Message-ID: <11510eli$9805221923@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/11510.txt>
From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {Bombadil}JDR"Chosen B"( FF bd nc )[2/2]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6k3cf0$46l$1@sparky.wolfe.net>
JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this
text from your computer.
This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my
friends or relatives.
You've been warned.
Copyright (c) Tom Bombadil Nov 1996
I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.
********************************************************************
=====================
Chosen
Short Story # 7
by Tom Bombadil
via stbush@iglou.com
Section B:
Monday morning I dragged Belinda off into a conference room,
demanding to know what was going on. She revealed nothing, no
matter what I said or threatened her with. Finally, when I was
a little tired and had run down, she asked if she could spend
one night with me.
Needless to say, I was shocked, surprised, astounded, and very
suspicious. We agreed on Friday, and returned to work. I
checked into her old personnel files, wanting to know if my
memory was still working properly, if my suspicions were founded.
It was there, all right, but not quite as I remembered. Harold's
signature made it official though. Belinda had been granted two
months leave of absence, with pay, in lieu of. There was nothing
to indicate what it was in lieu of. I remembered it being two
months off, without pay, for rest and relaxation. The date was
about three years ago.
My next visit was with Harold. It didn't go quite as I expected.
"When were you chosen?" I asked, rather sharply. He stared at me
like I'd gone crazy.
"Me? Chosen? I'd almost think you were joking if you didn't look
so serious."
"Well? Were you? If not, how come you know all about it?" Things
made even less sense.
"Oh, I see the problem." He grinned, the same way he does whenever
he knows something nobody else does. He's got a lot of different
smiles. I knew most of them. "I can't be chosen. I'm the wrong
type. My wife was, fifteen years ago. That's how come I know about
it."
I just stared for a while.
"I'm the wrong type," he explained again, as though I hadn't
understood. I hadn't. "The wrong gender. A guy. You know, the
gorilla half of the race." I finally understood. Chosen was for
women only.
"No guys, ever?"
"My wife says no guys. None chosen, now or ever. It's a female
thing. I don't know anything else about it, so don't bother
asking."
I left again, hardly better off than when I'd gone in.
All that week Belinda kept me on edge, flirting with me, teasing,
sometimes touching, even stealing the odd kiss. I tried to stay
away from her as much as possible, but that was difficult. She was
my personal assistant, after all. By the time Friday rolled around
I was a raw bundle of nerves.
I showed up at her place promptly at seven, as we'd agreed, and I
was dressed in my club outfit, as we'd agreed. She met me at the
door in a skimpy red patent leather halter top and mini combo,
with bare stomach, bare legs, and bare feet. She looked hot - and
vulnerable.
Her place was nice - nicer than mine, and I make a good six-figure
salary. She certainly couldn't afford it on what we paid her. She
said nothing about the surroundings, and I didn't ask.
Dinner was delicious - A light salad, some sort of creamy seafood
pasta dish, and a decadent chocolate and raspberry torte. She
also served a light, crisp white wine with the meal. I had a
couple of glasses. All through dinner I couldn't help staring
at her. She was so - so open, so receptive, so eager to please.
Her leather outfit hid little, and by the time we had finished and
cleaned up, I suspected she wore nothing underneath.
We sat on the couch, in front of the fireplace, sipping our wine.
After a rather uncomfortable silence, she spoke. I listened for
a while without making any interruptions.
Her words were quiet, soft sounding, yet spoken firmly. She never
looked at me during her speech, but stared fixedly at the fire. It
was odd. "You shouldn't be here. Or rather, I shouldn't have let
you come. I couldn't help myself. I've waited for you for so long,
it hurts. Losing you, when you're so close, is something I don't
think I can live with. I can't tell you about what it's like to be
chosen, or describe it, or anything like that. It's not something
you can understand, not with words. I can only show you a tiny bit
of what being chosen means."
With that, she put down her wineglass and knelt in front of me,
hands in her lap, head and eyes down.
"For tonight and tomorrow, I'm yours. Completely and totally. No
reservations, no limits."
I stared. She'd stopped talking, and was simply waiting for me.
"What do you mean?"
"I am yours, mistress. Completely."
I'd played these types of games before with other women who
considered themselves submissives, who liked to act out slave
fantasies. I didn't exactly get into the domination bit, but
usually the fun afterwards made up for any lack of enjoyment on
my part. The same way I didn't particulary like playing a sub,
even though I had on occasion. Also, there were always rules and
limits and safewords and telephone calls and all kinds of other
safety nets. I wondered where Belinda's were. I decided to play
along for a while.
"All right, slave, what do you want to be called?"
"Belinda, mistress." That threw me a bit. Usually the person
wanted to be called slave, or slut, or bitch, or some other type
of derogatory name.
"What's your safeword?"
"I have none, mistress."
I argued about that with her, and she simply kept saying that she
would set no limit on what I could do. No limit. Her insistence
on that point made me nervous. I asked her again, how and where
she would draw the line. No limit, was her only answer. I decided
to truly test her.
"Put your hands behind your back." She did. "I'm going to do
something now that will be uncomfortable. Hold your position
as long as you can." I cupped her cheek with my hand, ran it along
her jaw to her neck, then slid around to the front until I had her
throat in a light grip. I squeezed - not too hard, but enough to
restrict blood flow. She simply took it, looking into my eyes. Her
face became flushed, then red, then darkened. Her lips turned
purple-blue and she started gasping. When her eyes began
fluttering, I let go. She was willing to let me kill her. That
scared me, right to the core of my being. No limits, she'd said.
Now I knew she meant exactly that. I waited for her to catch her
breath, and for her colour to return to normal.
"Belinda, what is this evening about?"
She looked like she knew what I meant. She wasn't dumb. Just
inscrutable.
"It's about you, and about me, and about being chosen. What it's
like, in a small way. Tonight is us. It's something we'll never
have again until you return. Tonight, I am yours, Mistress."
That's as close as I have ever come to running away from someone.
Scared didn't do justice to how I felt. But yet, there was a deep
down secret thrill, knowing that this woman, kneeling before me,
had given herself to me, absolutely and completely. That feeling
rushed through my body like a drug, leaving me giddy and unsteady.
After a few sips of wine, some deep breathing, and several long
minutes, I was back in control. She was still there, still
kneeling, head down, waiting for me. I had the feeling that
without orders, she'd kneel there until our time was up. That
feeling changed to certainty as I looked at her. To Belinda, it
was no game, no pretension. Fear and exhilaration fought for
dominance deep in my guts.
"Well, Belinda, what do I do with you now?"
"Anything you wish, Mistress." I sat and thought for a moment.
"What do you want to do?"
"Make you happy, Mistress." That didn't help. I needed something
more direct, something more forceful, to find out what she was
expecting from the experience. I knew there had to be more for her
than me fulfilling the usual fantasies of having a naked slave
licking me to orgasm all night long (I'd had that once before, and
always got damp when I remembered the experience. What a wonderful
time that was!).
"Belinda, I'm going to ask you some questions. I'm ordering you to
answer them openly and truthfully. I don't want the usual drivel
about 'pleasing your mistress'. First, why did you want me to come
tonight?"
She shivered slightly, even though she was still dressed, and the
fireplace was nearby.
"I want you to want me." She looked like she was going to continue,
then stopped.
"Remember, I ordered you to answer. I expect complete answers.
Now continue."
She started, then stopped, then started, then stopped, then finally
spoke. "I'm trying to convince you to go so we can be together
afterwards, Mistress."
That much I expected. "Why?"
She was a long time in answering, and when she did, I had to strain
to hear her. "Because I love you, Mistress."
I sat there with my jaw hanging open again. I had to go for
a short walk, out to the kitchen and back, before I could gather
together my wild thoughts.
"How long?" There was no need to finish the question. She'd know.
"Four years, Mistress." Ever since she'd first started working for
me. If I'd known! All those lonely nights, the lost weekends,
the endless boring dates, wading through the weirds and wackys
trying to find someone nice, someone to share my life with, and
having no luck whatsoever. Now Belinda was there, right in front
of me. I didn't know anymore if she was strange or not, but I had
worked with her for four years. I thought she was a regular person.
She was intelligent, witty, a lot of fun, and built just the way
I liked. If there was any way to design my perfect partner, she
would have been my model. Now she was my willing, and loving,
slave. The situation simply boggled my mind.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
Her voice was low and pained. "Before, I was too shy. After I was
chosen, I couldn't. You weren't allowed. Only now, if you go, can
I be with you. Mistress."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you, Mistress. That's part of being chosen. I can
only give you this time, now, to show you what it's like, and what
you mean to me. I want to make you happy, to satisfy you in any
way you want. I am yours."
Well, that was enough for me. I am, after all, only human.
"Stand up and strip." As I'd thought, one string two buttons and
one zipper later she was naked. She was beautiful. Full breasts,
small, pink, very hard nipples, chest neatly tucking in to a slender
waist which then flared out to a full set of hips, and firm thighs
that neatly tapered down to beautiful calves, slender ankles, and
perfect feet. Central to all was a flat, firm stomach and a neat,
carefully trimmed bush. Beautiful.
I motioned her over to me and she came. I explored her body
completely with my eyes and hands. She sighed, she whimpered, she
moaned, but never did she do anything to hinder or stop me. I even
brought her off twice, sliding fingers into her vagina and rectum
while rubbing her clit. She seemed to love it.
Then I had her undress me. I was steaming by the time I was naked,
since she used her lips on every inch of skin as it was exposed.
Everything she touched tingled. I couldn't resist. I had her give
me a tongue bath. By the time she was finished, I was whimpering
with my need to cum. When I finally made her play with my pussy,
I came, and came, and came like crazy.
My last order was simple. "Pleasure me. Pleasure me all night.
Pleasure me until I can't take any more." She did. She taught
me things about my body, ways of giving and receiving pleasure, that
I'd never dreamed of. It was around three in the morning when I
collapsed for the last time. Nothing she did after that could get
me going again. Nothing. She was still sucking on my breast and
sliding a finger in and out of my hole as I fell asleep.
I woke up to the very pleasant sensation of being eaten for
breakfast. After I finally peaked and came down again, I smelled
breakfast. Belinda had been up and cooking before I even woke up.
While I had my breakfast - toast, ham, eggs, fruit, and juice - she
had hers - me again. I had two more wonderful orgasms before she
finished.
She pampered me in the shower, she pampered me after the shower.
She gave me an hour-long massage. After my nap, we kissed and
cuddled. Her body pressed up against mine felt so good - so soft,
so sensual, so warm, and so responsive. I treated her to dinner.
Only by giving her a direct order would she act normally in public.
I stayed the night again, despite the fact that her time of
submission was over. It seemed that her self-imposed limit came
and went without notice, as that second morning went nearly the same
as the first.
When I left for home that evening, I was more completely satiated
than I had ever been before in my life.
I think I said before that I'd never really enjoyed having a
submissive as a partner. Belinda was different. She brought out
something in me that I'd never felt before. Telling her to do
things, her following my orders, felt right. It felt natural.
Maybe it was because of the obvious pleasure she showed at obeying
commands. Maybe it was because of the way her eyes glowed whenever
she looked at me. Or maybe it was the way she whispered "I love
you" when she thought I was still asleep. Whatever. Her ability
to pleasure me certainly must have had something to do with my
decision. I just knew at that point in my life I wanted her more
than anything else in the world. I didn't care if the chosen
business was a practical joke or not. If it meant possibly being
with Belinda permanently, I was going to give it a try. I'd join
that club or whatever it was.
A week later I was standing in a rather nondescript office in a
rather nondescript part of town. The receptionist looked rather
nondescript too, as did everything else.
"Can I help you?" She even had that higher than normal
rather nasally voice most people find very irritating.
"Er, ah, I hope so. You see, I've been, ah, chosen?" Nervousness.
I felt like a complete fool, like an idiot. But memories of that
weekend at Belinda's made me come. I had no choice, since I'd
tasted heaven and wanted more.
"Name, please?"
"Virginia Eventide."
"Identification, please?" Weird, but okay. I showed her my
drivers licence.
"Very good thank you. You're right on time. I'll take your
purse. Don't worry, you'll get it back later. Nobody will play
with it while you're busy. Now follow me."
Feeling naked without my purse, combined with the other thoughts
and emotions I was feeling, almost made me bolt. Remembering
Belinda, I forced myself to calm down and continue. She opened a
door for me, motioned me through, and closed it behind me. That's
when I noticed there was no handle on the other side. In fact,
there was no obvious exit from that room. The door I came through
had closed flush to the wall, and didn't open when pushed. Neither
did any of the other possible doors.
A voice, not the secretary's, but still female, came on over some
sort of hidden speaker system.
"Congratulations Ms. Eventide. You've been chosen, and you've
accepted. Please step through the door now opening to your left."
I tried to ask a question, but the voice said to be silent and do
as I was told. So I ended up in a smallish locker room.
"Please remove all your clothing and jewellery. Everything. Place
them on the hooks and shelves provided. They will be returned to
you afterwards." I did as I was told, feeling like an idiot. I
didn't seem to have much choice, since I was sealed in. Besides,
I had decided to go along, hadn't I. If it turned out to be some
sort of tasteless joke or whatever, I knew I'd make someone suffer
badly.
I was instructed to return to the other room, and watched rather
nervously as the door leading to my clothes sealed shut. Another
door opened and I was told to relieve myself, as I was not going
to have that luxury for a while. I did. When I was back in the
central room, that door slid shut and another one opened. It lead
to another small room. That room turned out to be a short hallway,
since yet another door opened at the far end.
Half a dozen women, obviously waiting for me, stood in the next
room. I balked at being cuffed, but was soon 'persuaded' to accept
the restraints. They overpowered me, and a woman with a crop laced
me a couple of times to "teach me to behave". Her words. After
that came the ankle hobbles, the collar, and the gag. I was lead
off through another room full of busy office workers, both men and
women, all dressed. I was mortified, but none of them gave me more
than a cursory glance.
We passed through there into what looked like a storage area where
I was tied to a curious chair. It was narrow, with a high back and
adjustable arms. They tied down my legs, removed the handcuffs and
secured my arms, tied down my thighs and my waist, then tied in my
upper chest and secured my head. That's when they dragged me, and
the chair of course, to the other side of the room.
Panic set in when it became obvious they were going to seal me in
a wooden crate, but by then it was far too late. In I went and
was prepared for shipping. Heavy padding lined the box on both
sides of me, further restricting my movements. They bolted the
chair to the crate's bottom, then used ropes to secure me and the
chair to both the front and the back. The padded lid was hammered
into place, and I was off.
Regardless of my fears, the trip ended up being quite boring.
Despite heavy handling, the secure tie down job and the padding
kept me from being roughed up. I do know I ended up on a plane,
because the turbulence almost made me ill. Doing that behind a
gag, I knew, would have been trouble, so I fought it off. My crate
must have been in the cargo area because it got damned cold. Being
nude didn't help matters. The flight lasted a long time.
After landing, there was more handling and moving, then the faint
murmur of voices. When I heard someone opening my crate, I was very
much relieved. Finally, I thought, I would be freed. The chair I
was tied to was unfastened from the crate, then it and I were lifted
out and set on the floor - or rather the concrete. I was outside,
totally nude, in the middle of an airport. There were several large
planes, DC 10's, I think, and quite a number of smaller jets and
prop jobs. Because the sun was directly overhead, I figured that
I had to be somewhere in the tropics. The stifling heat and
humidity made that almost a certainty. I couldn't see anything
other than buildings, planes, and a distant line of green, so there
was no way to visually confirm my guess. Somewhere behind me I
heard a voice I recognized.
My chair, with me in it, was turned 180 degrees. Directly in front
of me, tied up in a similar chair, was my mother! And standing
behind her in a nice pant suit was Anna! Behind them, another dozen
women, of all ages, shapes, and looks, were also bound to chairs,
and other women were hovering over them. Then came my biggest
surprise. Belinda walked up to me. She was dressed in a rather
aggressive looking black leather outfit. Bound and gagged as I was,
I could only stare.
"Perfect! You're here! Oh, we're going to have so much fun
together, you and I. But darling, you look so confused and
upset. What's the matter?" She walked up to me, looking me square
in the eye. "Oh, I know, you don't understand, do you? Well, let
me explain. You were chosen. By me. Just as I was chosen by
someone else three years ago. That someone else passed away not
too long ago, but promoted me to being a free member before she
died. With my new status came the privilege of being able to
choose. All I had to do was convince you to take the first step.
And I did."
She looked really smug, staring at me like that. I glowered back,
feeling completely confused and quite upset.
"Oh, now you're angry. You think I lied to you or something. As
a matter of fact, I didn't. I do love you. But I want you to be
mine, to be completely devoted to me and nobody else. I showed you
what it would be like that weekend in my place. You just didn't ask
which role you would be playing. Now you know. In two months
you'll be mine. I can hardly wait to get you home and between the
sheets!"
"You're wondering why your mother is here too, I bet. She was
given to Anna by her last mistress. The woman wasn't happy with
your mother's dedication. Well, we asked about the phone call you
made, of course, and she told us everything, just like she's trained
to. Now she's here for some disciplining. You see, she wasn't
supposed to warn you about anything. It was supposed to be your own
honest choice. Not that it matters now."
She was stroking my hair, caressing me, and fondling my breasts
the whole time she was speaking. Just before leaving, she leaned
over and kissed me on the forehead. She repeated what she'd
whispered back in the office, adding in a line that sent further
shivers down my back.
"I've been waiting four years for you, my love. Now you are my own
chosen one." Her touch thrilled and excited me. Her laugh chilled
me to the bone.
<Fin>
=====================
Chosen
Short Story # 7
by Tom Bombadil
-30-
--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>