Confessions of a Smut Author Page 5

  I spread my legs slightly and lowered my right hand between my legs. As my fingertips reached my wet lips, I realized my pussy had opened up like a flower during our little session. I pushed my fingers in half way and slowly slid them out. As I tickled my clit with my forefinger, I worked my two middle fingers in and out of my pussy. Within a matter of seconds, my breathing became rather labored and I felt strangely hot and itchy. I opened my eyes momentarily as I continued to work my fingers in and out of my swollen wet mound. As I felt myself begin to climax, I bit my lower lip.

  I could hear my fingers slipping in and out of my wetness. This was going to be huge. For a brief second, I wished I was alone. I felt the couch cushions move from him shifting his weight. I continued to work my fingers deeper as I rubbed my clit.

  “I…uhhm…” I breathed.

  “Scream. No one here will hear you. Scream. Let it out, Cheryl,” his warm breath against my ear caused goose bumps to rise along the length of my upper arm.

  I opened my eyes and began to wail as I reached a level of pleasure I had yet to experience. My yelping echoed through the large concrete room. As my squealing quieted, and my breathing became more predictable, I sat motionless and stared at the wall in front of me. Eventually, I looked down at my hand, somewhat confused on what had just happened.

  This is fucking insane.

  “Impressive,” Shawn softly acknowledged.

  As I sat on the couch fractionally embarrassed, feeling satisfied and horny at the same time, he stood from the couch.

  “Well, get dressed,” he said quietly.

  What? I thought we were going to fuck.

  Are you kidding me?

  “Get dressed?” I asked.

  “Yes. I need to get to work. I realize I said I was going to fuck you, and I needed you to believe I was. We will, eventually. For now, I needed to see how you reacted to me,” he said as he took another drink from the bottle of water.

  I stood from the couch and grabbed my dress. As I fumbled to get dressed, I wished I hadn’t put my panties in the car. I sat in the edge of the couch and pulled on my shoes as he began to walk toward the kitchen with the half full bottle of wine.

  “For what it’s worth, you reacted very well. Quite impressive,” he said as he placed the bottle in the refrigerator.

  “When will I see you next?” I asked.

  “How about tomorrow, at the same time? Come over after work. Wear your panties, okay?” he said over his shoulder.

  I picked up my purse and shuffled toward the door, staring at my feet as I walked. A few feet before reaching the door, Shawn stopped me.

  “Hold on, don’t leave mad. Come here, give me a hug,” he sighed as he walked around the kitchen island.

  As he held me in his arms, I realized just how helpless I was going to be against his demands.

  And I felt I couldn’t wait to see what he decided to do with me.

  SHAWN

  I felt as if seeing new Cheryl in the capacity I had seen her was a huge step in allowing me to make measurable progress in recovering from my Cheryl. I had not forgotten about my Cheryl, but my level of comfort in adding the new Cheryl to my life, even in the capacity in which I did, allowed me to understand I was moving forward.

  Excited about my new discovery and my level of mental progress in the last few days since she had visited me, I decided to continue with The Preacher’s Daughter story. I took a sip of coffee, stared out the window, and watched the employees walk into the building across the street. As the parking lot filled and the traffic slowed to a dull roar, I placed my cup beside the keyboard and began to type.

  She never expected to be in a position where she was uncomfortable with what may happen, but she was there nonetheless. Secured to the bed and gagged, she felt dirty and weak. The previous day he had brought three men in the room. At first, she was aroused by the thought of it. After the third, however, he had shut the door, turned out the light, and left her there. Naked and covered in the semen of three men, she had fallen in and out of sleep. Now exhausted and in much need of a good night’s sleep, she wondered if and when this nightmare may end.

  She blinked her eyes and turned her head toward the door as she heard the handle turn. Slowly, the door pushed open. The outline of his body against the lighting in the adjoining room was distinct. She blinked her eyes again and allowed them to adjust to the little light which shone past him.

  He stood between the frame of the door and the door itself, one hand on the handle, and one holding a large curved dildo. As she focused on the dildo, she realized it was the one she had purchased the night they met. As he stepped into the room, the images of four men who stood behind him became clear.

  She grunted against the ball gag.

  Her cries were useless. The men entered, one by one.

  He held the dildo in his hand as he leaned over the edge of the bed. As his lips lightly touched her ear, he tilted the rubber shaft until it came in contact with her chin.

  “Shhh. Not a word,” he whispered, “I’m going to remove the ball gag, but only so you can suck a cock. Are we understood?”

  Knowing there was nothing she could do to stop the five men, she did her best to nod her head. The restraints prevented much movement at all. He smiled slightly at her acknowledgement.

  “Okay. I’m going to remove the restraints as well. It’ll be difficult for these men to fuck you properly if you’re tied up like this. Now, again, no opposition, and only screams of pleasure, are we understood?”

  She nodded her head.

  He removed the ball gag and unstrapped each restraint. After doing so, he asked that she walk around the room and stretch. After he allowed her to relieve herself, she stepped back into the room.

  The men were waiting.

  “I don’t know if I can…” she began.

  “You can,” he assured her, “Now, get on your hands and knees.”

  She inhaled a shallow breath, looked over his shoulder, and attempted to force a smile at the men who stood behind him stroking their cocks. As she exhaled, she lowered herself to the floor. Now on her hands and knees, she looked up as the first man approached. Standing over her, he stroked his massive cock.

  “I hand-picked these fellows. Great cocks, aren’t they?’ he asked.

  She didn’t bother responding. Strangely, she was becoming aroused. Quite possibly, she was the insatiable slut he had indicated. She raised one hand from the floor and pointed to her mouth. The man standing before her complied. As he slowly began to fuck her mouth, she watched one of the other men walk out of her field of vision.

  She felt her butt cheeks being spread apart. As his cock slowly penetrated her pussy, she groaned against the man’s cock which filled her mouth. She began to feel dirty for enjoying what was happening. The feelings didn’t last long. She closed her eyes as the man forced his cock deeper into her throat. The man behind her pulled aggressively against her hips as he fucked her wetness without abandon. The sound of his hips slapping against her ass provided an echoing assurance of his hard work. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to become encapsulated by the rhythmic sounds of flesh on flesh.

  As his cock swelled, she eagerly sucked. Knowing he was mere seconds from exploding, she eagerly slobbered and sucked as best she could. Now forcing herself to gag against his swollen cock, she felt it begin to pulse. She groaned in pleasure as his warm cum filled her throat. Bringing him to climax with her mouth satisfied her deeply. As he softly pulled himself from her throat, she opened her eyes and looked up. Shocked at what she saw, she blinked her eyes and tried desperately to focus.

  One of the men was on his knees sucking the other man’s cock, mere feet in front of her. As the man behind her continued to punish her wet pussy, she watched with much interest as the men in front of her engaged in their act. Although she had never considered two men in a sexual act to be an attractive thought, seeing it now provided her tremendous pleasure.

  She watched as the man’s cock disapp
eared in and out of the other man’s mouth. The man on the floor was extremely attractive to her, but not as attractive as Sean. Sean, to her, was the man of her dreams.

  The man on the floor had blonde curly hair, and Sean’s was dark. She’d always preferred dark hair on men; she believed it matched well with her hair. A color coordination of sorts.

  As the blond man accepted the man’s entire cock into his throat, the man standing turned his head to face her. He pointed. She moaned as the man behind her continued to pound himself in and out of her wet pussy. For a moment she had almost forgotten he was fucking her. She felt as if she was becoming somewhat desensitized to sex, and she didn’t want that. Not at all. She smiled toward the man, inhaled slightly, and spoke.

  “Come here and fuck my tight ass. I’ll suck him off. I’ll finish him. I want you in my ass,” she grunted as the man continued to fuck her.

  He pulled his cock from the blonde man’s mouth. As the blonde man approached, she closed her eyes and waited. As she felt the tip of his cock against her lips, she craned her neck to accept it into her wet mouth. As soon as she enveloped the tip with her lips, he began to thrust against her face. Now lost in the feeling of having the two men fuck her, she kept her eyes closed and began to slip into a blissful state.

  She felt the third man’s legs straddle her. She had never been penetrated by two men at the same time, and certainly not three. The thought excited her greatly. As long as no one found out about the event, she was certain she could allow herself to enjoy it. She felt his hand smear the wet juices from her pussy along the crack of her ass. As she felt the pressure against her ass, she grunted into the cock which filled her mouth.

  The second cock slowly slid deeply into her ass. Now with one cock in her ass and the other in her pussy, she found it far more pleasurable than she ever considered possible. The second man’s hips against her ass held her firmly to the floor. He slowly slid his cock in and out of her tight ass as the man standing behind her fucked her pussy with tremendous force. The three cocks filling her made her feel useful. Lost in the feeling of being filled with the three men, the man standing in front of her brought her to her senses by slapping her face firmly. Shocked, she looked up.

  He looked down and scowled, “Did you forget something?”

  She eagerly began to suck his cock, forcing it deeper into her throat.

  “That’s right, suck that cock, you little whore,” he growled.

  She felt small. She felt helpless. She felt as if there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  She felt like she’d always wanted to feel.

  She felt powerless.

  I stopped typing, highlighted the text, and pressed the backspace button. Sometimes I took the time to read what I had written, and other times I knew as soon as I finished I didn’t like what I had written. If I had a dollar for every ten thousand words of text I had simply eliminated, I’d not need to work ever again. Frustrated at my thoughts regarding The Preacher’s Daughter, I sighed and stared at the screen.

  There were things about new Cheryl that reminded me of my Cheryl. My Cheryl was always willing to make her best effort to satisfy me sexually. New Cheryl seemed, at least from what I had seen so far, to possess the same qualities. Time, I suppose, would tell. On the surface she seems to be all too willing to satisfy me. I had yet to see any method of even attempting to oppose me.

  The thought of her being willing, attractive, and absolutely mouthwatering naked was enough to cause me to begin daydreaming about her. I had not daydreamed about a woman since Cheryl’s death. She was the ultimate woman. My best-selling books were a result of her willingness to participate in my sexual desires. If she were still alive, without a doubt, I’d have been on the New York Times Best Sellers list. I sat and stared out the window. Becoming frustrated with my Cheryl’s absence, I picked up my phone and sent new Cheryl a text message.

  I want to choke you.

  I tossed the phone onto the desk and stared at the blinking cursor. I needed to write something and make it count. This meaningless bullshit about bread and butter sex with bread and butter characters wasn’t cutting it. I needed to develop something with substance. Something with depth. Something the masses of readers would be able to sink their teeth into and absolutely love.

  I needed my Cheryl.

  My phone beeped.

  Shocked I had not placed it into silent mode, I picked it up and pressed the text message icon.

  Okay.

  I pressed my finger into the message window, and typed a response.

  Until you pass the fuck out.

  I pressed send, tossed the phone aside, and clenched my jaw as I stared at the screen.

  The phone beeped.

  I picked it up and pressed my finger on the icon. The message opened. I stared at the screen, shocked at her response.

  Okay, sounds hot.

  Interesting. Well, little miss Cheryl, you and I may just get along better than I expected.

  I saved the work in progress with The Preacher’s Daughter, moved the cursor to the toolbar and opened my book files. I stared at the unfinished sequel to Hung. Although I was seventy-five percent complete with it, finishing Hanged now would be nothing short of impossible. I opened the folder and clicked on the manuscript. I quickly moved to the final unfinished chapter and began to read. Written in first person, it seemed strangely personal.

  Although her desires had changed, mine had not. I wanted more than anything to please her. Strange coming from the mind of a Dominant male, but in being truthful, pleasing her pleased me deeply.

  She had slipped into an oddly dark place, and it seemed she would never be the person she once was. Satisfied by the far darker side of sexual offerings, she had become all but impossible to please by any means of vanilla sex.

  I secured the rope to the eyelet screwed into the concrete ceiling. Below the noose, the wooden stool seemed out of place without her standing on it. I tugged against the rope, making certain it was secure. I found it difficult to believe someone would actually desire to be hung by the neck as a sexual act. Watching her masturbate while being asphyxiated, however, had proven to be a guilty pleasure of mine.

  I looked at my watch. 6:50 p.m. She should be home in a matter of minutes.

  The last time we had ‘used the stool’ as she liked to call it, she asked me to act as if she were being executed. I walked into the room with my head covered by a cloth hood, and kicked the stool out from under her feet. As she fell from the stool with one hand bound behind her back, she used the other to masturbate. Without a doubt, she could have reached up to the rope above and relieved the pressure against her neck.

  But that wasn’t her desire. According to her, the orgasm obtained as she was asphyxiated was something she could obtain nowhere else. For me, seeing her masturbate as she flailed at the end of the rope was something beyond exciting. I sat on the stool and masturbated at as I watched her do the same. After I completed the act, I clutched her legs and lifted her onto the stool.

  The entire event took minutes, and was an entirely different level of satisfying.

  Although we had not in the past, we decided to attempt to film the event this time. We both agreed viewing the video later would probably prove to be as pleasurable as the act itself. I turned and looked at the camera placed on the tripod and smiled at the thought of watching her finger herself as she hung by her neck.

  The sound of the front door opening reminded me it was time to get into costume. I pulled the rope one last time, repositioned the stool below it, and closed the door.

  Knowing there was nothing more to read, I pressed the down arrow anyway. I desperately wanted to read more. Hung had been my #1 best-selling novel, selling more than 50,000 copies in two months. Hanged, although promised, was never produced. The untimely death of my wife, and the fact I no longer felt I had the ability to continue to write it, left me with no other alternative but to set it aside. Frustrated at the almost completed piece of work, I stood
from my stool, walked to the kitchen, and got a bottle of water.

  Standing in the kitchen and staring at the desk, I decided I’d send new Cheryl another text message. I felt I needed her to come over after work. As I walked to the desk to retrieve my phone, I realized I could easily become addicted to her compliant sexual nature. I needed, however, to find out what her true limits were. Tonight, I decided, would be the night. I picked up my phone and pressed the text icon. After opening the previous message, I pressed my finger into the message window and stared at the phone. After a moment of thought, I tapped my finger against the screen.

  Come tonight after work. Panties optional. Willingness to comply with my every desire, however, is not. Understood?

  I pressed send.

  Almost immediately, the phone beeped.

  Jesus, do you ever do anything at work?

  I opened the message.

  Yes sir.

  Smart assed little bitch.

  I typed a new message.

  I may have you suck off my neighbor.

  I chuckled as I pressed send. I’d never do such a thing, but the thought of her reading it and sending a me response was entertaining. The phone beeped. I pressed the icon.

  Okay.

  I typed a new message.

  I’m not kidding.

  I pressed send, and held the phone in my hand, waiting for a response. After it beeped I looked down.

  I’m not either.

  New Cheryl, I may just be beginning to like you

  CHERYL

  Something about having a man fuck me while he had a handful of my hair was a huge turn on. As long as he knew how to pull my hair, it was something I truly enjoyed. The manner he pulled it, and the point in time during our sex when he decided to made all the difference in the world. Having my ass slapped was something else I truly enjoyed. Similar to the hair, it had to be done right, and at the right time. A good slap on my ass could bring me to climax. A bad one could ruin the mood. If a man slapped my face, again, as long as it was the right time and the right situation, could be a huge turn on. A good face slapping, and I’d be a man’s little submissive whore. I had, however, never had my head stepped on while I was being fucked from behind. Ever.