Touch Me

Alfred ordered her to turn around for him, and she did as he asked, her heart beating with excitement and wonder. What would he do now? She was taking quite a weird, crazy chance, giving him all the sexual and physical power over her; he could now do whatever he wanted. It had only been the first special week they had fucked, and here he was, fully ordering her as a sex slave. He had all of the control, because she wanted someone to bring about her fantasy life.

As Jessica turned, Alfred sized up her buttocks, spread the cheeks, and licked them slowly. Jessica gurgled with surprised rapture until she felt his cock in her backside press into her. She guessed he felt the need to release himself. But before he continued, he stopped, realizing something, and then led her away, although the juices in her sex were running down her leg.

Alfred led her to the strapmaster, as she had called it. The thing that could hold you and keep you from escaping, hold you to the master while he fucked you.

Alfred had loved it from the moment he had seen it. He strapped her to it at once, put her legs in the straps, lifting them high, and tied her hands over her head. He gagged her, and stood in front of her, to closely examine her. He was standing close enough to have his cock kiss her sex. He pushed forward, but it needed help. So he put his hands behind her buttocks, and pushed her to him. As soon as he did that, her lips spread wide to the length of his cock.

Jessica cried under its width, from behind the gag holding her mouth. Alfred pushed on, not hesitating. And that's just what she wanted him to do. He was under control, no backing down. Jessica thought. Do as you please. And he was.

Alfred slowly went in her, and then rammed the rest of his absurd length into her. He held her for a moment to him, sizing her up. Alfred grabbed her legs, separated them further and held them so the cock was inside her easier. With time, he was thinking again, I will open you all the way, and this he told her in a whisper as he fucked her.

Alfred held her legs still; she couldn't move away from him, and the cock was a tight fit, like it wouldn't come out from inside her even if he pulled it out. But he was adjusting the size of it, she guessed.

Alfred moved from side to side, as if he meant to spread her open even more. And whatever he was doing was driving her obscenely crazy. Jessica couldn't move her arms, which were raised far over her head, and bound. Her large breasts, pointy and erected, pushed forward to his liking, stroking softly against him, their nipples pinched tightly by the clamps he had only moments before placed on them, to keep them pricked.

Alfred slowly began to move again. He pulled the cock from her, a stroke at a time at first. Then rammed it back. He took his time, and it became more painful for her. He played with the rubber clamp on her clitoris, stretching it carefully. But she was already wet, and there was no need for that. Again he pulled out, stroking in, then out. Each time was more difficult then the last time. He was opening her, he was thinking. Alfred pulled at the clips on her nipples.

"You're so beautiful! You're so beautiful! I want to fuck you all the time!" He bit her breasts, clamping down over the clips and pulling them off with his mouth. He spat them out, and began sucking on the raw, sore nipples. Jessica moaned and winced in tandem as he did this.

This elaborately staged ritual continued for two long hours, as they barely moved from their respective places. His cock remained inside her, until he came. And as he did, he held her to him, his hands pressed on her buttocks, parting the cheeks until she gasped. Nevertheless, he continue to suck her breasts, even as he pulled his cock from inside her, now hot as an iron and still hard as the first time he had ever put it inside her. He licked and sucked her breasts, taking his time with everything he was doing to her bound and helpless body.

Finally exhausted, Alfred crawled limply into bed and watched her as he lay there, panting. His man juices were dripping from her sex, which was still warmth and wet, throbbing with mingled torture, pleasure and excitement. He was feeling himself as he watched her strapped to that thing, legs forced so widely apart, the sex opening to him dripping with desire, alive with excitement. Her nipples and body were ridiculously sore, but she was too excited to feel any real tiredness. Alfred closed his eyes and she lost him, as she was soon able to close her own eyes.

Jessica sat there strapped for hours; she could feel her body throbbing, the excitement in her heart pulsing. She was nothing but a pitiful sex slave, tied to this thing, and anyone who wanted could have his way with her. It only excited her, and made her ache inside for more.

During the night she was only awakened when Alfred rose to go to the bathroom, and then stumbled to his bed again. He was naked, and she could never miss his fat shape walking in the shadows as he climbed back into the bed. Jessica knew he was looking over at her each time. But whether he was fighting an urge to mount her, she could merely wonder.

His shadowy figure rose several times from the end of the bed, and made his way to her, but then stopped halfway. He walked back to the bed, and watched her from its narrow edge. Jessica couldn't see his face, but she knew he was looking at her. She wasn't sure why he was stopping himself, but he stayed there for awhile, until he dropped into bed again.

Always eager in the morning hours, she was awakened early by Alfred's cock. He had walked up to her while she was asleep, and planted himself inside her. One minute she laid sound asleep; the next thing, her body was moving vigorously as he pounced on her.

His cock was so dry, so hot, and so hard, it burned as it entered her, and it was the pain that had first awakened her. But the rankly harder it was to enter her, the harder he pushed and forced it inside, until the mysterious and calming juices of her own sex appeared, and made her into an easy-fitting piece of flesh. His cock was still too large, and way too painful, but that didn't stop him, and he moved onwards, like he would tear her pussy badly at any minute.

Finally he came, stumbling to the end of the bed, and sat there puffing, out of breath. After a short time, he walked up to her, vastly naked, smelly and sweaty, and unfastened the straps, to pull her down from the strapmaster.

As she was led gently down, she could feel every single muscle in her lust-filled body screaming and protesting in utmost agony. And her inmost sex, seemingly buried and blossoming with pain, burned and smoldered with the fires of Alfred's tireless determination.

Alfred led her by the studded dog collar, and she followed. He took her into the bathroom and cleaned her, washing every part of her body with gentle but voracious hands. His dark eyes never once stopped gleaming, and his expression never died of its lunatic excitement. He didn't change; he only cleaned himself up a little as he had her, and in fact he had cleaned inside the tub too, and had cleaned them all up, as he liked a clean bathroom.

After he dried her, he led her now-meek self into the kitchen. It seemed he had already made breakfast, and had prepared a single place on the table. He was still naked as he walked over to the table, and took a seat. He pulled her to him, and she was instructed to sit down on the other chair, beside him. He tugged at the chain, roughly instructing her, and leading her to his side like the disobedient slave she was. But still proud and vain nonetheless, she knew better than that. Her seat was on his lap; she would have to learn that the hard way. He was holding a small, light leather whip. And he made her turn, and sharply stung her buttocks, so blasted hard that she almost screamed in delight, but she held her lips shut, or she would not please Alfred. She could already see it in his eyes as he grabbed her buttocks and pinched the red area he had slapped with the end of his light leather whip.

"No, I want you over here. I want you to sit on my lap," Alfred imperiously instructed, pointing to the hard dick between his legs. It was more erect then ever. The muscle was sticking up, as hard as a barber pole, lodged between his fat, large brown legs.

His fat gut was almost touching the end of the table. Now, how would she be able to fit in all that? But what she didn't know is that she would. And he would make sure of it. Alfred pulled her roughly to him, and she fell on him, her breasts pressing against his massive rolls of stomach. He was a hairy thing, as black hair laid all over his entire body, leading a trail down his waistline to his muscle and large ball sack. She could see his balls; they were a large part of his lower body, the cock extending from them like a thick, leafless winter tree.

"This is where I want you to sit." Alfred pointed again, but even though he didn't exactly mean to point only to his cock, he was doing so. And she knew it was what he meant.

He was pulling her gently, hurrying her along. As she stumbled to his lap, he helped her up, positioning her. At first she only felt his cock behind her, rubbing against her back. The wetly large head, bobbing, tapping her gently with its mucous.

Alfred squeezed her affectionately, as she now sat on his lap, with his cock rubbing her back. It was so long, it could touch the end of his dinner table.

Alfred held her; he rested and held her breasts in his palms, rubbing them tenderly, as if he were giving her a massage. And she took a deep, remorselessly hollow breath as he did.

He pinched her nipples again. He liked doing that. The plate was in front of them, with a tall glass each of orange juice and milk at its corners. The motley feast was a combination of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a huge slab of hash browns. There was ample real butter on the side, genuine maple syrup, and another plate with four large, golden-brown pancakes.

"You can have anything you like. Go ahead, and eat!" He took the fork and pointed to something on the plate, and when she nodded, he cut a piece and fed it to her.

One hand fed her, and the other she felt caressing her breast. First holding the breast, he pinched it, and then his hand fell on her lap. He spread her legs slowly, cutting yet another piece of pancake, and fed it to her. How well he did this made her small stomach bestially growl.

She felt her thin legs drop to one side of his giant, hairy legs. Their wiry, thick strands rubbed up against her. She could feel her sex spreading apart and opening on the huge leg. She was wet yet again, and she could hardly eat from the excitement, nor swallow her food.

Alfred continued; his hand reached down, drove a finger inside her, spreading her.

"I always want to fuck you," he insisted, hissing behind her ear as he spoon-fed her.

He then gave her the spoon, placing it in her hand carefully, and brought his sticking hand down her other leg. He spread it in the same way, so both her legs were open on his lap.

She fell a little forward on the table, elbows on top, legs spread. At that, he pushed his cock forward, and brought her buttocks down over it. The liquid from her spread, running down her leg as she felt the cock enter her. Still, the size was unbearable, though Alfred thought with delight that she'd finally take him whole. She couldn't, yet.

He nevertheless was enjoying himself, and it didn't matter. They fucked all morning, it seemed. Every time he wanted, he simply had her. By nighttime she was exhausted, but she didn't make the rules; if Alfred wanted some pussy, he simply tugged at the chain, and she stumbled to her knees in front of him.

The week passed by quickly; time seemed to seep like a purple haze through his house. The passing moment's memories of him on top of her small figure, repeatedly fucking her, were many. Soon she was sleeping in his bed, and he would fall asleep always with the cock hard, and sometimes inside her.

She would awaken, and he would be fingering her in his sleep. Sometimes even sucking on her nipple, while they slept. And he would say he couldn't sleep at times, unless he had her tit in his mouth. Had she brought an obscenely childish monster out of him?

By the last night, he was fucking her every minute, just like the first time. He kept her in bed that entire last day. After feeding her, he strapped her to the mattress, as he got up and ate. He didn't let her leave the bed. And once he finished, he climbed back up and fucked her again.

She couldn't believe that he never gave up. She didn't understand how he could go on like that. It was as if she'd taught him something altogether new, and he couldn't stop doing it.

By midnight, as the clock turned twelve, he had fucked her for the very last time. And he couldn't stop sucking on her breasts, before the night was over.

When she awoke, she found him pressed close to her, her breast in his mouth. He was suckling it like a tiny baby as he held her, pressing her so as not to let her go. But she managed to slip from him, rose from the bed without waking him, and dressed in the same old clothes she had worn the first day she had come to his house with this crazy idea.

The week had come, and now was over. And she had fucked enough to last her a long time. She was ready to go home, and wash up. She did just that, walking away slowly and very carefully, so as not to wake him. When she reached the door, she could hear him stir, so she hurried and slipped out to the driveway. She got into her car, and disappeared into the bleakly rising warm morning.

When she reached her home, she jumped into the shower, and stayed there for over an hour. When she came out, she could hear the phone ringing like crazy. It was so annoying that she thought she would go insane. She came out with a towel wrapped around her body and gazed at the caller ID, only to realize it was Alfred's telephone number appearing there.

She refused to pick up, dried herself, and then climbed into bed and fell asleep the rest of the day, without a worry. Later, she must have been awakened by the phone; when she did open her eyes, she realized it was ten p.m., and again she gazed at the caller ID and saw it was Alfred calling.

"What could he want?" she testily muttered. "It's over," she snapped out loud. But the phone kept ringing, and this time there was a message left on the machine.

"Hi, Jessica! You left in such a hurry, why didn't you wake me? Listen, call me, I'm worried. I just want to see if you made it home okay. I love you. I want to ask you a question. Please call, Babe." She frowned, and collapsed into her own bed.

"I love you?" she mumbled. "Well, I don't," she hissed angrily. He had a lot of nerve! Hadn't she explained herself to him, already? She refused to call him back. And fell back into bed, to finish her sleeping time.

Again, this time around two a.m., the phone rang. She let the machine pick it up.

"Jessica, it's me, Alfred. Please call me! I'm just worried about you. Call me when you get back. I called earlier. I don't want to bother you, but I've got to talk to you. I want to ask you something. I miss you, Jessica. Can you call me, when you get in? It doesn't matter how late. I'll be up. Okay. Well, okay, bye. Love you!"

She wanted to simply die. She hated the sound of his pitiful voice. She was mad.

She rose from her bed, and stumbled to the phone. She wanted to call him, just to curse him out, but then she stopped. No, she wouldn't call him; she would leave it alone. So she hurried back to bed, and stubbornly stayed there.

In the morning, she heard the phone ringing; she had just gotten up and stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee.

Again, the machine picked it up.

"Jessica, it's your teddy bear, Alfred. I'm very worried. I haven't heard from you, yet. Please call me. I have to talk to you about something really important. It's not about last week. It's something else. Call me, please!"

When he hung up, she stumbled to the couch and picked up the phone.

"I guess I better get this over with," she mumbled.

So she grumblingly called, drinking from her black coffee. She was always trying to keep her weight down, so she could be attractive. But not to Alfred; not anymore. The phone didn't ring, not even once, before someone picked it up from the other end.

"Jessica?" she heard the grateful voice of Alfred gasp from the other end of the phone.

"Yes?" she drily responded, formic acid dripping from her voice

"Oh, my dear God, I was so worried because you didn't call, and you left so fast! You didn't even say 'bye!' Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I don't have to do anything, Alfred. Now, what is it that's so fucking important?"

"I'm just worried, Jessica. I really care a lot about you!"

"Alfred, remember what I said when we first began this?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't care for you! Besides, it's not about that. Although it still means something to me."

"Whatever. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you!"

"Alfred, please stop this."

"Okay. Okay, please, just hear me out! I know what we agreed to, okay? But I miss you. That's the God's honest truth. I want you back here with me. I want to wake up, and fuck you first thing in the morning, every morning. Last night, I was so alone. I was just thinking of fucking you. I wanted to visit you...but I don't even know where you live!"

"For good reason." Her voice was so cold, it could've frozen Hell over.

"I just can't stop thinking of your breasts, and your wet pussy. I can't help myself. I want you, every day and night. When are you coming over? When do you plan to return to me? We can do it again. This time, I can be the slave, if you want. Or whatever. I'll do anything for you! You are going to come back, right? I mean, you are gonna want to get together again? Right?"

There was a hideously long, empty pause over the phone. Was this it? Was all that ecstatical pleasure, once his, over forever? Alfred fervently prayed to every deity he could summon. But the silence continued, until he thought he couldn't stand it anymore.

If she didn't respond or return, he would kill himself, he swore.

"Maybe," she mumbled, delicately sipping her coffee

"Please, Jessica! You can have all the control, this time. I got some gifts for you! Really expensive stuff! I bought some great panties and bras you can wear for me. Don't you want to try them out, for me? I have so many things I got for us. You want to fuck again?"

"Maybe...look, I have to go. I won't make any promises. But soon. I won't say when."

"Okay. Soon? Okay, I'll be here. You have my work number?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so call me, Baby! Okay, bye."

She hung up because he wouldn't; and when she was alone, listening to his conversation in her head, she didn't know whether to be frightened, or flattered. She would see him again; she knew that. She couldn't stay away. But she would do it on her own terms, because she was the one in control, not him or his huge, purple cock.

But who really was in control here, her, or his dick?

A week passed by, and she was coming back from the bookstore, when she suddenly had the urge to go to Alfred's house. Why? She didn't know. She just felt this way, and drove there. Was he even there? She thought about it, feeling very tired inside, but went.

When she parked and was out of the car, she wanted to reconsider her behavior, but she felt it was already too late. She wasn't going back; her desires would not allow her that. She was too lonely, and it called incessantly inside of her. Something was keeping her from leaving. But as she walked to his front door and knocked, no one answered. He wasn't home. Still, she didn't want to leave, so she let herself in with the key he had given her.