by Bridy McAvoy
“But I’m not a cherry.”
“Sammie, they probably wouldn’t notice. Just don’t be too eager with them. Take it slow, savor it, and then, when the inevitable happens, let it happen naturally. Tense your muscles the first time and then relax. They’ll love you for it.”
“But no blood?”
“Tore it out horse-riding, or cycling, or one night when you were masturbating with a large carrot thinking about them. You work it out for yourself. Given your history, tell him it was removed surgically because of internal bleeding in the car accident that killed your parents.”
* * * *
She stopped and looked over at me stricken, blushing furiously. That had been the excuse for the lack of blood the day I’d taken her supposed virginity.
“Carry on, I already know you faked it.”
“Sorry…”
I gestured for her to carry on. After taking a deep breath, she did so.
* * * *
“And the fourth group?”
“The fourth group, honey, are the Bulls.”
“Bulls?”
“Yep, they charge in, don’t let you make decisions, crowd you into making choices, and won’t hold back. If you haven’t put out by the third date they’ll dump your ass. They’re not long term prospects, but they’ll be a bucket load of fun. Play your cards right with them, play it coy on the first date, to get them coming back. Kiss them hard on the second date and let them cop a feel, but no more. On the third date don’t bother wearing underwear and let them know it within the first five minutes. Then let him take charge and fuck you till you can’t walk straight. All they want is to score, and that’s the only thing you’re dating them for. They’ll also be very interested in sharing you with their friends, who will also likely be Bulls.”
“Share?”
“Oh yeah, the Bulls will provide you with your threesome experiences, and at least one gangbang, if not more.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“Never, not ever.”
He pushed my panties up into my slit and started wiggling his finger. I was starting to lose my grip on the conversation.
“Lose the bra. Time for some fun playing hide the sausage.”
Once more I ended up on his desk as he fucked me, but at least this time I didn’t have a sore ass to start with.
Once I’d cleaned up, I asked him a question. “Which are you?”
“Honey, you need to read people right. I’m a Bull, always have been.”
I swallowed hard and blurted out a question. “Does that mean you’ll share me?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, who knows? For now, though—not. I still have several things to teach you yet, and I’m not bored enough to go that route. Maybe later in the year.”
Chapter Ten – Deeper Waters
I dated Billy, but there was no spark. We watched a film and he bought me popcorn and soda. I’d snogged guys in the cinema when I was fifteen, but he made no move. He did hold my hand, but that was it. The following Tuesday he took me out for a burger and we drove to the lake shore and watched the sun set. He didn’t know, but he was less than three hundred yards from this place. I’d kept it, as you now know. Billy was clearly a Never Evah, if ever there was one. There was no third date but I let him down gently.
* * * *
“So no, honey, there’s no need to worry about Billy having been there, done that, and smirking behind your back when you talked about your virginal girlfriend. He hadn’t—he’d struck out, like the big majority of the guys I dated.”
* * * *
I don’t know if Billy put the word out that I was now available on the dating game, but I seemed to be getting more date requests than I could cope with. Maybe it had nothing to do with Billy, or any of the other guys I dated—maybe it was just me noticing them more. Maybe I was giving out a sexier vibe. Who knows, but I dated two other guys before Valentine’s Night, but Valentine’s Night I spent alone. I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I spent it alone. I’d met you by the time it rolled around again, and you were most attentive about such things. That’s part of how I knew you were a Keeper.
The end of February rolled around, and the opening times of the Library changed in line with what I’d suggested to the board. For the first time, since that one day he’d closed the library for the whole day, I had three whole hours with Mr. Bryant. Three hours under his control.
I also had a third date on the Friday with a guy I thought might be a Keeper, but I had to get through the Thursday first. Wednesday night, Mr. Bryant handed me a carrier bag and told me to wear the contents on Thursday.
When I got home I opened the bag and pulled out something I’d never thought about wearing. It was a proper Merry Widow corset! It was an amazing thing, all red silk and black lace and hooks and straps. It took me a couple of minutes to work out how to lay it out let alone how to put it on. Checking out the bag, I found the panties to match—they were just red and black lace, no silk, and transparent—typical Mr. Bryant, for that matter.
I held off trying it on until I’d had a shower—I didn’t want it soiled in any way—and then quickly popped a ready meal from the freezer into the oven.
* * * *
“Yeah, I know, I won’t touch the things now, and those few months when I did are the reason. I might be within a couple of pounds of my weight when we got married, but I’m at least ten pounds lighter than I was the day we met. That extra weight was down to my diet, nothing else.”
* * * *
Then I slipped back upstairs and dropped my silk robe to the floor. It was still early evening but it was dark so I’d switched the light on. I heard a noise from outside and spun round. My heart stopped. I’d left the bedroom window and the curtains open. The noise had probably just been a car going past, but anyone could see me—naked. I dived down behind the bed and, grabbing my robe, struggled into it. Then I shut the window and pulled the drapes closed before I breathed a sigh of relief. To this day I don’t know if I’d flashed the neighbors—or worse, given the neighborhood kids a cheap thrill—but it had been a close call if I hadn’t.
I surprised myself. When I slipped the robe back off I could smell myself—that close call had got me excited. Dipping a hand between my legs, my fingers came away wet. I couldn’t try out his present in that state, so I had to take another shower. That took longer, because I needed some relief—in the shower. By the time I was done, my dinner was ready, so it was almost eight o’clock before I was able to try on the corset.
Never having touched, let alone tried one on before, it was a nightmare to wrestle it into place and fasten all the hooks. Then as soon as I had it on, the top slipped down, exposing my breasts. I couldn’t let that happen in the library before we closed, even if it looked damned erotic, and I knew he’d like that look. I spent another twenty minutes adjusting the straps and making sure everything stayed in place, even if I lifted my hands above my head. I didn’t try the panties on—just looking at my reflection in the mirror had me wet, and I wouldn’t have time to get the panties washed and dried before the morning.
I even wondered what the neighbors would think if I opened the drapes and stood there, backlit, for them all to see me in the corset. That thought, not that I’d have acted on it, almost made my knees buckle.
* * * *
“I’d have loved to see you in that corset.”
She smiled at me. “You still can, lover. It’s hanging up in a wardrobe here. Once we were going steady and I’d let you into my house, I moved most of my slut wear down here so you’d never find it unless I wanted you to. I can still get into it, and it doesn’t take me the best part of an hour to put it on anymore. Would you like me to put it on?”
I could see she was about to bounce to her feet and dash through to the bedroom. Her hands were already grasping the hem of her T-shirt ready to peel it off and toss it.
“Another time. I think I’d rather keep t
hat part of my innocence for a while longer.”
She winced, that comment had carried barbs that I hadn’t intended it to. But I couldn’t take it back. It was true, though, if this marriage was to survive her monster of a confession then I would need to see her in these outfits. All of them—well, all of them she’d kept, that is. I guess Bruce had known what he was doing when he said get out of the house for a few days. He just didn’t know how prophetic he was. She picked up her narrative again.
* * * *
I had to shower again before I could go to bed, one of the reasons I upgraded the shower that summer to cope. Part of the reason—the shower here is a power one too, although that had a slightly different set of scents to wash off me.
Anyway, another troubled sleepless night saw me up and about and getting breakfast in my short silk robe an hour earlier than usual. I hadn’t started to dress for work when the doorbell rang. I made sure the robe was secure before I opened the door. It was two of the teenagers from up the street. They purported to be canvassing for odd jobs while on their way to school, like washing cars, or yard work for the summer, getting in early, Remember, it was only the beginning of March. I said no, and tried not to laugh at the way their eyes travelled up and down my body. I’d tied the robe tight, and it had outlined my body. With the cold air from the open door, my nipples had sprung to attention. Once I’d closed the door in their eager little faces I tried to take stock of my situation.
I lived here. I couldn’t let my sexual tendencies ruin my reputation in my own neighborhood. What is it they say? Don’t shit in your own nest. I guess I learned that lesson that day. They’d obviously seen me the night before and, in their feeble imaginations, put two and two together and decided I was easy. I wasn’t, and I wasn’t going to let a couple of junior high boys get that close to me, let alone do any fooling around with them.
That’s when I knew I needed to change my routines. From that moment on, I was the model of decorum around the house. I would never be seen again in just a thin silk robe tied around the waist, let alone nude or partially nude. My house would become a convent. For everything else, I had the condo. I could do a real Jekyll and Hyde routine. Nice Miss Jekyll around the house, naughty, slutty, Miss Hyde at the condo.
* * * *
I guess that’s one of the reasons you never found out about the condo. It might not have been my first time with you when you made love to me that night, but it was the first time I’d let any man see me naked in that house—and the first time I’d made love there too. To date you are still the only man I’ve made love to in our house.
“But it was different here?”
She bit her lip and nodded her head. “Yeah, here it was different.”
* * * *
Anyway, after my little epiphany, I got dressed and headed for the library, wearing my Merry Widow with a thick blouse over the top. I couldn’t let anybody see me during the morning. I was also wearing a pair of plain black panties, carrying the other pair in my purse, together with a thinner blouse in a carrier. Mr. Bryant had beaten me in, so I asked for a quiet word, and explained I intended to change at one o’clock, if that was all right with him. He just smiled and nodded and for the next five hours we just got on with our work, each of us in turn taking a quick break for lunch.
Then it was one o’clock and he closed the library for me while I got changed, putting on my thinnest blouse over the corset and changing the panties for the scandalously see-through ones. I’d chosen the skirt carefully—it was a black one that buttoned up the front and I left the bottom half-a-dozen buttons undone. This left the split up the front open to well above my stockings, almost up to the level of my pussy.
When I looked in the mirror above the washstand I looked a total tart. A real whore if I’m honest. Every detail of the Merry Widow showed through the gossamer thin blouse. With my knee bent, the slit in the skirt pulled open to reveal the inside of both thighs—pale white above the stockings.
I shuddered in anticipation as Mr. Bryant knocked gently on the door. “All closed up and secure, Samantha. Meet me in my office.”
I gave him a minute to sit down behind his desk then sauntered from the washroom to the open door of his office, striking a similar pose to the one I’d tried in the washroom. Standing in the doorway, I felt wanton, and more than ready for anything. As it turned out I wasn’t ready for what happened.
“Wow!” His reaction was exactly what I wanted. Moving very quickly, he rose to his feet and crossed the intervening distance. “You look amazing, baby. Stunning. You should wear corsets more often.”
I giggled. “Not after what happened last night and this morning.”
“You’ve worn it before?” He looked furious.
I quickly filled him in on what had happened, maybe flashing the neighbors, and almost certainly flashing the teens who’d come to my door this morning. I hastened to assure him none of them had seen me trying the Merry Widow on, but he seemed less than happy. I cursed myself for breaking the mood, but it was too late now. He guided me to the center of the room then walked around me. His arms came round to encircle me at about bust height. I thought for a moment he’d forgiven me, got over his temper, but I was wrong. He grasped the lapels of my blouse and just jerked them both out to the sides. The button holes ripped, the buttons firing off in all directions. It was a good job I had the other one to go home in. He stripped the remains of the ruined blouse down my arms and tossed it away. He threw it so far it actually floated out of the door of his office into the hallway. Then he used one hand in the small of my back to propel me to his desk, and then bent me down over it until my legs were straight but my chest was flat against the desk.
“You know what to do—grab the far edge.”
“Please…”
“Do it!”
Sobbing, I did as he asked, feeling his hands working at my hips as he pushed my skirt up. I only wore tight skirts these days—on his instructions—so it wasn’t easy to push it up to act as a wide belt, and expose the back of my panties. I panicked at that moment, remembering the back of the panties was nothing more than a thong. Both the cheeks of my butt were open to him—open to his vengeful hand!
Slap!
Smack!
His hands bounced off my ass in quick succession, one on each side. It hurt just as much as it had the first time just after Christmas. If anything, it seemed to hurt more, but I don’t think he was actually using more force.
He must have spanked me half a dozen times as I sobbed and cried out, reducing me to a quivering, shaking wreck on his desk.
“Stay still.”
I turned my head to watch as he walked around the side of the desk and then opened the left-hand drawer. My eyes must have got very big as his hand appeared in front of my face with the table tennis bat he’d threatened me with before.
“Are you going to be good?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Do I have to use this to make you behave with some decorum when you’re not alone in the library with me?”
I shook my head, banging my ear against the desk. “No, no, I’ll be good.”
“Good.”
I held my breath, watching as he appeared to study me, then he let the bat go and let it fall on the desk in front of my face. My relief was palpable. I wasn’t going to get thrashed with the bat. At that moment he could have done anything he wanted as long as that bat stayed on the desk top. When I think back, doing whatever he wanted with me was exactly what he did.
He didn’t use the bat on me, in fact it was another month or so before he did, and I’ll tell you about that later. He did use something else—his cock. Without any preamble, he stood me up, undid the top four buttons on the skirt, letting it fall to the floor, then walked around me looking at how I looked in the corset with the transparent panties and the dark stockings. My chest was heaving from the emotional exertion of him spanking me and then threatening me with the bat. He made me turn round, and then lifted me up to sit on his
desk. I winced—my butt once more sore from a spanking—but he didn’t take any notice as he made me lean back, then without fuss, pulled my panties to the side and thrust into me.
He fucked me for ages while my sore ass bounced around on the hard surface. Yes, I enjoyed it—the fucking bit—but the pleasure was warring with the pain in my ass. He shot his load then pulled out and pulled my panties back across my gaping slit. Once he’d dragged me to my feet, he pushed me to my knees and made me suck him clean.
He just stood there while I used my tongue to wash him, then sucked him until my jaw ached. He grew hard again and, even though my mouth felt rough and raw, he proceeded to fuck my face until he came down my throat.
Mr. Bryant didn’t even let me clean up, but made me go and make some coffee, dressed in just the Merry Widow and the soiled panties, with his juices drying on my face. Even as I filled the mugs, I could feel his cum dripping down into the sodden mess that comprised the thin panties.
It wasn’t a pleasant experience. He made me stay like that for the rest of the afternoon, hardly speaking to me as I worked away at the new computer system. At about quarter-to-four he called me through to his office and bent me over the desk. I thought he was going to spank me again, or worse, use the table tennis bat, but he just made sure I wasn’t bruised. He rubbed the warm area gently then told me to get dressed and go home.
