my career started at Bill Garth’s farm, with a little bit of loving and a bushel of winter wheat.”

Barbara’s Waterboarding By Sandy George

Barbara lay on her back on the waterboard, her wrists manacled under it. She didn’t know how she got there. She only remembered sitting at the stylish bar in the hotel when the bartender came over with a drink for her. He said a man had bought it for her because she was a beautiful girl. Her only other memory was a vague one about getting into a luxurious car.

Even though she was blindfolded, he knew she was on a waterboard because her Tormentor had tipped her up and her head had gone underwater. She had felt like she was going to drown then felt the unimaginable pain of inhaling water into her lungs. She knew her Tormentor was a man because she had heard him speak, a deep, resonant baritone that made her moist between her legs. She wished he would come back and talk to her again; maybe he wouldn’t hurt her next time. She heard a noise, a scraping followed by a footfall. She knew the Tormentor didn’t walk like that. It must be someone else.

Suddenly she felt something between her thighs, something hard and cold. It moved up between her thighs until it reached her cunt. Then it pressed firmly against her lips, pushing them apart and entering her. It must be an enormous dildo. She cried out as it was forced into her, stretching her more than she thought she could be stretched. She begged whoever was doing it to stop; she was afraid she would rip, and the pain was becoming unbearable. Then it did become unbearable as the dildo was revolved while in her, the massive head ploughing in a circle inside her cunt and she screamed. Then she heard the laugh. It was a sniveling snicker sounding like fingernails scratching sandpaper. The rotation stopped and the dildo was jerked out of her, hurting her, but what followed was worse. She heard the awful laugh again as she felt his fingers press against her anus, and she realized he was smearing a creamy substance on and in it. The fingers went away and the dildo returned, shoved hard against her ass. Again she screamed, out of fright this time, as the huge tool was jammed remorselessly into her. Again she felt like she would tear, but the lubricant kept that from happening. The head was now inside her and the revolving began again. It wasn’t as bad as it had been inside her pussy, and in revolving it passed over her spot, giving her a surge of stimulation. Then she felt fingers at her cunt and a hand pushed inside her abruptly. It reached her spot from that side and it and the dildo worked it together. She couldn’t keep from responding to the implacable assault, and was bucking and thrusting against the hand and the tool inside her. She felt the climax building, then washing over her in savage waves until she collapsed, limp. The abuse didn’t stop. She was so sensitive now that it was unbearable, but the hand pulled out and pinched her clit hard. She screamed but the pinching continued, now jacking up and down the clit’s tiny shaft. Then she felt the board tip, and once again her head was underwater. She held her breath as long as she could, but the stimulation of her clit made her gasp and the water came in. The pain in her lungs and the anoxia from not being able to breathe morphed into an explosion as a massive wave roared through her. Her mind drifted; she had almost passed out.

With relief she felt the board tip up and heard the shuffling footsteps fade away. Then softer steps were coming toward her. Could it be her Tormentor? Yes! His deep voice commanded her to spread her legs. Drowsily, she complied. She felt him over her, kissing her breasts, each in turn. His hand closed over her mound, softly squeezing her sore pussy, then caressing inside her labia. She moaned as she responded to him, her nipples growing inside his mouth. He pulled her closer to him, and she felt his enormous cock pressing against her cunt. He entered her slowly, as she felt her pussy contracting around him. He pushed his cock completely inside her, and began slow, excruciatingly exciting strokes, moving almost completely out of her, then impaling her all the way as she quivered beneath him. In spite of the soreness of her clit, she started to heave up toward him, taking him as deeply as she could. She began to feel her climax building as he increased the pace of his thrusts, his balls thumping against her ass. As her climax grew she felt his prick swell and then his semen gushed inside her. It made her come now, her body wrenching in ecstasy as she clutched him deep inside her. He stayed in her until her body slowly calmed, then he withdrew gently and kissed her mouth. He unshackled her wrists and she could hear him leaving. She removed the blindfold and saw a stooped old man’s back as he went out the door. Before it closed she heard him laugh, a sniveling snicker.

The Collar, The Leash and The Wife By Aiden Mulane

It was a thin bright pink leather collar. Bright and feminine with small silver studs that ran around the outer edge. I had affixed a little heart shaped tag to it with a small silver ring. The bright pink tag had letters embossed on one side. They said in large capital letters “SEX TOY”.

The leash was six feet long and was a normal dog leash except it was bright pink. I had bought the tag and collar and leash at the pet store down the street. They have an automated machine that creates dog tags there. You feed it some bills and then you type in what you want written on the tag with a little word processing interface, fonts, colours, size of type, it does it all. When you’re done it spits your creation out like a candy bar. The collars and leashes were displayed on racks in the middle of the store. I found an inane number of leashes and collars in the store. They looked lonely hanging there.

Of course to leave the store I had to go through the checkout line. I walked to the back of a five person deep queue. Two people directly ahead of me had their dogs with them. Apparently they were not shopping for their spouse. This particular pet store encouraged you to bring your dog and socialize while you shopped. An older overweight gal directly in front of me who was carrying a little Chihuahua tucked under her arm said hello. Her dog looked like it needed a Zoloft Prozac cocktail. It was twitching and shaking neurotically, its eyes glancing around nervously like it was in the middle of a robbery. It looked over at me suspiciously and I felt the urge to startle it but held back.

The other dog, a short haired mutt, kept looking up at its fat balding owner importuning to be let go. It was pacing the floor endlessly pulling on the leash. It was determined to get to the front door to make its mark where a legion of dogs had peed. For some reason the transactions ahead of me dragged on and on. Finally it was my turn.

The young, short, most likely gay cashier looked up at me as I handed him the collar and leash and smiles. He says “hello” happily in a fawning effeminate, did you realize I am gay manner. He looked down at my purchases and surveyed them both carefully. He must have noted that they were both bright pink and for what must be a small lap dog. His face brightened even more. Maybe he thought no straight man would be buying such a collar? Maybe he thought he had a chance with this six foot four masculine broad shouldered football player type of a man who just happened to be buying the happiest, go luckiest, gayest leash and collar set in the store? Maybe he was just curious. I don’t know. He said to me as he leaned forward on the counter looking into my eyes “Oh how cute. What kind of dog do you have?” I paused for a moment, thinking about it, then I looked him straight in the eye and said dryly “I do not own a dog, this is for my wife.” The words seemed to strike him physically. He actually winced. I had expected a laugh. He leans back away from me quickly and swipes the bar code. No small talk now. The soft beep of the bar code reader seemed to hang in the air. Without a word he handed me my change and I nodded a perfunctory thank you and left.

I had hung the collar that morning high on a short finishing nail stuck in a bedpost at the foot of the bed. It was my way of putting my wife on notice. It was my way of telling her what she would be wearing when I came home from work that evening. No discussion, no asking for permission, just the collar hanging where it would be sure to be noticed. I wanted her to think about what was to come, to anticipate the evening. To realize that I was going to be in complete control of her once again.

I got off early to surprise her. Coming in quietly, I found her taking a nap. She was lying on our large four poster bed on her side, her beautiful hips accented by the pose. She was a sexy, sexy woman. She was five foot two inches tall, one hundred and five pounds of full breasted full lipped sexiness. From the first time we were together there was a spark between us; a sexual fire that blazed continuously. Now and again lustful winds would fan it to a raging bonfire.

Being careful to be quiet I quickly undressed and stood naked looking at her. I retrieved the collar off the bedpost. The leash and some other toys and accoutrements I had gathered were in a gym bag under the bed. Looking down on her sleeping peacefully I mentally reviewed my ideas for the evening. My cock began to stir. I gently reached under her long blond hair and slid the collar around her neck. As I fastened it she began to awaken.

Without saying a word I reached under her back and lifted her with one arm while pushing her torso away from me and up; with the other arm I pulled her legs closer to the edge of the bed. I put my index finger to my lips to remind her “no talking.” Gently, slowly, I stripped off her blouse and sexy lace bra. I motioned for her to lift her bottom so I could work her slacks and thin lace bikini panties off. She sat there, her legs hanging over the side of the bed coming out of her slumber. She looked up at me and spread her arms wide and arched her back with a quiet yawn, her bright eyes shining, her beautiful breasts gorgeously displayed as she stretched and looked at me expectantly. She reached up and pensively touched the collar circling her regal neck.

I leaned down and pulled her close, kissing her lips tenderly. She was warm and soft. I smelled her hair and kissed her neck. I broke the embrace and looking her in the eye I said to her “play time”. I kissed her once more, more forcefully. Our lips still pressed together my hands found her breasts. My fingers massaged and squeezed them. I languorously pinched and fondled her nipples. I felt her warm body lean into me. She pressed her lips to mine harder.

I backed up and looked at her. I noticed she was wide awake now. In fact she was already breathing slightly faster. The collar tended to do that to her. It was the touchstone of our playtime. When the collar came out she never quite knew what was going to happen or just where the road would take her. The only thing she knew was that she belonged to me and was mine to use as I wanted. Now the pretty pink collar was fastened securely about her neck, the little tag hanging from it that declared she was my “SEX TOY”. Anticipation rushed through her.

I gruffly told her to get down on her hands and knees and kiss my feet. She got off the bed and slowly bowed down to me. With her hands and feet on the floor she lowered her head and kissed my feet. She tenderly kissed the top of each foot and then turned her head and gazed up at me. My cock began to stiffen. I lifted one foot up a few inches off the ground. “Suck” I said. She wrapped her lips around my big toe. She swirled her tongue around it. She sucked it like it was a little cock fellating it deliciously.

“Okay sit up,” I ordered her. I moved forward and pressed my crotch to her face as she sat up on her knees. I grabbed the back of her head and forcefully pulled her face into my crotch. “Lick my balls, and no hands” I warned her. She sat back on her heels. Her warm tongue laved my scrotum. At first my half hard cock laid across her forehead then I held it up being careful not to let her touch it with her lips. I saw her looking up at it and knew she wanted it in her mouth. Not now, not yet. She looked so sexy kneeling naked before me, her long blond hair cascading down her back, the collar the only thing she wore.

Of course this time was not really for me. It was not really about my pleasure. The whole experience was for her. It filled a need she had deep down inside. Somewhere in the place that a well educated, fashionable, beautiful woman cannot find the courage to openly talk about; At least not a woman that grew up in her “we don’t talk about sex” family. It was a real need deep down inside her; imprinted somewhere below her neo-cortex, way down deep inside her reptilian grunting fuck me like an animal part. In there was an atavistic animal need; the need to be used, to not be responsible, to be in someone’s control, to be dominated. Later I would have my fun but now this was her time. It was her time to be lost to the world.

She knew that while the collar was fitted around her pretty neck she belonged to me, not as a wife but as my “SEXTOY”, my whore, my plaything. I make it happen, no permission needed. I talked to her slowly letting the words sink in, giving her time to digest each sentence. I wanted her to see herself in the picture I painted. “You have the collar on now” I said. “You understand you belong to me?” she nodded yes. I kept going painting a picture of her fate. How I could whip her and spank her if I wanted to. How I could order a pizza and make her suck the teenage delivery boy’s cock for the tip. How I could make her lick my sweaty balls and ass until I was satisfied. I reminded her that whatever nasty, dirty, sexual thing I wanted her to do, there was nothing she could do about it. A wide smile mixed with a bit of fear spread broadly across her face. She gave me a quick nodding, yes to let me know she understood.

Leaving her on her knees I went to the bedroom and got the leash and a little black whip I kept in my bag. The whip was about 24 inches long from handle to the end of the half dozen or so knotted leather strings. Each string had a knot tied in the end to give it some weight. I fastened the leash onto the little ring on her collar. She looked up at me with expectation. I held the leash and began to walk forward. She followed me on all fours. I led her to the living room where we stopped next to the couch.

I jerked the leash and told her to stand up and bend over the couch. As she did I barked an order. “Spread your legs wide”. She looked lovely bent over the back of the couch, her smooth legs leading up to her beautiful curvy ass. She was quite a sight. With one hand holding her in place with the leash and the other wielding the whip I began to slowly warm up her backside. I started swinging slow light snaps of the whip low on the back of her legs. First one leg then the other, rhythmically going back and forth. No marks yet on her skin. The slightest murmur of a moan coming from her lips. Short almost soft strokes of the whip. I built the tension by whipping faster and faster and harder and harder as I very slowly almost imperceptibly moved up her legs to her bottom. She was making me hot with the way she was trying to control herself. Each time the whip landed it would cause her to jump a little. A muffled moan came now from her pursed lips. She looked so good bent over her sweet ass reddening, her roundness accented by being bent over the couch. A couple of times I thought she was going to speak but I jerked the leash and she got the message.

On and on I whipped her. At one point I caught her trying to rub her pussy on the couch but I jerked the leash and warned her.I kept on rhythmically whipping one spot then another and another. Sometimes hard and sometimes soft, sometimes quick and sometimes slow.

I told her that I was pleased with how she was handling herself. I told her that it made me hot to make her ass red. I told her to spread her legs wider and she did as she was told. I deftly with quick snaps of my wrist landed a couple quick sharp blows right on her pussy. She cried out and shivered. Slowly with anticipation of each smarting blow I landed a dozen more on her swollen pussy and her whole body shook even harder. As a finish, an accent if you will, after her legs and bottom and pussy were bright red, I lifted up her long hair and gave her several hard smarting blows between her shoulder blades. She swooned then froze, for a second not sure of what else was to come. Her posture seemed to ask “how much more was I to give her?”

I dropped the whip and turned her around quickly kissing her lips sweetly. I wrapped my arms around her still holding the leash. My lips pressed harder, my tongue entered her mouth. She shivered. My hands drifted down her back to her hot bottom. It felt good to feel the heat coming off her nicely reddened ass. She pushed her cheeks against my hands as I ran my hands over her bottom. She pressed into my body trying to get some touch on her breasts and pussy.
Then I gave her a hint of what was to come. I told her it had been a hot day and I had made sure to keep hydrated. “After all it was wise in this heat” I said to drink a lot of water. She did not catch on right away. Pausing I held still and looked at her face. I wanted her to think about it for a minute. To anticipate what was coming next. She knew right away when I repeated myself “it is wise to drink a lot of water” I could almost see the idea working its way through her mind to cognition. The awareness of what I was saying started a kind of earthquake in her body. She stood there and sort of wavered for a second almost losing her balance. “Hold on there” I said laughing as I put one hand in the small of her back and steadied her.

I was not kidding when I said I had kept hydrated. A couple small bottles of water and then a 32 ounce ice tea had filled my bladder to its limit. I knew her mind was swirling and she was getting even hotter as I felt her begin to lose the power in her legs. She started to sink. She could barely stand on her own. I had to hold her steady with both arms now. Grabbing a handful of her hair I pulled her face close and kissed her once more roughly on her open mouth. Her hard nipples felt good against my chest. I pressed against her naked body enjoying the moment. I noticed that I could actually feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her breathing was almost a panting now. I waited a few moments and changed my kiss from rough and open to soft and closed. I kissed her sweetly. I licked her neck, biting and sucking I move up and down it with my lips. I breathed in her sweet smell and warmth. I bit her earlobe and tugged at her ear with my teeth. I ran both hands over her body now and felt the moment deepen. We stood there suspended in time.

Finally I broke the embrace and stood back from her quickly still holding the leash in one hand. She stared at me intently as I was the only thing that existed in the whole world. I watched her beautiful breasts rising and falling with each shallow quick breath. Her red nipples were rock hard and jutting out sexily as she moved. I pulled her close again holding one arm around her waist as I dropped my other hand to her pussy. As I looked into her eyes I reached down and rubbed her mons gently, softly. She pushed her hips toward my hand and closing her eyes began to moan softly.

I was going slow now, very slow, for her. My cock was rock hard and I wanted to mount her and give her a good fucking right now. But this was for her. I was making her wait for it because that is what she needs, what she really wants. Slowly I parted her lips with my middle finger while my hand cupped her mound. Ever so softly I applied a delicious pressure and slid up and down her vulva with my middle finger ever so slightly spreading her pussy lips. She moaned louder now and tried to get closer to me. She was wet and oh so hot. So wet my fingers were slick and shiny as I brought them to her mouth and made her lick them. “Lick them clean” I said. She sucked them greedily using her tongue and lips earnestly.

I jerked the leash harshly, pulling her out of her reverie. “Come with me”. Slowly, wobbling, she walked as if she was drunk into the bathroom, her arms at her sides. We had a large two person walk in shower. It was tiled floor to ceiling. “Inside,” I ordered. “Now kneel”. I wanted her kneeling before me. Her regal beauty subordinated to me. She was mine and she loved it. She was being used and she adored it. She was in my power and she reveled in it. I took some cloth wrist cuffs and tightly tied her hands behind her back. She was moaning softly, nonstop purring catlike moans. The cuffs pulled her elbows together accenting her form, pulling her shoulders back and jutting out her breasts. I stood over her admiring her beauty and watching her intently. She tried to catch my cock in her mouth. I pushed her away and warned her harshly, “you wait to be to be given permission, follow my orders”. I noticed she was rhythmically contracting her legs together in time with her breathing. She was trying to get some pressure from her thighs on her needy pussy. A lovely red flush covered her bosom. I wondered if she had been pushed too far and might faint?

I held the leash in one hand and my rock hard cock in the other. She again reached her mouth forward trying to suck me and I jerked the leash. “Not now” I said. It was hard to get my cock soft enough to pee. She was such a sexy sight. I closed my eyes so as to not look at her. I began to will myself to urinate. She closed her eyes and leaned forward anticipating. It took a minute or two but slowly a few drops started to come. Very slowly at first a few more drops then some dribbles and then very slowly a waxing stream spurting from my cock. As the first few drops hit her breasts she arched her back even more and jutted her breasts forward. Her moans louder and higher pitched now.

The stream started to come steadily building in force. I started to draw tiny circles on her breasts, round and round her jutting nipples. I ran from one breast to the other. Going round and round the concentric circles getting larger and larger until I was circling an entire breast one at a time. My hot piss was splashing off her tits. Pee was running down her arms and chest and belly, collecting as it spilled down to the juncture between her legs. Pee soaked her pussy. My urine dripped off her puffy swollen labia. Collecting in little rivulets down the little landing strip of pubic hair she had onto the shower floor. What a sexy sight she was, her moans louder and louder, her back arching, her body quaking and swaying. Still trying to rub her legs together and not fall over, trying to get some pressure on her hot, hot wet pussy. Her thighs clenching and relaxing rhythmically: Her moaning tied to the rhythm of her breathing.

I worked the urine stream up from her soaked breasts to her chest and shoulders. Weaving the stream back and forth, higher and higher, lifting up higher still, I aimed at the base of her neck. She lifted her chin and leaned forward straining. She was lost in herself, lost in the feelings, lost to the moment. My SEXTOY. I was peeing hard now the flow coming swiftly and faster, full force. She pulled against the leash lifting her chin higher. Raising up my aim I told her to open her mouth and she did so eagerly opening wide and sticking out her tongue. I could hear her in my mind “give it to me” she was saying. I did, I began to fill up her open mouth. She opened wider as to not miss a drop. I quickly filled her mouth with my pee. She wanted it all. “Swallow it” I said, and she did. The stream splashed across her pursed lips and face as she closed her mouth to swallow. Higher still I aimed between her closed eyes soaking her forehead and hair. She tilted her head back to allow my pee to wash over her head and down the back of her neck. She wanted to be covered to be soaked in it. Down, down her cascading hair it went until it pooled around her on the shower floor.

Her moans became guttural now, growling forest noises some kind of animal would make; Sounds coming from deep, deep inside her, back to the time when speech was unknown to man. Sensing she was about to cum I also felt my supply start to wane. I let go of my cock momentarily and reaching down I quickly laid her on her back. What a sight, she laid there glowing, shining, glistening. Her body soaked in my pee. Her arms still cuffed together behind her were now under her and were having the effect of making her arch her ass up towards me.

I looked down at her one hand holding the leash and the other my cock. Her knees were splayed wide apart as she could get them, her beautiful mons and swollen pussy lips pushing up at me, inviting me. She was twitching rhythmically. It was only a momentary pause but she laid there glistening, waiting, needing met to finish. I knew what she needed now and I wanted to give it to her. I wanted to give my beautiful wife what she ached for.

I aimed carefully between her legs just above the tile floor zeroing on her pretty pink asshole. I circled the stream around it for bit then tighter and tighter concentric circles until bullseye! I hit her right on her pretty little rosebud. She opened her mouth wide and let out a scream. I quickly moved up to her swollen open pussy lips. I watched her whole body having spasms after spasm of intense pleasure now. Quick tonic contractions flowed through her in waves. She forced her legs even wider and the pitch of her voice climbed as my pee splashed on to her hot sex. My urine mingled with her lubrication. I worked the stream up and down the midline of her pussy and around the outside. I aimed carefully and parted her swollen wet lips with the flow. I forced the stream into her open vagina like a small cock. As she contracted and moaned and shook my pee was ejected back out of her pussy in little squirts.

I knew she was almost there and I was getting low on ammunition. I knew it was time. Again I aimed carefully slowly working again up from her asshole to the very top of her pubis. Finally I zeroed in on her engorged swollen, protruding clit. I danced around and around it and then, with deft precision I peed directly on it, hitting it forcefully. Her movement stopped just for a second, her voice trailed off. She was suspended in time, just for a moment and then… She erupted in orgasm. She was cumming, and cumming and cumming; Her voice a shrill scream now; it climbed higher and higher reverberating off the tile walls; her wet glistening body bucking, writhing, shaking. Her lower half lifting off the floor up and down, over and over again; her fingers clenching, opening and closing with each spasm.

She was lost in orgasm. She was beautiful. Her whole body convulsed and writhed rhythmically as she lived for a time in ecstasy.

What was once a fast running stream now ebbed until I was left only with a small spurts and dribbles cascading off the tip of my cock onto the floor. I leaned forward steadying myself with one arm against the wall and looking into her adoring flushed wet face I contracted and squirted the last few spurts into her open mouth. She gasped as she tried to swallow and moan and swoon and drink all at once. My bladder finally empty I paused. I gave her a moment to revel in the experience. I waited until she stopped shaking. I surveyed the scene. My urine covered her head to toe. My pee was all over her and the floor and the walls and my forelegs. Once I was satisfied she was coming back to Earth I undid the cloth cuffs and freed her arms. I lifted my right foot and put my toes to her mouth. She eagerly sucked them and ran her tongue around and in between them. I pulled my foot away and untied her hands.

As a last sign or respect and submission, I made her kiss my feet while she kneeled, first one then the other gentle little kisses on the top of each foot. I stood in the shower with her. She sat back on her heels looking up at me with love in her eyes, she was dazed and glowing. She was beautiful.

I came closer to her and she wrapped her arms around my legs and embraced me as best she could while kneeling. It was then I noticed there was another source of moisture on her face. Several tears were running down her cheeks and mixing with my pee. She was gently crying, quietly sobbing as she hugged me lovingly. I stood still for awhile as her embrace squeezed my legs harder and sobbed quietly.

I moved the shower head so the stream would not hit her and turned on the water letting it warm up. I reached down and undid the collar as she looked up me adoringly. A couple of tears ran down the corner of each of her pretty eyes. I motioned her off to the side and rinsed off my legs a bit while she watched me intently. “Clean up dry off be quiet, and get in bed, I am going to take a nap” I said gruffly. She stood up and tried to kiss me. “Not now” I said, “do what you’re told.” Before I lay down I made sure to hang the collar high on the bedpost where she would see it. My wife lay down with me and as we fell asleep snuggling I felt a fullness in my balls that would need to be taken care of. It was going to be a good weekend.