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Archive name: andthen.txt (MF, bd, cons, asian)
Authors name: Spoonbender (spoonbender@hotmail.com)
Story title : And Then You Came

---------------------------------------------------------
(c) 2000 Spoonbender. Can be freely distributed as long 
as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is 
to be archived then please email me first for permission.
---------------------------------------------------------

And Then You Came (MF, bd, cons, asian)
By Theodore Spoonbender (spoonbender@hotmail.com)

***

A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by 
minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are 
underage then don't read. Contains allusions to naughty, 
erotic goings on. Note that the characterizations are 
mine. I do not like people stealing them for inclusion in 
their own efforts.

Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, 
fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if 
you don't like the content or you don't like my style. My 
email address (if you feel the unrelenting urge to shower 
me with praise) is spoonbender@hotmail.com

Please look at my sex story survey at 
www.spoonbender.demon.co.uk It is completely anonymous 
and the results will be posted on the web to assist me 
and other writers in focusing our stories better. Many 
thanks.

***

I first saw you from my bedroom window, tap-tapping along 
on your high heels with your little tote bag on your 
back. Short black miniskirt, shapely legs and a tight 
white blouse, over which a dark jacket was draped 
decorously. Gaping wide to show the swell of your 
breasts. Thick dark hair cascading over your shoulders, a 
perplexing mixture of trepidation and what looked 
suspiciously like anticipation playing across your pretty 
oriental features.

Pretty as a picture and far exceeding my wildest 
fantasies.

I felt my cock lurch in my pants and I resisted the urge 
to pump it a little. 

You were just the sort of girl I went crazy for. I'd just 
love to have just been able to take you and enslave you. 
Binding you tightly with my bonds. Bending you to my 
will, making you mine. Making you want me, desire me, 
need me, beg me...love me. I could take you, mould you, 
bring you pleasures beyond your imagining and pain, and 
pain and suffering and pleasures. Until pain became 
pleasure and pleasure became bliss. I could play your 
body like a fine instrument.

Your slim slim body. One that would never see 30 again 
but still firm and supple like a dancer's. Erect and 
tight like a model's. And with that smooth silky skin 
that only oriental girls possess.

Percy lurched again and I came down from my fantasy with 
a sigh. It wouldn't do to be seen gazing from an upstairs 
window sporting a huge erection. Not around here, they're 
suspicious enough as it is. A man living on his own, 
hardly ever going out except to swim in his secluded 
pool. A millionaire by all accounts, richer than Croesus, 
rumoured to have made his money on a couple of dot coms, 
right as the boom was cresting. Lucky fucker, so why 
ain't he married?

Typical sour grapes. I was a man who had it all and they 
wondered why I didn't have this irresistible urge to give 
half of it away and fill the house with kids.

Funnily enough I would. Given that I met the right woman. 
Which I hadn't up to then, wasn't likely to either until 
I hit a few newsgroups and a couple of fetish contact 
pages. I had a fling with a few subs, tying them up, 
teasing them mercilessly, fingering them till they came, 
even spanking them if we both felt it was right. Course I 
usually fucked them too. If you've got a slave then you 
might as well use all the facilities as it were. It'd be 
a cruel master that would deny his sub a little harmless 
recreation through applied stimulation.

Technical terms again, I tutted. Once a scientist always 
a scientist.

Recreation through applied stimulation, I like it.

My mind drifted recalling them all. Corolyne, sweet sweet 
Corolyne. Sharp, almost arrogant features but oh what a 
slave. What cunt control you had. I swear you could peel 
a banana in there and how wet you got. How you loved your 
crotch rope and that strategically placed little knot. 
Sheila, short, plumpish - I nearly didn't take you, I 
like my slaves to be slim - but your eyes smiled at me 
and I relented, a real softy at heart me. I just couldn't 
let a girl down when all you wanted was to be spanked and 
diddled to an outrageous orgasm across my knee. In return 
for a blow job. Or Alice and your suspension bondage and 
those dildos and those glorious long afternoon fucks 
while you squirmed in your tight bindings. Writhing in 
lust or in humiliation who can tell, but you always 
appeared on my doorstep week after week. Tote bag over 
your back.

Filled with the toys that I would use on your body as you 
squirmed and wriggled. Wide open so I could gain access 
to any orifice in your body. And I did and you came and 
we fucked and we came and you went home.

And the next week you were back again.

Then one day you vanished.

I turned when I heard the bell. I walked slowly down the 
stairs, images running through my mind, of what I'd do 
if.... I flung open the door.

"Is this er.." you tilted your head as you looked around 
the door jamb, and I admired the auburn tint to your 
hair, "..number 29?"

I looked you up and down slowly before answering. "It 
is."

"Then you must be er.." she stopped. Suddenly unable to 
decide what to call me.

"Your Master?" I suggested mildly.

You stepped back a pace as I recall. Suddenly unable to 
work out if this was such a good idea. You'd come half 
way across the country, travelling with a small knot of 
pleasurable anticipation in the pit of your stomach, 
knowing but unknowing of what was really going to happen. 
Secure in your ignorance. But here you were suddenly 
faced with reality, here you stood face to face with a 
real life Master.

I know what you were thinking, I look so ordinary. Not 
the sort you'd expect to be a Dom. A little chunky from a 
lack of exercise, from sitting in front of a computer, 
making a million here or a million there. Most doctors 
would just look at my ever increasing bank account and 
tell me to just sit there, take it easy, smoke a little 
if I wanted. Just sign this medical insurance form, 
that's right you know what to fill in the space where it 
says doctor's name. 

Chunky, not beautiful, but a piercing set of grey eyes 
staring at you. Sizing you up, deciding where to start. 
To test you to find your limits and then take you beyond. 
Far beyond where the pleasure tree grows, its fruits 
bursting upon your body showering you with golden 
sensations, the rustle of the leaves in the wind 
snappling and rubbing while shards of white hot pleasure 
dance inside your body. My fingers playing a symphony.

Pain, pleasure, pleasure, pain, pleasure, pleasure, 
pleasure, blisssssss.

We stared at each other, you and I. I waiting for you to 
make that decision, you wondering whether to flee. There 
is no use denying it I knew you were, I could see it in 
your eyes. You wanted to flee, to tear away, to escape 
back to reality and boredom and certainty and planning 
and orderliness and..and..

Our eyes broke and you looked down in submission. Staring 
at my shoes.

"You must be my master," an affirmation and an 
interrogative in one short sentence.

"Must I?" I tried to be sardonic and I saw you briefly 
lift your eyes in confusion. Was I teasing you? You had 
just offered yourself to me and I was questioning whether 
you would be worthy. This certainly wasn't what you had 
in mind. This was panning out much differently to how 
you'd pictured it in your head. 

We mentally tussled briefly, our eyes locked in mortal 
combat as the electricity flickered between us. We knew 
what I wanted, I waited, you tussled, cheeks fetchingly 
flushed then your eyes dropped.

"Please be my master."

You really were a sweetie you know. Standing there, hands 
clasped in front of you, tote bag swinging by its strap 
near your feet, looking down at my shoes. Looking ten, no 
fifteen years younger than we both knew you were. What a 
Popsicle. I was going to enjoy sucking you, licking you 
all over, nibbling you with my teeth while you pulled on 
your bonds and moaned from behind your balled up panties.

How could I turn you down. Damn I'm much too soft 
sometimes, Call me a fool but I just can't turn down a 
pretty woman who was willing to submit to my every whim. 
And all you could ever possibly get out of it was ecstasy 
of almost biblical proportions.

"Follow me," I said and led you inside, calling over my 
shoulder, "and shut the door."

I heard it clunk shut, I almost looked over my shoulder 
to see if you'd run but I sensed you hadn't. I led you up 
the stairs and into the back bedroom. Which I'd had newly 
decorated, just for you. You never knew that did you? You 
thought I brought all the girls up here. Nope I got a 
cellar for that. But then again you knew that as well 
didn't you. I mean you did get introduced. That's where 
the chains were.

This room was different. It was your room. Done up in a 
style I knew you approved of.

Kinda big and messy with a huge bed with big brass bed 
ends that could be used to secure a girl tightly while 
her body was molested.

I turned to see you looking around as you nervously 
entered, your tote bag clutched to your chest, your eyes 
nervous.

I sat on the bed and looked at you.

You looked down, your flush crimsoning your cheeks so 
delightfully, feet daintily together. I gazed in awe at 
you for several minutes. You were so perfect.

"Close the door," you started when I spoke then did what 
I asked.

"Put down the bag and take off your clothes."

I believed in brevity of speech with slaves. There can be 
no doubts as to the purpose of my orders. It helped a 
slave if she didn't have to think too much. 

I remember a flicker of a smile twitching my lips as I 
watched you struggle. Eyes cast down, little hands 
wringing at the level of your crotch. Willing yourself to 
obey. You had wanted this remember. You had better do it 
or you'll be made to leave. To undertake the reverse 
journey with the bitter tange of spent adrenaline burning 
in your mouth as you contemplated how it might have been. 
If only you'd done what your master had ordered by now 
you could be......

I watched you fingers struggle with the tiny buttons on 
the blouse, teasing each one free exposing more of your 
silky skin as your jacket lay crumpled round your feet. 
Slowly you unburdened yourself of your persona as the 
buttons popped free, one by one they opened and one by 
one your inhibitions dropped away.

Finally you were done, standing there wantonly, your 
snowy white bra gleaming against your tan as it peeked 
through the gap in your blouse. A slight moment of pause 
then you started to pull the blouse from your skirt. 
Giving me tantalising glimpses of your bra as you 
wrestled with the smooth cotton of your broider anglais 
laced blouse.

You held you sleeves in front of you as you popped your 
cuffs, then....Then you pulled off the blouse, pulling it 
free of your arms then balling it and holding it in front 
of your breasts.

I knew you could feel the heat of my gaze. I willed you.

And you didn't fail me.

You dropped your hands and the blouse fluttered free. I 
could detect no indecision in you as you selected the 
next garment. It was the bra, inevitably the bra. A girl 
will always remove her bra first. Well my girls did. 
Maybe not Stephanie. Stephanie was always different. I 
made her cum on a bus once, chewing her orgasm into the 
lapel of my jacket as she tried to suppress her shrieks 
of pleasure. Funny little thing Stephanie......

I watched as the clasps came undone. With a fluidity of 
motion that a ballerina would have been proud of you 
brought your hands to your chest, cupping the cups which 
cupped the breasts that.....You showed me.

You dropped the cups slowly, breathlessly, hoping I'd 
like them. Don't lie I knew you were. I remember the 
darted little glance when you thought I wasn't looking. 
Trying to gauge my reaction as they hove into view. They 
were perfect and you damned well know it. Perfect, 
perfect, perfect.

Nicely rounded, not too large with firm pointing nipples, 
that looked far too fragile to take the pinch and the 
weight of a nipple clamp. But they could couldn't they? 
We had some fun, me and those nipples. Yes and those 
breasts, but this was just a foretaste of what was to 
come. They were mine, you were offering them to me.

You little minx, you knew exactly what you were doing 
didn't you as you held you hands under your breasts 
scooping them up into delicious handfuls, offering them 
to me. As your eyes stared submissively at the ground.

I cleared my throat and your hands flew to your skirt. It 
was tight and short, jet black against the tan of your 
stockings. You twisted it around slightly and undid the 
catch. The zipper buzzed harshly in the silence of the 
room and I watched as the tightness of the fabric gave 
way. You pulled it down so daintily. I just loved that 
about you, you were always so dainty in everything you 
did.

Your panties were white, which surprised me a little. 
Maybe it shouldn't have done, given your bra. My little 
slave girl, wearing white panties. I mentally tutted. You 
wouldn't be entitled to them much longer.

Nice girls wore white panties but howling screaming 
orgasming sexslaves wore black or none at all. White. Oh 
no no no, they won't do at all.

Is there a school somewhere where they teach advanced 
panty removal classes? If not where do you all learn to 
do it the same way. Some faster, some slower but all the 
same technique. Maybe there is only one way to 
comfortably remove your panties. Maybe when I do it I 
don't use the same techniques, especially when I feel 
that a certain set of buttocks needs a little discipline 
or a vagina requires a serious seeing to.

I know what it is, you use two hands. And you choreograph 
the movement of your upper body to the sweep of the 
panties as you push them down over your tan thigh highs. 
Personally I prefer to let the panties go last. The 
penultimate sacrifice as you bare your body and offer 
your secrets to me in one smooth motion. Standing on one 
leg then the other as you pull them free.

You stand with your crumpled panties bunched in your 
fist, uncertain of what to do next.

I let my eyes slowly traverse your body as you quivered 
in embarrassment. Beautiful, absolutely stunning. What an 
instrument of pleasure you had yielded up to me. Now I 
must tame it.

I held out my hand and you must have caught the movement 
out of the periphery of your eye. You looked up then 
stepped forward handing me your bunched up panties. I 
grasped them and felt their damp heat, before dropping 
them.

I took your hand and pulled you towards me, indicating 
that I wanted you to stand with your legs straddling 
mine.

Gently I took your hands and placed them on your head. 

"We are going to conduct an interview," I said.

"An interview?" you were obviously puzzled.

"Yes an interview. I want you to tell me why you want 
this job and I don't want you to stop or get distracted. 
Whatever I do. Do you understand?"

"Job?"

"Yes as my slave, tell me why you're worthy."

"Oh," you murmured. Again that unexpected test.

You paused then started speaking, slowly with a tiny 
voice. Telling me how much you wanted to be my slave and 
how you wanted to be dominated and...

Using only the fingers on one hand and touching only your 
gushing little pussy I made you cum. You squealed 
delightfully as you came and your writhing just drove me 
mad.

It was the first orgasm of many.

Your body was mine.

And so, despite the fact you never finished the 
interview, I graciously gave you the job.

It was a glorious first weekend wasn't it?

I touched and learned.

How you like having your neck kissed and your earlobes 
nuzzled and how you liked the burn of the rough hemp rope 
that was tied tightly around your breasts imprisoning 
your nipples.

I learned so much about you that weekend.

Learning to spank you, softly at first, hands almost 
fluttering on your quivering bottom. Then the slaps and 
the writhing and the musty smell of your sex. And the 
orgasms. Once I didn't even have to touch your sex, you 
just came as I cracked my palm meatily across your silken 
cheeks. With you grinding your crotch into the rough 
denim of my thigh.

And those ropes lashing you into various poses. Making 
you cook my dinner and serve me while that vibrator 
buzzed purposefully inside you, held in with a cruelly 
tight crotch rope. Then making you kneel under the table 
and blow me as I ate my dinner.

While the vibrator ground away.

And we came. And I was a kind master because I'd let you 
cook enough such that there were sufficient scraps for 
you to eat out of your dog bowl. As you knelt with your 
hands tied behind your back and I flicked a light whip 
over your asscheeks as they thrust up invitingly at me.

While the vibrator ground away.

And the callisthenics, helping you to stay slim and 
beautiful just like I wanted you to be. Dancing and 
jumping.

While the vibrator ground away.

You orgasmed in the middle of a routine once. Do you 
remember that?

It was absolutely scrumptious to watch. I wish you could 
have seen yourself, frantically rubbing your breasts and 
your crotch as you moved slowly to the pulsing music. 
Sinuously dancing and writhing as the orgasm built in 
your body. Then the tsunami as you dissolved into a 
mindless jelly as the orgasm burst fully upon you. 
Scrumptious I tell you, you were scrumptious.

And our sex was the best, beyond belief and human 
understanding. Power and joy, coarse ropes and soft flesh 
and hot, wet cataclysmic pleasure all served up raw on a 
bed of satin sheets.

Then those other weekends. Do you remember those too?

You didn't tell me what to do, it wasn't a slaves place 
to propose. I proposed and I disposed. But I learnt. It 
was like understanding a deep and complex piece of 
machinery that must be thoroughly investigated until I 
could coax the most from it.

We never even needed a safeword did we? The subject never 
came up. Somehow I just knew when I was pushing too far 
and too fast. Like a driver lost in a maze of country 
roads I just backed up and took a different direction. It 
was so much fun wasn't it?

I rejoiced the day you moved in. Funny really but I never 
even considered that you had another life. A life where 
you were an executive, a clerk, a whatever you were. One 
day it didn't matter. There could only be one job for you 
then. You were mine, my slave, my foil, my temptress, my 
muse...

I loved you, I'm sure you knew that. Loved you deeper 
than the deepest ocean. Ok so I punished you, when you 
deserved it. I loved your little pouts and your dewy 
cheeks as I made you stand in the corner, your bottom raw 
and aflame. But I was never cruel now was I?

You wouldn't have stayed would you? You were a slave but 
you were free. It was freedom that only a dedicated slave 
could enjoy. Freedom from inhibition, freedom from 
stress, having a single focus in your life. To make me 
happy and if I was happy you were happy and what was the 
occasional sore backside when you had a life of ecstasy 
and unmitigated happiness.

Can you remember when I used to take you to the mall? 
Making you wear those ultra short skirts with those tiny 
little panties? I used to smile as I watched you pulling 
down your skirt while I drove, trying to protect your 
innate modesty. Didn't do you a lot of good though now 
did it? I nearly laughed when that gust of wind raised 
your skirt. I didn't of course, its very bad form for a 
Master to laugh at his slave. Humiliation is one thing, 
cruelty is another. A Master should care for his slave, 
not poke fun at her.

That was the secret wasn't it? That's why Doms and subs 
have almost sublime existences. And why vanilla couples 
are always at each other's throats. It's the nature of 
the relationship. They could never understand it could 
they? The feminists curling their lips in disgust when 
they saw what you had become.

We never met a happy feminist did we? Not truly happy. 
With their pathetically downtrodden husbands or dungareed 
girlfriends. It used to amuse me as you tried to explain 
what you were about, why you were ecstatically happy. But 
they just didn't understand. Poor things, we both used to 
commiserate on their bad fortune.

A true Dom makes it his job to learn all about his sub. 
And that is the key to their mutual happiness. He has a 
far deeper understanding than any vanilla partner could 
ever have. Because that is the secret of this type of 
relationship.

I knew what made you tick. How you loved to have sex in 
the shower or the pool, how you loved it when I 
manhandled your breasts or teased you, holding off your 
orgasm until you thought you'd go mad.

Then the release.

A muted power that arched your back and almost stopped 
your heart. I know you told me once. The little death you 
called it. I remember. I remember everything. The sweet, 
the honey, the very essence of you.

God I loved you. 

And then one day, thirty years nearly to the day that I 
met you, you left me.

I will never forget you. Cannot forget you. You were my 
slave but you were my life.

Thank you my love. I'll miss you always.

Tears ran down the old man's cheeks as he leant forward 
and kissed the lips of the woman lying at peace in her 
coffin.

"Bye my love," he whispered then turned as an arm snaked 
around him.

"Come on dad, its time we were going."

He turned and looked at his daughter, "You think she was 
happy?"

"Mum? Happiest person I ever met," it was true too, 
everybody commented on her cheery smiles and carefree 
personae.

"Think she's happy now," he let his eyes wander upwards.

"I think she's living in a wonderful place and I'm sure 
she'll be really happy."

He started to shuffle towards the door and his daughter 
did a double take. She was sure he muttered "I hope they 
got big dildos there. She always liked a big one." 

She shook her head, not her dad. It couldn't be, it was 
too far fetched. She must of misheard.

I mean who has ever thought of their parents having sex?

END

(c) 2000 Spoonbender. 

C'mon ladies, if this did it for you then please email me,
my email is: spoonbender@hotmail.com

I would appreciate it if you filled out the survey on my 
website at www.spoonbender.demon.co.uk it is about story 
preferences and is completely anonymous. Thank you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a
trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so
take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 24