Eternal Slave Ch. 01

I should have reacted to the driver's seat being abandoned, but I hardly noticed it existed. I should have smiled to have found that the rain had defied the weather forecasts and stopped. I should have been shocked to find myself in a huge parking-lot sort of paved, open space, but when all you see is the woman in front of you, you might as well be in Times Square.

As the woman started walking away from the bus in some random direction that didn't make any sense at all, I was not wondering where she was taking me, why I was being abducted, who she was, or what would become of me.

I was wondering how come she had such a great ass, and how I might come in closer contact with said ass. When she had been sitting I hadn't been too aware of the high heels that made her thighs move in such mysterious ways, or the smooth, bare legs that just went on and on above the leather boots, or the silky, black skirt dancing an inch above her knees. Now it was all too obvious, too enticing, too welcoming.

As I continued to let her reddish golden hair slide up and down inside my fingers it was clear that the thing pushing at the coarse denim on my side of the business had to connect to the thing rocking and swaying under the thin cotton on her side of the business.

I stepped closer to her. This was far nearer than what was considered acceptable when it came to following people on the street. This was where stalkers, muggers, and pickpockets operated. I was putting myself out for a good, old cheek slap here.

My business and her business were closer now, about four inches apart. That was four inches, if not five, too many. I had to get closer. My whole body yearned to get closer.

I went up on tip-toes, arched my crotch forward and my shoulders back to maintain my center of gravity, and closed the final space separating us.

The sensation as my head pushed ever so slightly against her butt was overwhelming. No manner of self-inflicted pleasure could compare to this one impact, to the actual feel of an actual woman.

"What," she said, "are you doing?"

***

Her voice was so full of honey and wildflowers and scented candles that she could make a fortune hosting dating shows or recording erotic audiobooks.

That didn't stop me from panicking, backing off, and all but letting go off her. All but. Of course there was no way I could let go of her silky hair. What a ridiculous notion.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out in the kind of voice that made anxiety therapists fortunes. "It was a mistake! An accident! I didn't mean to! I'll never do it again, I promise!"

"Oh honey," she said and giggled in a way that tap danced its way down my spine, "I didn't mean that. It's just that you won't get anywhere that way."

"I'm sorry?" I said again, but in a different tone this time.

"With you pants on," she said and stopped.

It was all I could do not to crash into her butt again, but I managed to skid to a halt before I made improper move number twenty-eight this evening.

"They're so wet and heavy and thick. And they're in the way, baby. You're not getting a passing grade in anatomy if you think you'll get results with them on."

I was dimly aware that no real women talked like this, but I was undimly aware of where this conversation was going. It was going to a place I had never been before, but which I would offer up most of my limbs to reach. Just not that one limb. I could not believe I was going to be this lucky. Had to make sure.

"In the way of what?" I asked.

"In the way of you doing your job, Sam. Just like your mouth seems to be, spending all this precious time talking."

I might have asked her how she knew my name, but that was not on my mind right now. "What's my job?"

"Your job," she said and turned her head slightly so that I had to shift my grip on her hair, "is to make a lot of women very happy. A huge lot of them. Extremely very happy. Starting..." She paused to breathe once, like she was extremely very happy. "...with me."

"You mean..." I couldn't bear myself to say the word.

"Remove you pants, and you'll find out. Eventually. For a man who is about to lose his virginity in a way no man has ever lost his virginity before, you're remarkably slow."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, taking a cue from the thousands of porn flicks I had seen where women dressed in leather or latex suits did nasty things to men wearing chains.

"Don't even think about it," she said. "Call me Desire."

"Desire?" I looked around. We might be on the parking lot still, but on the other hand we might be on some infinite plane of gray air and grayer floor.

"Some say I am the Goddess of sensual lust and seduction. They're probably wrong. I have no idea how to turn men on." She backed into my denim-covered cock and made me hoot like a steam engine. "At all."

Right. I had just had enough of doubts and questions and trying to act like a normal person caught in a fantastic situation. I put my left hand on my belt buckle and started fiddling with it.

"I-I don't want to let go of your hair..." I said as way of excuse when it was clear I wasn't solving this problem in an instant.

"Of course you're not letting go of my hair. I want you to hold onto it."

"Oh?"

"Yes. That way I have you under my control."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." She winked without showing me her eyes.

"I kind of like that."

"I know you do, baby."

"I always imagined it would be like a leash and collar?"

"That can be arranged. Eventually. In fact, I can almost guarantee it at some point."

I didn't answer, just tore at the buckle. Why wouldn't the damn thing open?

"If you're going to be that bad with your own accessories, I pity the woman whose bras you'll try and fail to open," she said. "Of course, I don't..." She breathed. "...wear a bra."

"I can't do this!"

"Put your left hand on my hair and use your right."

I did, the fingers of my left hand shivering as they touched her lovely tresses. The fingers of my right hand felt far more confident handling the metal buckle, and soon I could slide the damn leather strap out and start working on the buttons. I tore the pants down to somewhere just above my knees.

There I paused for a moment. My cock was raging inside my blue boxers. If I pulled it out now, stuff would happen. Crazy stuff. Stuff I had no control over. Maybe I should think this over?

Yeah, right.

I yanked the boxers down. There it was, pointing upwards with a pair of hard, aching balls beneath, waving slightly at the world, delighted to be let out. Hungry for the female touch.

"Come on!" it said to me, throbbing and winking. "Do it! I need it!"

I hesitated. What did I do now? Put my hand on her thigh? That felt like sacrilege. And then? Would I fondle upwards towards her butt to find a pair of very thongish, very sexy, very expensive panties that I was supposed to pull down? How could a sinner like me even perform such a sacred act?

"Idiot!" my cock shouted at me. "Grab her! Rip those fucking panties off! Get inside her! Now!"

My right hand did not exactly grab her, but it did manage to lightly touch one of the folds of the black skirt. The hand's plan was to tip-toe down towards the hem, then under it, then try to fumble around there without offending her until it found the panties, all the while be ready to pull back at the slightest sign of disapproval.

"Hey!" she said. "None of that with your pants still on your knees!"

"Sorry, I'll stop-"

"No, you won't stop!" She laughed. "You just get those pants off first. And your coat and shirt. And shoes. And those damn socks. There is nothing less sexy than a man with just his socks on. And there is nothing more sexy than a naked man. In particular a tall man with such broad shoulders as yourself. Well perhaps when he wears a nice suit. That will also work. But that cheap trash you're wearing now? It has to go. Seriously, baby, your outfit screams 'single, straight man' at the world."

Untying the laces and kicking off my shoes was pretty easy. Tearing off the socks, too. And so was stepping on and pulling off my jeans. The problem was the coat and my shirt. Wet and tight, I would have struggled even with both hands available.

"Can I let go off your hair?" I asked. I might have been surprised that there was no cold, hard, wet tarmac under my feet, but there wasn't. Just... something. I didn't care.

"Let go off my hair?" she said. "You mean mean my long, long blonde hair that always seems to catch the light just right?"

I looked at the way it hang from my left hand, dangling in front of my needy cock. I didn't want to let go. I wanted to slap that cock with it until I came like a fire hose. But not in her hair. That hair was too precious for that.

"I can't," I whined.

"And that, buddy," she said, "is why you'll always be a slave."

"But I can't remove my coat!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. But please be quick about it. Your misery is making me horny, and you don't want to disappoint a needy Goddess. Seriously, you don't."

After a humiliating session where I both tried and failed to yank the sleeve off, or to use my teeth to pull at it, I remembered that I did have one more option. In the pants that I had kicked off I had lots of now unimportant stuff. Wallet, smart phone, keys. And a small Swiss army knife.

I bent down and pulled it out, my left hand now holding the end of Desire's ponytail. After straightening up and finding a hold higher up on her hair, I flicked out the blade. It wasn't very long, but it was sharp. And I was determined. No, I was desperate. Crazy desperate.

"Oh, baby!" Desire said, chuckling and giggling. "Look at you go!"

I might have asked how she knew, since she was still staring ahead. I had not yet seen her eyes.

"That's right, baby! Cut through that sleeve! Cut, cut! Work it for me!"

I nicked my biceps and grunted.

"Oh, did you hurt yourself, honey?" she said. "But you can't let that stop you, can you? Not when you're just about to be allowed to serve me? You want that, don't you?"

"Yes!" I screamed. "Yes, I want to fuck you!"

"Then hurry up, baby. I'm waiting for you. What's holding you back?" She wiggled her ass at my cock, just inches away.

I growled and nicked myself five more times before I finally could toss away the rags that had once been some functional, yet inexpensive, clothes. After dropping the knife, I stood and heaved, shaking, staring at her butt.

"Oh, baby. You're such a tough, hard man. That makes me so horny. Now, baby..." she breathed. "I'm not wearing any panties, and I'm all ready for you."

Once more I reached for her skirt with my right hand, this time with far more confidence than last time, and once more she stopped me.

"No hands, baby. You don't need them. Besides, your hands are soon going to be all busy."

"But how-"

"You'll find out."

Yeah. I guess I would. At least there was nothing for it but to try. My cock was in no mood for me to go all paralyzed and start asking more stupid questions than I already had posed so far.

I gave a little at the knees and inched forward, bringing my eager tool all the way under her skirt. As it passed by the hem, the head brushed against it, and I whimpered.

"You're ready for me, baby," she whispered. "I can feel it."

"I left a little wet trail thingy on your skirt. I'm sorry..."

"I like that. Go on, now."

"Yes Mist... Yes, Desire!" The next thing I hit was the inside back of her right thigh. Whimpering turned to moaning. "You're so soft and warm."

"And slick, baby. Can you feel it?"

"Y-Yes!" I said, but I was distracted. As I lifted my cock upwards it rubbed against her skin. The sensation was overwhelming. It was crazy how wonderful it felt to just have my foreskin pulled at like this. Of course, I had pulled at that foreskin with the palm of my hand tens of thousand times before, but that was nothing compared to this. This was real, this was how a true, hot-blooded sexy female felt.

After a few seconds my tip hit the left thigh up where her legs met met, and I pressed slightly against her crotch. I wanted to go all in and start humping her, but I was dimly aware that I was a man and not a dog. I could feel how wet she was now. The head of my cock got all oiled up, and it slipped around up there in rhythm to my shaking legs, looking for where the party was.

For a brief moment I was terrified that I would miss and end up inside her butt, but then I figured that no matter what porn videos taught us, you don't just 'slip' inside a woman. There's some wiggling involved.

In this case, the wiggling was done by Desire. She shifted her black leather boots a little, spread her sexy legs a little, bent a little forward, and shook her butt a little. Then a little more. Then even more. Then...

"Oh baby!" she gasped. "You're so big!"

Of all the cheesy, and untrue, compliments women have paid men since the dawn of time, this was the undisputed king. The Lord of Lies. The Exarch of Exaggerations. I have no idea if she lied or not. Until now I had by all accounts been an averaged sized guy who was convinced by too much porn that I was smaller than the average sized adult actor.

Not anymore. Something had happened to me. To my cock. It was more sensitive than before, it was harder than I seem to remember from the last time I had polished it in the loneliness of my apartment and, I realized now that it was enveloped in female flesh, bigger.

"You're massive!" she gasped again, and there was no hint of irony or humor in her voice.

I didn't answer. Not because I had no idea what the proper response was (I didn't) but because I was unable to. If just the feeling of my rod against her thigh had been enough to make me howl, then the full force of having it embraced and stroked and squeezed and tickled and wrung made my tongue so limp there might be a danger I would choke on it.

"All the way in, baby," she moaned. "Push against me now, get it all the way up to the hilt. There! There... Just like that. And out again. Slowly now, baby, take it real slow for me..."

Take it slow? Was she crazy?

Once I realized that this thing had truly happened, that I was a virgin no more, that I could get all this pleasure again and again and again, I let all inhibition and control and sense just go. I pulled out, which was just as wonderfully tickling. Almost got too far, but everything was so wet and welcoming that I managed to slam back inside her before any awkwardness arose. Then out, then in, out and in, and again and again, over and over. Every thrust, every jerking back out was pure heaven, and I couldn't get enough. I needed more, I needed faster, I needed harder.

Gone was any notion of rhythm and pace and not making a fool of myself. Sometimes I missed a beat and groaned as I resumed the attack, sometimes I drummed against her in a perfect imitation of a jackhammer. My cock was on fire, it was harder than steel, it was receiving so much pleasure I should have come ten times over. But I didn't, I just kept on going.

I had never been much of a dancer, had two wooden left legs and no sense of rhythm, but I knew that what we were doing was a dance. One of those dances where the man leads but the woman puts all the flourishing touches of beauty and perfection on the performance.

After her first "Slowly, baby," she stopped protesting about that and began to moan. It was the desperate, needy moan that sounded so similar to agony until you learned to recognize it. She was bending forward, pushing her butt up against my crotch, and rocking in tune to my chaotic movements. Whenever I slammed into her, she arched her back to meet me, when I pulled out, she tensed up her muscles so that our sexes rubbed and tickled against each other.

Her skirt slid along my belly and flapped against my thighs, and the sheer femininity of it all just heightened the ecstasy. My fists were wrapped around her ponytail, and I slid her hair through my fingers again and again, feeling its beauty, feeling how it was just like some other way of making love to her. Maybe I pulled at it, maybe I pulled hard at it. I don't know, I wasn't aware, I just knew that I put everything I got, every last drop of strength into this wonderful, fabulous new favorite hobby of mine.

I did not spare a single thought wondering how come I had met this woman on the bus, why she had led me along, what stop we had got off on, what part of the twilight zone we were currently it, and what the hell would happen to me later.

After a little while the worst of the fury had passed. I went on sliding into her, there was no way I was ever going to stop that, but more calmly now. I stopped tugging at her hair, just held onto it and kissed her neck.

She sighed and purred.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Of course you do, baby," she said, her voice hoarse.

"I'm your slave."

"Of course you are."

"I mean it."

"And I mean it, too."

I kissed her throat, then kissed it again from the other side. She was warm and trembling, but not sweaty.

"Can I..." I felt like the biggest fool in the world. "Can I come?"

"Come?"

"Yes, please?" I have no idea why I asked her, that's not how these things went, but I still did.

"In me?"

"Yes, please."

"Why, of course you can, baby. I would love that."

"Thank you, Desire."

"Just not yet."

"When?"

"After I have taught you what it means to be my slave."

"Yes, Desire," I said and rammed my cock deep into her to prove my point. "I want to be your slave."

"Don't go promising stuff if you don't know the consequences!" she said.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. It's not like you have a choice." She chuckled, a deep, mellow chuckle. She was still horny as hell.

"Yes, Desire," I said. Which was another way of saying "Huh?" again.

"You have already learned my first lesson," she said. "Which is that the Woman now decides when you will have your orgasms. Or whether you will have one. Some women don't like their men to come. They want them passionate and eager to please, and keep them that way."

"That is so sexy!" I said. I had learned all about chastity, tease and denial, and cock cages on the Internet. Or so I thought.

"The second lesson is that it doesn't matter if the Woman fucks you or you fuck the Woman. She's always in control."

"Yes," I said. "I want that. Please."

"Take my hair and wrap it around your neck," she said.

I swung the ponytail in golden a loop around my throat.

"Now, let go of it."

"But you said-"

"Let go, baby."

I let go. The hair did not fall away and down my naked body. It stayed put. Close to my skin. Like a collar and leash, yet silky and light.

"I'm like your dog! This is so sexy!" I said as I slipped in and out of her. There was a catch at the back of my throat almost as if I were about to start crying. Surely, that was just some dust I had been swallowing.

"Of course, baby," she said. "We don't want to lose you on the astral plane now, do we? Put you hands inside my top and grab my breasts."

"Like this?" I said after a bit of traditional male fumbling.

"No, baby," she said. "My boobs are not tender kittens. Grab them hard. Squeeze the fuck out of them. Massage my nipples. Just don't ever stop. Do you hear me, baby?"

As if to emphasize her words, the hair collar around my throat tightened for a moment. That, too, was beyond sexy. It sent a tremor down my body, into my cock, reverberating across into her flesh.

"Yes, Desire," I said. Her breasts were big, her breasts were firm, her nipples were stiff and wonderful to touch. How on Earth could this be a chore?

"Come closer," she said, and there was catch in her throat as well. "And kiss my neck like you just did. Don't stop. Don't think about stopping. It's a lesson. Women love having their necks kissed. Just like that, yes, just like that."