tagBDSMShe Crawls Again Ch. 01

She Crawls Again Ch. 01



Melissa licked her lips and glanced around. Parking in an alley like this made her nervous; no matter that she'd found a spot directly below the lone streetlamp. She looked at the directions in her hand again. They'd been very specific, leading her all the way from the hotel where she'd expected her rendevous to be to the rear of this strip mall. Just a few feet away stood the doorway to #703, the address matching the one on her carefully typed directions. "LL Shipping," the crudely drawn lettering read.

She wished that she'd had time to investigate the front of the building, to see what kind of establishment she was about to enter. A bar? A massage parlor? A strip joint? A pizza place? She didn't know Alex well enough to know what he might have in mind this time. Only that he wouldn't like it if she was late. No, he wouldn't like that at all.

Her tentative knock on the door sounded hollow, and she wondered for the hundredth time if she had the right place. Maybe he'd brought her to an empty warehouse? She was almost startled out of her skin when the door opened and a girl poked her head out.

"I, I think I might have the wrong address," Melissa mumbled, looking back down at the address printed on her instruction card.

"Not if you're looking for something different," the girl replied, only glancing at Melissa's face before searching her from head to toe with a long, appraising look. Melissa felt herself reddening slightly, a bit self-conscious about her clothing. Per Alex's instructions last week, she'd worn 2-inch stilleto heels, sheer stockings, matching g-string and garters, a short, tight black skirt, and a barely-there sheer blouse. So sheer, in fact, that you could almost make out every detail of her breasts and nipples. A fact that this girl had evidently latched onto, judging from her stare and slight smile.

With a swish of her long blond hair, the girl motioned Melissa inside, pausing to close and lock the door behind them. They stood in a small, neat but tightly packed storeroom, with corrugated boxes stacked to the ceiling. When Melissa turned to ask the girl what kind of place this was, she was shocked to find that the girl was wearing an outfit nearly identical to her own, but with a few very important omissions!

The girl stood nearly even to Melissa's five-foot-eight inches, but out-curved her in nearly every way. She wore only patent leather high heels, sheer white hose, a tiny g-string, and thin garters. Her breasts were barely held in check by a lace-fringed sheer bra, which ably enhanced her 37-inch bust. Melissa guessed she might be about 25, and she had a look in her eyes that said her IQ might be about that as well. Still, the girl knew more about the situation than Melissa, which put her well ahead where it counted.

With a nod of her head, the blond led Melissa through the stockroom and into a small office, where an equally buxom brunette sat on a small leather couch. This one was clad in lingerie identical to the blond's, except in white to the blond's black. This one, too, devoured Melissa with a long penetrating stare, though she seemed to hunger for Melissa's legs and ass. Without a word, each took one of her arms and ushered her through a door labeled "Private Showings Only."

Inside, ensconsed in a high back armless chair sat Alex, clad this time in black jeans, a black t-shirt and buffed leather boots. She approached slowly, unsure how to greet him with the two women in the room. Alex just watched her with a steely look on his face. She could feel her legs begin to tremble and willed them to stop. For fear of doing the wrong thing, she decided to do nothing at all. To her surprise, the very thought of being punished caused her to get damp between her legs. Oh great, she thought. Another thing to be worried about.

"I see you've met my two assistants, Heather and Cherry," Alex said to her, with just a touch of danger in his voice. "They'll be helping us out for a couple hours tonight."

Melissa turned to look at the two women framing the door like guards to a temple. Just looking at their voluptuous sexuality made her feel inadequate. Her smallish breasts and boyish figure would never stand up to their open availability, their head-turning busty breathlessness.

"They are delicious, aren't they," Alex commented, seemingly reading her mind. "Soon, they're gonna make you just as tasty. And we're going to see if you really have what it takes to be a slave."

Melissa felt her stomach turn. Now what the heck was that supposed to mean?


Alex watched the confused emotions flit across her face, just as he'd intended. It was important to keep a sub or trainee relationship in constant motion and unpredictability. Women came to him to get out of a rut; not to be transferred into another one. Besides, their distress helped heighten his mood.

He looked past her to his two minions, clerks at the lingerie store in which he now sat. He had taught both the rudiments of being slave girls at the behest of friend, who was also the store's owner. So now his friend had two big-titted mistresses at his beck and call, and Alex had two very willing assistants and a whole store full of lingerie with which to work.

Time to add a little structure to her world, Alex decided, turning his attention back to his new pupil. "That's no way to stand in front of me," he said harshly. "Take off your skirt, and let's see if you were able to follow instructions this time."

She had, this time, followed his directions adequately, wearing an appropriately lacy garter and stocking set, with panties that helped accentuate the pale globes of her ass. He restrained himself from having her remove her top so he could admire her solid tits; that could wait until later. Instead, he ordered her to approach and kneel between his legs. At the first hint of hesitation he roughly grabbed her by the hair, "Have you forgotten everything you promised and learned last time? You belong to me! And if I want you to kneel before me on the subway, you will! And what do you mean by coming in here and standing before me? You've forgotten that you should take your position when you come into a room with me, haven't you? You've forgotten everything, haven't you???" he fairly screamed at her.

Focusing on the feel of her hair in his hand, he pulled her closer to his crotch. He'd planned on saving this for a little later, but this one evidently needed a shock to get herself into character. Besides, in this position he could clearly see down her blouse to her ripe tits and hard nipples. He ached to taste them, but that would ruin the pleasures he had planned for later. Barking short, rough orders at her, he had her open his jeans and pull out his cock. If she was still aware of the other women, she didn't show it. At his orders she wrapped her lips around the head before licking the entire length from top to bottom. He leaned back and enjoyed a few minutes of her wet, hot mouth, the slurping and smacking sounds only adding to his pleasure.

He beckoned to the girls and watched as they eagerly approached. It was almost as much fun watching the anticipation in their eyes as it was feeling Melissa try to draw the cum from his balls. It was going to be, he decided, a very intense evening. And the best way to guarantee that would be to turn up the heat on his naïve little pupil.

"That was adequate," he said, pushing her head away disdainfully. Fortunately for her, she remained kneeling. Unfortunately, he was feeling a bit petulant. "But either of these sexy women could do it twice as well in their sleep," he said sarcastically, drawing her attention to the women towering over her on either side. If she seemed embarrassed by this revelation, she'd be even more uncomfortable by what would come next.

"Let's just make things clear," he said, pulling her face next to his cock. "What is your name?"

"My name is cunt," she murmured into his crotch.

"Louder!" he demanded. "Like you mean it."

"My name is Cunt," she declared, staring resolutely forward as the tips of her ears colored.

"And who do you belong to?" he led her on.

"I belong to you, Sir."

"Ah, finally, I get a 'Sir'," he said sarcastically. "Obviously I didn't get your attention or respect last week. Obviously I took it a little too easy on you last week. So this week I'm gonna have to be a bit tougher. This week you're going to get everything you deserve. We'll start with 15 punishment points for that piss poor greeting. Add five points for that barely adequate blow job. And tack on five more for forgetting to call me Sir. And trust me when I tell you this: I won't be giving you your punishment with just my hand this time!'

He gave her head a nasty shake. "Now get into your position. Good. Now, Heather, Cherry and I are going to play a little game, and you're going to be our toy. Ladies, I've decided we should play Dolly Dress Up." The two women nodded in approval; it was their favorite game. Melissa, on the other hand, looked decidedly puzzled. "I'll just review briefly. Each of the girls get to dress you in some of the sexiest, dirtiest lingerie in this store. Each gets five chances to show off your body in the best way. You have to wear what they tell you to wear. The girl that does the best job after five chances gets my Grand Prize." He'd leave that undefined for now. No reason to spoil the surprise.


Melissa had never in her entire life felt so "naked." Not just nude, but completely stripped of any semblance of pride or emotional façade. It wasn't just the ghastly pallor the overhead flourescent light gave her. It wasn't the way the three-way mirror revealed every mole, mark or disfigurement on her body. It was, in fact, the dispassionate way the two women examined her body. The way they had her twirl in place, raise her arms above her head, squat down to show her ass, and lift her leg to show her pussy. They treated her with all the warmth one would show a mannequin. All her giggles, all her attempts to engage them in small talk had fallen upon deaf ears. To them, she was just a means to an end – the Grand Prize, whatever that was.

Heather, the blond, had lost the coin toss, meaning that she had to dress her first, and give Cherry, the brunette, the last showing of the contest. Heather had chosen a corset for her first outfit, even though tying her in was a long and painful process. Melissa remembered a vacation to the South in which they'd toured a plantation home. Every stairway landing had a "fainting couch," where the women of the day would stop and rest before continuing up the stairs. They had to rest because they wore their corsets so tight it crushed the air from their lungs. The oft-cited "fainting spells" were in fact caused by near asphyxiation. At the moment, Melissa could commiserate.

You had your chance to back out in the car, she told herself, sucking air in even as the laces and leather conspired to force it out. In fact, she'd been determined to never return to Alex and his domineering ways from the very second she'd left the hotel room two weeks ago. Though she'd thoroughly soaped and cleaned every inch of her body, she'd been positive that her husband would detect the scent of another man on her body. But he'd only rolled over, mumbling incoherently, before falling back asleep. She'd lain there the whole night, the images of sex and submission and degradation replaying again and again, forcing her to admit the utter depravity of her adulterous acts. Only after several hours did she recognize the odor that hung in the air; the odor she thought she'd washed away. Musky, sweet and natural, she at first thought that she'd missed washing some of Alex's cum from her hair. But soon she came to realize that it drifted over from Jack. The realization made her tremble. With what? Anger? Happiness? Triumph? Vindication? The fact that Jack had masturbated to those Playboy girls didn't quite equal what she had done that night. But it helped her to feel a bit better.

She'd been a mess the next couple of days. Unable to concentrate at work. Unable to look Jack straight in the face at home. Guilt about marriage, sex and lust foamed inside her. She could never tell him. But she didn't dare go back. She tried all her rationalization tricks. She analyzed her decision to attend, her feelings during the session, and her guilt afterwards. In a strictly cost-benefit analysis, she should never go back. The pleasure just didn't outweigh the pain. But the images...dark, twisted and exciting. She just couldn't shake the memories.

She'd tried to make it up to Jack, too. On the third night after her session, after she no longer felt sore between her legs, she'd approached him after dinner with a filthy proposition. Shocked and surprised, he'd agreed only after a bit of wheedling. Starting with a hot, ferocious kiss, she pressed him back into his recliner. It took her a few moments to understand why he tasted so odd. Then she had it. He hadn't started on his nightly beer drinking yet. No matter. She could still turn him on, even without alcohol fueling his fire. Standing before him, slowly stripping off her clothes, she fought to keep the images of Alex from overtaking her mind. This was about Jack, dammit!

For some reason Jack looked stupefied by her actions, so she closed her eyes and swayed to the music in her head. She imagined seeing herself through his eyes, sensuously dancing while slowly revealing more and more of herself, making her body available to his demands. She dropped her skirt to the floor and kicked it away by feel. Now he could see the high cut panties she wore, sheer enough to reveal her bush. A shrug of her shoulders and her blouse floated down. As she danced she could feel the fabric crush beneath her heels, but left it there, a symbol of how she wanted to crush out their old way of life. She let her fingers find their own way up and down her body. Encasing her hips. Caressing her breasts. Skimming from skin to silk to skin. Unclasping her bra she held the straps in place with her arms, turning away coquetishly to let the cups fall from her breasts, then turning back to reveal her bare bosom to him. Through slitted eyes she recognized his discomfort. And his interest. She decided to save the best for last.

She stood before him clad only in her panties and high heels. Swooping down, she knelt between his knees, roughly grabbing his crotch and the animal that slept there. Was his beast awakening? It was, but not fast enough for her. Working quickly she freed it from his pants and briefs, pulling it out into the light. Jack made as if to leave his chair but she pinned him to it with her forearms, bending to capture his member – no, his cock – in her mouth. With the dirty word came an image of Alex sitting before her, but she pushed it away. She had Jack in her mouth, and it was Jack she meant to pleasure. As she sucked at the flesh her hands worked among his balls, pulling and stretching the loose skin, cupping the large rocks, warming the fluids that soon would be inside her. As he grew to his full girth he finally stopped struggling and settled back in the chair. For the next few minutes the only sounds she could hear were of her lips and tongue sucking him, the blood pounding in her head, and his short, raspy breathing.

Time wavered, stopped, started, slowed. She stripped his clothes from him, leaving wet kisses on each patch of new skin. His erection raged tall in the foreground, and though she knew that he'd accept being sucked off, she knew he deserved something more. She rolled onto her back, pulling her panties up and then down off her heels. Looking down past her nipples, full and engorged, she gazed at her pussy lips, full and engorged. Her gaze led his eyes there, and completely unbidden by words he dropped between her legs and pressed himself inside. His hard cock felt like a hot spear, and she pushed away any thoughts of comparisons to enjoy the sensations flowing between them. Her needs and lust were unsated by his penetration. She wanted to fuck like animals, yet he was just making love. She grasped at him urgently and let her wishes escape clenched teeth, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck!" His pace increased but not his ardor; she could feel his interest beginning to wane. "Fuck me like an animal!" she gritted at him, surprising them both when she pushed him clear and flipped over to present her ass to him. He clumsily entered her, unready to claim this new position. Once inside, though, he settled into a fast pace of long strokes, the friction deliciously stretching and dragging the many folds of skin in and out, his hardness occasionally rasping across her sensitive button. She shivered in delight. Though he wasn't savaging her, she felt pleasantly used and appreciated.

Jack's ejaculation – "cumshot" was what Alex preferred – caught her by surprise. She couldn't feel the buildup, didn't notice the warning signs. He just suddenly groaned and she felt a flood of liquid gushing into her. Just as suddenly he pulled out, leaving her feeling vacant in more ways than one. Before she could even turn to lick him clean, to show her devotion, he'd wiped himself on his briefs and pulled himself to his feet. His words, "Thanks, babe," pulled her remaining strength from her, and she fell to the floor. She wiped away a tear. Dust in her eye.

Later that night she'd watched secretively from the doorway as he masturbated to scenes on the Playboy channel. As the impossibly well-built man took the impossibly well-built woman from behind, she could only shake her head at how his hand tugged more insistently at his half-erect member. For Jack, fantasy obviously outweighed reality. Even then, she refused to surrender to the complacency. That night she slipped into bed completely naked, hoping that any touch of his skin on hers would awaken his animal instincts. But he'd never approached her, and in the morning she slipped from the bed frustrated and unfulfilled.

To be continued in more graphic detail...

Comments, as always, are welcome.

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by Anonymous

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Replying to Anonymous on 08/03/11....so is the guy training her married. So why should he be considered such a wonderful specimen but her trying to learn things to save her marriage make her a whore?more...

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