tagBDSMNatalie and the Neighbor Ch. 01

Natalie and the Neighbor Ch. 01


{Part one of "Natalie and the Neighbor." This will be a multi-part story}


Every time I'm on my computer and see the abbreviation, "BTW" now I have to chuckle. For most people, the BTW means, "by the way." For me it has another meaning. Thanks to my neighbor, between us, it means "Big tittied whore." That's what he calls me. his "big tittied whore." I actually think, "Big tittied slut" would be more appropriate. I don't charge for sex, I just have a lot of it. However, since I'm the one who basically begged him for this kind of treatment, I have to allow him his preferences.

My name is actually Natalie. Most of my friends and family call me Nat, thanks to my brother who likened me to the insect pest when I was little and it stuck. I was only called Natalie when I was in trouble, usually with my step father. He was a strict disciplinarian and I still shudder when I hear my name called out in its full form. Natalie. Usually soon after, it was followed by a spanking. My step dad loved to spank us. Well, come to think about it, he really only spanked me. I don't recall my brother ever getting spanked. For me it was always bare assed, which added to the humiliation, and often included a hair brush or in the rare instance a belt. He spanked me well into my late teens. He always said, "as long as you are under my roof..." I don't want to give you the wrong idea. He was firm, but fair. I never got a spanking I didn't deserve. He passed away when I was 18. I'm 24 now. He never knew but, I actually kind of got off on it. At the time I didn't understand the connection between the pain, the humiliation, and the excitement. Now, whenever I hear my name called out like that, Natalie, I get a familiar tingle between my legs. Now, I recognize it for what it was. It was and is a sexual trigger for me. I enjoyed it. I enjoy being spanked, humiliated and as I later came to realize, being used sexually. Being a child of the internet I learned quickly enough that my particular fantasies were shared by many others. I quickly learned about BDSM, S & M, Dominance and submission. I learned that others also felt like I did.

This brings me to my neighbor, Chet. He's an ex military guy. He still keeps his hair tightly trimmed like a buzz cut. He's got to be in his early to mid fifties. He's in excellent physical shape, though. I saw him all the time out in the backyard trimming trees, cutting grass, often shirtless. He's very nicely muscled, a fact that I now have first hand knowledge of. His wife died before he moved in the neighborhood with his kids. Chet has two kids who are very nearly my age. His son, Don, is 21 and his daughter Jill is 19. They are both most often away at college. The thing I noticed about Chet right away was, he had a certain air about him. He was the strict, firm disciplinarian to his kids that I remembered about my step father. Chet's kids adored and admired their father.

I recognized since my step father passed that I had a particularly strong desire to be with a man with a firm hand. I now understand that to be a dominant man. I clearly now see myself as submissive, sexually. I have been more than a little promiscuous with guys since high school. I knew what I liked. I loved giving head. I loved getting fucked hard. There wasn't much about sex I didn't enjoy. I had experimented with aspects of dominance and submission with a number of guys up to now but in nearly every case the guys my age had no idea what they were doing. Oh sure, they enjoyed it when I was tied up and they could touch me and fuck me all they want. What usually happened though, is they'd either beg me to be the dominant one or worse, when they had the opportunity to use me for their pleasure, in any way they chose, they'd treat me like a china doll. It was as if they were afraid to hurt me. No amount of explaining what I needed helped. They simply were at a different sexual maturity level than me.

I saw something different in Chet. He was so self assured, almost to the point of cocky. Not the college boy kind of cocky, his was more of a attitude of total belief in himself, where he didn't care what anyone else said, as though he always knew where he stood. To me, it was just damned sexy. I resolved that I'd do whatever it took to get him to use that self assuredness on me. I had no idea how to go about it. He wasn't some dumb 20 something jock who I could just wrap around my little finger to get what I want. In fact, I tried to flirt often, usually from across our yards whenever we were both out. He occasionally had parties with, who I would guess, were former army buddies. They'd have barbecues in the backyard. I never failed to flirt with him, and the others, when I could. Those nights I'd often masturbate to thoughts of them all overpowering me. He was always very respectful, polite, though. I'd wear some very revealing bikini tops and short shorts but I could never catch him ogling me, even if some of his friends did. Now, I think I have a killer body. I have what my exes have called a "killer ass". My tits are firm, large and I often use my cleavage to my best advantage. I'm told by many guys that I'm beautiful, though of course, that's all subjective. My point being, I think I'm hot, at least I did up until I couldn't get Chet to ogle me. I even wondered if he might be gay.

His kids were away at school during a very hot weather period in June. I used every opportunity to flaunt what I had available to Chet, and for that matter, other neighbors who happened to get a glimpse. I was feeling particularly horny of late. It was months since I'd had a good fucking (that is, if I'd really had one at all). Chet was cutting the hedges along our wooden privacy fence. It wasn't all that private, since it only was about 5 feet tall. I could see his face glistening with sweat as he worked the hedge shears furiously. I took the opportunity to engage him in conversation. I'd already kind of planned it since I saw him outside. I'd made lemonade. I offered him some. He accepted with delight. I saw him smile. I realized I didn't see him smile that often but when he did, he beamed. I made small talk as he drank. Only my head was above the fence line but he was quite a bit taller than me so I could see him from his shoulders on up. He was shirtless again. His muscled arms just looked so damned good.

Since he was looking down at me I stepped back a bit from the fence. I was again wearing one of my ridiculously tiny and revealing bikini tops which I normally only use for tanning. I wanted him to see what he might have, if he should so endeavor to try. I kept having flashes of him holding me down, his beautiful body sweating with exertion as he fucked me raw. I found myself embarrassed by those thoughts every time he'd catch my gaze.

Then I heard it, "Natalie, is something wrong?" He asked.

I felt an electric jolt surge through me. I felt my knees grow weak. Just the way he said it, firmly, confidently. I felt like that little girl in trouble again. "Oh god," I thought. "He has no idea."

I instinctively answered, "No, sir."

He smiled at that. "Sir, I like that. Most younger people use that so infrequently these days."

I shot him back an embarrassed smile, "not me, sir. I know when someone deserves respect." I could see a wry smile cross his lips. Finally, I felt like there was an opening. "It is also very rare these days to find someone worth calling, "Sir, um, sir."

"Are you trying to make me blush, Natalie?" he grinned.

Oh god, there it was again. My pussy was electric. I found myself dancing from foot to foot slightly. Damn, I needed it. I needed it badly. I was thinking, "how can I get him to just take it?" I just wanted him to take what he wanted, what he no doubt needed. I never saw women coming or going from his house. Surely he needed this as much as I did.

I didn't want to lose this chance. "I'm sure nothing I could do to you could embarrass a worldly guy such as yourself, sir." I said before I realized how the what "I could do to you," might sound. This time, I was blushing for sure.

He just laughed. "Probably true," he said as he wiped his brow of the sweat that was running down his forehead. Suddenly I envisioned us showing together and me soaping him down as the water cascaded over us. Again, he caught me blushing.

"Natalie," he said, this time more forceful and focused.

"Yes, sir?" I asked as our eyes met.

"Are you sure you are ok? I seem to keep losing you now and again."

"I'm fine. I just have some things on my mind, sir," I said. I wasn't lying. I just wondered if he knew exactly what those things on my mind were. I wanted him to know, though. I wanted him to know everything.

We continued to talk for nearly an hour. I asked about his dating habits and he asked about mine. I more than hinted at my likes and dislikes. I found him to be unfailingly truthful and honest, as was I. He knew about my promiscuity, I'm sure he did. He could see I had been with more than a few different men since he'd been my neighbor. He didn't seem to be fazed by it, though. Finally, I asked him about sex and whether or not he missed it. He didn't answer. He just looked at me with a serious face.

"Are you sure you want to hear about an old man telling you about his sex life?" He asked.

"You are not old, sir," I gushed. "Any woman would be glad to have you."

"Any woman, Natalie?" he asked.

I swear he was doing it on purpose, sounding out the syllables of my name just to drive me crazy.

"I said, any, sir." I said with embarrassed lust. I avoided his knowing glance.

"What is it you want, Natalie?" He asked me straight out.

I wanted to tell him I wanted him to jump the fence, rip my top and my shorts off me and fuck me until I couldn't walk. But really, how do you tell someone your really don't know something like that? Still, I needed it, I wanted it. I had to let him know he could have it. He could have me. I knew I had to tell him, too. He was asking me. I just had to find a way to say it.

"I just think that..." I stammered. "You seem to be such a guy in control..." I was hemming and hawing without a real plan.

"And?" He asked sternly. He seemed to be enjoying seeing me in this predicament.

"I...uh...have always had this...thing about a guy in control..." I managed to squeak out.

"Uh huh," he said. "What about it?"

"It's just exciting to me....that is....sexually, when a guy takes the control," I said, nearly mumbling.

"I see," he said thoughtfully. "Is that it?"

"No," I said. I noticed I was shivering. It was still warm, it was from the anxiety of it all. "There's more, lots more," I said, my face now red with the shame. Through all of it though, I never lost the feeling of my pussy being on fire, tingling with the wonderful shame and excitement of it all.

"I'd urge you to be careful with that," he said with concern. "People armed with that kind of information about you could very well take advantage..."

My heart was in my throat. I shot back quickly. "Maybe that's what I need."

Well, this is hardly the place to discuss all of that," he smiled softly. "I have to admit, I'm intrigued. I certainly didn't see you in that light before..." he said. "I guess I'd have to ask why you are telling me all this, and not one of your many "boyfriends," he said, using his fingers in air quotes.

"They wouldn't know what to do with it, sir. Believe me, I've tried."

"So you are telling me all this because, what, you think I'm the safest person to reveal it to?"

"Safest, in a way, and the most dangerous in another," I tried to explain, albeit weakly.

He laughed, "you see me as dangerous?"

"Oh god, yes, sir. You just have that...thing about you. It's hard to explain," I said as I found myself again shifting from foot to foot nervously and excitedly. "I just have a hard time telling you, like this."

'I understand," he said thoughtfully. "It can't be easy. But, you say there's more?"

I nodded. "Much more," I said as I swear I felt my pussy gush.

"Interesting," he said, smiling. "You don't mind sharing this with me?"

"No, sir," I said firmly, not wanting to lose him now.

"People say a lot of things," he mused. "Most people don't mean half the things they say, especially when faced with it." He was scanning my face intently.

"Not me, sir. I've known this about me for a long time." I finally could see him looking at me. Finally, he was looking at me with lust. I caught him staring at my now hardened nipples. He didn't look away when I caught him either. He was just smiling confidently. I was the one who blushed.

"Tell you what. We can't really discuss this out here all night," he laughed knowingly. I know this is somewhat embarrassing to you....though that may be part of the excitement....?" He asked rhetorically, while hitting the nail on the head. "I have to go shower. If you want, why don't you write down your thoughts. Be specific. It's one thing to say, "Oh, I like when a guy uses me." "That could mean that you like a guy to hold your hands down lightly when he has sex with you, or, it could mean you want him to spank your ass hard, pull your hair, while he fucks you until you can't stand. It's all subjective. Be specific. What is it you want? What is it you like? What things do you actually want to do? If they are vague, then I'm not sure how you expect them to happen. If they are specific then....who knows what we could accomplish," he grinned knowingly. He seemed to enjoy my embarrassed wilting in response to his request. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir," I choked out. "I'll get right on it. Should I email it to you when I'm done?"

"I'd like that," he said. He gave me his email address and then walked off, whistling.

I couldn't help but stare at his finely muscles back and shoulders and his tight ass as he walked away. He was going to have me. Now, there was no doubt of it. "How much should I tell him?" I wondered, before deciding to throw caution to the wind.

I sat in front of my computer. Specifics. He was right. Even in my own mind a lot of it was vague. I'd never done anything like this before, how could I even know everything I might desire. Then, I thought about all the images and scenarios I've masturbated to for years. I figured that maybe if I put him in those scenes in my head that it might be easier for me. Then, I decided I should just write down everything, no holding back. Then, after it was all down in black and white I could just decide which parts to send him, which ones I should admit to. First, I thought about control, what that meant to me. I wrote:

"Chet, for so long now I've wanted a man to control me sexually. By control, I mean I want him to feel free to take me, whenever, however he chooses." I remembered him repeating the word "specific." This control means using me. Fucking me. Making me suck him...you. Whenever, however you want. My pussy, mouth and ass are to be yours. It's not a "relationship" where we discuss what we want and then make a decision, the decision is yours. You take me, you use me, as you wish, when you wish."

I realized that perhaps that wasn't specific enough though I think a major part of the excitement in it for me is not actually knowing how he wants to use me. I hoped that it would suffice for now. Then, I thought about how and in what ways I like being used. I thought about force, about roughness. I can't say that I'd ever had it as I fantasized about, I tried to find the right words. I shuddered when I started the next line, as it reaches a deep, dark part of me.

"Further, this use can be forceful, even rough, when you decide it to be. I know you want specifics so, rough means....spankings, hard, thorough. It means when you judge it necessary that you can redden my ass so much that I have trouble sitting for days. That can mean with your hand, a brush, a belt, whatever you deem appropriate. It means hair pulling. It means pulling and biting on my nipples so hard that I gasp."

I had to stop and touch my pussy after writing that. I thought surely I'd never be able to send that to him. Force, roughness, that was at the heart of it, but there's more. There's humiliation. As I wrote I wondered if I'd even get the courage to reveal it to him. I forged ahead.

"I also desire to be humiliated. This is a new facet for me. I've always got off on when men have called me a slut, or a whore. I want you to explore that with me. I am what you call me. I want to be it, to live it. If I'm a slut, make me be that slut. Call me any and every name you wish then make me deliver on it. Part of my desire for humiliation comes in being exhibited publicly. Dress me any way you wish. Show me to whoever you wish, how you wish. I want to never be able to say no, no matter how humiliating."

The writing itself was driving me insane with lust. It was all coming out of me. I let it flow. I didn't worry about the depths of the depravity since I still had the option of erasing any, or all of it. Some of my deeper and darker thoughts were starting to emerge.

"I realize that part of my humiliation of being a controlled slut is being humiliated in front of, and with, other people of your choosing. I have long desired to be made to have to admit my submissiveness in public. I need you to make it obvious to whoever you choose to reveal it to who I am, what I am to you. I want to not be able to say no to any of your desires."

Now it was just flowing through me. All the desires, all the frustrations, all the pent up lust, I just let it out.

"Feel free to use bondage on me at any time. Tie me up, use me, leave me, then come back and use me again. I love being a tied slut, forced to please, for hours on end."

"To sum up, my body is yours for the taking, sir. Tie it, spank it, fuck it, use it, give it away, take pictures of it, whatever you want. Also, whenever you refer to me as Natalie, instead of Nat, it drives me crazy with lust, it's like I'm in trouble with my parents, it's a surefire libido enhancer."

I sat back in my chair as I reread what I wrote. I fingered myself to a crashing orgasm as I read it. "Oh god," I thought. "Can I possibly reveal this to any other human being?" I looked out my window. I could see into Chet's house, which I had found myself doing a lot lately. I could see him sitting on his sofa. He had a glass of wine in his hand. It looked like he had just showered. He had on just some sexy pajama bottoms. I gulped. He was just so fucking hot. I clicked "Send" on the email before I could change my mind.

I went to take a shower myself. Before I could wash the guilt off of me I already regretted sending it. I rushed back to the computer frantically as I dripped water everywhere. I had an email, it was from Chet.

"Natalie," he wrote, as I felt my pussy throb involuntarily. "While the ideas you laid out are indeed interesting, exciting, and certainly revealing. I think there is still much to talk about. It's one thing in the hypothetical, it's a whole 'nother in reality. I think we both could explore this. I'd like you to come over, tonight. I've got some wine. Let's discuss this further. However, to show your good faith, I'd like you to do something for me."

I could feel my pussy juice starting to boil and trickle slightly down my upper thigh at his forward response.

"I want you to wear that small yellow sundress that I've seen you wear frequently. It's very sexy. Also, wear some nice high heels. I know you have some, I've seen you wear them when you have gone out with your men. That's all I want you to wear. I want you to walk to my house on the sidewalk in front. I want you to ring my doorbell and while you wait, I want you to slip out of your dress and be ready for inspection in just your heels."

I blushed and my mouth fell open. "Oh my goodness," I squeaked.

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