Ashlee's Undoing

For Ashlee, without whom...

*

Every day for the past month Ashlee had lain soaking up the sun in the next door garden, turning from chicken skin white to Mediterranean bronze. And every day Anthony had peeked from the other side of the fence. So much time and effort had he put in mowing that particular patch of lawn, the grass resembled the shaven snatch that latterly had been revealed when she thought he wasn't there. Or maybe she did know he was there. Yeah, she knew all right.

In fact, each day the 18-year-old tease became ever more daring. He recalled that when his interest was first aroused, she would simply shrug off the kimono, venturing no further than the bikini, albeit a micro one in ocean blue. As the first week blurred into the next, she found the courage to crawl over onto her front, allowing the straps of the top to fall alluringly to the sides to reveal the merest hint of breast. By the fortnight mark, she had uncovered a whole new boldness, going so far as to turn over and allow the micro-top occasionally to slide away to the grass, exposing a pair of ripe young breasts.

It was by the middle of week three, Anthony recalled, that finally the bikini bottoms were dispensed with. Though her modesty was retained by remaining on her front, chin supported by her hands, a perfectly sculpted arse nonetheless revealed.

And then finally, the previous day in fact, Ashlee threw caution to the sun and went the whole way. Not that there was much to see in that shaven haven: a mere crack between her shapely, tanned legs. Personally Anthony preferred girls with hair.

And with the dispensing of the last modesty came an overwhelming desire to take things further. As the previous day grew old, Ashlee had thrown a mock hissy fit, berating an inability to oil the far reaches of her back, that opinion voiced loudly his way, an open invitation. Yet he was weak willed and painfully shy, a middle-aged nonentity of a person that had never been able to hold down a proper relationship. Were it not for the fact he happened to live next door, Ashlee wouldn't have given him a second glance.

* * *

Or would she? The following morning Ashlee nudged open the double doors and tiptoed across the baking hot patio, sucking at the air. Opening out the sunlounger in the middle of the garden, a sly glance to the right revealed the curtains in the next door window flutter, a bright smile illuminating her pretty face.

Sitting on the edge, she took time lotioning the outsides of each arm, then her shoulders and then the tops of her breast to the bikini. Her firm, toned belly next, the teenager circled lovingly, dispersing the oil generously and feeling the first tingle of desire, somewhere deep in her loins. Coating each leg from the ankle up, she paid extra special attention to the inner thighs, the tingle becoming a pulse. A dark dot appeared at the crotch of her blue bikini bottoms. Lying back, she allowed the sun to radiate its warmness over her whole body, quickly drifting into semi-consciousness.

Awoken moments later by the hum of a motorised mower, she grinned, secretly lifting one eyelid to observe her neighbour as he passed by slowly, watching her intently, yet strangely aloof.

Easing up on her elbows, Ashlee unhooked the bikini top, letting it glide down her belly. Taking the bottle of lotion she began to massage each firm, young breast. A medium cup, they were a slightly paler shade of bronze to the rest of her body, owing to an initial reticence that no longer seemed to matter. The hypnotic motion of each hand caused each nipple to stand proud and the throbbing between her legs to intensify. Glancing down, she must have been dreaming filthy thoughts just now, for a circular patch, an inch across, had spread at her crotch. With Anthony so close, the bikini bottoms remained in place. Head eased back, once more Ashlee allowed the sweltering sun to mesmerize her.

* * *

From his side of the fence Anthony felt the first stirring of arousal the moment Ashlee allowed the bikini top to fall, cock rubbing painfully against his shorts. Raising a forearm he wiped a sweat covered brow and moved as close as he dared. The gentle inflate-and-deflate motion of her chest suggested she was asleep but it might just be pretence. Perhaps finally it was time to call her bluff.

* * *

Ashlee awakened drowsily, pushing the sunglasses down her nose and peering over in Anthony's direction. Her heart raced as the realisation dawned that he was staring straight back at her with unerring eyes. Her front sufficiently tanned, she flipped over, reaching for the lotion. Holding out her palm, she squeezed, a sound like a wet fart ejaculated, the bottle all but empty. "Damn," she cursed, then turning to address Anthony for the first time in over a month. "Don't suppose you've any spare lotion I could borrow?"

Anthony looked back, startled and a little flummoxed, but he nodded, returning a minute later with the yellow plastic bottle. Clambering over the low wall, he stood mere feet from Ashlee, big shadow covering her whole body. "I have real problems doing my back," she mouthed.

She thought Anthony sniggered as silently he moved closer, a shake of the bottle. Before even the merest of contact, Ashlee felt her clit spasm and a rush of cum squeeze from her tight pussy lips, staining the crotch of the bikini. Thank God she was face down.

The first dollop hit the middle of her back and soon Anthony's strong big hands were circling vigorously, ensuring every inch of flesh was coated. Fingers prodded, leaving indents and causing Ashlee to sigh. She'd never have believed this guy could be such a marvel with his hands. Her pussy was wringing and surely he could smell her arousal.

Another dollop of oil splashed her lumbar spine and he worked the lotion in assuredly, kneading like a master baker. Ashlee was in rapture, her lips vibrating contentedly.

And then he stopped, precious moments passing by as Ashlee dared not speak. Or look. Or breathe. Just how far was this guy prepared to go?

The answer came quickly as suddenly the mood changed, his shadow seeming to cling tight to her body, causing a huge shiver. She felt a tug on her long blonde hair, forcing her face from the sunlounger, a huge hand reaching round to cover her mouth. Muted protests were met with a tightened grip, fingers pinching her cheeks painfully. Barely able to breathe, eyes as wide as ping pong balls, Ashlee screamed as loud as she could, an eardrum bursting wail. Yet the intensity of the scream reverberated only in her head. Tears welled up in her eyes as he wrestled with her, emitting such strength for one so wiry.

A strong arm snaked around her waist and she was lifted easily. Thankfully finally the grip on her mouth abated and she was able to catch a breath. She bit at the fingers at her mouth, punched down at the arm at her waist and kicked and kicked. All were token efforts, so strong was Anthony in comparison.

Within seconds, gone was the comfort of her parent's backyard, carried like a sack of potatoes, to the threshold of the potting shed in her neighbour's. Using a foot, Anthony prised open the door, a dank, earthy aroma invading Ashlee's nostrils. Anthony's arm extended, swiping clear a wooden surface of its clutter. As he tossed her down on her back, Ashlee took the opportunity to scream, yet it was hoarse, absorbed easily by the surrounding walls. Nonetheless, she saw his face cloud, quickly raising an appeasing hand as if to say she wouldn't do it again.

Few preliminaries, Anthony wasted no time in tearing down his shorts, revealing an average appendage. Yet there was a look of menace to the raging purple head. Laid on her back, Ashlee sensed as he reached to press her cheek, causing her head to lull sideways towards him. Waddling closer, shorts pooled at his feet, Anthony exhaled deeply as the tip brushed across her clamped tight lips, depositing a smudge of precum. Ashlee knew what he wanted, what she was supposed to do, yet defiantly she forced her lips together. "Uh oh," resonated Anthony, reaching in to squeeze the nostrils together.

Tears ran down her cheeks as Ashlee fought for air, head swimming and the standoff continued until her face turned purple. Finally, her mouth relented. Quick on the offensive, Anthony shoved his cock towards the inviting lips, hitting her tongue before she could clamp shut again. The thought raced through her mind to bite his cock, yet it was so hard, like vulcanised rubber. Besides which she had no wish to antagonise him to violent extremes. Soon this would be over and he'd let her go.

Eyes wide with fear, she moaned onto the spongy tip, tasting a combination of sweat and precum. More so for comfort than a wish to offer pleasure, Ashlee tilted her head further to the side, allowing Anthony deeper access. He moaned, leaking more precum on her tongue, before suddenly retracting, her saliva clinging to the hard shaft. Ashlee spluttered as she fought for air, regarding Anthony in stunned silence. "Get on your knees," he ordered.

Unquestioningly Ashlee obeyed, climbing from the wooden unit and kneeling before him. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he elevated her head so she was forced to look deep into his eyes, as cold and dead as an alligator's. This time she opened wide without needing a prompt. The thick cock felt more comfortable in this position. A startling thought crossed her mind: she was far from being repulsed or revolted as she should be in this situation. Indeed her treacherous pussy was sopping wet. "No!" she screamed inwardly, refusing to be manipulated in this manner.

Out of instinct, she elevated her tongue, the huge head rolling yet barely moving, so tight was the slab of meat inside her mouth. Easing her head back, keeping her eyes locked on his, Ashlee pressed the tip of her tongue into the head, flicking generously. The quicker she made him finish, she figured, the sooner her ordeal would end. It seemed to have the desired effect for Anthony groaned, more precum souring her tastebuds.

For over a minute Ashlee's head bobbed back and forth down the shaft, until her lips were sore and her gums stung. Just as fatigue forced her to slow, Anthony reached to grab her hair, forcing her head back down the shaft and using her mouth like a cunt. Ashlee moaned in pain, though the protests were muffled on the erect shaft. Mouth numb with pain, spittle dribbled in rivulets from the sides of each mouth. "Cum, you bastard," she pleaded with her inner voice.

For two more minutes that seemed like hours he ploughed at her face, the pain intensifying. Secretly Ashlee rubbed her clit, trying to diffuse the hurt with some pleasure. But wise old Anthony caught her and forced her to put her hands on top of her head like a naughty schoolgirl. As he thrust, his heavily seeded balls stroked her chin.

Just when thought this might go on forever, his cock jerked, the motion causing it to slip from her mouth, but not before a length of spunk leaked on her tongue. The head inches from her face, a second wavy ejection splashed her nose and cheek, before the cock was rammed back inside its warm home. Two, three then a fourth spurt flooded her mouth. She gagged uncontrollably, fighting to keep it all inside and not to inflame him. For Ashlee knew better than to spit it out, swallowing hungrily as the deflating penis retracted and rolled down her chin with a silvery sliver.

Then all of a sudden she went heady, eyes rolling back into their sockets, and everything went pitch black.

* * *

Slowly Ashlee came round, the room assembling before her like a jigsaw puzzle. She made to groan, but soon discovered it was impossible, something restricting the movement of her mouth, her lips clamped tight. She went to reach to remove it, uncovering a further restriction, both wrists pulling up sharply, resulting in two shots of dull pain. The more she pulled against it, the more painful the reaction, until both wrists were sore with the effort. Another attempt at a groan was muffled. Craning her head, it soon became apparent that her arms were tied above her head, two lengths of elastic knotted to the bedhead.

Then the realisation dawned like a bolt of lightning: she was still in his control. Tears welled in her eyes and ran disconsolately down each cheek. Panic set in and she yanked desperately at the bonds, failing to learn the lesson of experience as deep painful grooves scored each wrist. Calm yourself, she pleaded inwardly.

Taking a deep nasal breath and staring up, Ashlee's reflection flashed back from a full length ceiling mirror, revealing a rectangular strip of black duct tape at her mouth. Her tanned body, fully exposed, lay star shaped on the bed on account of the way she was tied. It was not a pretty sight. Streaks of dried cum covered her chin and there were finger-shaped bruises on her hips. Her weeping became a sob.

As each of her five senses became accustomed to the surroundings, it was the fetid taste in her mouth that caused Ashlee's face to contort next. She recalled with disdain the wave of cum Anthony had unloaded in her mouth. She'd swallowed what she could before passing out, though inevitably some remained. She dared not taste, yet like a child with an ulcer, she had to torture herself, running the tip of her tongue across the line of front teeth, retching as her tastebuds were assaulted by the congealed cum that clung to them. Breathing in deeply through her nose, trying to impose some calm she tried to regain the assurance of sleep, yet every time she drifted, the tethers at each wrist jerked clumsily, dispersing a dull pain.

An hour, maybe more, passed as Ashlee awaited her fate, the wall of silence finally punctuated by a creak on the stairs, causing every hair on her skin to stand erect. Craning towards the door, and in spite of the pain inferred by any sudden movement, she witnessed Anthony's entrance. "Hello again, Ashlee dear," he said simply.

His nakedness and full, unerring erection did not augur well, the only relief being the clear fizzing glass in his right hand. How she needed a drink. On the other hand, the shiny contraption in the left appeared less welcoming. It looked like some kind of torture device. Ashlee swallowed hard, the taste making her gag.

Taking a seated position on the edge of the bed, facing away, Anthony's sudden movement caused the bed to dip and the bonds to tear once more into the soft skin at each wrist. Ashlee whimpered silently. As Anthony leaned in close, impulsively she turned away. It meant however that his lips were level with her ear. "You want a drink, Ashlee?"

Her head rolled back, eyes pleading for clemency.

Anthony pursed his lips. "Now that means I'll have to remove..." he observed, gesturing to the duct tape, "which means that if you scream...You won't scream, will you Ashlee?"

She shook her head, eyes imploring.

"Are you sure now?"

A more vigorous nod that stretched the bonds at her wrists brought a smile to Anthony's lips. "Good...'cos if you do scream..."

The sentence tailed off, yet the mere hint of violence was sufficient for Ashlee to realise she couldn't risk antagonising him. Besides which her last scream had merely raised a decibel, her parents were still at work and the chance of anyone coming to her rescue was virtually nil. She was stuck in this mirrored prison until Anthony deigned it was time to release her. Jesus, she was frightened, yet she could get through it if she held herself together.

"Pleasure, pain...pain, pleasure..." Anthony mused, holding both hands over Ashlee's head.

As she gazed up, Ashlee's eyes expanded.

"Pain," he decided.

"Nooooooooo," she screamed inside her head, craving that drink more than anything, more so even than her liberty.

Cupping her right breast so that the nipple extended, Anthony flicked at it. Ashlee tried to resist, suddenly realising the implication, but her breast betrayed her, stiffening and standing fully erect. A sudden jerking movement, just out of sight, and the cold metal clamp crushed the perky teat. She screeched so hard the duct tape was almost torn off. A raft of shockwaves pulsed throughout her body, nerve ends on fire. She had not known such pain in all 18 years, a pain that threatened never to abate. Extra tears flooded from each eye to compensate for the staunched vocal reaction. Oh Jesus, would the pain ever end?

It would. It did. But only after five tortuous minutes ensued, during which her body was wracked and wrecked, the ordeal exacerbated by Anthony's matter-of-fact observation, poker faced. The pain finally levelling to a dull throb, Ashlee could breathe again. Her eyes focussed on the drink, condensation clinging to the outside of the glass.

"No screaming out now," implored Anthony, the prevalent menace in his eyes sufficient to dissuade Ashlee from even contemplating a battle.

Prodding a fingernail beneath the strip of heavy tape, the sudden swipe was compassionate, the pain restricted to the bare minimum. No scream, as promised, all that came was a huge outpouring of air.

"Good girl."

As a reward, the glass was tilted to her eager lips, the fizz of ice cold lemonade making everything all right for a moment, neutralising the foul taste. Ashlee churned the drink around her cheeks like mouthwash before swallowing gratefully.

Drawing the glass away to a look of abject disappointment, Anthony reached for the clamped breast, stroking its underside and sending several short pulses through her body. Ashlee moaned, yet it was a moan of desire, as she quickly appreciated the thin line between pain and pleasure. "You want me to take it off?" enquired Anthony.

"No," she implored, craving the comfort it brought to her body. "Please don't."

Anthony smiled as he leaned in closer, stroking the blonde fringe from her brow. Face dipping, his lips searched blindly for hers. Ashlee held still, shocked that the instinct to turn away had suddenly deserted her. Their lips brushed and she found that her lips parted almost subconsciously, two tongues impacting. Never before had Ashlee experienced a kiss like it. Screwing her eyes tight she allowed her assailant to taste every inch of her mouth, his tongue working busily. A slight nudge and the clamp vibrated on her nipple, causing Ashlee to hold her breath. Yet it was a welcome pulse that coursed her body. By the time it reached her legs, it was liquid desire, her pussy ablaze.

Breaking the embrace, Anthony reached to untie the wrist bonds, Ashlee's arms falling to her sides, weightless at last. An immediate reaction to reach for her pussy, she plunged three fingers deep, rolling her clit and frigging with abandon.

Anthony's face clouded. "Did I say...?" he thundered.

"Sorry," whispered Ashlee, guiltily, quickly removing them, a vacuum left in her pussy.

"Now clean them," he ordered.

Subserviently Ashlee raised the fingers to her lips, tasting her own arousal. The scent had barely settled on her tongue when Anthony lifted her easily, limp body tossed over his knee, arse protruding. Turning her head to the side, Ashlee looked into another huge mirror that stood opposite. Her brain was jumbled. This was like some out-of-body experience, like that wasn't her in the reflection. It was a film or show she was watching. She observed in the mirror as Anthony fumbled beneath the bed, fproducing a riding crop. Ashlee's eyes waxed and her breath raced.

Anthony lifted to shoulder height, the crop quivering. Ashlee dared not breathe, bracing herself and pre-empting the pain before it arrived. Anthony savoured the moment, in no particular hurry, her heartbeat thumping on his lap.

The movement was all from the wrist, two swift thwacks. Ashlee wailed as a brace of red parallel lines, separated by the crack, spread across her bum. Oh fuck that hurt. Oh FUCK that really hurt. Ashlee shrieked. Yet as soon as the initial pain had subsided, all that was left was an intense desire. She gazed on, mesmerised as Anthony traced each groove with the tip, her mouth sucking loudly at the air. "Oh God, yessssssss," she hissed, arching so her pussy rubbed his knee.