Houston II Ch. 07-08

Argie had arrived.

*****

Now it was out in the open, all the veiled phrases, and innuendo, were unnecessary. Sex they all agreed, was foremost on their minds.

"You want the whole story?" Norma asked, in a low voice, additional proof of her submissiveness.

"Yeah, you talk while Felicia sucks my dick. I'll let you lick it some as we go along."

"I understand," Norma said.

"John . . ." Felicia began, but he silenced her feeble protest with a wave of his hand.

"Let's do this," he said and tendered his erection to Felicia's mouth.

She accepted it without another word.

"I had wondered about myself for some time. I had never been sure until I put an ad in the Village Voice . . . I was living in lower Manhattan then."

"He answered my ad the first day. I gave him my address. I never once thought he might be a maniac or something like that. Just gave him the address and told him to come by. I didn't give him a time or anything, just the address."

"My bell rang about four hours later. I peeked out and saw him. His name was John, same as you," she added; looking appreciatively at Felicia taking Franck's member deep down her gullet.

"May I please have another taste?" Norma asked.

"Switch," John told Felicia, who promptly handed his shaft to Norma, who was now kneeling at her side. The petite brunette began to suck voraciously upon him and he moaned with pleasure.

"My balls," he said, snapping his fingers. Both women winced. "Do my balls!"

Felicia took his testes in her hand and brought them to her mouth, engulfing one and then the other. This went on for several minutes, and then John gently removed his penis from Norma's tightly sealed mouth with a soft pop, and handed it to Felicia.

"You were saying . . ." he said to Norma, who nodded in acceptance at the loss and after clearing her throat, resumed her tale.

*****

Argie greeted Harold with a generous smile. He turned his head toward her, stretching his neck as far a possible to drink in the beautiful vision that stood beside him.

'She doesn't despise me,' he thought and then reflected, 'and she doesn't pity me . . . at least as far as I can tell.'

Argie pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, apologized for being late, and talked about how everything had gone wrong for her that morning. He was alone with this strange, but beautiful woman.

Harold, unable to think of anything else to say, said, "Your fee's on top of the dresser."

Argie thanked him, but did not take the money.

She had remembered to position herself so that he could see her. He studied her and her appearance, memorizing it for the future. She wore a black pantsuit, and her light brown hair was tied behind her head. She had clear skin and large brown eyes, she seemed tall and strong, but to Harold, who was only 4' 7" and weighed sixty pounds, everyone looked tall and strong.

They made idle talk, while normally a very outspoken person, Harold was afraid to ask what she thought of his deformity.

Gradually, the talking helped Harold begin to lose the tense feelings. Argie told him that she was forty-one, married to a man who owned a MacDonald's franchise, and had three teenaged children, Allison, 18, Jodie, 15, and Tricia, 12. She was descended from French-Canadians who had settled in Worchester, Massachusetts.

"I was born in Danbury, Connecticut," Harold said. There was a brief silence between them which he broke, asking, "And are you a Catholic? I am."

"Yes and no. I was raised Catholic, but left the Catholic Church when I was seventeen."

"Whatever for?" he asked, puzzled that anyone would leave their religion.

"At eighteen, I fell in love. I gave my virginity to him. I went to confession and the priest condemned me for my sexual behavior."

"He was supposed to forgive you your sin," Harold murmured, feeling her pain. After a moment he went on, "If in fact, it was a sin."

"It was a sin all right," Argie assured him, "One of the biggest . . . at least back then anyway."

"Were you pregnant? Was it your first child?" He wanted to know everything about her.

She smiled at him, let him know that she didn't mind the questions and said, "No that came later. I was married to my husband by then."

They talked a bit more, and as Harold saw that she was treating him with respect and no evidence of scorn or pity appeared, he opened up to her like a flower. He began to tell her of his life, his family, and his fears, especially of sex.

"Harold," she said, "would you be comfortable if I undressed you?"

"S . . . sure," he stammered, hating himself for stuttering, hating his deformities, and worst of all terrified that he would be unable to perform even though Doctor Coughlin had assured him that under the right circumstances he could perform as well as any other man.

His heart was pounding, and not from lust, as Argie knelt on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. She encountered trouble in undressing him and he thought for a moment that she was going to abandon him. Then he thought she would leave on seeing his nakedness. His fear of rejection ran on and on as Argie attempted to remove his clothing.

It wasn't until he was nude on the bed that he began to relax. Still nervous with the fact that he was about to be tested sexually, he shuddered and his teeth began to chatter.

"Try to calm down," Argie said, getting up off the bed.

"Y . . . you're leaving?"

"No, I'm getting undressed too." She hurried and was soon nude standing beside the bed, frozen in place as Harold studied her voluptuous breasts. She noted he was too shy to peek between her legs.

"Can . . . can I tell you something? Something personal?"

"Of course you can, Harold. That's part of what we do together."

"Um, whenever . . . in the past, whenever I was naked . . . in front of doctors and nurses, you know? I'd pretend I wasn't . . . you know, naked and all. But right now . . . I don't need to pretend anything. We're both naked. It seems normal somehow."

"It is normal, Harold, believe me."

"Yeah, but I was . . . I was half expecting God, or my parents to intervene. To prevent this from ever happening, you know?"

Argie sat on the bed beside him and stroked his hair. "You have lovely hair, rich textured and full bodied. I wish my hair were like yours."

"Really?" he said, caught by surprise. He had never thought of his hair, or any part of him as enviable by another human being.

"Well, you certainly do, "Argie said and then began to explain about the body awareness exercises.

"I'm going to run my hands over you. You may kiss me wherever you want."

"Oh, God!" Harold groaned. "Can I . . . can I caress you?"

"Right now, I'd like you to try to excite me with your mouth and tongue."

"My mouth . . . my tongue?"

"Yes."

Argie began to rub scented oil on her hands, and slowly moved her palms in small circles over his chest and arms, talking all the while about how nice this was, and how lovely that was, in a soft, steady voice.

It wasn't long before Harold put a request to her. "May I kiss your breast?"

Without answering him, Argie sidled up to him and tendered her right breast to his lips.

He startled her with the softness of his mouth as he suckled her. 'Like a baby's mouth,' she told herself, and cradled his head in her hand, holding him to her.

He sucked harder, but it was still as tender as she'd ever been suckled. The lovely sensations shot right to her core, and after a few moments her other breast was demanding similar treatment.

"Now if you kiss one, you have to kiss the other," she said. "That's my rule."

Amused by her mock seriousness, he moved to her left breast. She instructed him to lick around the edge of the nipple, telling him she liked that too. He sensed she was telling him these things to help him relax, but that didn't make her encouragements seem less true.

Harold was getting aroused.

Norma laid her left hand on Felicia's shoulder, looking on admiringly, as her friend kissed and licked her way along Franck's thick, shimmering shaft, and continued with her tale.

He went right to the couch and sat down. He looked at me, said, "I wasn't sure you'd really be up for this until you opened the door. I would have understood if you hadn't."

John's hand absently reached up to grasp Felicia's strident nipple and squeezed it. Norma, watching intently, licked her lips, and continued with the tale of her entry into submissiveness.

"I made no reply to his comment. He gestured for me to approach him, and I did."

"Kneel down," he said, reaching into his coat pocket.

"I want to do this the right way, right from the start," he said, then his hands were on my neck, and for a fleeting moment I thought I was going to die.

I couldn't have been more wrong. I felt his hands placing something about my neck; he wasn't choking me, not at all.

I peed my pants.

"Nervous, eh?" he said as my urine splattered over the wooden flooring.

"I . . . I'll clean it right up," I sobbed with embarrassment.

"Leave it; we'll do something with it later. Go look in the mirror," he told me.

The nearest mirror was in the bathroom just off the living room. I went in and looked at myself. Around my neck was a red leather dog collar, with a metal strip that had my name etched into it. I began to cry; then glanced down at the stain covering the front of my skirt. Instinctively, I turned; saw the huge stain on my rear. I wondered how I could change without him noticing.

"Come back here!" John called, and I hurried back, fingering the collar.

"It's lovely, thank you very much, John," I said.

"You want to change don't you?" he said calling attention to the wet skirt and reminding me that for all practical purposes, I was standing in the pool of my own making.

I could only nod, hopefully.

"Was it fear or sexual excitement that caused you to piss?" He asked rhetorically, for I knew that he knew the reason.

"I think . . . both," I said and cringed, expecting to be struck.

Looking directly into my eyes, he said, "You happen to be right. It was fear . . . my hands around your neck. But it was also the excitement of having a stranger come to the door. A stranger who might take your life, or . . . take you to places you haven't even dared to dream of."

Idiot-like, I could only nod my assent.

"You're excited by the whole idea, aren't you?"

Head down, I nodded again.

"Stand up. Remove your clothing and clean yourself off with a wash cloth. Do it quickly."

On returning to the room naked and cleansed, I held a towel in my hand.

"Master, shall I clean the mess on the floor?"

"No, you can play in it a while longer. But you should probably take my coat," he said.

I took his coat and hung it on the pegs by the front door. When I got back, he told me to undress him. As I was unbuttoning his shirt, he told me that whenever I was not doing something specific I was to be at his feet, kneeling, and this last part he was very specific about --- with my knees wide apart so that he had free access to my cunt and asshole. After all, I was now his property wasn't I?"

I nodded my agreement, and for the first time in ages, felt free.

"That's funny, isn't it, me feeling free after giving up my freedom to a complete stranger?"

As I unbuttoned his shirt, he told me: "You will be whipped, or spanked, or otherwise tormented for any infractions of my rules. You will be confined, bound and gagged at my whim. In short, you are as of this moment, a slave to any and all of my desires. Do you agree, Norma?"

It was the first . . . and only time he ever used my proper name.

I took a second to savor the moment, then sighed deeply and answered him. "Yes, John, I Norma, will now become your slave."

I was so hot at that point I thought I would come without being touched by either him or myself. It's possible that the fact that I was stripping him naked helped those feelings, but I still wonder if it wasn't his magnetism alone that caused them.

We were both highly aroused by then, me kneeling in my piss, he standing above me, his tumescence bobbing just above my head.

*****

Argie's hand moved in slow circles, going lower and lower as she continued to talk reassuringly, and Harold continued chattering about nothing in general, but managing to convey to her his unequaled excitement.

And when she lightly touched his small cock --- as through she liked it --- as though it was delightful that he was aroused, he ejaculated over the top of her hand.

Argie refused to show any semblance of disappointment, or disapproval. She cleaned her hand and made conversation, encouraged Harold to tell her of the many things he knew, for he was well educated.

That they could be talking about mundane matters right after an intense sexual experience seemed strange at first. Another lesson learned: sex is a part of ordinary living, not an activity reserved for gods, goddesses, and rock stars. He realized that it could become a part of his life if he fought against his self-hatred and pessimism.

A key moment came when he asked Argie whether she thought he deserved to be loved sexually. Argie never hesitated, said she was sure of it. He nearly cried with happiness. She didn't hate him. She didn't consider him repulsive.

After a time, Argie got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and dressed. Two hours had passed. Taking an appointment book out of her purse, Argie told Harold that next time she wanted them to work on having intercourse. She asked him whether he had been afraid to see her that day. He admitted to having had spasms of deep terror. She soothingly told him how brave he had been to go through with the session despite his fears.

She kissed him on the mouth and tickled his balls before leaving him alone on the bed. A minute went by after the door closed behind her and he brought to mind the glorious highlights of their pairing. The door opened. It was Maude and Ned. They asked Harold about the experience.

"It changed my life. I'm sure of it. I feel victorious, cleansed, and relieved, all at the same time. "

Ned pushed him back to his apartment; through the quiet neighborhood of small, old houses and big, old trees. It was a warm day, which Harold hadn't noticed on the way over. He bluntly asked Maude about her first sexual experience. To his delight, she never hesitated, describing it in detail. And as Maude went on about her time in the hayloft so many years before, Harold began to feel something new. He was being admitted for the first time into the world of adults.

Once he was home again, Maude set to work, putting him into the iron lung, and set up his computer so that he could write. Harold worked furiously pounding the keys with his mouth stick, describing the experience with Argie in his journal. He titled the chapter: Becoming a Man.

*****

Norma, her eyes envying Felicia's adroit cocksucking, continued telling John of her baptism into submissiveness.

"Without a word from John, I carefully tossed his linen slacks onto the end of the couch and took him in my mouth. I guess in a way I was trying to establish some control over the situation. I wanted to see if he would have any difficulty controlling himself while I made him come while kneeling in my urine.

Please understand that I had no understanding of control, or how a submissive is supposed to react. So as I thought I was about to make him come, he told me to stop.

I kept right on sucking.

He pulled away from me, then yanked me up and threw me over his lap. He held both of my hands with his left hand, looped a leg over my right leg that was the one on the outside, and started to spank me. He kept it up for, maybe a minute and a half. It was long enough that I was no longer in doubt about who was in charge of the situation.

He didn't really hurt me, but my behind was very red and he definitely had my attention. Thinking back on it now, it is a pretty silly sight. I'm naked. I'm draped over his lap. My hair is flying up and over my face. My bottom is sore. I'm horny as hell, and what's worse, I can feel his erection poking into my stomach. That was driving me crazy.

He was still smacking my bottom, but his hand was edging lower, and because of the way he's got my legs separated, I couldn't deny him access to my pussy had I wanted to.

The first real contact I recall on my privates was his yanking on my bush. Smack, smack, yank, yank, is how it went. Until, that is, he started to finger me. I was moaning by this point, trying to shove my rear into his hand.

To my complete surprise, he suddenly rose up and dumped me to the floor, and all the piss puddled there. He stood over me and, holding himself, began to piss on my head and shoulders. I lay there demoralized and humiliated. But I stayed there, not moving until he told me to clean everything up.

I imagined that I was being punished for being disobedient. I found pleasure in that, and had a glowing feeling as I hastily cleaned up the mess I'd made.

After I finished, he had me sit on the armchair in the living room. Sit may be the wrong way of putting it. Let's say I was upside down on the chair. My legs, or calves, hooked over the top of the chair, my ass against the back cushion, and my head hanging off the edge of the seat cushion.

He let me relax for just a moment, and then he began to rub my clit. I started to squirm. He jammed his cock into my mouth, causing me to gag from the unexpected force of it all. He slid his fingers into me. Two of them at first; he teased my clit, and I came. He never hesitated, kept on jamming those thick fingers into me, only now it was three of them.

Suddenly, there was a tremendous pressure at my anus. It was his thumb. I didn't really care, I was still compensating for the thick dick he had in my mouth.

But I felt great, riding that climax and all.

He varied his technique, never seeming to repeat himself. He brought me off three or four more times, I'm not sure. I know this; I was in another world, feeling no pain, only happy bliss and sexual contentment. I was willing to go anywhere, do anything, as long as he kept this up. I loved it. Even when he finally came in my mouth and I nearly choked to death.

He was thoughtful enough to bring me a glass of ice water, and patted me on the back. I was now sitting on the floor, still coughing and gasping for air. He refilled the glass. I drank it all.

Some time passed before he spoke again, and then he said, "Let me explain my rules. There are only three. I'll go whenever you tell me that's what you want. That's rule one. Rule two is I am in total charge as long as I'm here. Rule three is once we begin something we will finish it."

"Do you understand these rules?"

I nodded at him.

"Fine, then lean back down," he told me, pushing my chest gently back onto the armchair. He spread my legs and fondled my whole cunt for a few seconds. I'd seen his cock was hard, even after going into the kitchen, finding a glass, getting me a drink and coming back out. He had me thrusting my hips at his hand after only a few seconds. I could feel his erection brushing against my bottom. He just kept fondling me. I was starting to do more than just moan.

He pushed me until I started to say things.

"What? Oh, nothing coherent. 'Oh, yes,' or my favorite, 'AHHHH,' that kind of thing. NO, I wasn't begging, (she giggled at that) at least, not then."

I don't know where I was mentally, but then he was thrusting inside me with that dick, that oh, so thick, dick. And this was with his hand, or fingers, actually, still working on me. Or, so it seemed, but his hand did slip around my hip, reached my clit and tormented it as he fucked my brains out.

He filled me marvelously. He practically screwed me into the chair. I swear when he finished with me I thought I was bolted to that damn chair, until he 'freed' me by pulling me out of it.