Message-ID: <6222eli$9802191246@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: "Charles Thain" <okiquit@hotmail.com> Subject: Portland Ch. 3 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain 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: <19980219131159.1536.qmail@hotmail.com> My Weekend in Portland -- Chapter 3 of 30 (mf ff mff) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. Send comments to OKIquit@hotmail.com. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Forget that order," I said, as Ruth hesitated, I have another idea." "Yes, master," she said. I shook my head impatiently. "Don't call me master. That makes me feel like I'm in some stupid sitcom." Then I recalled the eagerly submissive way she acted toward her boss, invariably addressed as "Mr. Tucker." "Call me Mr. K-----," I said, substituting my last name for Tucker's, and she nodded. "Yes, Mr. K-----," she said. Taking Ruth by the hand, I sat her down in a wing chair by the fireplace and settled into a facing chair. Then, for more than an hour, I grilled her quietly but insistently about every detail of her sex life. She was intensely embarrassed through much of my interrogation, alternately blushing and turning pale as I extracted her most intimate secrets. Once I had to remind her she was my slave, so she was not entitled to withhold any secrets. Ruth tried to sit still, but sometimes squirmed in her chair, and her nipples were often erect. I learned her breasts and pubic hair began to appear when she was 10, and she started menstruating soon afterwards -- much to her baffled horror. Her family was one of those that didn't discuss sex. By 14, she was wearing C-cup bras and fending off groping hands from classmates, teachers and even her parent's friends. Ruth lost her virginity at summer camp when she was 15, to a counselor who dumped her while his load was still dripping down her legs. Unfortunately, she got pregnant from that brief encounter and her furious parents insisted on an abortion. They also severely restricted her contact with boys through high school. Away from home for college she had several brief relationships before connecting with a guy almost as repressed as she was. For two years their sex life consisted of him mauling her breasts and pussy through her clothes, while she jacked him off through his clothes. She was convinced they would get married after graduation, but he dumped her soon afterwards. Over the ensuing years, a series of relationships ended when the guys involved found they couldn't get to first base -- ever. One of those relationships ended in a date rape she had been too horrified to report to police. Horrified because she hated being forced, and enjoyed it at the same time. Much of the struggle, the ripping of clothes and squeaking of bedsprings, and her groans of pleasure, somehow got recorded on the answering machine by her bed. That tape was still one of her most prized, and despised, possessions. Ruth began to cry silently while telling me about the date rape. Most of her tears rolled down her cheeks, but an occasional droplet fell onto her full breasts. I loved the way her teardrops followed the curve of her tits. "I WANTED to make love with him!" she said of the rapist. "I really cared about him. I tried to go a little farther each time we had a date. He played with my breasts a lot. But whenever he tried to get inside my pants, I just froze. I panicked and made him stop. "At first he was understanding, but I could never explain why I couldn't go any further," Ruth said quietly. "He stopped calling and I got desperate. I called and told him I wanted to go all the way. He came over and we started making out on the couch. He opened my blouse and my bra, and that was okay. It was wonderful when he played with my nipples. He took off my pants, and that was fine. But when he tried to take off my panties, I panicked again and stopped him. "He just looked at me for a minute, then grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the bedroom. I tried to fight but he was too strong. He threw me on the bed, ripped off my panties, and forced himself inside me. I was so wet, it didn't even hurt. He came in a couple of minutes." "What then?" I prompted. "I was furious and I was humiliated," Ruth said. "I thought about calling the police. But I kept remembering how good it felt when he first pushed inside me, and the next time, and every time. After a couple of weeks had passed, it made no sense to call the police. "I waited and waited for him to call again," she said, "but he never did." Ruth's mysterious transfer from New York City to Portland resulted when her boss there became sexually obsessed with her. When he degenerated to the point of groping her breasts in meetings, she sued and won a considerable cash settlement along with a promotion and transfer to the West Coast. Her obsessed former boss had been "exiled" to a sales district in Florida where he spent most of his days golfing with clients. "Have you ever sucked your own nipples?" I asked, continuing my interrogation. "No." "Why not?" "I couldn't. That would be too nasty," Ruth said, blushing deeply. "Have you ever sucked a man's penis?" "No. Except ... " "Except what?" "The man who raped me made me suck his penis when he was finished." "Did you enjoy that?" "Yes ... no. I mean no." "Do you ever masturbate?" "Yes, sometimes." "How often?" "Once or twice a week. Whenever I can't stand it." "Can't stand what?" "Can't stand not touching my pussy." "Do you come when you're masturbating?" A pause, "No. Once." "Can't you make yourself come more often?" "I can't. It's too ..." "You just stop when you get close to coming?" "Yes." "What do you do then?" (End of Chapter 3) ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |