Rule of Thumb Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Rule of Thumb Pt. 01

... hard, forcing it deep and grinding her clit on a man's pubic bone.

"Oh god Sir, they just take me and make me their fuck puppet. I get so lost servicing their cocks. And hurting for them. God help me Sir, if it wasn't for your rules... I don't know. I mean sometimes it scares me.I scare me. I mean, lately, more and more... God help me, I think I'd let every one of them tear me apart every time. I'm afraid Sir. You're the only thing keeping that from happening Sir. I want it so bad. I get so lost when they start in on me. The need in them. I see it. I smell it. The want in them to have me. To break me down... into a mindless... slut...

Mr. Lester watched transfixed as Claire lost herself. It seemed clear that she'd lost contact with her surroundings. She was in some dark carnal space now, hips writhing, fingers clenched in the carpet as she rode an inner vision of brutal torture and sexual violation. Her breathing had turned rapid and shallow, her skin flushed. Pearls of juice were beading at the lips of the now gaping, undulating cunt.

"...do anything... take it... Oh god, Sir!" Mr. Lester watched in a state of mild shock. Claire was actually sobbing in frustration, pleading quietly, half present, half some other place. Fingers scrabbling, twisting in the rug, rigid with tension. She was grinding her tits side to side across the woolen fibers, her nipples no doubt rigid and burning from the friction. "Please Sir! Can I please cum? Please let your Slave cum Sir. ...

... She's been good. Nothing's been up its cunt but... aaagh. It's going crazy Sir, please, please... seven fucking days... nothing... it needs... unngg... hurt it... want to taste it... Master, please. Oh god, I beg you, please let your Slave cum for you!" The last words were a guttural plea torn from a deep desperate place in her soul.

Mr. Lester walked quickly around Claire's prostrate form, kneeled over her outstretched arms. He gripped a clutch of her hair and yanked hard, pulling her head up. He delivered a quick forehand slap to her cheek and then caught the other in a lightening backhand. Claire looked at him blankly, barely responding, like the shock of the blows had simply been swallowed whole into the pit of her longing for release. He slapped her again, and then once more. Finally, he saw the spark of recognition return, saw her becoming... present.

"Fuck it Sir!" She stared straight at him, defiant, still not wholly with him. "Please fuck it!"

Lester slapped her again. "Claire! Enough!" he roared. With a slight jerk, Claire came back fully, reclaimed her place in the room, her position, her composure.

"I'm sorry Sir. I... I, uh, I got lost just then. It's what..." Claire stammered, embarrassed. "It's uh, it's, it's what happens. I mean this is what happens when I uh, you know. I've talked about it. It's when I get uh, squirrelly, Sir. Squirrelly. I'm kinda not all "there" anymore. I guess its, uh, well, I've always kinda thought it must be... it must be what ...