From rugby87@aol.com Sat Jan 04 01:09:44 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: A story:  THE NEW YORK VISIT
From: rugby87@aol.com (Rugby87)
Date: 4 Jan 1997 06:09:44 GMT

This story is sexually explicit so if you're offended by this sort of
thing....you know the drill.  Otherwise, read on and enjoy.  I
especially like comments....let me know what you think.  Email at
Rugby87@aol.com.  I'd love to hear from you.

Just in case you're interested, I am female, single, 20-something
years old....I have a couple of other stories that I wrote a while ago
that you may have seen in the groups.  Like those stories, this is
largely autobiographical.

THE NEW YORK VISIT
by Carrie

She had met him on the computer over a year ago, yet since she
lived in the northeast, and he in California, geography had
prevented them any contact beside the telephone or email.  But his
recent change in job had brought not only an increase in pay, but
the requirements of travel:  business contacts sprinkled all through
the west, and one particularly important new contact in New York;
and this associate would require a visit soon after the first of the
year.

	She had been startled to open the Federal Express envelope
marked "confidential" and find a plane ticket to New York.  There
was no note or indication of the name of the sender, and the ticket
was for the coming weekend.  But a telephone call later that day
from him....from Michael....unraveled the mystery:  the long
awaited trip to New York could be put off no longer, and he
insisted she meet him there.

	Their relationship had been a unique one ever since they
had met:  Michael was married, and Carrie single, and though he
loved his wife, his need for a submissive, a slave, a child to
discipline....her need to serve, and to submit....had drawn them
together.  He had puzzled many times at how often Carrie entered
his mind, and it alarmed him even more, that frequently Carrie was
in his mind when his wife was in his arms.  He had never been
unfaithful to his wife, yet all he could think about after realizing
the trip to New York was confirmed, was having Carrie for
himself.  For his birthday the year before, she had Federal
Expressed him a pair of her panties, scented with her favorite
perfume, but even more heavily scented with the delicious smell of
her wet pussy.  Her enclosed note had revealed to him that the had
worn the panties most of the day....stepping into the restroom at
work only a few moments before mailing the package....and had
rubbed her pussy, thinking of him....until she had cum, filling her
panties with her wetness....making sure he would be able to feel
the sweet juices that dripped out of her cunt just for him.  There
had been more than one occasion in the past when she would pass
through his mind and he could feel his cock involuntarily stir and
begin to get hard.  And the longer she stayed in his mind....her
beautiful large breasts, her pussy wet for him, he willingness to do
anything he required....it took all of his restraint not stroke himself
the one or two times it would only take before he could cum.

****

He had given her VERY specific instructions:  how she was to
dress, what she was to say, how she was to address him, how she
was expected to behave.  Their sightless 3,000 mile relationship
had been frustrating at the very least....and his trip was just a
couple of days....and he absolutely required she comply, without
complaint, to each and every thing he demanded.

	His flight landed several hours before hers, and she was to
meet him in the lobby of the hotel.  It being January, an overcoat
of her choice would be permitted, but all else that she was to wear
was decided by him in advance:  her white sweater, without a bra,
her black "cheerleader" skirt (that she had told him she wore
infrequently because it was so short and almost any movement
would expose her), black thigh high stockings (that she had also
told him the tops of which, and her thighs, would be clearly visible
as she walked wearing the "cheerleader" skirt), and....of
course....no panties.

	He could see her as she entered the lobby, stopping just
inside and setting down her bag and removing her coat, just as he
had instructed.  They had exchanged photos, and he knew it was
Carrie immediately.  She waited patiently and kept her eyes
downward, again, just as she had been told to do.  She had dressed
as he had demanded, and he was enjoying watching her, knowing
that she was nervous, and excited, and waiting for him.  He circled
the lobby, knowing she would not see him since she had not yet
looked up, and walked around behind her.  Without speaking a
word, he circled his hand around her throat and tightened, feeling
her sudden gasp for breath, his thumb and fingers pressing into her
flesh, knowing that only a slight increase in pressure and he could
cut off her breathing.  He could feel the pulse in her neck, and he
was enjoying the sense that she was powerless.

	"Little girl," he whispered, still behind her, "we will start
this visit with a clean slate.  But if you disobey me....even a
little....like all bad little girls, Daddy will have to punish you.  Is
that understood?"

	"Yes," she whispered, then feeling his hand clench her
throat tightly, momentarily cutting off her breath before he
released, she having forgotten she was not to speak unless
specifically instructed to do so.  She then nodded her compliance
silently.

	"Good girl," he responded, and at last released his hand
from her throat and circled her to face her.  Without saying another
word, he reached to pick up luggage, grasped her wrist with his
other hand, and led her toward the restaurant.

	He knew she was uneasy, and nervous, after talking
hundreds of times, but never meeting face to face....and he
wanted to make her strain and tremble, waiting for each
second that would pass between them over that weekend. 
He knew that a nonchalant meal in the hotel restaurant
would only serve to heighten the tautness of her nerves and
cause her the agony of waiting still longer in anticipation.

	The restaurant was quiet; there was almost no one
there.  Carrie had followed him on the long walk, a dull
pain in her wrist just beginning as they entered, from the
tightness of his grasp.  He continued forward through the
room, as the matre de led them to a booth.  Michael wanted
to tease her, and proceeding by making small talk, yet
never giving her permission to speak, preferring to allow
her no outlet for her uneasiness.  He talked about his work,
the plane trip, the economy....

	After he had sent the waiter away a second time,
telling him hwe'd signal when he was ready, he leaned over
and whispered into her ear, "rest your elbows on the table
and sit to the edge of your seat; I want the to waiter to be
able to see the tops of your breasts when he comes back to
take our order.  If you attract the attention of anyone except
the waiter, it will make me angry;" and immediately he sat
back and raised the menu, waiting for the waiter's
approach.  Carrie quietly shifted in her seat as best she
could, and, too, waited.

	The wait person approached and Michael ordered
for both, and just as quickly the waiter departed, without so
much as a glance at her.  Knowing she had failed at even
this first, ever-so-simple task he had given her, she was
frightened to look at him....when at long last she knew he
must.  He was facing away, absently staring out to the
restaurant, but she could tell his face was a bit flushed, her
guess at his disappointment being perfectly correct.  She sat
still and waited for his reaction, and for a long time he did
nothing, which only served for her nervousness to increase.

	After a long time, he moved, and she could feel his
hand on her thigh.  She remained perfectly still as his
fingers softly trailed up her thigh, sliding slowly beneath
the hem of her skirt.  When his hand was nearly all the way
up her thigh, she could suddenly feel his fingers tighten, the
sharp pain of his them digging into her flesh causing her to
gasp involuntarily.  He continued his silence, and also
continued to dig his fingers deeper and deeper into the
fleshy skin of her inner thighs.  The increasing pain caused
her to gasp again, and she knew if he continued, a bruise
would be the result, skillfully placed above the hem of her
skirt.

	The waiter returned with the meals, and she could
feel Michael keep pushing harder and harder.  Almost
involuntarily she hunched forward, and was relieved when
the waiter at last glanced at her, smiling, and departed;
Michael's grasp finally released, and he pulled his hand
away.

	Still quiet, he nodded at her and surprisingly
pleasantly told her "Carrie, enjoy your meal."  She could
not help but sigh in relief, and eat the food put before her. 
When she was nearly finished, again, without even turning
his gaze to her, he whispered again:  "sit up on one knee,
leaving the other foot on the floor, with your legs apart.  Do
it now."  She quietly complied.
	"Now put two fingers inside yourself and pull them
out.  I want to see how wet you are."  He had finished his
meal and was watching her now, but did not touch.  She
obediently slid two fingers into her hole and was dripping
wet and tender, dying for some attention, and he knew she
would be.  Sliding her fingers in and out of her pussy felt so
good, she wanted to keep them to pumping in and out.  But
she heard his voice, "Carrie!"  and quickly pulled her hand
away.  Not being able to help himself, he instantly took one
of her slippery sweet fingers into his mouth for just a
moment, but removed it just as quickly, instantly realizing
this minor show of his temporary weakness.

	Her pussy was quivering from the few seconds of
stimulation, and the feel of his tongue on her finger tips,
and he knew it.  He pulled her hand from his mouth and
smiled at her, knowing he was teasing her, taking her close
to the edge as possible without letting her cum.  After
watching her for a moment, Michael told her to put her
fingers between her thighs again.  "You may make yourself
cum...I want to watch your face," he whispered.  Carrie
needed no more instruction than that:  her clit was aching
to be rubbed and she could feel her juices running down
her thighs; she didn't care if the waiter was 20 feet away or
not; his skill at heightening her nervousness and
anticipation was finely honed:  she felt like she wanted to
explode.  Eagerly she thrust her fingers into her juicy hole
and couldn't help but let out a small moan.  She worked her
clit with her thumb, and involuntarily her eyes closed. 
Spreading her knees apart as far as she could so she could
fuck herself with her own fingers as hard as possible, she
knew he was watching each thing she did.  She could feel
her orgasm building inside, and moved her hips back and
forth against her fingers.  She felt as though she were in
total darkness alone, because all she could feel was hot
pleasure building and getting ready to burst.  Again, an
involuntary moan escaped her.

	Then out of the darkness she felt a hand grab her
wrist and yank it away.  Biting her tongue to keep from
speaking, she knew it was Michael, he had pulled her hand
away because he had released the control to her for only a
moment, and now he wanted it back.  It took all her
restraint not to twist her wrist and free it from his grasp to
rub her aching clit, but he held it firm, it starting to turn
red.  She knew she could say nothing.  He knew her body
was aching by the way it twitched and the heaviness of her
breathing.

	The waiter returned with coffee, and without
releasing the grip on her wrist, he enjoyed his cup, paid the
bill, and motioned to her that they were leaving.  At long
last he released her wrist, and they departed the restaurant. 
She quietly followed him, silently wondering to herself
why he had slipped the empty beer bottle from the table
into his overcoat pocket.  He gave her suitcase to a
bellman, indicated she should put on her coat, and then
he....at long last....warmly clasped her hand and led her out
of the hotel into the darkness that had fallen.  She walked
with him silently, feeling at last like the good little girl with
her daddy that she so wanted to be.

	The walked for just a short while, and she was
surprised to see him turn the corner and approach the ramp
of the hotel's parking garage.  They entered the elevator of
the garage, and rode it to the top floor, all the while still
saying nothing.  They continued walking as they exited
onto the nearly empty top level, only a handful of cars
being parked in the open-air.  He finally stopped and leaned
against a parked car, pulling the empty bottle from his
pocket and telling her to drop her coat to the ground.  She
wordlessly complied, shivering in the cold, January New
York air.

	"Slide the neck of the bottle in and out of your
pussy" he whispered.  She could only stare for a moment,
amazed at this request.  No one would see her, the lot was
all but deserted, but the request nonetheless frightened her. 
"Carrie" was all he said, noting her hesitation, and she
complied with his request.

	The coldness of the bottle startled her, but the
movement of the long neck moving in and out of her cunt
felt so welcome.  She could feel that the sticky juices had
trickled further down her thighs as she had walked, and that
her pussy was still throbbing from getting so close to
orgasm.  Fucking herself with the cold glass felt so
good....it only took a moment before she could feel her
climax rapidly approaching.

	Again, just as quickly as he had stolen it from her
before, he reached out and pulled the bottle away, not
letting her cum.  She could feel tears spring to her eyes
from this second denial of her pleasure, and she could feel
her knees shake, she wanted it so much.  He reached out
and put her hands again on her throat as he had done in
their first few seconds after meeting, and drew her toward
the car.  Pushing her forward and down, she was soon
standing up against the car, her torso lying over the hood. 
She could feel him pulling her skirt up over her waist, his
eyes at last resting on that juicy cunt and ass that he had
thought about so many hundreds of times.  She could feel
that he was running the neck of the bottle up and down
over her pussy and she so wanted to arch her back and
force the bottle neck back into her hole, but he still had his
other hand tightly on the back of her neck, holding her
down to the car, and she couldn't move.

	The bottle was so slippery with her juices and he
knew that she wanted it to fuck her, but he wanted it for
something else:  he also knew she had a virgin ass, and the
sight of the bottle, smooth with her juices, making her back
door ready, was making his cock get harder and harder. 
Without warning, he thrust the bottle into her asshole,
enjoying hearing her cry out with the pain, and quickly
pulled it out again, full aware the she believed he would
not violate her further if he knew of her pain.  But the sight
of her tight ass being fucked by the cold, hard glass was
what he wanted, and he plunged it into her again....and
again bringing a gasp of pain.  Fucking her with this
bottle...this thing....he knew she felt the physical pain, but
he was also aware that she felt humiliated to be violated by
something other than his cock.

	He continued to slide the missile in and out of her
butt hole, her cries of discomfort growing less and less with
each push.  At long last, though, he could wait no longer,
and slowly he pulled the bottle out her hole for the last
time, then wetting three fingers with her pussy juices and
inserted them into her ass in place of the bottle.  Jamming
now his hand in and out her ass, he could hear her sounds
of pain disappear and her sounds of pleasure reemerge.  He
could also feel her pussy was lubricating more and
more....getting fucked from behind for the very first time. 
He kept ramming his fingers in and out of her hole; she was
close to cumming and he could tell.  He slammed his hand
against her butt once more, and then pulled it away.  She
was in tears...he had brought her so close she was in pain,
and he had, yet again, stopped.

	"No," she involuntarily cried out; and she knew
almost immediately that her disobedience at speaking
without permission had angered him.  Her inability in the
restaurant to get the waiter to watch her had annoyed him,
but this second failure at something so....SO....simple,
made him truly angry.  It was only a second before she felt
his hand slide from her neck and yank her up sharply by her
hair, while his other hand landed sharply on her exposed
ass cheeks with a stinging smack.  She could feel the burn
from the sharpness of his hit, and could not even catch her
breath before her smacked her....hard....again and again and
again.

	She stood as still as she could, knowing she had not
complied with the most basic of his wishes, and could only
pray silently that his anger would soon subside.  After
several stinging blows to her butt, he was still, and for a
moment she thought her punishment was over.  But rapidly
he pulled her head back by her hair even further, causing
her to rise to her tip-toes, and swung his free hand to her
throat, tightly clenching, making it difficult to breathe.

	"Carrie" was all that he said, and she knew by his
tone that she had disappointed him already and the
punishment she was receiving was graciously light,
compared to what he might impose if he so chose....so early
on....and she just tried to remain still, though her body was
shaking.  Even in these first few hours, she had learned that
she would have to try quite a bit harder if she were going to
please him.  "Do you understand?  Answer me," he asked. 
And she uttered the single word "yes."

	What seemed like a very long time finally passed,
when she could feel his fingers loosen in her hair and
sliding on her pussy again.  Lifting her ass up with his
hands and pushing her dress again around her waist, he
pushed her again down on car, and surveyed her sweet
juicy cunt.  She was sticky and wet, and her ass was
deliciously red from the light thrashing he had given her,
and he at last decided to reward himself....as he had wanted
to since the first second he saw her....and fell to his knees
and slid his tongue inside her sweet and tasty box.  She
gasped as she felt him run his tongue over her clit, and then
spread her cunt lips apart and sink himself deep into her
hole.  For a second she was frightened, wondering if some
owner of one of the handful of cars would come along, but
she didn't care.  She needed to cum, and didn't care if the
whole world stopped by to watch.  She pushed her ass
backward, to give him a better angle, and twitched as his
tongue darted in and out of her tunnel, licking up her
juices.  She could feel his nose and his fingers pushing up
against her, and could hardly keep from cumming.  And she
could stay immobile no more.  She thrust her hips up and
down and spread her legs as far apart as she could.  She
could feel Michael make use of this better angle, spreading
her cheeks apart and shoving three fingers in and out of her
hole while his tongue moved from her clit to her ass and
then...again...away.

	She bit her lip to keep from screaming...her pussy
was dripping from anticipation.   Yet he still hadn't let her
cum.   He only smiled and put one hand back into her hair
and pulled her up.  He could see her pain.  Unzipping his
pants, his rock hard cock popped out, and he grabbed her
and swiftly pushed her face down on it as she fell to her
knees.  She took him into my mouth hungrily.  Sucking
dick was one of her most favorite things, and she so wanted
to taste him in her mouth and bring him pleasure.  Running
her tongue first down one side and then the other, making
him slippery to fit between my her lips, she slowly drew
him in.  Teasing the head with her tongue, she could feel
him quivering inside her mouth, and touching the back of
her throat.  She slowly slid herself down as far as she
could, taking all of him into her mouth, then wrapped her
lips as tight as possible and pulled up.  A groan escaped
him.  She slid her mouth down again and again, pulling his
cock between her lips as hard as possible, teasing his head
with her tongue and lips every chance she got.  She could
feel his hand in her hair, pushing her face down, his shaft
growing harder and harder.  She slipped her head down
ever further, taking first one then the other of his balls into
her mouth.  They were soft and warm, and she knew she
was pleasuring him because of the tightness she could feel
and the smooth thrusting that had started in his hips. 
Continuing to pump with her mouth, she sucked his dick as
hard and fast as she could, finally being rewarded when he
exploded into the back of her mouth, she swallowing every
drop.

	Michael pulled her by the hair, at last letting her stand to
face him.  He reached forward slowly and kissed her:  she knew he
could taste himself in her throat.  Without saying another word, he
straightened her clothes and took her hand, leading her back out of
the garage.  Her pussy was still aching, her need to cum almost
overwhelming, but she had pleased Michael....and his needs....of
course....were important, and hers were not.

*****

THERE IS MORE TO THIS NEW YORK TRIP....IS ANYONE
INTERESTING IN HEARING ABOUT IT?
LET ME KNOW....EMAIL ME AT Rugby87@aol.com.

I hope you enjoyed "The New York Visit"....

Sincerely,

CARRIE