Educating Shannon

I nodded.

A faint smile came to her lips. "I thought you would," she said. She slipped the bra off her shoulders, pinching her shoulder blades together and jutting out her breasts as she did so. They were better than ever, larger than before–apparently the product of children–but still pointing slightly north of the equator. Her nipples were flat against tiny areolae. She leaned her head forward and flicked her tongue at her left nipple, then turned and circled her right nipple with her darting tongue before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently. "Don't you want to do this?" she said.

I was speechless, my mouth hanging open, my cock straining at my zipper.

Slowly, achingly, she traced her hands up her sides, across her belly, and under her breasts. She tweaked her nipples, slowly pinching and stretching while her head shifted between the two. Her tongue was flickering, darting from nipple to nipple then slowly tracing circles lightly across the tops and sides. "I've missed you," she said. "You used to do this, remember?"

"My name, Shannon," I said. "Remember, you're doing this for me."

She trailed her right hand down her ribcage, across to the left side of her flat stomach, and just beneath the string on top of her g-string. "Is this what you wanted to see? Erik" she said. "My pussy? My soaking wet, tight pussy?" Her hand reached further into the g-string, her hips swaying slowly from side to side.

Where had she learned to do this? I wondered. Why hadn't she done this before, when we were together? My arousal was quickly turning to anger, jealousy. What else had she denied me, but so freely given to others?

I watched her hand go further into the g-string and begin to make circular movements, her hips beginning to grind as she sucked on her nipples more insistently. "I can't do this alone," she said.

"C'mon Erik,"she said, "I want you to help me." She gazed into my eyes, tears forming. "Please, Erik, don't make me do this alone." I ignored her, and she went back to darting the tip of her tongue around her areolae. Her right hand began to quicken, and her breath started coming in short gasps.

"Take your panties off," I said. "Sit and spread your legs. And talk more." She looked at me, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

"Please," she said, "this is so . . . so degrading." Her hand was only lightly moving inside her panties.

"Not at all," I said. "Actually, it's quite beautiful. And very erotic." I pointed at the tent in my trousers that was now impossible to hide.

"But Erik . . ."

"Shhh," I said. "If you do this really well, convince me you've got your heart and soul in it, I'll reward you."

"How?" she said, using her left hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"It'll be fair," I said. "You'll just have to trust me on this one." She looked doubtful. "You really have little choice, you know."

She backed up to the love seat and sat, raised her legs, and slipped the g-string down her legs. There was a small, feathery tuft of blonde pubic hair above the hood of her clit, and nothing else. My God, I thought, she shaves. She put her heels on the table in front of her, leaned back, tilted her head to the ceiling, and went back to manipulating her pussy. She was wet, I saw. The juices glistened on her inner thighs and trickled down to her perineum. Her fingers were moving slowly up and down her pussy lips, stopping every now and then to circle around her engorged clit. "I need you, Erik," she said. "I don't want to do this alone. Please," she looked back at me, her eyelids now half-closed and her upper body involuntarily swaying with the feelings rushing through her.

I stood and walked to her. "It's not about you," I said, unzipping my trousers. "For once, it's about me." I slid out of my pants and stood in front of her, my cock sticking straight up inches from her lips.

"Can I suck your cock?" she said, reaching up and grasping it firmly with her right hand. I pushed the hand away. "Don't stop what you're doing," I said, gently taking her left hand from her breast and wrapping it around my cock. Her hand was cool, and I nearly came when she tightened her grip and began slowly stroking me. Concentrate, I thought, make this last. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue over and around the head of my cock, continuing to stroke me slowly but firmly. "Is this what you want?" she said. "You want me to suck your cock?" Her breath was coming in short gasps. I looked down and watched her right hand, which kept up the same rhythm as before–up, down, up, down, circle the clit, the occasional figure eight around her entire soaking pussy. A small damp spot was gathering on the love seat between her legs. I hadn't been this turned on in my whole fucking life.

I wasn't watching when she opened her mouth and engulfed half of my cock down her throat, sucking hard as she did so. I threw my head back with the shock and pleasure, and she moaned and picked up the pace gradually. "Oh my God," I moaned, reaching down to brush with my fingertips her soft shoulders and upper arms. Her moaning increased in response. I looked down, brushing the tops of her breasts, cupping her right breast in the palm of my hand and squeezing. I saw her middle finger disappear into her pussy, and she started urgently pulling the rest of her hand up against her clit.

"Oh yes, Erik," she gasped, her mouth coming off of my cock, "touch me. Touch me everywhere."

"You're doing just fine," I said, touching her cheek with my fingertips and guiding her mouth back to my cock. "Remember," I said, my breath getting short now, "this is about . . . ."

I went back to squeezing her breast, my right hand stroking her soft cheek. She started groaning around my cock, her legs tensing up. "I'm cumming, Erik," she panted, throwing her head back and gasping for breath, her hand stroking my cock faster and faster, her hand a vice.

She started shaking. "Oh God, oh yes, oh Christ yes."

I couldn't hold back any longer. "Oh Shannon," I gasped, my first shot shooting like an arc over her head, my second just under her chin, and the rest in the middle of her tits. It had been a long dry spell, and I went weak in the knees with the force of energy that suddenly left.

She just lay there, covered in cum, panting. "So," she said, between breaths, "do I get my reward?"

I could only nod in response.

"And what is my reward?"

I turned around and collapsed onto the love seat beside her. When I caught my breath, I turned to look at her. "Your choice."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," I said, reaching out and stroking her thigh, "it's your call. Whatever you want to do." She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Within reason," I added.

She nodded, beginning to get her energy back. After a moment, she took my hand off her thigh, stood up, and announced, "Then I want to take a shower and go home." With that, she finished her beer and wandered off in search of a shower.

She could still surprise me.

* * *

Shannon was in my office the following Tuesday, late afternoon. There was–as threatened by her asshole husband–a flood of discovery requests, motions, and paperwork from some big city law firm. That bastard was true to his word: He was going to try to spend her into the ground on this. I could've kissed him for it; her bill was already nearing $7,000.00, and she's be spending the foreseeable future in my bedroom trying to pay it all off.

After an hour of reviewing documents, signing pleadings, and discussing strategy, I pushed back from the table and put my pen down. "Okay," I said, "it's been an hour, so we're off the clock as of now. Okay?"

She nodded. "How long do I have to live in the same house as this son of a bitch?"

"We're preparing some motions to get him out and get you in," I said, "but they could take a while to get in front of a judge. Remember, this is a custody case, and these things can take a couple of years."

Her shoulders slumped. "Why?"

"Because," I said, "we've got to finish discovery, the Guardian ad Litem has to do her report, we have depositions and business valuations, settlement conferences with the court, and so on and so on. And one of this can be done tomorrow."

She looked down at the table. "Erik," she said, "you're not just doing all of this to prolong our . . . You know."

"No, Shannon, I'm not." I pushed back from the table, walked to the door, stuck my head out, and called, "Rebecca, can you please come in her for a minute?" Seconds later, Rebecca entered. She smelled nice today, I noticed, a combination of citrus and spice. I should've hired an old hag. It would sure as hell improve my concentration around the office.

"What's up?" Rebecca said.

"You remember Ms. Hollis," I said, jerking my head toward Shannon. Shannon looked up and tried to smile at Rebecca.

"Sure," Rebecca said. "You holding up okay?" she said, placing her hand on Shannon's shoulder and gently squeezing. Hmmm, what's this? I thought.

Shannon placed her hand on top of Rebecca's and said, "Okay, I guess."

"Rebecca," I said, "you're familiar with this file, right?" Rebecca nodded. "And you know how long divorce cases usually take, right?"

"Like this one?" she said. "Two, three years at least is my best guess."

"What if I told you I have assured Ms. Hollis that this one will be done in about eighteen months?"

"I'd say you're being awful optimistic," she said. She looked down at Shannon, smiling gently, her fingertips tracing down the back of her arm. "You have no idea how complex your case is, Shannon. These things take forever. But if Erik says he'll have it done in eighteen months, he's working miracles, okay?"

"Thanks, Rebecca," Shannon said.

When Rebecca left, I closed the door behind her and went back to my chair. "You know," I said, "you could help us here."

"How?"

"Does he have a computer that he uses?" She nodded. "Then get me that computer," I said. "We tend to find plenty of useful surprises on them."

"I'll try."

"Good." I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "About the other night." She looked down at the table, her good cheer dissipating. "Did you have a good time?"

She shook her head.

"Have you, you know, have touched yourself since?"

Her head shot up, her eyes glaring. "None of your fucking business."

"Did you think of me when you did?"

She blushed a deep red and said nothing. That's okay, I though, I had my answer.

* * *

One night when we were still dating, Shannon and I were laying in bed after a marathon lovemaking session. Talk turned to our sexual fantasies. We discussed threesomes–she wanted me and my best friend, I wanted her and her best friend. What're you going to do with two of us? she'd asked. Watch you together, I said. She had crinkled her nose. Gross, she had said. That doesn't turn you on even a little? I'd asked. Does it turn you on to think of having to blow your best friend? She made a good point.

We had also discussed role playing. I don't remember what ideas I had, but I will never forget her favorite. She wanted to be dominated, nearly raped. She wanted a guy to totally control her. While we had engaged in some light bondage, it never went beyond that. And, frankly, I was not too keen on ruining a good thing by being too dominant with her. What if I crossed some unknown line? She'd have dumped me sure as shit. But not now, she wouldn't. And that's when I started figuring out what to do on Saturday night. There was shopping to be done for this, and I spent my spare time planning this in great detail.

* * *

At 6:30 Saturday night, I watched from the shadows as Shannon walked to my front door. I watched her read the sign on the door–I'm in back on the deck. Please join me–and turn to walk around the side of the house. When she reached the back of the house, the lights were off.

"Erik," she called. "Erik, where are you." She stepped forward, looking through the arborvitae surrounding the deck. "This isn't funny," she said.

"It's not supposed to be funny," I whispered in her ear, clamping my right hand over her mouth and my left around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground. She jumped in my arms, gasping under my hand.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here," I continued whispering into her ear. "This is private property, and you're trespassing. You must be looking for something, or someone." She struggled in my arms, and I was forced to squeeze her tighter. I didn't want to hurt her, but she was kicking back at me now and it hurt like hell. "You move one more fucking muscle and you're going to be severely punished," I hissed. She stopped moving. "There's no one for a half mile around here," I said, "so you can scream all you want when I take my hand off your mouth. But if you do, I'll be very, very pissed off. Do you understand." She nodded. "Good," I said, and took my hand off of her mouth.

I reached into my pocket as she tried to turn. "What the fuck . . ."

"Shut up," I said, snapping a handcuffs around her right wrist before snatching her left forearm, bringing it around behind her, and snapping it firmly around her left wrist.

"Erik," she said, trying to turn and face me, "this isn't . . . ."

"I said shut the fuck up." I tugged down on the handcuffs to make my point. "Trespassing is illegal," I said, watching her jaw muscles and shoulders tighten. "And people who break the law should be punished." I spun her around and threw her over my shoulder. "Punished severely," I said, dodging a kick aimed carefully at a spot that would quickly put an end to my scheme. I reached up and slapped her ass. Hard. She jumped in my arms.

"Goddamnit, Erik, this isn't funny." She kept trying to kick me, but I clamped my left hand over the back of her calves and pulled them in close. She gave up and went slack on my shoulders. I could hear her sniffling, frustrated and angry.

I walked her to the railing on the deck and slung her off of my shoulders, holding her by the back to keep her from falling over. She was panting, her mouth slightly open, tears streaming down her cheeks. I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, my tongue darting out and flicking her lower lip. Her mouth didn't respond, but I didn't let that stop me. I trailed my kisses down her jawbone and to the base of her left ear, nibbling on her earlobe and blowing into her ear. With my right hand, I unbuttoned her blouse and reached my hand in, around her bra, and palpitated her breast, rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

"This isn't doing anything for me," she said, frozen in place.

"Like I fucking care, lady," I said into her hear. "I'm going to fuck your brains out, in every hole, and teach you who's running this show."

She stiffened. "Not . . . ."

"Oh yes," I murmured, flicking my tongue down the side of her neck before kissing her collar bone. "Whatever I want."

With that, I grabbed her blouse in my hands and tore it down to her waist, exposing her to the warm summer night air.

She gasped, straining backward. "Please, Erik, I'll do anything else," she pleaded. "You won't regret it, really."

"I'll do anything else anyway," I said, looking into her eyes while I slipped the clasp of her bra. I leaned forward and sucked her right nipple into my mouth, brushing my right hand over her left breast before pinching that nipple. Her eyes showed fear, but her body was responding. Her nipples were hardening, and I did my best to help her along, alternating my mouth from nipple to nipple and darting the tip of my tongue over and around her areolae.

She continued to plead, but her tears were drying up and she was jutting her breasts out at me. My mouth left her breasts and kissed their way down her ribcage to the center of her belly, just above the button on her shorts. Reaching behind her, I opened a cooler and grabbed something. "Tell me," I said, standing back up and applying the tip of the popsicle to her left nipple, "did you think you could get away with prowling around here?" I traced circles around her breasts, occasionally touching it to her nipples before going back.

"No," she said, her body tightening each time the popsicle touched a nipple.

"No, Sir," I said, leaving the popsicle on her nipple for a moment.

"No, Sir," she repeated.

I leaned over and sucked a nipple into my mouth. It was hard as a pebble, jutting from distended areolae.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

"You like this?" I said, alternating popsicle, suck, popsicle, suck on both her breasts. I licked underneath her breasts and trailed the popsicle after, making her shudder. "I said, do you like this?" I went back to her nipples, but this time with my teeth.

"Yes," she said, groaning louder, "I like this."

"Yes, Sir," I said, spinning her around to face the railing. I reached over to another pair of handcuffs already attached to the railing on one end.

"What are you doing?" she said, tensing up and pulling back into me.

"Teaching you some fucking manners," I replied, pushing her forward, undoing her handcuffs in back, re-locking them in front of her, and locking her handcuffs to the pair on the railing.

I reached around her waist and unbuttoned her shorts, slid down the zipper, and tugged them down her hips. She spread her legs to try preventing this, but I took my right foot and slid her right leg toward her left, throwing her momentarily off balance and allowing me to get the shorts to her ankles. She was wearing a g-string again. Perfect.

I stood back from her, watching her try to reach out and kick me. "I can see you're a slow learner," I said, stepping forward and smacking my palm against her right ass cheek, leaving a red palm print. "I can see it's going to take time to teach you some manners." I gave her left ass cheek a matching palm print. I took my time: right ass cheek, left ass cheek.

"Please, Erik, that hurts," she pleaded, her sobbing getting louder.

"Please, Sir," I said, smacking her a little harder to make the point.

"Please, Sir," she repeated. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll do whatever you want." Her head was buried between her arms, her ass clenching in anticipation of the next blow.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. I smacked her ass. "Sir. Yes, Sir."

"Very good," I said, reaching for another popsicle. I stepped forward and touched it to her reddened cheeks. She clenched, and I continued tracing it over her ass in lazy figure eights. I kneeled behind her and lightly kissed her ass cheeks, darting my tongue and following the popsicle.

"Please, Sir, don't hurt me any more," she said, her crying subsiding and her legs parting slightly. I continued my ministrations on her reddened ass, concentrating on the task at hand. I pulled the back of the g-string from her crack and traced the popsicle slowly down, following with my darting tongue.

When the popsicle reached her perineum I traced away to the cheeks, and she pushed her ass up and out toward me. "Want something?" I said, tracing the popsicle down, out and around, careful to avoid her pussy.

"Please, Sir," she said, panting lightly, "please touch my pussy." Her hips were following the popsicle–and my trailing tongue–swaying lightly in the moonlight. I reached up and touched the lips of her pussy and she was on fire. I traced my fingertips around the outside of her pussy and said, "You like being punished, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, trying to grind her pussy onto my fingers. I traced the popsicle down her crack again, but when I neared the bottom I stopped and gently prodded inward, pressing upward with my fingers at the same time. She gasped, involuntarily spreading her legs wider and arching her back, her ass now pointed upward.

I thrust two fingers up and forward into her pussy, seeking out her g-spot. "Oh my God," she said, thrusting her ass out and rubbing it against the popsicle. I concentrated on the tight, crinkled rosebud before me, rubbing the popsicle around the perimeter before returning and prodding gently in the center. My fingers kept the thrusting in her pussy, and she couldn't help but thrust back to the popsicle, her hips grinding and swaying. "Please, Sir," she said, "fuck my pussy. Please." She was panting quickly, her hips speeding up, her head rising and falling between her cuffed arms. "Please, please, oh . . . ." I pulled the popsicle away and flicked my hot tongue at her chilled asshole, increasing the pace and force of my fingers. She was bucking now, her hips thrusting out and forcing my tongue into her asshole, my fingers against her clit. "Just a little bit more," she moaned, "just a . . . ."