Poor Little Rich Slut (19 page)

He thought a moment.
“
Naw
.”

“Well, then what do you want me to say? Say it,
goddammit
!”

“I think you’ve proven your point, Heiress. I think you’ve awakened every bit of slut in that
slutty
body of yours. You can’t have any more fantasy in that raunchy mind.” He got a big grin on his face and said, bitterly, “You’re fixed!”

“I’m fixed?” I was totally baffled. “What is your point?”

“The point is
,
I think I’ve mentored you enough. It’s time for you to move on to someone else, if that’s what you want to do.
Maybe Robert… maybe my master friend if you like.”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not what I want.”

He shrugged. “Too bad, hon.
That’s
what I want.”

“So you’re breaking off our agreement?”

“I didn’t know there was anything to break.”

I knew there was more he wasn’t saying, but I was too exhausted to pry it out of him.

“You know, I think I’ll go in, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s the idea.”

Oh, why so cold?
I wanted to cry.

I opened the car door, grabbed my purse and fled, running inside the building and up five flights of stairs to my floor. Why all the physical exertion now when I was so exhausted, I don’t know, but it’s what I had to do.

I entered my picture-perfect apartment, with all its elegance and fine taste and stared around blankly. There was nothing out of place anywhere, the whole of it had been expertly decorated; its beauty like a fine jewel. I suddenly felt angry and very ashamed of myself as I compared the picture of my night with the reality of my life. Picking up the first thing my hand reached, I poured all my anger into the object and smashed the antique vase into the picture on the wall. The glass that covered the picture splintered and the vase broke in a million pieces. How ironic! The affair, or whatever it was we had, began with shattered glass. I laughed bitterly. Making my way down the hall to my room, I fell into bed and slept.

The office seemed cold the next Monday morning, although nothing had changed there.

I guess I had changed, and probably Garrison too, but I wouldn’t know because I didn’t see him at work. He’d flown to
Japan
,
an emergency, he informed me in my voice mail, which would take several weeks to resolve. Hum?
Wasn’t that convenient.
Did he have that planned too when he decided to dispense with me? When I didn’t go to Robert’s office for our regular morning appointment, he came to me about
ten
o’clock
.

“Ms. Rule?” His tone said everything as he opened the door and looked in, questioningly.

“Didn’t Garrison tell you?” I asked him.

“Tell me what?”

He didn’t know.

“Let’s just say that my agreement with Garrison fell apart. I think it’s time for us to end our morning ritual as well.”

“Good enough,” he nodded, not even a hint of disappointment. “I’ll see you in the board meeting this afternoon.”

Well, that was neat and tidy. Everything had unraveled so easily, one would wonder what had held the fantasy together so long. And what had I done to end it? That was the hardest thing of all to understand. Had I failed to read something in Garrison’s character? What did I miss? Of all the things that I stood to lose as our agreement collapsed, Garrison himself was the one thing I valued most. A strange empty ache resided now where I once enjoyed his special presence. I felt deflated, as if the last nine months had been some alternate reality and I’d finally awakened sane. Ashamed, sad, lonely, a hundred adjectives could apply, but none was quite as descriptive as empty.
Just empty.

I had my job, the bustling office, the premiere magazine, the perks, the satisfaction of my accomplishment—and I had accomplished much in the last few months. I’d even learned a bit more about what it took to be a good corporate executive. I suppose I’d had it spanked into me. But now that part, the hands-on discipline, was over too.

I sat at my desk reviewing options and realized that in the cold light of day, the truth was obvious. Without Garrison, without the presence of his sexual force, I didn’t give a wit about my job. Not
one fucking
wit! Wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? I had everything I ever wanted in my life, and now, with one small—well, maybe not so small—change, I didn’t care about any of it anymore.

I let that truth dwell inside me for the next several minutes,
then
the ringing telephone suddenly jarred me loose. Within the next ten minutes, the action of the magazine swirled in around me: the dozen deadlines, a crisis in the mailroom, the accounting meeting later that afternoon and appointments with my editors. I didn’t have time to dwell on my discontent. There was work to do. Now was not the time for rash decisions, like quitting. I’d come around. I always had before when I felt my self-doubts creep in and shake me. Now, more than ever, I needed to prove to myself that I was worthy of this position. With or without Garrison’s help, I’d succeed.

The three weeks after my night at the Dungeon Master’s masked ball were non-sexual. I’d spent the rest of that weekend obsessively masturbating to the memories of the extraordinary night. But after that, my sexual self seemed to close down tighter than a miser’s fist. I didn’t want to think about kinky sex, or sex in any form, and I particularly didn’t want to think about Garrison Tate. I was glad he was away. His presence in the office would only have been a bitter reminder.

I was in for one hard jolt however, when three weeks into my celibacy, Garrison returned without warning.

He popped his head in the door to stay hi, and at least sounded friendlier than the last time we were together.

“Hi there!”
Same sunny grin.

“Hi, yourself,” I tried to stay cool. I hated that my body responded to just that small stimulation and was determined to stop the feeling in its tracks.

“I understand things are going well here,” he said, moving into my office and plopping down in the chair in front of me. He looked as if nothing had changed between us.

“I guess everything is okay. And I have plenty of people to remind me when they’re not.”

All this sounded very pleasant, but were we going to say anything about that night?
I wondered.

“That’s good,” he said with a shrug. “My meetings in
Japan
were brutal, but I think the problems have been resolved.”

“That’s good,” I returned.

He took a deep breath and jumped from his seat. “So, I’d better take a look at what’s waiting for me here.” He turned to leave.

“About the…” I started to interrupt his exit, but immediately thought better of it. I knew that it was Garrison’s affection I missed, but how could I mention that when he dumped me so abruptly? I had to assume that our affair was a game to him and nothing more.

“You had something else?” he asked, looking back.

“No, no,” I shook my head, “not really.”

“Oh. Hum.
Nothing about
that
night, huh?”

Rather than fall at his feet and plead with him, as part of me desperately wanted to do, I cringed, a little afraid, a little angry. “What about that night?” I suddenly felt as if I’d been attacked but a swarm of angry bees. My stomach was souring, my face heating, my hands beginning to sweat.

“You’ve had time to think it over?”

“Of course.
It’s over and done, Garrison,” I managed evenly.

“Really?
I wasn’t sure. I know I was abrupt. But, well…”

“But well what?”
I snapped. “Don’t worry. No need to apologize. If I need more sexual mentoring, which I don’t think I will, I’ll find someone who won’t pull out on me when I need them most. I certainly wouldn’t count on you.” The blast of emotion came totally unexpected—and it felt damn good! I realized that I never allowed myself to feel the rage after our abrupt parting. But it was real, very real. I could have said a whole lot more, but I stopped.

Garrison looked at me worriedly, then said, “Don’t go doing anything foolish, Ellie.”
Now I was enraged, but was still able to keep some semblance of poise.
“Stop, Garrison, stop right there.
Not another word. Not another.” I wanted to scream at him, but I didn’t. “I have
work
to do and so do you.”

That one small confrontation was all it took to unravel the tense knot that had bound me up those three weeks. I hadn’t lost my sex drive or my desire for kinky sex. I’d just put it on hold until I faced the hurt that Garrison caused me. That night when I went home, I hit a few pillows, sobbed until I exhausted myself, and then swore that I would not let the man’s judgments hold me back.

Yes! Oh, yes! The truth hit me squarely in the face. That’s exactly what I felt that night, judged…judged, by Garrison Tate of all people. He’d been the one who set up the entire dungeon show and he had the gall to judge me afterwards and throw me away. The bastard! The
friggin
’ bastard!

The next night I began to masturbate again. I bought a dildo; I experimented with a little self-bondage; I even wore a butt-plug to work one day, enjoying the freedom to make my own choices about what I’d do sexually and how I’d act.

I did miss some things, like the feel of a paddle, or hand or cane on my bare bottom. I dearly wanted to feel that kind of punishment again. I even recalled the groveling spectacle in the dungeon, knowing it was something I’d do again…though maybe not so publicly. The master was right; that was not a sensible place for me to show off my kinky side. But there were things I could do on my own. And I would have another sex partner; I was ready.

I had a particularly powerful fantasy about picking up a guy in a bar. Yes, it could be dangerous, but that didn’t seem to make an impact on my behavior. That Friday night, I left my apartment dressed as
slutty
as I ever got, wearing more make-up than usual, a tight-fitting, low-cut, green sweater, a snug leather skirt and a garter-belt and stockings—no panties.

That was the night I picked up Casey Ingram, the night we fucked on the bridge and I made a date for a naked ride on his merry-go-round. His rough and unseemly world was the perfect tonic to put me back in an erotic frame of mind. I needed something wild. My body cried out for something new, something outrageous, but very different. Stumbling on my cowboy would be my salvation.

I dressed for him. I bought a denim skirt and wore another very tight, body-hugging sweater. My breasts spilled out almost to my nipple, though I made sure they wouldn’t.

Casey and I slowed danced in a tavern, while those around us played pool and drank until they passed out or were on the verge of a bar brawl that would send everyone stumbling into the night outside. Casey had his arms around me with his hands on my ass, drawing my skirt up enough so he could feel the bare flesh of my upper thighs. My arms were around his neck, my mouth on his, open and searching.

“Hey, take it to bed!” One obnoxious guy bellowed.

We danced on ignoring him, until Casey finally broke away. “You said you wanted to see my sex machines?”

“Yeah, I want to see your sex machines.” I was a little drunk, too.

It was a short walk from the tavern to the carnival and the carousel building that he’d made his home.

I took note of it, this time being far less disoriented; at least sane enough to see his modest surroundings for what they were. His bed was in the corner; there was a sofa, an easy chair and a kitchenette in the opposite corner with a small table and two chairs nearby. A place just big enough for two, I thought. Casey moved around the room and lit candles that seemed to be sitting everywhere. They made the place feel like a romantic bordello—or at least what I imagined one would feel like.

“The candlelight changes things, doesn’t it?” he said.

“Sure does.”

I nursed the scotch and soda he handed me. Even though I hated the taste of scotch, it soothed me going down smooth as ice cream.

Casey had gone into another room—I gathered looking for this sex machine—then appeared a couple minutes later with a strange device that I could see would take some explanation.

“Down here,” he said. He was on the floor working with the moving parts.

I joined him, feeling a sensuous glow warming my entire body.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, sounding business-like and not at all seductive.

I responded thoughtlessly, as if this was the way it would always be with my lovers. They command, I act. Piece by piece, I shed my clothes, becoming as naked as I’d been on the merry-go-round. I sort of missed that thrilling exposure, but I was intrigued by the strange machine. Casey took great care to see that it was positioned correctly on the floor. He looked at the ceiling several times, as though there was a map there he was following. Finally, his attention returned to me.

“You straddle it,” he said, and he pulled me closer.

While Casey held the fixed dildo, I mounted the box-like toy and sat down, letting the eight-inch prick slide inside my body.

“This is different,” I said a little dreamily. It was already affecting me.

“Let’s do the rear one too,” he said.

He fiddled with his machine,
then
played with my rear opening, massaging the tight door with lubricant. Finally deciding I was ready, he had me lift my ass enough so that a second dildo could slide inside. I’d been this filled before by two real erections and that was an awesome experience. I sensed this would be the same, but a far different sensation.

Once I settled in place, he turned on the device and I felt the dildos begin to vibrate. They began to move in me, slowly thrusting, but in opposing rhythms. When one went in, the other pulled out—though not enough to fall out completely. While I was getting used to the feeling, Casey moved to his feet and pulled out a square of the ceiling tile above me. A small hook dropped down which attached to a pair of cuffs.

“Give me your hands,” he said. I again obeyed almost thoughtlessly. It had been nearly four weeks since I’d been bound in any way and I was more than ready to be put in bondage—and abused.

My hands were secured inside the cuffs,
then
he yanked on the hook and pulley, lifting my torso into a tight stretch, all this while the two dildos moved in and out of my pussy and rectum.

My arousal grew stronger by the minute; while the strangeness of the mechanical device no longer affected my ability to feel the erotic stirring it excited. I was turned on in every sense of the word!

“
Humm
.”
I moved gracefully with the pulsing beat in my crotch, feeling the rhythms take me toward a pleasurable climax. Before I reached that gratifying zenith, however, Casey upped the intensity. The dildos moved faster and more erratically. I can’t imagine they actually did this, but they seemed to expand inside my body.

“Oh, dear
gawd
!”
I started to scream as I began to cum. The intense feelings only amplified the more my nether regions gyrated on the fucking machine. More and more, the surges of energy seemed
forced
through me. I wanted to stop, but couldn’t. Then I wanted to go on and never stop. My mind was totally strung out and unable to think, and I experienced the most amazing feeling of being cognizant but out of control, delirious and sane at the same time. The machine went on grinding beneath my body after the first swell of climax came and went. I felt another climax building with no effort at all. But when Casey cranked the power up another level, the sensation in me soared almost painfully. My body feverishly gyrated; it turned and tossed about, pounded hard by the fucking dildos. I had little control of myself anymore. My cuffed hands actually kept me from spilling off the wild machine.

I began to cum again, screaming now with no thought of anything but the surging energy. I felt an electric current sizzle through me. Not just pleasure, but pain seemed to explode through every nerve.

“I can’t anymore! Please!
Stop!”
I finally screamed.

Casey didn’t respond. He watched me writhe and pressed his hand to my face, which seemed to calm me for a time, but I still moved in the terrible erratic motion. When another hard
spasming
climax jolted my system, Casey finally reduced the action of the two fucking pricks until the machine came to a stop. While my body stopped moving, it seemed as if it continued to jerk and spasm for a long time afterwards.

Casey released my hands and carried me to his bed, setting me on my hands and knees so he could mount me from behind. He entered my cunt first, riding it hard, but not to the finish; for that, he used my ass. I felt as if my entire crotch had been split in two and burned inside and out. I feared it would never be the same again.

“It’s going to ache a lot for the next few days. In fact, you’ll probably get a little obsessed with riding my machine again.”

I couldn’t believe that was possible in the hour after this first thrill ride, but I wasn’t objecting to anything. I was too exhausted for anything but sleep.

***

Casey was right. When I woke up the morning following the amazing ride on his sex machine, I realized that I’d dreamt of it all night long. My body was already at the edge and I had to masturbate before I even got out of bed.

The next few days were filled with not only the mental but also the physical memory of the fucking machine. Just once and I was addicted? I wanted another reckless ride. I dreamt of it being harder, faster,
more
intense. I wanted Casey to crank it up full blast. The thing did something to my psyche and my sense of being that rattled me, but was so wonderful that I had to have that feeling again.

I went back that next weekend and rode the wild pony to the same delirious conclusion. Again, Casey cranked up the power, again I came, putting
myself
on an intense high until Casey decided that I’d had enough and pulled me off. This time, I stayed with him the night and in the wee hours of the next day, I took a second ride on the fucking machine. My body responded almost instantly to the powerful surges of energy, and my demented mind screamed at him, “Beat me!”

I saw him staring at me wonderingly.

“Yes! Beat me!” I repeated. My eyes must have glowed like those of a feral beast.

He got the message and left for a moment, returning with a doubled leather belt in his fist. He smacked my ass first, burnishing the skin, and I screamed over and over in my
cumming
ecstasy. He moved to my front side and pelted my breasts back and forth with slashing, hard strikes, taking cues from the way I begged for more. Yes, this was the heaven I needed.
The punishment, the pleasure.
Everything worked together creating a feeling that afterwards I could only describe as bliss. Bliss—it seemed too weak a word, but it perfectly described the sensuous glow that settled in around me when the session ended.

The act was perfectly selfish—of course, Casey got to use me afterwards any way he wanted. By then, I was pretty adept at giving head and taking it in any portal.

All this seemed enough. For three weeks it seemed enough. But it was like a fix; my addiction; I had to go back. The fucking machine was all I wanted, all I thought I needed.

The fourth Friday arrived and I went directly from the office to the carnival. I was particularly anxious this time. Just my mounting sexual energy I thought. But there was something creepy about the way I felt as I stopped my car at the curb. I couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, and at the same time, it didn’t stop me from making my way to Casey’s little den of sexual wonders.

We ate pizza—his idea. Then I waited for my food to settle before I climbed on the machine.

“You mind? I have someone who wants to see this in action.”

“What?”

“Just for a minute or two.”

“No.” I shook my head, “I can’t do that!” He still had no idea who I was. He didn’t have at TV; nor did he read the papers or any magazine where my picture would appear. He didn’t seem to do anything much but fiddle with his machines; the fucking machine was just one of his many inventions.

“Why not?
The guy needs to see it demonstrated.”

“Who is this guy?”

“Name’s John.
John
Westerhouse
. I first met him at one of those kinky sex conventions; he’s from back East. Looked me up and wanted to buy one. But he’s only seen the prototype; he needs to see the final version before he’ll part with his cash.”

I wanted to believe this was a safe move, but even in my aroused state, filled with the obsessive desire to have my weekly fix, I couldn’t allow it. “Only if my face is hidden,” I said.

“What?” Casey looked at me strangely. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t…”

“What you’re some bigwig in your other life?”

This was dangerous territory. What if…no; I didn’t want to go down that road thinking Casey was capable of blackmail.

“I’m no bigwig, Case, I’m just shy. I mean, I’d be so embarrassed if I met this guy somewhere. You know, it’s kinda private, between us.” I sidled up to him affectionately. “Please.”

“Okay,” he chucked. “Would a latex mask do?”

“You have one?”

“Yeah, I just happen to have one. I wanted to take pictures of one of my girlfriends riding one of my early machines. She insisted on the mask.”

“See, other women are modest too.”

He laughed as he went into his back room and after some time finally emerged with a red latex mask.

“Oh, how pretty!”
I liked the bold red color.

Casey fitted the mask over my head and I was immediately taken back to the dungeon and the leather hood. This fit even more snugly than that one, but it was more comfortable, more like real skin. There were no holes for eyes, just a place to breathe and a small hole for my mouth.

“Just big enough for a cock to fit,” Casey explained, looking very much as though he planned to use that mouth
hole
and very soon.

I climbed on the machine moments later while Casey fixed the wrists cuffs above me. Soon as he started the motor, I began to fly again and was lost in my erotic stupor. If anything, the mask turned me more inward. I forgot that there was even a man in the room—two men for that matter. By the time I heard the muffled voices, they sounded far away. As my body fed on one orgasm after the next, I wasn’t even curious about who was watching. Casey adjusted the power higher than I’d ever gone before. My breasts were bouncing before their eyes. My wet pussy slathered the machine with my juices, my muted cries still rose in the air beyond me, and I came and came again, and for the third, maybe fourth time came at the highest setting so far. I didn’t want him to stop it and almost cried when the machine abruptly halted.

“I’ll take him outside to talk. You stay right here,” Casey whispered to me.

Stay right there.
I couldn’t go anywhere as long as I was still bound.

For a few minutes I heard the sounds of distant voices. A solemn silence followed,
then
Casey opened the door and moved back inside.

After he peeled the hood over my head and released the cuffs, I serviced his cock on my knees.

“I shoulda just used that hole in the latex,” he said, laughing thinly. His eyes looked darker, and were filled with a terrible lust I’d never seen in him. But I understood. He’d gone where I’d seen other men go, Garrison and Robert to be exact…into a sadistic place. Any pleasure I derived from the brutal mouth-fuck that followed would be a masochistic one for me. But I could feel our relationship staring to take new turns I longed for. The fucking machine was good, but I still wanted more.