A Fuck Toy Graduation Episode 01

Ep 1: Breaking Taylor

Author's Note: This is for a woman who asked me to write her story, to put her fantasy into words. Taylor's erotic fantasy's are different than mine so the challenge is interesting and compelling and telling her story has been a very engaging process. I hope you enjoy it. Please vote and leave comments as I enjoy hearing how the work is encountered. As always, thanks for your support. Regards, -C

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Taylor's First Breaking—Body

Taylor turned to face the door as it opened, the huge green vibrator cock clutched in one hand. Her heart beat hard in her lank chest. She didn't really know it at the time but this was the moment when her life slid sideways into a deep ditch full of dark ecstasy and the end of her innocence. She was facing her final breaking, the breaking of her spirit. Till that moment, when that door opened, it had been just her and her Compulsion. For a while, she thought of it as her fantasies but in reality, in her reality, it was a very real, very insistent, very creative, very addictive Compulsion. From the moment she was broken, she was consumed by dreams of more and yet greater things. She didn't know exactly what she wanted but when it began to appear, she turned her face to it like a sun worshiper to the sun, opened her mouth and basked in what she'd become. Her dreams of becoming a Fuck Toy became real and she willingly took the first step to becoming a Fuck Toy.

It all began the night of the Homecoming football game back in September of her Senior Year, three months after she turned 18. The whole thing had been a disaster for Taylor personally. Her team, the Swanson High School Scouts, won the football game so everyone was happy. What is more, Evan Lars Johnson, the famous actor and most famous alum of Swanson High and favorite son of Swanson, Utah was home for the first time since he won the Oscar and the entire town, hell the entire part of Utah maybe the whole state was atwitter with the event. All except Taylor.

Like everyone else, at least all the women she knew, they wanted to look their best. Evan Lars had made no secret about his penchant for one night stands and for using the bedroom to "discover talent", his euphemism for using the promise of fame to seduce young women and despoil them. The stories were many and sordid and the women of Swanson seemed all eager and willing to submit to his fiendish whims. Taylor was a smart girl though. She knew she had next to no chance to gain his attention. Taylor was athletic and competitive which a lot of guys found to be off-putting, not to mention the girls of her social group. She was the eldest by nearly six months. Her mother had kept her out of school so she'd be nearly nineteen when she graduated and began her senior year already "an adult". That gave her the idea of starting an "Adult Club", whose members were still in high school and already 18 years old. It irritated her that her sister, Anne, would be 18 the next March even though she was only a Junior, a fact that both of them took a lot of crap for. Her mother, the controlling bitch, hadn't wanted her girls to be too young when they graduated and face the world while still minors, so she had held them back as children. That had let Taylor develop faster than the other girls and she could out run and out jump her peers through most of her childhood.

The expectation that she'd "develop" in other other ways had yet to materialize. She was still as flat as a pancake. Even Anne had more of a front porch than Taylor did and more of a back porch when you got right down to it. So she had no illusions about attracting Evan Lars' attention but she still dressed her best if for no other reason, than that she'd blend in with Ky and Ash and Anne and the rest. Right from the start though, her night had gone into the ditch. She'd driven to the game to meet Ash and at the ticket booth discovered she didn't have her wallet in her purse. Ash offered to pay but Taylor hated owing anyone, so she ran back to the car and drove home. She did run to the car and in doing so broke a heel on her favorite high heels, a silly thing to wear to a football game, and put an ugly run in her hose. She was nominated for Homecoming Queen and had to look her best.

Of course she had to change. One of the grand traditions at Swanson Senior High School was to keep the identity of Homecoming Queen and King secret until the halftime crowning. Taylor of course had been on the ballot and secretly she expected to win. A broken heel on her favorite heels and the run in her stocking panicked her. She had to change and get back to the game before halftime or not appear when her name was called to join the other potential Queens. She was called Queen Taylor for a reason. She ruled, with Ky of course, as the most popular but also most feared girl at Swanson high. Ky, her real name not a nickname, Carter turned eighteen on Monday before the game and she'd been gabbling all week about how Evan Lars was "going to take me away from all this mundane banality". Taylor was frankly sick of hearing it. While she couldn't bear the thought of Ky hooking up with Evan Lars, her main hope to shut the cunt up was to become Homecoming Queen. She didn't think Evan Lars would notice any of them though, not with Miss Cummings in the crowd.

Miss Cummings taught physics but looked like a super model. She was young, 24 or 25 and had captured the imagination of the entire school, known in the guys locker room as the Swanson High TA, which meant Teaching Assistant when questioned about it and Tits and Ass the rest of the time. The women hated her and the guys fawned after her, which was why the girls hated her. She was the new standard and no one in their right mind wanted to compete with a blond teacher who looked like she did. Ky thought she had a chance but really, only Ash in her calm, almost shy way could hold a candle to Miss Cummings' incandescent beauty. All Taylor could do was out run and out jump the cunt, a fact that no male found particularly appealing.

By the time Taylor returned to the stadium, the second quarter of the game was nearly over. She arrived, parked and searched for her phone and found to her chagrin that she didn't have it. She had no time to go back to get it so she grabbed her purse and scuttled into the stadium, arriving just as the other five contestants for Homecoming Queen were lining up at the end of the half to be announced.

It was bad enough that she didn't get crowned as Queen, the first blight on her reputation as Queen Taylor but not the last. What was worse, the cunt Ky got crowned. Taylor would have been fine if it had been Ash but not Ky, anyone but that cunt. (Taylor liked that word, cunt. She used it for anyone that crossed her. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. When Taylor Dillon called you a cunt at Swanson, it stuck. You were a cunt and everyone knew it.) But that wasn't all, walking off the field, Taylor was furious. Ky was waving to the crowd as the Queen of Swanson High, in front of Evan Lars Johnson who consented to kissing the cunt on the cheek when she was crowned, at which point, Ky lost her fucking mind, grabbed him and kissed him soundly on the mouth, which received a huge roar of approval from the crowd. Evan Lars grinned, waved and then swept Ky into a deep dip and kissed her soundly. Ky kicked one of her shapely legs high; the crowd roared its approval. Taylor cursed the cunt. She turned to leave the little stage and stepped off the back and fell into the grass. Fortunately, no one noticed. The fall wrecked her and when the camera projected her onto the big screen in the procession of "ladies" behind the Queen, she looked like she'd just, well, fallen off the stage.

That wasn't the end of her misfortunes. Sitting in the stands with Ash, watching Ky flutter her cunt eyelashes at Evan Lars who had invited her to sit with him, someone spilled a coke down her back and front, covering her with ice cold stickiness. She was furious. She turned to incinerate the unlucky soul but had to swallow her rage. The guilty party was a skinny ten year old boy with leg braces and a droop on one side of his face so when she turned to excoriate her attacker, she had to clamp it down and reassure the mortified little cunt that it was okay and she'd be fine. Taylor stalked to her car only to find she no longer had the keys to it, her mother's car which included the house keys for fuck sake!.

Her mom and dad where off with Anne at Salt Lake City for some state political shindig her father was involved in. He worked for the Paisley Montrose campaign and with the election in November, he couldn't miss. Of course, Anne had no interest in seeing Taylor crowned for anything unless a brick was involved and her cunt mother followed Anne's wishes to the letter. So instead of watching her eldest daughter get crowned homecoming queen, which didn't happen, cunt Tara Dillon was off drinking tea at some political cotillion while Anne shook her tits at anyone who stared and then gave them the brush off. The only reason people liked Taylor better than Anne was because Anne was a teasing, stuck up bitch and her mom lover her for it. The only good thing about losing was that they weren't there to see it.

The bad thing about being alone and without her phone was that she had no way to contact anyone for a ride home. She was covered in coke, and sticky. She wanted to sit down and cry but she had to find the keys to the car. She'd never hear the end of it if she lost them. She searched the ground around the car, and then retraced her steps a half dozen times in the darkness trying to find the keys, a cold knot of despair clotting in her chest. She heard the roars of the crowd and then groans, then roars. She was missing the entire game. Her dress was sticking to her skin like it had been glued in place. Then she caught it on some fucking hoopty and tore it. She was still searching at the last, when the game ended on some huge roar and then the place went crazy. Taylor loved football and that meant she'd just missed Swanson winning. She went in the gate against the flow of traffic, trying to look between feet to no avail. She went to where the on-field queue of ladies in waiting to be Queen had been and searched in the grass. Nothing.

The stadium had emptied out faster than a fire drill. Everyone was headed downtown to the conference center, a glorified community center where they were having a ball in honor of the town's favorite son. Despair calmed her. Taylor sat down in the grass and buried her head in her hands. She told herself to relax, the traffic jam would take half an hour to clear and then she'd walk home. Maybe no one would see her. She looked at her big feet and sighed. Her mother was taller, bustier and hippier than she and still had the same size feet plus, Tara was going to kill her for ruining the black high heels she borrowed to replace her own.

Then a thought struck her like lightning. What if the keys had been lost when the kid tossed his drink on her back? It took another ten minutes to figure out where on the metal framed bleachers she'd been sitting. She got down underneath, leaving her purse danging to mark the spot and there they were, gleaming in the light, the keys. Taylor felt a surge of happiness at overcoming this bad fortune, the night was shattered but at least she'd found the keys and wouldn't need to walk home. Then they shut off the lights.

Shit.

Getting out of the bleachers was harder than getting in, doing so in the gloom was down right dangerous. Eventually, however, she retrieved her purse and returned to her car. She was distracted and got turned around, so instead of driving right out, she ended up looping back around the back of the stadium. Her lights caught a lone figure dressed in Garfield's blue and gold, not Swanson's red and white, standing on the curb. Well, he was sitting really. He sat on a duffel with naked football pads over it, in the light of her headlights. He looked at her with a sour expression, a hand before his eyes.

Taylor felt a lurch in her stomach. She followed the inclination that floated into her brain from somewhere somewhat lower. She rolled down the window of her mother's dowdy gold Chrysler LHS and leaned out of the car.

"You okay?" She asked.

The kid looked up at her from between his knees. He had sandy brown hair that lay in rivulets on his head, like he'd tried to do dreads and failed miserably. His eyes glittered with misery. Taylor felt an affinity for him.

"What's that matter? You lost?"

"I missed the bus. Actually, coach left without me because I missed that last tackle and cost us the game. Bet you're happy about that. I let your Swanson Boy Scouts win. Me."

Taylor smiled. She'd found someone more miserable than she was at the moment.

"You guys were invited to the Evan Lars Johnson ball, were you going to go?" She asked.

The guy nodded.

"We were. They are. I'm here. Sitting on my slow ass, ass." He grunted and looked away.

Taylor, on a lark got out of the car.

"I missed your bad tackle. Kid poured coke all over me and I lost my car keys."

He looked up at her, his eyes swept up and down her like a searchlight then he looked away, disinterested.

"Looks like you found them okay, the keys I mean."

Taylor nodded but he missed it.

"Listen, I have to go home and change, take a shower, that sort of thing. You can come with me and then we can go down to the ball. I'll give you a ride...unless you have one coming."

The kid shook his head.

"My dad won't want to see me until Monday. He hates that I'm not the athlete that he is, was, was." He bowed his head, then looked at Taylor. "What the hell." He grinned. "I'm Matt, Matthew Czeninski. If you're serious, that'd be awesome."

"Get in." Taylor said and she climbed into the driver's seat. They drove the five minutes to her house in virtual silence. When she pulled up in front of her home, a big circle drive, and stopped at the front door rather than pulling into the garage on the side, she looked at Matt.

He was slender, with ropy muscles and a lean, angular build. He had clear eyes but she couldn't see the color for sure in the gloom, gray or blue, a light color. He had a square jaw and wide eyes with thick dark eyebrows and the hollow cheeks of an athlete.

"Come in. I won't be long. I just need to shower and change." She got out and he got out. He waited for her to come around the car and then followed her to the front door. Under the night light Taylor could see him better. Matt was handsome. She felt that warm stirring behind her ribs that made her voice crack, so she just opened the door and went inside, letting him follow behind her. In her mind, he'd wait on the couch watching TV while she washed and primped for him and the others at the ball. It'd take awhile but he seemed the patient sort. His next words dispelled that fantasy.

"You ever been tied up?" He asked, his low voice tickled the back of her neck. Taylor turned to look at him.

"Tied up? What do you mean?" Matt squinted at her, then cocked her head.

"Hey, you look just like one of the candidates for Swanson's Homecoming Queen!" He smirked a little but then released it, returning back to the bland look that seemed his usual expression. "The one that fell off the stage."

Taylor rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"See? Maybe I had a worse night than you did."

Matt smirked.

"Yeah, maybe." He looked silent. They were standing at the back of the couch a big expansive area couch that formed a horseshoe around the TV mounted high over the fireplace. Beyond it the dining room table sat a few steps higher overlooking the back yard, set in the alcove with glass on three sides extending out from the house. The kitchen was to the right.

Taylor had a moment, thinking to tell him to make himself at home but there were words in her mind and they seemed to pulse, making her temples ache, like they were trying to get out of her mind. No chance of that. She had to ask.

"What did you mean about being tied up?" She asked. His quick reaction, a minimalist jerk of his eyes to focus on her made her heart race. She wasn't sure why but she felt it rev up, robbing her of air and making her dizzy.

"I meant, have you ever had sex when you were tied up? You know, helpless like, with you hands behind you like this?" He mimed the pose, arching his back with his wrists crossed in the small of his back.

Taylor felt his eyes drop down to her empty dress. Her training bra may have been visible through it at one time but the brown of the spilled coke at least distracted the eyes from her lean, planar chest. She flashed on the tight little knots of her nipples and she felt her face go hot with embarrassment. She fought it, refusing to be tongue-tied or to let this Garfield safety...or cornerback...make a fool of her.

"No. Have you?" It was a pretty lame response but a good start. He shrugged and then smiled, looking down at her knees. That made her nervous too. She realized in that moment that she was nervous, no matter where he looked. She was alone in her house with a stranger and he just asked if she had ever been tied up when she had sex. Luckily he hadn't asked if she'd ever had sex. That would have been more embarrassing. Matt nodded.

"All the time. The girls at Garfield, they think its cool to be tied up and fucked. I drag them all over and fuck them until they scream. I mean, they come when I fuck 'em."

His low tone made Taylor lean in a little, just to be sure she was hearing him right. He continued.

"I mean, if you have something to tie you up with, I could show you. Since you were nice enough to give me a ride." He stopped talking and looked away from her chest again. He stared her right in the sternum when he looked her direction. "I'm not from Garfield. My dad was military and we moved a lot. One of the wives of his commander at one of the bases showed me, taught me how to tie up a woman and fuck her. She loved it. Came like a house a fire."

This time when he looked back at Taylor, he looked her right in the eyes. Her knees weakened. She had to lock them to keep from crumpling onto the floor. She felt it then, that feeling she hated, being unprepared in the face of opportunity. It was like not training well enough to run hurdles or to feel scared rather than certain when it was time to do the dance team routine at contest. So she trained and trained and no one was better than her. Ever. Here she was, though, a guy asking her to have sex with him and she was tongue tied.

"If you don't want to...?" Matt didn't look away.

"I...I mean I don't know you." Taylor said, and then cursed herself silently. She sounded inane.

"Sure you do. I'm Matt. I fucked up on the field and let Swanson win the game. I want to have sex with you because you fell off the stage and humiliated yourself. My response to a bad night is good sex, come a time or two or five and you'll feel better. I will too. Good for both of us. What more do you need to know?"

Taylor stared at him. Her mind went blank. Then something stirred in her and she focused on that. This was her chance to finally have sex with a guy. She'd do it. She straightened her back and if she'd have had tits, she'd have thrust them out before her. She didn't so she had to make do with straightening her back.

"Nothing. I mean, okay. I'd like that. What do we need, to, uh, tie me up, I mean?"

He smiled then. It looked like a sweet smile, sort of sad, almost sleepy. His eyes were half closed. Matt had really voluptuous lips, full and thick. He shrugged again.

"Anything long enough to tie your hands behind your back." Matt said, his low voice made Taylor feel an outer calm that overlaid her inner turmoil. She had just agreed to have sex with this guy!