tagNonConsent/ReluctanceYardwork Ch. 02

Yardwork Ch. 02

byattero©

It had been a week since the incident with Emily, and I hadn't heard anything since. I figured that was a good thing -- if she had told anyone I wouldn't be checking into work, I'd be waking up in jail. Still, I was wondering what the future would hold for her, and what would happen the next time that we met.

I found myself thinking about her constantly, obsessing over what had happened in her bedroom. After the fact it seemed so foreign, almost like a remembered dream. I couldn't believe that I had actually gone that far, nor could I believe that she had reacted in the way that she did. I knew that it had happened, but I couldn't seem to convince myself that it wasn't just a dream.

Strangely, I found myself growing way more fond of Emily than what I felt was appropriate. Before the incident she was just another spoiled rich bitch, looking down on the serfs that she neither wanted to nor needed to understand. Back then I had no respect for her, as I felt she deserved no respect. Now, though, things were different. She proved to me that she could hold her own, and I couldn't help but respect that. I didn't want to acknowledge it but the truth was that I really liked her.

It didn't hurt that she was a phenomenal piece of ass, of course. The sex that I had with her was easily the most mind-blowing of my entire life; a part of me was afraid that I'd never reach that level of intensity again. Of course, I wasn't about to let her know that. Emily had enough ego as it was, letting her know that fucking her was no chore wasn't going to help.

As I drove to her father's house I realized that I had no idea what I was going to do. I could punish her if I wanted to -- she hadn't convinced her father to hire on more landscapers, of course. I could let it slide, and just find other reasons to justify the horrible things that I wanted to do. Hell, I could even pretend that the whole thing had never happened and just mow the lawn -- a boring solution, but a safe one and one that would surely screw with her head.

Pulling into her driveway, I parked my truck in front of her house. Looking around, I couldn't see any signs of Emily. It wasn't surprising, but it was a little disappointing. I had hoped that she'd be there to greet me and simplify my decision, but I guess that wasn't too realistic.

Still unsure of how I wanted to play my hand, I got to work. One way or the other, I'd have to do my job before I went home -- it didn't really matter if it was before or after I reminded Emily of her place. Tossing on my ear protection, I began mowing the lawn.

As I got to work, my thoughts inevitably gravitated back to the question of Emily. A part of me screamed that I would be pushing my luck, that it was laughably improbable to have gotten away with as much as I did, and that I shouldn't be greedy. It wanted me to back off now -- I got some drugs, some ass, and some revenge, that should have been enough.

A more vocal aspect of my psyche didn't want to hear that shit. As corrupt and fucked up as what I had with Emily was, I didn't want to lose it. I knew how likely it was that I'd never find another woman like her again for the rest of my life, and I couldn't just throw it away. Trying to stop obsessing, I attempted to force myself to focus on the lawn, but found it to be an inadequate distraction.

Continuing to push the lawnmower, I gave up on trying to suppress the thoughts. I was obsessed, there was no denying it. I could even detect the faint aroma of her hair over the scent of grass, but I assumed that was all in my head.

Between the noise of the lawnmower and the hearing protection, I never heard her approach. I certainly felt something, though -- one moment I was mowing her lawn, the next I was lying face down in the dirt; my body screaming in pain. Twisting my head to the side I saw Emily, a stun gun in one hand and a length of rope in the other, her eyes beaming pure hatred.

"You should probably stay down, Master," she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Trust me -- I wouldn't mind shocking you again, but I don't think you'll enjoy it."

Her warning was completely unnecessary -- even if I had wanted to get up I would have been unable to do so. I could barely move my arms and legs, supporting my weight would have been out of the question. Helpless, I laid there as she knelt down on my back and lashed my wrists together.

After tying my wrists together, Emily crawled off of me. Jerking up on the rope, she forced me to my feet. Still weak and unbalanced from the shock, I stumbled forward and landed painfully on the ground. Emily didn't seem to have much sympathy for my state; instead of helping me back up she kicked me sharply in the ribs.

"You're on the clock, cockbag," she reminded me. "My dad isn't paying your lazy ass to nap on his lawn. Get your ass up and start walking towards the house, or I swear to god I'll shock you again."

I considered pointing out that the reason I was having difficulty standing was the initial shock, but it didn't seem like the greatest idea. I doubted that she'd be open to rational negotiation; my best bet was probably to cooperate. Besides, my strength was gradually returning -- I didn't want to provoke her into changing that.

Painfully, I crawled up to my feet as Emily impatiently tapped her foot. I was still pretty wobbly, but I managed to not fall back down. Awkwardly, I began to make my way towards the house as she had instructed. Emily waited until I was close to the door and shoved me down, causing me to bang my knee on the brick patio.

Grabbing my hair Emily pulled me to the wall, leaning my back up against it. I was still a little groggy, but the exhaustion from the shock was slowly wearing off. Not wanting to show my hand, I feigned inability to resist as she crudely stripped me out of my pants and underwear and tossed them aside.

"I'll be right back, faggot," she laughed. "If you're not sitting exactly where I left you when I return, I swear to god I'll cut your tiny little prick right off."

Emily kicked me in the ribs again before heading into the house. Experimenting with my wrists, I found that she was much better at painting than she was at tying knots. I was able to reach the actual knot with my fingers, and though it was tight I suspected that I'd be able to get it undone. It would take time, but I wasn't about to let her get her revenge on me.

Emily returned with a camera, a dildo, and a container of hand lotion. Leaning down, she gently placed the dildo and lotion in front of me, making sure that I could see them. As she took a few steps back, she aimed the camera at me.

"I think there may have been some misunderstanding the last time that you were here, bitch," she explained as she began snapping pictures. "You may have gotten it into your tiny little landscaper brain that you're somehow better than me. Now, I'm a bit of an egalitarian -- I'd prefer it if we could all be equals. Since equality seems to be too difficult a concept for you to wrap your feeble mind around, though, I think we need to clarify things. I'm above you, not the other way around. Got it, bitch?"

I probably should have been angry, but I was secretly thrilled. I had been a little nervous that I would run out of rage and go too easy on her, but her speech was providing me with the motivation I would need to really enjoy myself. Clearly she had forgotten the lessons of last week, and that was okay -- I was eager to remind her. Moving slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, I gradually began to work on the knot.

"I do," I lied.

"Jesus, giving in so easily?" she laughed. "I knew you were a moron, but I had no idea you were such a pussy, too. You had me at your mercy for what, like an hour last week? During that entire time you failed to break me, and yet here you are admitting that you're my bitch in under a minute. I can't believe I let such an unworthy pile of shit get as far as you did."

"Let?" I chuckled as I continued to loosen the knot. "Careful there, Emily. If you let me do what I did, that kind of makes you a slut. Though, I suppose the alternative is to admit that you were dominated by a 'unworthy pile of shit', so I guess you're screwed either way."

Emily's clearly didn't appreciate my logic, her eyes lit up in rage. I worried that I might have pushed her a little too far. The knot was loose, but I wasn't free just yet; another shock from her could ruin my plans.

"Watch yourself there, bitch," she hissed. "And yes -- I let you. You couldn't dominate shit, you little pussy bitch. I'm not a slut, I'm a fucking charity worker. You'll never have pussy this good for the rest of your pathetic, meaningless life. I hope you enjoy those pictures, as they're going to have to last you a lifetime."

While Emily spoke I finally finished untying the knot. Holding the rope in my hands I kept my hands behind my back, not wanting to give her any hint that she no longer had the advantage. Feeling that my strength had nearly returned, I decided to have some fun with her.

"Ah yes, the pictures," I chuckled. "Is that what your camera is for, little girl? Awesome plan, by the way -- I have pictures of you getting fucked, you have pictures of some random landscaper sitting on the ground with his dick hanging out and his hands behind his back. Let's put both our sets up on the Internet and see which one gets viewed more."

"Keep laughing faggot," she sneered. "You're catching on, though -- you've got some pictures with your pitiful excuse for a dick in me, all I've got are a few lousy half nudes of some bitch sitting on the ground. I can't change the fact that I'm being penetrated in yours, but I think I can get a few of you to match. Count yourself lucky, too -- that rubber dick in front of you is more man than you could ever be, so at least you might enjoy it."

"Okay, hold on," I begged, feigning terror. "Look, you're crossing a line here, Emily. I know I fucked up a little last week, but I didn't fuck you in the ass. Don't do that to me, okay? Please?"

"You call that begging?" she laughed. "I'm shocked, really. Seems like someone as pathetic as you would have a lot of experience on his knees; you really ought to be better at this. Maybe you're just incompetent all around, though."

"I'm serious," I continued. "Please don't do this. It isn't fair. I spared you."

"You didn't spare shit, faggot," she hissed. "I let you do everything that you did last week -- you didn't fuck my ass because I didn't permit it, nor would I ever. And I'll be honest with you; you don't need to worry about how shitty a job you're doing begging to get out of your ass-fucking; that's going to happen no matter what. You might want to practice, though -- I'm not lubing it up unless you ask nicely first."

I was a little surprised. I wasn't sure what to expect from Emily, but this was a bit more sadism than I had anticipated. It was good to know, though -- I could remember this when she wanted mercy. Feeling that the farce had gone on long enough, I decided to give her a push.

"You are just adorable," I chuckled. "Please, bitch -- you couldn't get that dildo into me if I wanted you to. I don't know how you've revised the events of last week in your mind, but I still remember them accurately. You're a slut, little girl, and sluts are for getting fucked -- not doing the fucking. I like the idea of being forced to beg for lube, though. Any other suggestions you'd like to make before you assume your role?"

Emily looked enraged. Placing the camera down, she walked up to me slow and deliberately. Standing in front of me, she slowly bent down to pick up the dildo, staring me in the eyes the entire time. I stared back -- I wasn't about to back down.

I waited until her arm was within reach and made my move. Reaching forward I grabbed her wrist and pulled back, rising to my feet. To her credit, Emily didn't give up easily -- she flailed at me wildly, and even managed to get in a few decent shots. It wasn't nearly enough, though -- there was no chance in hell that I was about to give up and let her take control. Besides, I was looking forward to giving her another lesson as to where she stood.

Ignoring what little pain she was able to cause with her punches, I gripped her shirt from the hemline and pulled it over her head. Blinded and restrained by the fabric, Emily tore it off and cast it to the side. With the shirt off she continued to try to beat me down, but it was ultimately futile. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her in from behind and held her tightly. She continued to thrash about, but was unable to connect in any meaningful way.

"Let me the fuck go, you piece of shit!" she shrieked.

"Do you actually think before you speak, bitch?" I pondered aloud. "I mean really, do you think I'm going to hear an order like that and obey it? Have I ever obeyed you in the past?"

"You had fucking better, faggot!" she hissed.

"Or else what, bitch?" I laughed. "Are you going to make me beg extra hard for the lube? Actually, I no longer meant that rhetorically -- please let me know exactly what you plan to do to me in revenge. I'm already planning to fuck your little slut ass with that dildo and make you beg for lube, what else would you suggest?"

Emily's struggles began to slow down as a look of fear came over her face. I think she realized that she was beaten, and was beginning to regret some of the things that she had said. Soaking in her terror, I began to chuckle as her body went limp.

"Okay," she began, breathing heavily. "I hope you know I was just bullshitting you. I wouldn't actually do any of those things to you, and I wasn't going to show the pictures to anyone. I just wanted to scare you, that was all. I know I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry. Let's just call a truce, okay?"

"That's a very mature way to look at things," I admitted. "We've both done some things to each other; we should probably just call it even before one of us takes it too far. Unfortunately, there's just one problem with your proposal."

"What is it?" she asked, a hilarious glimmer of hope in her voice.

"You forgot your rules, bitch," I laughed. "You neglected to address me as Master."

"I'm sorry, Master!" she blurted out, realizing her mistake. "Can we please call a truce, Master?"

"See, I'd really like to believe that," I sighed. "Believe me, I really wish I could accept that you totally remember your place and this whole thing was just some silly practical joke. Unfortunately, as you seem to have forgotten, I'm not a moron."

"I didn't mean that you were a moron!" she swore. "Look, I'm sorry, I fucked up big. I thought I could get away with this, and obviously I was wrong. I'm the moron, not you -- please just accept my truce, Master?"

"Prove that you understand your place, bitch," I commanded. "Strip. A slut like you doesn't need clothes anyway, they'll only slow you down."

I shoved Emily forward roughly. She stumbled a bit, but managed to stay on her feet. After kicking off her shoes she let out a heavy sigh and pulled down her pants and stepped out of them. Spinning around, she stood before me in her bra and panties; a look of pure contempt on her face.

"You really are a stupid bitch, Emily," I laughed. "I told you to strip, not to strip down to your underwear. I might not expect a slut like you to be able to solve complex equations in her head, but I'd at least expect you to know how to get naked. Apologize to me for being such a stupid bitch."

"I'm sorry, Master," she growled.

Emily's facial expression made it clear that she wasn't happy with me. She had given up for the moment, but I didn't think she was done fighting. It felt like it would be cruel to force her to repress her rage, so I decided to give her an excuse.

"That's better, slut," I stated. "What was it you were saying earlier about giving up so easily? Something about it making you a pussy instead of a moron? Was pretty rude of you to say, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Master," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Silly bitch, you don't need to be sorry about that," I chuckled. "I think we both know that what matters with you is between your legs, not your ears -- I can hardly get angry at you for making such a foolish statement. You're wrong, though -- your giving up so easily doesn't make you a pussy. It's a prudent decision. On your best day and my worst, you wouldn't stand a chance against me. I can slap you around all I want, and you will never be able to do a single thing to hurt me back."

My words did the trick. Letting out a guttural shout, Emily lunged at me. Unfortunately for her, the courage that her rage provided came at the expense of any type of coordination or focus. I was able to easily deflect her attacks and quickly restrain her. Holding her steady, I unhooked her bra and slid her panties down to her ankles.

Emily continued to struggle, ignoring the state of her underwear. I couldn't decide whether to be impressed with her tenacity or amused by her failure to learn from past experience just how futile her actions were. It didn't really matter, though -- I knew that all I had to do was hold on and she'd run out of steam soon enough.

"There, there," I mock comforted. "Let it all out, slut. You're already going to be punished; you may as well take this opportunity to release all of your silly little impotent rage."

"Fuck you, cocksucker!" she shrieked. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Well, that's just mean," I laughed. "I'm not going to kill you, slut. Honestly, I'd miss you -- you're a raging cunt as a person, but you do manage to keep your holes nice and warm. It can be tedious putting up with your bullshit, of course, but in the grand scheme of things it's nice having an easy place to dump cum. What I am going to do is break in that filthy little asshole of yours, so I suggest you start getting comfortable with that idea."

"I am not easy!" she hissed.

"God, you really have forgotten entirely about last week, haven't you?" I marveled. "Try to remember, little girl -- spreading your legs on demand, begging me to finger your slutty little asshole, posing for pictures and cumming hard while thinking of complete strangers pumping you full of cum? None of that rings a bell?"

"That was a one-time thing!" she argued, thrashing back and forth. "It'll never happen again, least of all with a little pussy bitch like you!"

I had a suspicion that it was already happening. Wrapping my left arm around her torso, I squeezed and held her still. With my right arm, I reached down and forced my hand between her legs. Emily tried to clench her thighs shut, but by the time she did I had already managed to get inside. Expectedly, I found that she was dripping wet.

"You little whore," I laughed. "You might not realize that you absolutely are 'that easy', but at least your cunt knows better."

Emily groaned in despair as I slipped a couple of fingers into her. Noticing how easily they slid in, I began to pump them in and out as best as her violent motions would permit. She still thrashed about, but her grunts were interspersed with awkward moans. Holding her tight while finger-fucking her, I enjoyed the spectacle of watching her try in vain to mask her lustful moans.

"At this point," I mused, "I really can't tell if you're struggling to get free or just trying to fuck my hand. Which is it, slut?"

"Don't flatter yourself, you fucking moron," she hissed. "Your fingers may be a little thicker than that joke between your legs, but I would never actually try to fuck any part of you."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, slut," I laughed. "I wouldn't want to impose, of course -- if you don't want me finger-fucking you, I'll happily stop."

Emily groaned as I removed my hand. She was obviously disappointed that I stopped, but it was her fault for lying to me in the first place. She pleaded with me with her eyes to continue, but I saw no reason to be so merciful. Holding my hand up to her face, I forced her to see just how wet she was; her cum dripping down my wrist.

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