Made For Sex

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  As the busboy arrived with the water pitcher, Ronnie said, imperiously, “Pour very slowly and don’t spill a drop.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’ve been watching me,” she said as the young man poured the water, his hand unsteady.

  “Yes ma’am.” The glass was about half full.

  “Don’t stop pouring,” she said, unzipping the front of his black slacks. His hard cock sprung free, sticking out lewdly. She wrapped her hand around it and held tightly. The busboy’s hand began trembling so much he spilled water on the table. “You spilled,” Ronnie said.

  “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am,” the young man said.

  “What’s your name?” Ronnie asked, still holding his erection.

  “Mike,” he answered, gazing at Ronnie’s filled water glass.

  “Well, Mike, you’ve been very careless.” Ronnie looked at the other two women and their subserviants, all of whom were watching the scene before them intently. “What should we do with careless workers, Mike?”

  “They should be punished.”

  “I agree,” Ronnie said. “What are your duties for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “I’m off duty at two and I don’t have to serve again until dinner.”

  “Oh, you’ll have to serve again before that.” Ronnie glanced at her watch. Quarter of two. “Good. Report here to me at two-oh-one sharp.”

  “B-b-but I have to change out of my uniform. That will take at least five m-m-minutes.”

  “Two-oh-one. And I don’t like to be kept waiting.” She gave his hard cock a final squeeze.

  Zipping his pants, Mike scurried away.

  “May we stay and see the show?” one of the women asked.

  “Of course,” Ronnie said. The two women moved to the far side of the table, their men at their feet. Ronnie’s heart was pounding. She particularly enjoyed the thrill of a first encounter with a man who wanted to be dominated. She looked at Bobby, sitting quietly at her feet. Since he was paying for the week, she had to be sure this was all right with him. “Yes?” she whispered. From the smile on his face, she knew it was fine.

  Precisely at two-oh-three, Mike arrived in the small dining room dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. His breathlessness was a result of either running from the kitchen or his excitement. Ronnie purposefully looked at her watch. “You’re two minutes late.”

  “I did the best I could.”

  “Let’s understand a few things. First, I am Mistress Ronnie and you will always address me that way.”

  Mike rubbed the palms of his hands down the thighs of his slacks and swallowed hard. “Yes, Mistress Ronnie.”

  “Good. Second, you will never look me in the eye. Your gaze must never be above my waist.” Mike’s eyes dropped. “Third, you will never wear anything from the waist up or the ankles down in my presence unless I expressly tell you to.” When Mike didn’t move, she added, “Is there any problem with that?”

  “No, Mistress.” As rapidly as he could, he pulled off his sweatshirt, kicked off his shoes, and dragged off his socks.

  “I love the look of bare toes. Wiggle yours for me.” He did.

  “Have you ever been with someone like me before?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He hesitated and Ronnie motioned for him to continue. “Her name was Mistress Gail and she was my neighbor for a few months about a year ago. We were together only a couple of times.”

  “Good enough. Then you understand what is expected.” Ronnie reached out and grabbed Mike’s crotch. “Why me?”

  Mike trembled. “You’re very strong, and very beautiful….

  “And…?”

  “And you treat your slave the way I’d like to be treated.”

  Ronnie removed her blouse and Mike stared at her bra, which had zippers up the center of each cup. “Unzip me with your teeth.”

  Hesitantly, Mike knelt down and took the tab of the left zipper between his front teeth. He pulled gently until one puckered brown nipple poked through the opening. “Bobby,” Ronnie said, “the other.”

  Bob quickly complied. Ronnie placed one hand on the back of each head and forced one mouth to each breast. “Suck,” she said, “and maybe I’ll reward the one who does the best job.” Ronnie leaned back, submerged in the sensation of two mouths on her body. “Nice,” she said. “You are each doing a fine job.”

  Ronnie looked at the two other women who had been intently watching the performance. Each of them had bared her breasts and had her slave servicing her nipples.

  “Bobby,” Ronnie said, waving the two men away, “you know how I like my pussy licked. Instruct Mike on the proper procedure.” She slid forward on the chair until her hips were at its edge. When she parted her thighs, the two men saw that she wore no panties.

  As Mike knelt between her spread legs, Bobby said, “See how wet she is. Doesn’t she smell fantastic?”

  Bobby showed Ronnie’s newest servant how to stroke her inner thighs, flick his tongue over her swollen lips, and use his fingers to give her maximum pleasure. “Now,” Bobby said, pointing to her clit, “rub her right there, just hard enough to make her feel it.”

  “Ummm,” Ronnie purred. “So good.”

  To Bobby, this situation was unique, and incredibly erotic. He was not quite a servant, but not a master either. And he was anxious to show the newest slave how to satisfy his mistress.

  “You’re doing well,” Bobby said, slightly jealous of Mike’s ability to please. “She likes three fingers in her pussy if she is going to come.” He hesitated. “Mistress. May I touch you as well?”

  Ronnie nodded and Bobby took one nipple in each hand and pinched the swollen tips. With Bobby’s hands on her tits, Mike’s tongue lapping her pussy, and his fingers deep inside her cunt, Ronnie came. Her body jerked so hard that the two men had to struggle to stay connected.

  “Oh, splendid,” Ronnie said when her breathing returned to normal. She smiled at the two other women, each of whom was having her pussy serviced. “Are you very horny?” she asked her slaves.

  “Yes, Mistress,” they said in unison.

  “Then strip. Quickly.”

  When they were naked, she said, “Face each other.” The two men stood, close enough so that their erections were almost touching. “Now, hold each other’s cock.”

  When they hesitated, Ronnie ordered, “Do it now!”

  With a groan, each man reached out and wrapped his hand around the other’s cock. Ronnie remembered a conversation she had had with Bobby several months earlier when he had admitted to the dark fantasy of holding another man’s cock and being held by him as well. She had decided to make it come true for him.

  “Mistress, please don’t make me do this,” Bobby said. His body, however, said that, rather than stopping, he wanted to be forced.

  “Quiet,” Ronnie snapped, looking at Mike carefully. “And you, Mike?”

  He bowed his head and whispered, “I will do whatever gives you pleasure. If it gives you delight to watch me do this, then I can only obey.”

  “Then, Mike, make Bobby come.”

  “Please no, Mistress,” Bobby said.

  Ronnie stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress,” Bobby said.

  “Good. Now you will both do as I say. Make each other come while I watch.”

  The two men stood, stroking each other’s cock, watching their hands, their breathing hard and ragged. “Concentrate,” Ronnie said and the men did.

  “Cup each other’s balls and fondle them. Use both hands!” As the small group watched, the two men acted out their hidden desire.

  It took only moments until each man spurted semen on the other’s hand. One of the women cried out her pleasure as her slave drove her to orgasm. The other climaxed silently.

  “The rest of the cruise was delightful,” Ronnie told Carla, sipping a fresh cup of coffee. “Mike spent each of the remaining afternoons with a different woman.”

  “How did you know about Bob’s d
esire to touch another man?”

  “He’d told me once, when I forced him to reveal his darkest fantasy, and his body language that afternoon was more than eloquent.”

  “You always seem to know how to find that extra bit of spice. How do you do it?”

  “I’ve no idea. I guess I read my friends well.” She tapped her forehead. “And I remember everything.”

  “I hope, someday, I’ll be that good.”

  “You will,” Ronnie said. “You will.”

  Jeffrey DeLancy III was an extremely dignified looking man in his mid forties with eyes that were almost navy blue and carefully trimmed, salt-and-pepper hair, beard, and moustache. A corporate attorney visiting New York, his three-piece suit was immaculately tailored and he wore a heavy gold ring with three channel-set sapphires on the ring finger of his right hand. When they met, Carla had commented on his well-developed body, and he had told her that he played racquetball and tennis as often as he could.

  Now, as Carla returned from the ladies’ room, Jeff was staring at the picture of the nightgowned woman clutching her bedclothes to her breast and staring, terrified, at someone just behind the camera. As Carla sat down he slammed shut the book. “Let’s go back to your place,” he said, picking up his coffee cup, then setting it down without drinking any. “This fantasy business is silly.”

  “We can go if you like,” Carla said, “but I think there’s something you want to tell me.”

  “I don’t think so.” He signaled the waiter for the dinner check.

  “Jeff,” Carla said, placing her hand over his, “tell me. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “We both know what you’re here for. So let’s get to your place and do that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me what’s upsetting you,” Carla said, “but I doubt that it’s as bad as you think it is.” Jeff sat silently staring into his coffee. “I saw which picture turned you on. That’s Bethann and she was asleep when the burglar broke in. Do you know what he’s going to do?”

  Jeff’s hand trembled under hers as she continued her story. “He’s going to hold her down, feel her struggles, force her to bend to his will. She’s afraid that she will be unable to fend him off.” She was as excited by her recitation as Jeff obviously was.

  “You’re talking about rape,” he said.

  “Yes. But this is fantasy rape, not intended to actually hurt or do anything that Bethann’s not willing to do.”

  “Fantasy rape, real rape. It’s wrong however you define it.”

  “You know, nothing that goes on only in your mind is bad.”

  Jeff slowly raised his eyes and looked at Carla. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “You’ve got a fantasy. You want to rape a woman. Well not rape exactly. You don’t want to really hurt her, just have her pretend to resist so you can subdue her. Force her. Right?”

  The waiter arrived with the check, took Jeff’s credit card, and disappeared.

  “More people than you might imagine have rape fantasies,” Carla continued. “As a matter of fact, I’ve always wanted to be ravished. Held down so that I couldn’t move.”

  Jeff gazed into Carla’s eyes. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “I really do. While I was having that picture taken, I was thinking about the man who would tear off Bethann’s clothes.”

  “Will Bethann fight the burglar?” he asked softly.

  “She’ll fight very hard.”

  “She’ll know that he won’t really hurt her, but she’ll fight anyway? Struggle and try to get away?”

  “Yes,” Carla whispered. “Let’s just be clear about two things. First, ‘popcorn’ is the safe word. If either of us says that, everything stops. And second, you’ll use a condom even if it’s out of character.”

  Jeff looked into her eyes, believing that this might actually happen. “Popcorn. Everything stops.” He pulled out his wallet and slipped five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills into the black leather envelope. “I understand.”

  They traveled to the brownstone in silence and Carla motioned to Jeff to wait downstairs. She ran to the closet then back downstairs and handed Jeff some loose-fitting black sweatpants and a black turtleneck shirt. “When the light goes out, Bethann will be in bed, asleep. There has never been a burglary here, you know, but Bethann has always been worried.”

  Carla hurried back upstairs and pulled off her clothes. Knowing that many men have fantasies about ravishing a woman, she and Ronnie had adjusted several pieces of lingerie by clipping a few threads to make them almost fall apart if someone yanked. She slipped on a specially prepared kelly green charmeuse short gown, climbed into bed, pulled the sheets up to her chin, and turned out the light.

  Minutes later she saw a dark form slip through the doorway. Light suddenly filled the room and a hand pressed across her mouth, forcing her against the mattress. “Don’t scream,” the voice hissed. His other arm snaked across her belly, pinning her down. “I just want your jewelry.”

  She struggled, trying to get free but he was too strong. But she had to be sure he understood the rules. “Popcorn,” she mumbled. Reluctantly, he eased the pressure against her mouth and stood up. Carla stared into Jeff’s eyes, deep blue against his black turtleneck. “You understand.”

  He nodded and she smiled. She slid across the bed, away from him. “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I’ll tell you where all my jewelry is.”

  He watched her heaving chest. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said in a menacing tone. “I’ve decided I don’t want your jewelry. I want you.”

  “No, please,” Carla said, getting into her part. Even pretending, the danger felt incredibly real and exciting. Her heart pounded as she grabbed the sheet and held it against her breasts.

  Jeff crossed the room and theatrically closed the door. “You’re not getting away,” he said, “but you can try, of course.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” Carla said in a tiny voice.

  “I won’t hurt you unless you resist.” He grabbed Carla’s wrist and dragged her across the bed. He tangled his hand in her short hair and pulled her head back.

  Carla’s eyes widened. His hand in her hair hurt, but the discomfort excited her. She tried to twist her head to avoid Jeff’s mouth which was slowly descending on her, but his hold in her hair allowed her almost no movement. She used her fists to pound on his chest, but it was like hitting a board. His mouth captured hers and molten heat flowed through her lips. Somehow it wasn’t just a kiss, it was possession.

  Jeff climbed onto the bed and straddled Carla’s hips, effectively pinning her to the bed. He leaned forward, pressing his forearms on hers and holding her head with both hands in her hair. “You’re mine,” he growled, “whether you want it or not.”

  “Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone you broke in here.” Real tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “Please.”

  “Not a chance, lady,” Jeff said. His mouth moved over her face, licking her eyelids and nipping at her earlobes. “I can do anything I want and you’ve got no way to stop me.” He grabbed the front of her green nightgown and pulled. The fabric parted easily, leaving Carla naked.

  She had to get away. She relaxed for a moment, then with a burst of energy, she arched her back and pulled her arms free. As Carla lay on the bed panting Jeff suddenly needed to get out of his clothes. He pulled the dark turtleneck over his head and tossed it on the floor. His pants and shorts followed and, erect and huge, he climbed back on top of his victim. “You’ve had enough time to contemplate what’s going to happen.”

  Again Jeff grabbed her wrists and held her arms above her head. He devoured her mouth, forcing his tongue inside to duel with hers, rubbing his naked, lightly furred chest sinuously against her chest. “Nice,” he rumbled. He released her wrists and held her head as he kissed her face and neck.

  “No,” Carla yelled, dragging her fingernails across Jeff’s back. “Let me go.”

  “A regular wildcat,” he said. He used the weight of his
body to pin Carla to the bed, then slapped her hard across her thigh.

  His handprint stung, but it also increased the heat in her groin. It was hard to fight against being raped when being possessed by him was exactly what Carla wanted.

  Again and again he slapped her until his hand began to sting. “Had enough?” he asked.

  Carla nodded, blinked hard. “Just don’t make me…you know. I’m a nice girl. I’ve never been with anyone but my husband. Don’t force me. Please.”

  “Ah,” Jeff said, “but I will do just that.” He slipped on a condom, then held his hard cock at the entrance to Carla’s pussy. Sensuously, he rubbed it against her clit. “You say you don’t want me,” he said. “I’m a rapist, forcing you to accommodate me, but your body is wet. You must be very evil.”

  “I’m not wet. I don’t want you.” She struggled, dragging her fingernails down Jeff’s back and across one shoulder. Bright red tracks appeared down his skin.

  “Your body says different.” He guided his turgid erection to her opening and pushed. “And you can’t stop me anyway.” He pressed his hips forward and drove his cock into her. “You’re wet and wide open so I can fuck you.” His fantasy was so real that he lost control, pounding into his victim until he arched his back and spurted semen deep inside of her in shuddering pulses. Panting, he collapsed on top of her.

  Carla stroked his back and ran her fingers through his hair. “That was so good,” she whispered.

  “It was unbelievable,” he said, his body limp and exhausted. The scratches on his back stung. He rolled to one side and Carla walked, naked, to the bathroom. She returned with some antiseptic and applied some to his back and shoulder.

  He looked at the welt on one side of his chest. “I’ll enjoy looking at that for days,” he said, running one finger over the mark.

  “I’m glad. I was afraid of doing damage.”

  “And I’m really sorry if I hit you too hard.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Jeff put his clothes on. “Thanks for a fantastic evening,” he said. “May I call you again?”