At Suki's Ch. 04

After the men had left, the Asian men who had just finished coming all over my face, my hair up in pigtails, my arms, my legs, and the ludicrously lurid schoolgirl outfit Suki had made for me, I pleaded with Suki to unbind me. I wanted to wash myself up, for one thing, but more than that I wanted to touch her, run my hands over her body, help her off with the gray business suit she wore. The black dildo she had reamed me with still hung obscenely through the open zipper of the trousers. I wanted to help her off with that, as well, and get to her sweet pussy and lick her dry if she'd let me.

She unbound my hands, but she wouldn't let me touch her. "You're all filthy," she said. "All those dirty men's stuff all over you." She put her hands on her hips, the black phallus swinging between her legs. "You go home. Fix yourself up." I asked her for the clothes I had worn to her place, and she just laughed. "Don't be silly," she said.

Apparently I was going to have to come home in the obscene schoolgirl costume, with dried come all over it. I pulled the wool stockings back up over my knees, and tried to brush off some of the dried flakes from the blouse, which was stuck to my skin in various places where wads of semen had struck me. I peeled it free and tried to button it up again over my breasts, which was difficult because the blouse was designed to be so tight. And it was translucent, so anyone could see my nipples right through it, as well as every curve of my bosom, the size of which has always made me self-conscious. And the high-waisted plaid skirt I had on barely reached my thighs, and I wore no panties. On my way home, not only would I reek of sex and semen, but anyone who cared to could see my pussy right up my skirt.

I didn't know what to do. I had no choice but to try to make it home like this. Walking through the confusing unfamiliar streets in Suki's neighborhood at night was extremely scary to me, and now I was dressed as a target, just begging to be assaulted, to be taken. I couldn't possibly be wearing something that screamed "please fuck me" more.

Inevitably, a man began to follow me. I didn't want him to see me looking at him, so I wasn't sure what he looked like. He seemed to be short, wore a tan Members Only jacket and khakis, and he walked with a stoop, so he was probably older. I couldn't shake him though. The patent-leather Maryjane shoes that Suki had made me wear were already giving me blisters, making every step jarringly painful.

I made it to the subway, but the man followed me on to the platform. It was late, so there was nobody else around that I could see. Maybe a few lonely souls down at the other end, but they hardly noticed us. They looked to be homeless people, sleeping in their clothes with their plastic bags piled around them.

I prayed for the train to come soon. I could feel the short little man's gaze burning into me. I scratched nervously at my stockings, tried in vain to make my skirt cover more of my thighs, cover some of that bare skin between the tops of the stockings and the skirt's bottom edge. But it was useless.

The longer we waited, the more self-conscious, the more afraid I became, and the more fear I felt, the harder I could feel my nipples were becoming, until they jutted out against the fabric of my tight blouse, making my arousal unmistakable. I could sense the man coming closer. I didn't know what I could do.

Finally I turned to face him. He was taken aback for a moment, but then I saw that his hands were fishing around in his pockets. I realized that he had been playing with himself, just watching me. At first I was completely nauseated -- he was an obviously harmless little man, bland, balding, well over fifty. But he was no threat. I was a fool to have been scared. And then I thought about how he probably hadn't had a thrilling sexual experience in decades, that this night, this chance meeting he had with me on the street might fuel his masturbatory fantasies for years to come.

And that idea got me turned on. I took a quick look around and saw that no one else could see us. And then I slowly lifted my skirt. "Stay where you are," I said quietly. "You can only look."

He nodded that he understood. I kept the skirt lifted and swayed my hips a little, getting into it. "Do you like what you see?" I asked. He nodded again, furiously. I could see him fists pumping away in his pocket, his legs shifting as he tried to get better angles to stroke his cock. "I can tell you like it," I said. Hearing myself talk this way, all slutty and seductive, was making me hot. I could feel myself getting wet as he stared in at my pussy. I started to touch myself as he watched. "Look at my cunt," I said, rubbing my pussy lips with my fingers, slipping my index finger up inside myself. "You like the way I touch it?"

Obviously I was still in a delirious state from my experience at Suki's, when all those men, all those cocks were coming on me. It had deprived me of the ability to see the possibility of any human transaction being anything other than sexual. I mean, all those strangers came into that room and promptly pulled out their penises and masturbated right before my eyes, and because of me, because of the way I was dressed, because of the way I am shaped, because of what I was obviously willing to do. I never know it could feel so powerful, submitting.

I sat down on the filthy bench by the garbage can so that I could play with myself more easily. My cunt was suddenly on fire again, as wet and pulsating as it was when I was tied up at Suki's. I couldn't get the image of those men jerking themselves off out of my mind, nor could I forget Suki, in the business suit that made her seem so much older, so much more mature, her sparkling, laughing eyes, drinking in my humiliation with delight. I had to sit down. I didn't want to lose my balance and fall onto the tracks or something. I kept my eyes locked on the unassuming little man, working on himself through the pockets of his khakis. He watched me, too, my skirt folded back, one pair of fingers spreading my cunt open, another three fingers slicing inside me, god, it felt so raw, so amazing. I could tell by the way the man was squirming that he was coming into his pants. I would've started to come myself, if I hadn't heard the train approaching.

The man followed me on the train. We sat across from each other on the car. I was extremely turned on, and the men already on the car all stared at me, of course, seeing how I was dressed. I wanted desperately to come, but I didn't know if I could do it with such an audience. The thought of all these strangers jerking off at the sight of me pleasing myself was intensely erotic, an extreme turn on, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for them to be gang raping me; that was not such a turn on, and the way I was dressed was a plain invitation to that.

Still I wanted to touch my pussy. I rubbed my ass back and forth on the hard plastic seat, trying to generate some friction. I tugged on my blouse so it would pull the silk taut against my hard nipples and tease them, and that felt overpoweringly delicious. The man who had already come on the platform still watched me; he knew what I was up to. But I could bring myself to do it, I could not get myself on the train. I had to wait until I got home, where I could stare at my shockingly disheveled self, my hair in pigtails, still clumped and sticky with dried semen, my breasts heavy, heaving against the tight blouse, the plaid schoolgirl skirt covering nothing, the wool stockings pulled up to my thighs, sticky with come themselves, God I hardly recognized myself, and what I saw in the mirror turned me on incredibly.

I saw this used fuck slut, a piece of meat that I wanted my own piece of. I started to suck on my thumb, watching myself, pretending it was some old solemn hard-faced Asian guy's cock. My other thumb I was thrusting in and out of my throbbing pussy. I sucked and sucked, watching the slutty me in the mirror all covered in semen, until finally I got myself off, spasming on the hardwood floor in front of the mirror.

When I woke up the next day, I was filled with shame. I called out of work. I didn't want to leave my apartment. I didn't want to face other people. I felt like the horror of what I had done would be written all over me, would be obvious to anyone who would see me.

And other people seem frightening to me, it seemed like their sexuality might leap out from them at any given moment and expose itself. The whole city suddenly seemed like a crazy cauldron of uncontrolled lust and I just needed a break. I felt sexed out, overwhelmed by sex; and I just wanted to be able to think about something else for a change.

But spending the day alone wasn't any way to stop thinking about sex. I spent most of the morning naked in my bed, a hand between my legs, gently playing with myself as thought of Suki drifted through my consciousness. I thought of her with her legs around my head while I would suck and nibble on her clit, and the cooing little moans she made.

I thought about her tiny hands on waist as she took me with the strap on from behind, her delicate fingers digging in. And I thought of her sweet little mouth on my nipples, and how big and bountiful my breasts seemed when she was sucking so gently on them, and how special it made me feel when I put on the outfits she designed for me, even though they made me into a helpless object. It seemed like she was so far away from me, even though I was just with her last night.

Sometimes when she looks at me, I forget who I am. I forget everything and get completely lost in her gaze. The passion melts me, dissolves boundaries between my body and my mind. All those crazy sentimental notions in love songs, about losing yourself and giving all of yourself and feeling such immense joy and incredible pain; I start to understand those things like I never have before in my life. I used to think that kind of intensity was just made up, was just fantasy. But now I know it can really happen to me, and now I am having a hard time living without it. I want to be on that high permanently.

Inevitably, when I finally got out of bed I decided to put the white wool stockings back on, even though they were slightly crusty still. I sat naked in front of my mirror and pulled the first one on, up over my knee and mid way up my thigh. Even though the white made my leg look a little chubby, I suddenly felt much more naked with that one stocking on than I felt before when I wore nothing. I had made my own body erotic to myself again just by wearing that filthy stocking, which immediately made me see what those men saw when they look at me and became turned on.

I licked my lips, then licked my fingers, and then played with my clit as I watched myself, naked save for the stockings. I tweaked my nipples with my moist fingers, made them hard so I could bend my head down and lick them, suck on them. I never used to be able to turn myself on like this, until I started to have my adventures with Suki. Now I felt electric with erotic potential at every moment. I used to get depressed when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window or a mirror, now I get excited, now I think about getting fucked.

I didn't want to be alone anymore. But I didn't know how to get a hold of Suki. So I called Julia, and I begged her to come over to my apartment. "Please, Julia," I said. "I'll do anything for you. I will make you feel so good."

When she came over, I still had the thigh-highs on, and the Mary Jane shoes, and the plaid skirt, and a plain white bra that shoved my breasts up and out.

"What are you wearing?" Julia said when she saw me. "Have you lost it or something?"

"Don't I look sexy?" I asked.

"You look like you're an overgrown thirteen year old," she said.

"Exactly. Don't I look sexy?"

Julia moved closer to me with a half sneer on her face. She didn't know what to make of me. She had always known me to be a little butch, and this outfit that exaggerated my curves was something she had never seen from me before. I sat down on the couch and lifted up my skirt for her. "Look," I said. "Look how clean I am."

I was restless waiting for her, so I shaved off most of my pubic hair while I was waiting, leaving only a inch wide strip above my slit, which I was now petting with my fingers.

"This is a mistake," Julia said. "I shouldn't have come here." She was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, no bra. She didn't really need one. She was pretty flat-chested. The shirt hung on her shoulders like it would on a wire hanger and emphasized how emaciated she was. I always was self-conscious when I was with her about how much bigger than her I am, in just about every way. Bigger breasts, bigger hands, longer legs, wider hips.

She was more like a prepubescent boy then she was a woman, and the way she kept her hair cropped short and her body underfed and the way she dressed all served to reinforce this impression. When she was naked you could see her ribcage clearly defined below the little buds of her breasts.

I used to like to be with her because she was quick and funny, and we got on well, of course, but also because being with her made me less aware of my own femininity, which has always felt onerous to me, a kind of unfair judgment or expectation. With her, I always thought about her androgynous body and forgot my own.

But now I was hyperconscious of my own, in love with its bounty. I kept stroking what was left of my pubic hair, trying to arouse her. I could tell by how she was transfixed that she was becoming interested. I wanted Julia to want me too, wanted her to stop thinking of me as cerebral and sexless. "I can be a sweet little girl for you," I cooed, making myself a little wetter.

I couldn't tell, maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I could see her nipples stiffening beneath her T-shirt. "We can play pretend," I went on. "Pretend I'm the popular straight girl in school you always wanted but never had the nerve to ask, even though you had your suspicions, you know, the way she looked at your body, the way she held your glance for a moment too long."

"God, what's gotten into you, Karen?" she asked. "You're acting like some kind of sex fiend."

"What's fiendish about sex?" I said. "Come on. Didn't you ever wonder what it would be like to have the cheerleader's legs wrapped around your head, to be under her skirt eating her sweet virgin pussy while she was half turned on half mortified, wondering what had gotten into her? Didn't you ever wish you could put a hand under the skirts of those girls at the Catholic school, didn't you ever dream of opening their legs and diving in?" I spread my legs wide. "I'm here."

"Karen. You're freaking me out," Julia said.

"What's the matter?" I said, keeping my legs apart while I fingered my clit. "Afraid of what you see? I know you're uptight. I know you're squeamish, but maybe you ought to let go a little."

"Stop it Karen, okay?"

"You don't want to talk about it? What are you afraid of? Look at my pussy. It's what you want. Look at my breasts; they're what you want. Why are you pretending they're not. I know I've got the tits you've always dreamed of having. Come play with them."

I could see that Julia was getting angry. I was needling her in places where I knew she was self-conscious. "You don't need to be embarrassed. Just because your parents think you are a freak of nature. I don't. I'm glad you're gay. I'm glad you want to fuck me. Don't you want to fuck me? Look at me."

Julia moved closer to me. She was seething; I could tell. "You're being a cunt, Karen," she said.

"I'm being naughty," I said. "And I know what naughty girls deserve."

"Now you want me to spank you? Is that it, you freaky bitch? Get your fucking hands off yourself," she said. "You want me to hit you, I'll hit you," she continued and she gave me a shove that knocked me over. I saw that she was undoing the belt she had around her waist. "I'll give you a few smacks, see how you like it. It's not fucking sex fun and games. It's fucking pain, you stupid bitch."

She sat down on the couch and I immediately leaned over her knee. I wasn't sure what had gotten in to me, but I needed her to punish me. I knew I had been bad; I'd been wanting punishment ever since I fucked that Chinese man in the alley at Suki's behest. Finally someone was treating me with the kind of contempt I had been feeling deep down for myself, the contempt that came hand in hand with the feeling of being irresistibly fuckable, of being out in public with men's eyes searing into me, devouring my big tits and my long legs and my ass.

"You're a silly little girl, you know that?" Julia said when I assumed the position. This wouldn't be the first time she spanked me. It was something we always played with. I would misbehave around her, or tease her about her parents or her job or her body until she started to wrestle with me, and then finally I would get her to spank me. Sometimes I would start to cry when she hit me hard. Sometimes I would call her mommy and tell her to stop, and then she would let me suck on her nipple just like she really was my mommy.

This kind of thing usually happened at Julia's place. She had a ivory hairbrush that she had stolen from her mother that she usually used on my bare bottom to spank me, but today she was using her belt. She lifted the plaid skirt up to expose my naked ass and then folded the belt in half and cracked the two ends together with a thwap.

My feet were up on the sofa and my toes were curled in a ball; my stomach was knotted in anticipation, awaiting the first blow. "You have to learn the hard way, don't you," Julia said, and cracked me hard across my ass, twice, with two quick blows. "That's what happens to bad girls," she said. I felt I was getting wetter, and I couldn't decide what I wanted more, for her to put her fingers inside me or for her to hit me again.

She hit me again, and again, and again. It was painful, but I deserved it, after exposing myself to that man on the subway like that. I was a bad girl, and Julia knew it.

She took a momentary break from hitting me to wriggle out from her jeans; I could feel her pushing them down, her hands going underneath me for a moment. I kept my eyes closed, kept thinking about that sad man on the subway and how the sight of me had turned him into a public pervert.

In a few days I was at Suki's again. "I've been preparing the rope," she said, pointing to a coil of greased hemp rope curled on the ground at her feet. "I tie you up in it, make you beautiful piece of art," she said. I knew at once that this was what I wanted, to be tied up, exposed, to be opened up to sexually voracious view, and to have no possible way of covering myself.

I am constantly ashamed of my sexuality -- in a way, of being a woman. I am always slumping my shoulders, trying to hide my breasts, wearing frumpy and baggy clothes. But Suki was forcing me out of this, turning my sexual shame into the most powerful aphrodisiac imaginable. When I was with her I was in a constant state of shame, and arousal. They seemed to be one and the same thing. Watching her uncoil the rope, my heart started to beat fast and I began to blush as I thought of myself bound and helpless, seeing myself as I did in the mirror when I masturbated, only stretched further open and observed by countless untold others. I hate being the center of attention, but now I would not be able to escape it.

Of course I had seen pictures of it before -- shibari, it's called, the Japanese art of sexual rope bondage. I had seen the petite women, naked, with their expressionless faces -- never pained, they seemed far beyond pain -- tied up with parallel loops of rope or spider webs of knots all designed to show the woman's utter sexual availability and total inaccessibility simultaneously. It was like they were living statues, to be looked at and endlessly longed for but never to be touched.