Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 I do love getting mail from my readers.  Mostly it's adolescent boys who
enjoy my rude words and my abusive attitude to women.  THey tell me they've
been knocked back by the girl of their dream in the past and they'd love to
live in my world where "No" is not the end of the story.

   Given the subject-matter, it's really no surprise that very little of my
post-bag is from women, and most of that is of the "I hate you.  I hope you
get cancer, you twisted fuck" variety.  Actually these letters turn me on,
and I often end up wanking myself off with the paper, burning it after use.


   Sharon's letter was quite different.  She was obviously intelligent and
literate and loved the way I wrote.  She told me that she enjoyed imagining
being the victim of one of my fictional twisted kidnaps and it had become
her usual nighttime ritual to read one of my pieces in bed while frigging
herself frantically while imagining it was her having her human rights
abused.  Could she meet me for real ?  Please ?

   She had given me her email address, and I sent her an email beginning
"Dear Slut" which pointed out that my writing is intended for the pleasure
of men and that she had no business reading it.  I told her that under no
circumstances was she to climax again in this way without my express
permission.  If she wanted to learn more about me and my art, she should
give me her phone number and I would call if I felt charitable.

   Back came a long, well-written reply full of apology and gratitude. 
Very stimulating.  She signed off with her mobile phone number.

   It did cross my mind that this all could be a cruel hoax and "Sharon"
could be an ugly old man playing with my head.  Having her mobile number
reassured me on this count.

   I called her at 03:45 one morning.

   "Who is this ?!" - a tired and angry woman's voice.

   "Hello Sharon."

   "Gamla ?"

   "Yes Sharon."

   Our phone call lasted three hours.  She told me everything about herself
- masochism, addictions, desires.  At the end I definitely wanted to meet
her.  Such a warped and wonderful mind and I admit I was curious about the
body that went with it.

   We met at a cafe just across the road from my house.  She was
expensively dressed, confident and every bit as intelligent and fun as she
had seemed on the phone.  She said she'd love to be abused by me and that
wish seemed sincere.  I needed to make sure she understood a few things.

   "I don't believe in setting limits.  If I consent to take you, it will
be unconditional and in fact I have a legal document for you to sign
acknowledging this."

   "If there's something I do to you that you'd rather not repeat, then I
will take that on-board for the next time - if you want there to be a next
time."

   "But trust me - it will be amusing for me, and instructional for you, to
take things beyond the point where you would go yourself.  You understand,
Sharon ?"

   She nodded and signed the document.

   "Good.  I like silent compliance.  In fact, I insist that I don't hear a
word from you from now on tonight.  Ready to go ?"

   She smiled and nodded.  I led her across the road, hand in hand, to my
front door.  I took her straight down to my cellar and enjoyed slowly
stripping her of her clothing.

   Naked and shaking just a little, I tied her securely across a hurdle,
her ankles tied with leather straps to the base and her hands handcuffed
together and the connecting chain attached to her leg restraints.  The
overall effect was to have her forced onto tiptoes and bent over the
hurdle, almost to the point of falling over it, her arse thrust invitingly
in the air.

   I paused to enjoy the view for a moment, switched off the lights and
left the cellar.

   For six hours.

   When I came back she was angry : "Where the fuck have you been ?  Untie
me now"

   I smiled.

   "One second".

   I left the cellar again - this time only for ten minutes.

   I returned with a metal watering-can full of a boiling water.  Without
explanation, I slowly watered her backside, the scalding streams of water
blistering her rear and running in rivers of pain down the back of her
legs. She let out an almighty breathless yelp and called me a 'total
fucking cunt' before bawling with hysterical tears.

   When she had calmed down a little, I took my leather belt off and
started to lay down a set of painful stripes across her tenderised rear and
the backs of her thighs while softly giving her the following speech and
ignoring her highly satisfying distress:-

   "I expressly told you, Sharon, that there was to be no talking.  And you
signed away any rights to saying No to anything I felt like doing to you
tonight."

   "This is a not a game.  I am not your boyfriend.  You are not my equal -
you are my plaything."

   "I know you, Sharon.  I know that in your heart of hearts you have
craved this.  You've let bad men hurt you and fuck you before, but only
ever on your terms.  You've never truly submitted.  Never.  And I know why.

   "You have too much pride and this has to be taken from you.  I need to
break you so that I can build you into something wonderful."

   "Your previous so-called masters were stupid thugs, your submission was
wasted on them.  I am more than a match for you and together we can
experience like gods, way beyond the vanilla fluff that mere mortals call
'Life'."

   I stopped belting her bloodied thighs and put the belt down.  I
unfastened her from the hurdle and she fell to the floor, curling into the
foetal position, sobbing.

   "So, you have a choice, Sharon.  Join me in something wonderful, by
shutting the fuck up and wrapping your whore lips round your master's
cock."

   "Or ..."

   I paused for effect.

   "Or you get dressed and fuck off and spend the rest of your life
wondering what might have been."

   She looked up at me, her eyes full of pain and confusion.

   Then, slowly, she got up onto her knees and crawled towards me.  She
unzipped me and took my rock-hard cock in her mouth.

   I fully lost myself in her working of my cock for a moment and then,
while she continued, I started to plan the next stage of our journey.