A Christmas Present for Karen

Now, as she contemplated being taken in the bum by a man, she was concerned, not because she objected in principle, but because both the vibrator and the strap-on had been smaller than Chris's cock and because, she suspected, he was likely to be less gentle than her former lover.

"Got any lube?"

She had; sometimes her cunt wasn't always as wet as it had been and as Peter didn't generate his own pre-cum, she usually had a tube in the bathroom.

"Where is it?"

"In the bathroom, in the left-hand drawer of the counter. At the back."

He left and she waited, her heart pounding as he searched the drawer for the lubricant. When he returned, he said nothing. She couldn't see him, but sensed he was standing over the bed looking at her. The first sound she heard was a 'splurt'; the sound of an almost empty tube as it released its contents.

"Ready?"

She nodded and wondered what he was going to poke into her bum. She hoped it was the rabbit as, at most, it was only two-thirds the width of his cock, but was prepared for it to be his cock. Her answer came a second later and it was neither. She felt her cheeks being parted, followed by an index finger which just penetrated the entrance, the nozzle of the tube and finally, by a flood of cold jelly.

Satisfied with the amount of lubricant, he pushed his middle finger gingerly into her bum and was surprised when it slipped easily past the sphincter muscle. He'd engaged many times in anal sex with his last lover, but with the arrogance of youth had assumed it was not a common practice among older people and had expected she would be an anal virgin. When his finger easily slipped in as far as the final knuckle, he was surprised, but put it down to the lubricant.

If she had expected him to be rough, she was pleased when he started by gently finger fucking her, merely easing his finger slowly in and out. When he stopped and withdrew his finger, she waited, once again wondering what he intended to do. The answer was provided by a whirring sound; followed by the teasing, vibrating motion of her rabbit as the lubricated head slid tantalisingly, in a circular motion, around the entrance to her bum. The vibratory motion of the rabbit provided a far more erotic feeling than his finger and she felt her cunt starting to tingle, followed by an involuntarily movement of her thighs as she sought to rub her clit against the bedspread.

When he stopped teasing and thrust the rabbit into her bum, it was a shock. In comparison with his finger, the rabbit was at least twice as wide and she tightened her sphincter muscle in an attempt to forestall the violation. She was too late, the rabbit slipping into her bum like a rabbit down a rabbit hole.

"God."

"You may invoke the Deity, but it won't save you. I'm going to ream your ass."

Once again he took his time, moving the rabbit slowly up and down and waiting for her bum to accommodate its bulk. It took longer than he'd expected before he felt her relax and her body start to respond to the action of the vibrator.

"Like that, do you?"

She nodded and was surprised when he took his hand off the rabbit, leaving it vibrating in her bum, and picked her up by the hips so she was resting on her knees. She wondered what he was going to do; the porno video had shown the woman being penetrated in her cunt and bum at the same time, 'DP'd' Ann had called it, but the video had involved two men and two cocks – one black, one white - and unless he'd invited a friend, there was only Chris.

But what if he had invited a friend? He'd called his boss to tell him off his plight, but she hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation. What if he had invited his boss and they were going to have her like the woman in the video? What would she do? Her rape fantasies had involved multiple men, but she had always been taken in turn, now she was entertaining thoughts of multiple men at the same time and the prospect was not displeasing.

He had no idea what she was thinking and for the moment was wondering whether to DP her or take her in the ass. If he was really going to own her, he had to use all of her orifices, but at that moment he wanted to fuck her cunt, her bum could come later.

He slipped his cock into her cunt and was rewarded with an audible gasp as his cock slipped readily to its base. Her cunt was warm, wet and accommodating, a pleasing receptacle into which to insert his cock.

"You're wet."

She nodded. She wanted to reply; she wanted to tell him 'Of course I am. What do you expect? You've got your cock in my cunt and a vibrator in my ass. Why don't you stop talking and fuck me; why don't you fuck me until I cum?', but knew she couldn't. He was fucking her to his agenda and not hers.

It wasn't long before, in part, he answered her unspoken wishes. Her obviously willingness to be fucked had excited him, inspiring him to make use of her body and he mounted her, his cock slipping easily into her wet cunt; slapped her twice on the bum and reached under her to hold both of her tits in his hand.

"Ready, bitch?"

She nodded, she'd been ready within an hour of meeting him and all she wanted now was for him to fuck her to a climax.

He squeezed and released both nipples and was rewarded with a gasp. Moving backwards from her body, he assumed what he thought of as the rutting position; the man squatting on his heels, his cock angled slightly downwards; the woman resting on her knees, her head on the bed and her bum in the air. It was a position of power; a position which left the woman totally exposed and which highlighted the dominance of the male animal.

As a boy, he had watched stallions covering the mares at a stables owned by a boyhood friend and aroused by remembered images of the stallions as they serviced the mares, their nostrils flaring with lust, their teeth nipping at the mare's necks and most vivid of all; their enormous pricks as they plunged deep inside the mare's cunts, he attacked her; ramming his cock as deeply and as hard as he could into her cunt and eliciting a grunt as she felt it bottom out against her cervix.

Encouraged by her response, he continued his attack, his stomach muscles expanding and contracting as he sought to gain leverage for his thrusts. Below him, she had been surprised by the ferocity of his initial attack, but as it became clear he was intent on abusing her body, she started to become excited; responding to his thrusts and encouraging him with low moans, intermittent 'that's it' and requests to 'fuck me'. In response, he increased his already frantic pace and started to abuse her; slapping her bum, pinching her nipples and playing with the rabbit impaled in her bum.

It wasn't long before they were both on the verge of cumming when, true to script, he pulled out. She was close, closer even than the first time he'd finger-fucked her and as on that occasion, she tried, in desperation, to use the bedspread in her quest to reach her climax; dropping to the bed and fucking the rough fabric with exaggerated thrusts of her hips.

"Stop it."

She did. She didn't want to, she wanted to cum and satisfy the longings which had been building since the first stirrings she'd experienced when they'd first kissed, but she knew he wasn't going to let it happen - at least not in his presence. The next thing she felt was a slap on her face; not from his hand, but from his cock.

"Suck it bitch. Suck it."

She sucked, without the use of her hands it wasn't easy as she had no control over the depths of his thrusts and as he became turned on, they became deeper and deeper and harder to accommodate. Just as she thought he was going to choke her, he pulled out and almost ran to the other side of the bed.

"Take it whore. Take it."

She had no choice; bound as she was, she was only a ready, albeit willing, receptacle for his cock. It slipped in easily, her cunt was wet and his cock was slick with saliva and pre-cum. It was clear from the start he was close, within four or five thrusts he was deep inside her, pounding her so hard she could almost feel his cock trying to penetrate her womb.

When he came, he issued a sound, which she later described to Ann as a cross-between a war-whoop and the sound of a dying elephant, slapped her bum twice – hard - and flooded her cunt with his cum. Once again mere seconds from cumming, in desperation she tried to milk him, trying to keep his cock erect for the few seconds she needed to reach her own climax. In the end her efforts proved futile; his cock rapidly wilting and sliding out of her cum-soaked cunt.

Once the bond was broken, he knelt behind her and waited in silence; his flaccid cock leaking cum as he watched the same cum leak slowly out of her cunt and down her thighs. It was a scene which he hadn't experience since his marriage, but which had always aroused him. It was an unequivocal indication the woman beneath him was his subject, had ceded control to him and a control so complete he had been granted the right to choose whether to impregnate her or not.

Once satisfied there was no significant amount of cum still left inside her, he undid the belt and scarf holding her wrists and removed the blindfold. She blinked; trying to adjust her eyes to the light in the room and trying to focus.

"Like that baby? Like being fucked by your master?"

She nodded, smiled and looked at him, she still hadn't cum, but he was her master and she was his slave; her body to do with as he liked; her pleasure only the afterthought. She put her hand to her cunt; he had been wrong; there was still some cum leaking out and dripping onto her thighs. She lifted her hand and looked at it, as if to confirm what she already knew.

"I'd better go and clean up."

He nodded and watched as she made her way to the bathroom. He'd enjoyed fucking her, she had a velvet cunt and was both a good fuck and a good fucker; he knew when he let her cum, and he had already decided when it would be, her climax would be off the Richter scale.

In the bathroom Karen was sitting on the toilet seat and mulling over what had just transpired. She hadn't cum and still desperately wanted to, but the rest of the experience had been exciting, including his threat to tattoo her. Almost absentmindedly, she rubbed her clit and started to play with herself; she was wet; she may not have cum, but her cunt was soaking from a mixture of their cum.

Realising what she was doing, she stopped; he hadn't told her explicitly, but she knew everything that had transpired had been a test of their master-slave relationship. By taking her to the edge of her climax and then stopping, he was testing her resolve to be his slave. She rubbed herself again; she wanted to show compliance, but she was weak and wanted to cum; she wanted to feel the tremors building in her stomach, to feel the tingle in her nipples, the warm feeling in the depths of her cunt and the final release as her whole body shuddered. Just a quick cum she thought, not earth-shattering, but just enough to take the edge of her hunger. In the state she was in, it wouldn't take long and he'd never know.

She started to play with herself, inserting one and then two fingers and although they were no substitute for his cock, she still found herself becoming aroused. In an effort to more closely duplicate the feel of his cock, she needed to insert a third finger and in an attempt to provide easier access for her fingers, she changed position until she was leaning with her back against the tank, her bum on the edge of the seat and her cunt projecting forward and easily accessible to her fingers.

She had just inserted a third finger when a gentle 'thump' interrupted her search for release. It didn't register at first, but when it did, she realised it was the sound of a foot dropping onto the bedroom floor. She stopped and listened to the sound of the footsteps. Realising they were making their way to the bathroom, she hurriedly removed her fingers, flushed the toilet and was just getting up from the seat when the door opened and Chris entered; naked, a trail of spider-silk like cum running from the end of his cock to his thigh.

"I need to take a pee."

Without waiting, he moved past her and stood in front of the bowl, pulled up the seat and started to piss; apparently unconcerned with the niceties. She washed her hands and started to clean her teeth. He finished pissing and walked over to the sink where he washed his hands, kissed her, tweaked her right nipple, slapped her on her already tender bum and left for the bedroom.

When she reached the bedroom, he was lying on the right side of the bed – her side whenever she'd slept with anyone – and apparently asleep. She looked at him and let out a slight chuckle. Truth was often stranger than fiction. Yesterday afternoon, who would have thought she would be spending Christmas Eve being fucked by a stranger? A man at least fifteen years younger than her, good looking and good in bed, who had come to rescue her from the snow and had, instead, succeeded in rescuing her from a period of unwanted chastity.

Chapter 4

It was light when Chris awoke the next morning and given the time of year, seven o'clock at the earliest. For a moment he didn't know where he was, but a glimpse of the Laura Ashley wallpaper allowed him to pinpoint both his location and the circumstance. He smiled as he recalled the events of the previous evening and how he had fucked a woman who had aroused and inspired him.

He reached for his cock. It was iron hard, which was not an unusual situation when he awoke and normally he would have ascribed it to morning wood, but on this occasion, there was a good chance at least part of its state of readiness could be attributed to returning memories.

He had started the previous day with few expectations other than long arduous hours moving tons of snow in freezing cold temperatures and had ended it in bed with a woman who, while she was neither young, nor lithe, nor beautiful, was not only good company, but a good fuck, a really good fuck. If he were being honest, she was the best fuck he'd ever had and to cap it all, she appeared willing to be his slave and satisfy a long unfulfilled dream of domination.

He had just started to stroke his cock and fantasise about using his lover's body, when his reverie was interrupted by the sounds of banging and scraping emanating, as far as he could tell, from the kitchen. He listened, trying to determine what she was doing in the kitchen so early in the morning, before fuzzy memories from his youth provided an answer; it was Christmas Day and she was preparing Christmas dinner. He was feeling good and wanted to lie in bed and wank or, preferably, call Karen and have her blow or even fuck him, but he was intrigued by the sounds and wanted to see the woman who had offered to be his slave, in part as re-assurance he hadn't been dreaming.

He got up, went to the bathroom and as he came out of the shower, a voice from the floor below called out,

"There's a new toothbrush on the counter and a clean towel on the left towel rail."

He smiled to himself, he'd eaten her cunt, poked his fingers in her ass, his cock in her cunt and his tongue in her mouth and she was concerned about him having a towel and toothbrush of his own.

"It's okay. I'm using yours."

She laughed; she understood why he'd said it.

When he got into the kitchen, she was standing by the sink, peeling potatoes and wearing old jeans and an almost threadbare, iconic tongue, Rolling Stone's t-shirt; although from the position of her nipples and the way they were poking through the fabric, it was apparent she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

"Merry Christmas, Karen."

They kissed and as he hugged her, he realised he'd been right; she was braless and for all he knew, knickerless, but it wasn't good enough; she was disobeying his orders.

"What did I tell you?"

"What about?"

"Your permitted clothing."

"But I'm going to be cooking and I usually wear my scruffs when I cook. I don't want to get my good clothes dirty."

"Did I give you permission to be fully dressed?"

He hadn't and she knew she was wrong, but it had been a sin of omission not commission. She'd simply forgotten.

"I'm sorry; I forgot."

"It's not acceptable. You know what clothing you are permitted. If you want to wear something to stop your good clothes getting dirty, you can wear an old dress or an apron or nothing - but that's all."

She looked at him and smiled; if that was what he wanted, she didn't mind. Last night and into the morning, his eyes, hands, cock and tongue had seen and explored every nook and cranny of her body and appearing before him naked was not going to be a problem. Still smiling, she pulled up the t-shirt and took it off. Braless, her tits drooped against her chest, but the nipples were erect and on the left tit was an enormous, almost purple, love-bite; the one he'd inflicted on her the night before.

It hadn't been a spontaneous act, he'd needed to show she was his property and as he couldn't tattoo her until after Christmas, he'd bitten her to leave his mark. It was the first time anyone had given her a love-bite and when she had looked in the mirror in the morning, she had been surprised by both its size and colour. If the tattoo was going to be anything like the bite, it would certainly be something different and certainly something more risqué than a butterfly on the bum.

Braless, just as she'd done the night before, she smiled, did a pirouette, picked up her tits and flaunted them at him.

"You like?"

It was a question which didn't require a reply. She knew he liked them and he knew that she knew he did. At that moment it was all he could do to supress a desire to ravage them with his mouth, to take the nipples between his teeth and worry them like a dog worries a bone. He didn't reply to her question, he had plans for her body and he didn't want to say anything which would provide her with any leverage, but the look of undisguised lust in his eyes gave him away.

When she dropped her jeans, he saw his second guess was also correct, she wasn't wearing knickers and he smiled when he saw the faint outline of wheals on her bum where he'd smacked her during their lovemaking.

"Come here."

She came, her eyes downcast in mock subjugation. She realised he was going to use her and subjugation was in keeping with her role as his slave. He pointed at the table and demanded,

"Lie down, face forward, over the table."

"Yes, master."

It was the first time she had used the term and it felt both odd and exciting. Odd because she had never thought of anyone, lover or not, as her master and exciting because it held the promise of something new and something she was certain she would enjoy.

Moving over to the table, she moved the runner and flower vase and bent forward until her body was resting on the table with her hands hanging over the edge. Her cunt and bum felt sore, a momento of his incursions into both orifices the previous evening, but not sufficiently so to dissuade her from being aroused by the prospect of his cock violating one or more of them, particularly the former.

"Stay there. Don't move an inch."

The order was superfluous, she had no intention of moving. She heard him leave the kitchen and go up the stairs, returning a couple of minutes later.

"Stand up."

She stood and was not surprised when she felt a scarf wrap around her eyes.

"Lie down, again."

She lay down, her body spread-eagled over the table and forming the letter Y, her tits crushed against the table-top. She had a good idea what would happen next and was not disappointed when, in succession, she felt him take both wrists, tie them with the belt and using a scarf, attach it to the belt and then to what she surmised to be the table leg. He was going to fuck her and her cunt was providing a clear indication of the state of her arousal. Already wet when he had ordered her to lie on the table, it was now soaked; far wetter than she could ever remember and she was concerned, should her level of arousal continue to grow, there was the possibility that her juices would leak out of her cunt and down her leg.