Reputation for sadomasochism

I have to admit, it was an interesting way to be hooked
up, but it was well worth it. We had known each other
for several years, but neither of us had ever expressed
an interest in the other outright. Until her roommate,
with whom I was doing a show, told me she had asked how
to get me to go out with her on a friendly date. So the
friend in the show asked me to just call her. So I did.
When I did, she was nonplussed, but simply asked, “So
when are you free?”

“When do you want me to be free?”

“Don’t be a smartass. What about tonight?”

No slow worker, this one. “Okay, your place at, say,
seven?”

“Cool. Dress is casual. Don’t plan on keeping your
clothes on all night.”

Whoa! This girl was abrupt!

“No problem,” I said, wondering what the hell she had in
mind. I knew she had a reputation for the bizarre, but
who was I to judge? I knew what I liked, and for all I
knew, she might like the same.

Smartly at seven, I arrived at her apartment to find her
in a tight red sweater, showing off her newly acquired
body. She had lost more than fifty pounds in the past
year, although none of it was lost from her breasts. Red
hair to the shoulder, and a short red skirt under the
sweater, and her whole body glowed. Red leggings, red
heels, and for the kicker, a red lace cameo choker (I
was really enjoying the fact that this little item was
so much in vogue).

She was not wearing the glasses that I occasionally saw
perched on her nose, which made no difference, since the
first thing you saw when she walked up was not her eyes.

“Well? Are ya just gonna stand there, or are you coming
in?”

I stepped in, slowly, still not sure what was going on.
“Where are your roomies?”

She smirked. “Oh, they all went out for the night. We’ve
got the place to ourselves.” She turned on some music,
Pearl Jam, loudly enough to cover several other noises
in the building. “Come on, I made food.”

“Food? What for?”

“Well, you’re gonna need your strength tonight. Sit.
Pasta con broccoli, with a generous helping of mushrooms
to build up the sexual appetite.” She didn’t beat around
the bush!

“To drink, I thought wine would be nice, but I figured
we should have some hard stuff to chase it with.” She
poured two shots of Southern Comfort. “Here’s to fucking
like animals.”

“Cheers!” I downed it.

Southern Comfort is famous for picking up the libido,
and everything else in the room was made to order for a
night of unending sex. I smelled trap, but I was too
turned on to even try doing anything about it. She
downed hers, then poured herself another and passed me
the bottle.

“Not yet. I don’t want to lose control too soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll have complete control soon
enough.” That was certainly an enigmatic statement!
“Let’s eat. I’m starved.” Obviously, food wasn’t the
only thing she was starving for.

We dug into our food, which was wonderful, and then
settled down in the living room for a drink. She poured
two more shots, then settled down on the couch next to
me, leaning on my shoulder and looking into my eyes like
a poor lost kitten.

“Do you find me attractive?” I was about to sputter my
answer, then realized where this was going. I decided
not to play her game, and instead started one of my own.

“You know I do. But why haven’t you said anything until
now?”

She flitted her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because
I didn’t realize until recently how much I wanted you,
and after Anadrea told me about your… um, past.”

Hmmm. Just what had her roommate said, I wondered. I
replied, “Well, I don’t really advertise, but I had
always thought maybe you and I would have the right
chemistry. You know, though, that I’m not Mr. Socially
Outgoing.”

“I know. That’s why I finally just said, fuck it, and
told Andrea to tell you to call me. I almost didn’t
believe it when you did, though.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I’m just glad you did.”

This was a side of her I had never seen before, or was
she playing me for a sap? I stood my ground. “Well, you
wanted me here tonight pretty badly. So what’s the real
story?”

“Ummm, just what I said. I want to see what it would be
like… Andrea doesn’t know what kinds of things I like,
does she? But I’ll bet you do. I’ll bet you like them
too.” She stroked herself, teasingly. “I’ll bet. Think
you can handle me?”

“Yes,” I said, not quite sure yet.

We kissed. She moved her hand over my crotch, feeling my
raging erection. Slowly she unzipped the fly, and kissed
the head of my cock as it sprang out of its cage. Then
her silken lips encircled the head, and slid down my
length, her tongue fluttering the scrotum on each pass.
I felt I would lose my load in and there, but she
stopped and looked straight into my eyes.

“I like it rough…”

“Good,” I said, feeling more confident that I knew what
was going to happen.

“Do you like it rough?”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Top or bottom?”

“Top,” I replied.

“Have you ever strangled anybody before?”

Caught off guard but enthralled, I said, “Yes.”

“During sex?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Could you handle me?”

“Absolutely.”

“So. Handle me,” she offered.

I kissed her. Our tongues met, then danced in her mouth
as I grabbed her breasts. I could feel that she was not
wearing a bra under that sweater, and her nipples were
already hard. It was not from the cold, either. I
reached for her throat, putting my hands around her
neck, and gently pressed my thumbs into her.

She moaned softly, and her tongue got more excited. I
squeezed, and she began to gasp as we kissed, but her
tongue never slowed, getting in fact more excited by the
second.

She pulled back. “That’s fine, but I want to continue
this in bed. My room.” She took my hand, grabbed the
Southern Comfort, and led me to her room.

Her room was already dimly lit with candles, but I could
see her bed covered in a sleek red silk sheet. I also
saw, with some excitement, that there were handcuffs on
the top two metal posts, already latched. To the bottom
two posts, I saw leather straps connected to loops,
which I recognized as ankle restraints. Above the bed on
the wall, in reach of the bed, was a shelf with a whip
and a short length of rope. She set the bottle down on a
table next to the bed, then beckoned me to the bed with
a single finger.

“C’mere. Handle me some more,” she suggested.

I moved to the bed, lying down on top of her, and kissed
her again deeply. I began to fondle her breasts, but she
moved my hands to her moist clit, which was, I now
noticed, unencumbered by panties. I rubbed her clit
softly, sliding a finger in and out of her, and she
moaned softly. I now noticed that the music had been
turned down, and offered to go and turn it back up.

“Forget it. Don’t worry about it. Nobody’ll hear us, or,
at least, they won’t hear me.”

We kissed again, and I began to remove her sweater. Her
breasts bounced as the fabric slid over and off of them,
and I saw for the first time, nipples as large as old
dollar coins, and as hard as my cock. I began to nibble
on them, then bite them, as she moaned and sighed.

“Harder!” she demanded.

I began to bite her nipples hard now, feeling my teeth
bury into her flesh. I sucked each one raw, but she just
moaned ever the more, getting more and more excited as I
got rougher and rougher.

“Restrain me,” she begged.

I nodded, not stopping the force on her breasts, but
grabbing her wrists one at a time, placing them in the
cuffs. When they were both in metal, I moved down to her
ankles, placing them in their appropriate restraint.
Then I began to lick her all over, starting at her toes,
moving to her knee, then her clit, and finally to her
belly button. When I reached her stomach, I deftly
removed her skirt, which was simply snapped on at the
waist, and flung it to the ground.

“Fuck me hard!”

I stood up on my knees between her legs, undoing my
belt, and slid my jeans down and off. Those, too, went
to the floor. Then I slowly slid my cock into her,
rocking into and out of her already very wet hole. She
moaned loudly, and I picked up the pace. I built up to a
rhythm, and she began to moan even louder. I stopped.

“Why’d you stop!” She shouted.

“Because you’re gonna have the cops here with your
moaning,” I retorted. I knew she wanted me in control.

“Well, then, make me be quiet.”

I grinned. I slid back into her, then lay on top of her
and built up a rhythm again, until I felt myself
spasming. I pulled out, coming on her stomach, and she
yelped. “What the fuck was that? I haven’t even gotten
started,” demanded, with disappointment showing in her
voice.

“Don’t worry, neither have I.”

First, I cleaned the cum off of her stomach with tissue.
Then, when I started removing her restraints, she
groaned desultorily. When she was free, she sat up, arms
crossed.

“Maybe this isn’t what I wanted. You should just go.”

I grabbed the whip. Deftly, I unraveled it in front of
her. She stared, but repeated, “Just go.”

“No. I’m not done, and neither are you. Turn over.”

She whimpered, but lay down on her stomach.

“On all fours. Up.” She didn’t move. I cracked the whip
on her sexy ass. She yelped. I repeated, “Up!” more
forcefully, and she stood up on all fours.

I climbed back on the bed, behind her, and slowly
entered her. She moaned, but pouted at me over her
shoulder. I threw back a glance that would have made my
mother back off. I grabbed her hips, pulling them toward
my crotch, and she moaned loudly again.

Slowly, I built up a rhythm to the music that was barely
audible in the other room. She leaned her head back,
moaning so loudly that the wall creaked. I grabbed her
hair, and began to thrust madly. She began to moan and
yell as I did so, and I didn’t stop her for the moment.
Suddenly I slowed, and she looked over her shoulder at
me.

“What, is that it?”

I grinned. “Hardly.” I reached above her head, and
grabbed the rope that was there. Slowly, I placed it
around her neck, looping it two times. She looked at me,
but made no noise. Slowly, I began to thrust again,
tightening the rope as I did.

“Think you’ll stay quiet now?”

She tried to reply, but I stopped her with a quick tug,
and she gagged. Instead, she thrust against me
forcefully, almost begging me to do my worst. I thrust
into her again and again, slowly tightening the rope
around her neck as I did. She tried to moan loudly, but
couldn’t get more than a gasp out. In halting tones, she
said, “Make it last a while. I love being light-headed.”

I tugged the rope more, but not too much, and she threw
her head back, asking for more. Still holding the rope,
I grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled, eliciting an
excited gasp from her. I pounded into her harder, not
tightening the rope too much, until an eternity seemed
to pass, and she came, jism running down our legs. I
didn’t stop.

She wheezed. “I came!”

“I’m not finished. Keep going.”

She gasped, a long, excited gasp, and pushed back into
me. I continued to plunge into her roughly, and
tightened the rope around her neck. She began to grunt,
but stayed with it, urging me to make it ever tighter.
She began to wheeze.

“I’m going.”

I tightened the rope more, pulling back as if they were
reins, and she jumped slightly.

“I’m going.”

I thrust in earnest, feeling myself build to the point
of no return. I was about to pull out, when she said,
“I’m gone!”

She went limp on the rope, I pulled out of her and
sprayed on her fine ass. She crumpled onto her arms, and
I quickly loosened the rope from her neck.

I turned her over onto her back, and lifted her head so
she wouldn’t swallow her tongue, then lightly kissed
her. She coughed and wheezed, the color slowly returning
to her face, and looked at me with red eyes that matched
her earlier outfit.

“Is that how I should handle you?”

She smiled grandly. “Oh yes!” She took a big breath, and
I kissed her once more, deeply. She then said, “Just how
much work will it take to get handled like this more
often?”

“Well,” I said, “That depends on how much you like to
cook.”

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