I was only 9 years old when grandma told me of the Wolf. A mystical creature, the Wolf is half human and can take either form. Some kind of magic at play, or maybe it's just a tale.

Stories granny's tell the grandchildren to keep them out of trouble. Except usually stories like that don't contain talk of the promise that was made for me.

When I reached the age of 14, the Wolf had saved me. I didn't know what from, I still don't understand what danger I was in. Perhaps it was out of my sight. Monsters ofter lurk in the shadows, where they're much harder to be seen.

Grandma had told me of how the Wolf saved me from this awful danger, and my family were so grateful that the terrible fate had been stopped. The Wolf had made a promise.

A promise to keep me from all danger, no matter what it may be. He was my dark protector, hidden within the veil of shadows. I had never seen him. He kept his presence invisible to me. Keeping himself out of sight. So the promise was made.

And of course he'd of wanted something in return. I thought long and hard about what it could be.

Obviously the answer is not as hard as it seemed to come to. Me. Not only me, but also my virginity. He wanted me from the time he saw me walking through the woods to grandma's. I was 15 years old.

He would wait, he had said. Until she is of age. He kept away potential suitors.

Any men that held interest were persuaded to lose it. They always listened to his words. Because if they didn't, there bodies would be found in the woods. Ripped apart by a wild animal.

Who would of known a beast like that could want something so much, that he'd go through all if this to be sure he gets it. It's been an awful long time.

The Cape was made for me. A vivid blood red, it sweeps the floor as I walk and I can't help that feel it's symbolic. The path of blood I leave in my wake, because of the admirer I have gained.

I am an awful person. An awful, awful person. Because I love that somebody is willing to cause this destruction over me. He will literally kill for me.

And the darker, secret side of me loves that. It's an obsessive behaviour that I look forward to meeting. But I'm also terribly frightened. At least the wolf has waited. He has promised to wait until I am of age. That is a kindness that is owed to me. I deserve to be of age. To Understand what is happening and exactly why.

I already have the bread rolls and cakes ready. I collect my Cape and tie the silken ribbon at my throat before picking up the basket and leaving the house.

Grandma is getting much older now, and I like her to know I'm there for her. So a trip through the woods it is.

They have been telling me to take the longer route recently. To not walk through the woods. I never took the long way. Although I fib, and say I have done so each time I'm asked. Something pulls me to the woods. I'm drawn towards them like a moth to a flame.

Maybe, I subconsciously want to see the wolf.

Maybe I have a taste for danger that I just don't understand.

I like the way my heart rate spikes. It beats so quickly, that my breath becomes fast and heavy. And the feel of the branches beneath my thin boots excites me in a strange and unusual way. Maybe, that's because I know I shouldn't be here. Am I a rebel? I don't think I am.

But something, some how, stops my fear toward him. I'm towards the middle of the woods when I notice it.

The noise. The branches and twigs snap beneath my feet. That is quite normal.

What isn't, is the other branches snapping. In time with my own steps, but further away. I stop, just to test my theory. "Snap..." A half second after mine.

"Red?" the nickname, given to me for the cloak is called. I turn slowly, a nervous excitement bubbling inside of me. Ginger hair on the tall thin body walks towards me.

Oh my! It's Juilius. I slump my shoulders. And breathe in the air. Was that in relief? Or disappointment? I'm unsure.

"Red. It is you. What are you doing in the woods so early in the morning? While it's so dark too."

The family friend gets closer, and I briefly wonder what he is also doing in the woods.

"I'm off to grandma's Juilius. Just dropping off some baked goods." I smile and begin to make my way again when his hand is suddenly wrapped around my wrist.

"Where are you going Red? You're a big girl now. All woman. Why do you act as if none of us are good enough for you?"

His grip tightens and he pulls my body against his. All of my being shouts out at this disrespect. I don't belong to him. I open my mouth to answer when another speaks for me.

"Because none of you are good enough." I look around to find the deep rough voice. I can't see him anywhere. Juilius pushes me against the hard trunk of the tree, grabs my throat and tugs at my cloak.

Why isn't he running.

"Tell him, Red. Tell him to run."

"Run!" I whisper.

He looks at me in confusion and I'm so ashamed of myself. I begin to feel the thrill. The darkness calls to me.

"Run... Before the big bad Wolf gets you." I smile. And I realise just how crazy I must sound. But the excitement builds in me.

His hand flies out and hits my head. I'm thrown to the floor, and he's on top of me before I can move.

He's bigger and stronger than me. Plus he has a huge advantage as he has me on my stomach, I can't fight back as he drags the rough material of my skirt up my bare legs.

He has many advantages.

But I have a wolf.

And as that thought crosses my mind, Juilius is ripped off of me. An almighty roar shoots through the darkened woods and Juilius' pitiful scream follows.

I quickly flip onto my back and scramble to my feet, I watch as the large beast blurs across my vision. He's so fast.

I watch as Juilius is dragged across the ground. His screams echo through the empty woods and the excitement comes crawling back through my veins. Something must be wrong with me.

I look by feet to see my red cloak. It stands against the dark ground like a puddle of blood. I raise my head to see Juilius slumped against the tree. His body has been ripped apart. Why am I not frightened? Nor disturbed at the image before me.

The grey Wolf can just be sewn through the many trees. And I catch glimpses as the animal shakes and painful grunts and moans come from him.

Then he's gone.

In his place is a man. I have to wait until he appears from the curtains of leaves and wood to see him properly. He shows himself.

All of himself.

His hair is black. Pitch black. And his olive tanned skin, just makes the sapphire blue of his eyes stand out more. As he stalks toward me, I can do nothing but examine his body.

The way his muscles look as if they've been carved from stone, make my mouth dry. Only steps away from me now, I let my eyes fall. His cock stands proud. He's erect. Hard and so big. Is it because he is part animal?

"Why would you think that Red? Should I treat you like an animal." he speaks, almost against my skin.

His body about to touch my own.

He takes another step, and I step back. Pushing myself against the tree in this adrenaline pumping dance. He takes a step too close and I have nowhere to go. His body is pushed into mine, and his forearms rest on the old wooden bark either side of my head. Pushing his face into the arch of my neck, he inhales.

It's like he's tasting my soul, and I can do nothing but gasp. I wait for him to do what he will.

His tongue flicks out to taste the saltiness of my cold clammy skin. His hands fall down my body, Before they work their way up again. Only this time, he pushes against my clothed body as they do. Up and over my thighs, he squeezes my waist just a little too hard when he pushes his hardness against my most private area.

I moan. Oh my lord. I have just moaned in sexual frustration at the animal man that will probably rip me apart. He'll tear me limb from limb. But I stand here, waiting for the violence.

How is it that I want to be violated by him? I want him to pleasure me, and use my body in the harshest of ways. His large hands grab my tits, in a harsh, tight grip and he squeezes as he sinks his teeth into the lobe of my ear.

I want to beg him. Beg him to devour me, hurt me, use me, please me. Fuck me. Fuck me until I can no longer breathe without his scent.

He hears my thoughts. His response proves it. And the words breathed against my ear almost break me.

"21 is such a delicious number. I'll do all of that my little Red. Happy birthday!"

PART 2

"Happy Birthday." I open my mouth to thank the Wolf and ask his name but the words never come.

As soon as my mouth opens, his lips crash against mine. His tongue slides against my teeth before he sucks my tongue into his mouth and bites down gently.

His harsh grip in my hair intensifies, and his hard thick cock presses harder against me. My breath comes faster, and I rock my own hips against his.

He snaps his mouth from me with a deep growl. "Stop!"

He slams his hand against my throat and his long fingers circle my neck. Is he proving a point? Showing he means what he says. He wants me to stop.

I see the sparkle of danger glint in his blue eyes and I know I should stop. But I can taste the darkness on my tongue. I'm excited for it. And as he applies more pressure to my bare throat, I move my hips into him.

The moans exit my mouth and I feel like begging. Shouting and screaming.

Why is he being so slow? I need more. And I need it now.

He knows. He rips his body away from mine, and with a grunt he grips my waist and flings me over his shoulder like some rag doll.

The leaves and twigs blur beneath me, as we fly through the woods. The dizziness comes to me fast, and quicker than I know possible, we're inside a small wooden cabin. The smell of sandlewood lingers in the air, and before I can get my breath back and steady myself he throws me onto his sofa, face forward.

I don't have time to change my position or catch my breath before he is upon me. The sounds of my clothing ripping becomes an aphrodisiac.

I can't help but feel vulnerable at the danger before me, and I can't help the race of my heartbeat and the quickening of my breath.

The Wolf finally has me naked, and it's then that his hands really begin to explore. He pushes his rock hard dick against my backside, and leans his body into mine. I'm squashed against the backrest of the furniture and I have nowhere to go, as his hand circles my throat and tightens while his other grabs onto my tit and gropes in hard violent squeezes.

"Red. You're so fucking perfect. I need to sully you. Dirty your clean, pure body and make it just as Filthy as your dark mind. You were made for me. I'll show you."

His left hand travels lower, whilst his right stays at my throat, keeping me in place. He comes to my waist, circling my stomach right to my pubic bone.

I'm already so wet and his words of ruining me do nothing but excite me more.

"Ahh. Yes Mr Wolf. But do you think I'm ready for you? I've had no experience. I'm still so innocent. I may not be as bad as you believe."

He moves his hand to my thigh, and squeezes my soft flesh before I feel him pushing at my forbidden hole. My backside aches and quivers.

"I want your Innocence Red. I want to taste it on my tongue as I devour you. You crave the darkness as I crave to give it to you. Your soul belongs to me."

He slides his middle finger into me, but doesn't move it while he continues to push against my backside. I feel the first stretch of my hole as a portion of his tip pushes into me. Fuck. He's too big he'll rip me apart.

The thought should scare me. Make me want to run. But I'm still here. Still keeping the position he holds me in.

"You crave the pain just as much as you crave the pleasure. If not More, Red."

Yes. He slides his finger away and trails my own juices up my body, back to my breast. He gropes the whole globe tight enough, to make me flinch. A gasp escapes me just as his next sentence peirces through my fogged up mind.

"Don't worry, you sweet little thing. I won't hold back." Then he slams forward, while grasping my tit harder. I cry out, as his huge cock fills my Virgin arse. Pain tears through me and as he pounds himself into me, squeezing hard enough to bruise, The pain stays but calms.

The pain circles my lower body as pleasure begins to seep in. Like wine bleeding into a carpet, the pleasure slowly creeps through the pain.

My tears begin to dry on my cheeks and my cries turn to moans.

He slams into me again, and again. Each thrust, pushes me against the backrest of the sofa. I have no room for movement and I can't push back properly.

I need more.

As soon as the thought scatters across my mind, he stops, and pulls out of me. He lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist before walking with me. His hard dick brushes against my clit with each step and it takes everything I have to not cry for more. We make it to the bathroom.

There's a bathtub, toilet, shower cubicle and sink. And with no warning he releases me, spins me around, and leans me over the bathtub.

The edge of the porcelain digs into my lower stomach and he grabs my hair in his fist, arching my neck, forcing me to twist and look at him behind me.

"You're a bad, bad girl Red. You want me to do all these bad things to you. You want to feel things others are scared of. Are you really ready for me to unleash everything you've dreamed of on you?"

My pussy clenches at the sound of his voice. I would deny the thoughts. Tell him I don't want him to fill me with pain and pleasure. But what's the point? He already knows...

"Yes. Yes I'm ready." He arches my back, pulling my head against his chest, and clips some kind of weighted pegs onto my nipples. It feels like they're being pinched and slightly pulled, and I love it. He shoves me forward again, releasing my hair.

My scalp aches, and my nipples feel like somebody is pulling them downward, into the bathtub. He turns the tap on the bath and the clear water soon begins to fill. I stare down at the water, and the thought crosses my mind that I don't even know his name.

That's when the first lash strikes. He slams the leather strip against my backside and I cry out. The pain spreads in a red hot heat across my arse cheeks, thighs and stomach.

"That's right Red. I'm gonna make you fucking feel. Scream for me." He whips again. Only an inch lower this time and my juices spread so fast. I love how he's making me feel, the pain only makes my pleasure climb harder and before I even realise what's happening he brings the strip down again and again.

I feel so excited that I want to pull my hand down and sink a finger into the pool of juices inside of me while he continues to abuse my backside.

It's still not enough. He stops belting me with the strip, and leans his body over mine. He grips my wrists and stretches them a far as I can reach against the bathtubs edge.

"Hold them there Red. Don't fucking let go, or I will hurt you in a way you don't want." I nod my head in agreement, and as I watch the water slowly filling the tub, he spreads my legs wide.

I am basically on my knees starfished over the bath and the uncomfortable position only serves to excite me further. He slams his dick into my arse again, and I cry out, clenching around him.

I want him in my pussy so bad. He feels even bigger like this. The position doesn't allow for as much stretching as before. So when he roughly thrusts again, I feel everything. Every tiny bump as he pushes his huge dick into my tight forbidden hole.

It hurts.

But it hurts so good.

He thrusts again. He's keeping his pounding to a minimum, but is sure to make them powerful. Strong. Hard.

When he pulls out again, he doesn't push in right away. I feel a hot pinching on the inside of my thigh. Right by my pussy. It burns and spreads, heading straight to my soaking cunt. I feel so close.

He thrusts again, harder. Then grabbing me by the throat, he pulls me back onto him, and squeezes my tit in a harsh tight grip, pushing the peg into me.

My hands keep in there place and my body is as stretched out as possible with his huge cock buried in my arse, when he brings the small metal object to my soft supple flesh.

He drags it against the underside of my breast, and slams his dick into me again. The blade feels good. It burns in a way that spreads and adds to the aching pleasure residing in me.

The drop of red falls against the almost blue of the water and spreads before disappearing. It's beautiful.

When the burning pain leaves, it tingles like my most sensitive nerve is being stroked.

He lowers his hand and this time, the blade scratches against my lower stomach. He releases my throat and quickly begins to rub against my swollen clit. Squeezing it between two long fingers.

My orgasm begins to build and I watch as the droplet of blood trickles down my stomach to my pussy. I watch as it slips into my juices and is soon is rubbed against my clit by his fingers.

Fuck. He doesn't just want my Innocence.

He wants my everything.

My body.

My blood.

My god damn soul.

And as he begins to fuck my arse and rub my clit harder, I realise. He can have it. He can have my everything. He slams me against the bathtub again. Only this time, he's no longer giving me slow, hard thrusts.

He fucks my arse like the animal he is. He pounds into me again and again. My moans come loud and long.

I cry out as the pain begins to blend with the pleasure. The water has almost filled the tub and I'm mesmerised by my reflection. I can see him fucking me.

Hard, rough and so fucking deep, that it pushes me over the edge. I come. I explode as he continues to fuck me. He tastes my Innocence as he finally gets what he was promised. Me.

And I never want to leave if being his promised Virgin feels like this.

He growls out against my orgasm and pulls out of my arse before lining himself up against my virgin pussy.

"You can feel this Red. It feels good. Get ready to feel this baby."

Then he slams into me. I scream out at the huge intrusion but I welcome the pain. He doesn't wait for me to adjust but pounds into me over and over again.

He shows no Mercy and as the water reaches the pegs on my nipples, he reaches down and yanks them off.

A tremor runs through me and I cry out as another orgasm runs through me. My nipples burn and tingle. Their sensitivity heightened from the pegs.

They're swollen and as he fucks my pussy harder, and faster the water touches me.

Icy cold liquid spreads against my hot sensitive nipples and I want to pull away. It's too much. How can there be too much pleasure?

I don't. I let the ice burn. I let it freeze. Hurt, and please. And then I come. Yet again, he fucks me through each orgasm like I'm nothing but a doll.

I love it.

The water, now covering almost my full tits sting the cuts there. The cut by my stomach aches as each orgasm rocks through me, and the cuts on my backside, stings in the best, most pleasing way. Each thrust forces the scratch to be awakened.

He pulls his hand back to my clit, and begins to squeeze and pinch. My orgasm is close but as he applies more pressure to my clit while fucking my pussy faster, my orgasm changes direction.

It builds so much more, and instead of shooting upwards it climbs around my body. Each mark he's left against my flesh burns as the feeling crawls along me. The water overflows the edge of the tub and he ignores it. He continues to torture me with his ongoing pleasure.

I can't handle it anymore. It's too much. I writhe and squirm and jerk, my hands slip and my face touches the water. He saves me. With a grip in my hair, he stops my face from submerging.

But he punishes me for my fault.

He fucks me hard enough to bruise, pulls me against his chest and slides his hand to my arse.

First he uses one finger, and pumps into me. The feeling builds, then he adds another. The feeling builds more. I fight it. It's too intense. I won't make it. He adds another. My arse is stretched so much that I don't how much of his fist is inside of me.

He doesn't loosen up but fucks me hard and fast. Pumping into me like I'm his favourite sex toy, he begins to use his hand too.

Both holes being abused at once, as well as my clit has my crying. The tears fall down my face at the harsh torment. I know I don't really want him to stop, but still I beg.

"Please. Stop. Please. Ahh, fuck."

He knows too, and he speeds up only a fraction when something breaks inside of me. Like elastic snapping. I break.

My orgasm doesn't only fall but it explodes. My juices squirt up high and my body is suddenly drained of everything.

He takes both of his hands away, and wraps his arms around my body. He's taken my soul.

But he hasn't finished. He fucks me still. But he let's loose. He pounds me like he has no control. He holds my body against him and turning my face he crashes his mouth against mine.

He steals my breath as I steal his roar.

I taste him in my mouth. And he finally finds his release. Growling out, he holds me tight. Crushing me against him. I come with him. Another explosion shuddering through my body. I can't handle anything.

My whole body is so sensitive and beaten that I can't even move. He lifts me gently. After giving me everything I needed, he gave me what I wanted.

He kissed me gently and moved my hair from my face before lying me in the bed beside him. I wondered if he turned the water off.

He pulls my back against him, and holds me. His cock already hardening against my abused body. "I will never let you go Red." I smile as sleep claims me. I already know.

This is different...

I've come to this work to interview him and rather take notes on his lifestyle and hobbies, he's asked me to write the peice now as we speak. So this is different, but I rather like it and I'm being rewarded handsomely.

Daniel DiLokes is a very handsome man. His dark hair is swept back from his face and I can see the beginning of a black tribal tattoo at his throat, unfortunately I cannot see more of his body as his navy suit and silver, blue tie conceal this. I can tell he's well built and his coal eyes are the kind that make you want his anger.

I'm on my best behavior.



We sit at the large wooden table in his board room and the naked girl riding her dildo across from me begs for his attention. She bounces up and down fast and hard, a gag in her mouth stops any words from being released and the collar around her throat is made of large, heavy metal.

"So Mr DiLokes, how many sluts do you have and how long have you lived this kind of lifestyle?"

His smirk makes my tummy tingle and I want to watch him fuck the shit out of his brat across this table while I watch and pinch my nipples. I know you want that too. Otherwise you wouldn't be here reading this.

"I have seventeen Ms Haze. Four of which are male. This slut over here is my newest to the collection. She's currently being punished as she doesn't seem to be able to understand English. You see, when I told her she wasn't allowed to come, She exploded all over my cock. So now I must teach her that I mean what I say and there are consequences to her actions. I've been enjoying this lifestyle for 9 years. I'm very well versed."

His dark voice puts pictures of bad things in my head and I can see why there's such a draw to him. He slightly spreads his legs, and rests his elbows on his knees before leaning towards me.

"You are certainly very interesting yourself Ms Haze. I'd love to see how you look naked on your knees."

Believe it or not, I'm used to this and although I'd love to see him naked and wanking, this doesn't Sway me.

"And unfortunately for you Mr DiLokes, that won't happen. Just like I'd love to see you stripped and restrained before all seventeen of your bitches fuck you and piss on your face. I suppose that wouldn't happen either."

He stops his smouldering and actually smiles. It's a real smile. And it's nice to watch.

Slut suddenly starts to moan and whimper through her gag, and as I turn to look at her she shudders and slumps. She quite obviously just had an orgasm and I wait to see what Daniel will do.

He smiles like he just won a game and exposes the silver remote that was placed beneath a folder file.

"I never told you to stop slut! Keep at it." He points the remote to her and suddenly a light on her collar flashes blue as she squeals, jerks and continues to ride the toy. He's just shocked her.

"All sluts like to be put in their place." He tells me. "Some sluts like to be good and get their rewards, some love their punishments. Some need them. This little slut is so very desperate for me, that she'll do anything. But she doesn't know what anything entails yet. She's a brat. An attention whore and she needs to learn that she'll never have my full attention."

I agree that this girl is obviously desperate for him. She is definitely a seeker. If she wasn't gagged right now, she'd be calling him daddy and master. Telling him how wet she is and that she needs his cock. It's the type of slut she is. And I agree with his way of punishment. He basically ignores her while we speak. The occasional shock, and scalding is all she gets.

We continue to talk about how he got into the business of bdsm and what dungeons he frequents. Apparently he will also be going to DD party and he has to choose only two of his sluts to go with him. His head slut goes by the name of Charli and she is basically his second in command when he isn't around.

If he's available, she's his toy as always. But when he's not available, she can do as she wishes with the other slaves. Usually training of some sort. She seems great, and definitely more of a switch than a submissive.

"Stop looking at me!" He snaps out at the slut. I catch her puppy dog eyes before she points her eyes to the table, but she's cheeky and gets one more sneaky glance before averting her eyes entirely.



He obviously saw it. He's not stupid. I bet you perverted people hope she's going to be punished for her hiccup don't you? Wanna watch her being ragged across that table before she's tied down and screwed by numerous men?

He holds out his hand to her like a gentleman, and helps her up onto the table. Then he moves the red hair from her face, and gently removes the ball gag.

At this point I'm getting annoyed, i hope there's an ulterior motive because I'm now bored. I kinda want him to just slap her out of the blue and tell her she's disgusting... Like I probably would to you.

She grinds against his hand as he spreads her legs, and he smirks at her. "Seems like you've not had enough, slut!" Then he reaches beneath the table and pulls out a magnificent toy.

This toy is going to force her to come again and again. It's basically a vibrating seat with both vaginal and anal dildos. He slides the toy beneath her and slips both dildos into her holes. She begins to move and he holds his finger up to her face. "Wait!"

She does so quickly and smiles. She thinks she's done with her punishment.

Mr DiLokes secures both legs to the desk using rope and now she can't get away. He uses a bondage sleeve to keep her arms behind her back, Then he pulls out the hood, and places it over her head. The hood is back and boring, shining with zips to allow her eyes, nose or mouth freedom. He leaves the nose open, but only slightly, enough to allow her to breathe.

Then he turns on the toy. Her moans come fast and within 60 seconds, the slut has had an orgasm. With both her cunt and her arse being thrust into, her orgasms come quick. The seat as a whole vibrates so that her clit is constantly being stimulated. I'm quite happy now.

DiLokes could easily turn his head and lick her tits she was that close, but he completely blanked her. She must hate this. But there she goes, coming again like the greedy little bitch she is.

DiLokes presses a button on his telephone machine and speaks into it quickly.

"Send them in."

Within seconds, two men enter the room and kneel by their masters feet.

They wear nothing other than their collars and keep their heads to the ground, awaiting their masters orders.

"Mark the bitch now. He tells them." And that's all they needed. As the slut on the table continues to orgasm at a high speed, her hood hides who's climbing onto the desk with her.

Both men get on their knees on the desk, one pushes the girl away and kneels in front of her, the other gets behind her. They begin to wank their dicks at the exact same time and the girls writhing body occasionally brushes against them.

"You have 20 seconds." DiLokes snaps out and the boys suddenly speed up. Fisting their dicks like there's no tomorrow.

We continue to speak about upcoming events and leave the show as though it's television playing in the background.

At exactly 20 seconds in, they cum. One spraying the girls tits and stomach, letting it drip down to her shaven cunt and onto the toy. The squirts up her back. It also drips down across her arse and smothers the toy.

And that concluded the end of our meeting. The boys went back to their knees and awaited their master. The girl unfortunately would be left to make friends with her new toy for a few hours. Daniel DiLokes clicked the speed up to a powerful 7 before walking me to the door and seeing me out.

I'm guessing many of you would love to have this happen to you... I know how much you enjoy being treated like a sex object... Object being the key word. I bet you'd even enjoy being put away in a cupboard. Only being dragged out to be fucked, sullied and put away again.

Yeah, I guess all sluts like you would be into that.

Payment needed

Ms Maidens was naked other than her stockings and shoes. Other than her fingertips, no other part of her body had touched Thomas' since she'd stroked him with her pussy. The juice still lingered. Her scent upon his hip only excited him further.

He was close to tears when she asked him if he was ready to come for the seventh time.

"Hmm. That cock would feel so good inside of me Tommy. I'm sure you'd make me scream again and again. Your hot milk would feel amazing filling me up... Are you ready to come now? You know I need you."

He nodded his head, his need making him weak. Eager.

She placed both heeled feet either side of the cutout he was tied to, her juicy perfect cunt only centermetres from his hard, swollen cock. With a swift movement she yanked the red lacy thong from his mouth.

"Beg me then, baby boy." Her fingertips travelled her own body in front of his very eyes. She circled her nipples before continuing down over the flat surface of her stomach, right to her shaven mound. "Tell me how much you need me." Then she sunk one lone finger into her obviously ready pussy, moaning at the exquisite feeling she could give herself.

He breathes deeply before speaking. "Please miss! I need your pussy more than anything. I'd fuck you so good. I'd make you cum again and again, your pussy would quiver from so much orgasms."

She slows the movements of her fingers and raises one eyebrow.

"You're talking is completely useless. You don't know how to do this do you?"

His face burns red as she smiles. Bingo. Something for her to actually be excited about. His humiliation could work in her favour. "Let's shut you up and get that mouth busy eh?"

Thomas eagerly nods his head, ready for whatever she's willing to give him. It takes her only under two minutes to secure the belt around his waist, attach his wrists to the belt and have chains attaching his ankles to one another. He almost looks ready.

She pushes him to his knees and opens the drawer only a few steps away. Her heels click on the floor as she brings the two items back to him. His cock looks as though it's about to blow and if she were a more sympathetic lady, he'd have come already... But she isn't.

The bright pink rubber ring is held in one hand whilst her other hand grips onto some kind of gag. She grins as she spins the leather strap in her hand. Her playtime is beginning and it's not something she takes lightly.

With a smirk from her lips, she stops beside him, kicks one foot out to the old jukebox behind him, and the music fills the room.

The classic song "Sway" begins. She likes the song and leaves it to play although it doesn't match her mood, nor her movements. She slides the ring over the head of his cock and allows it to sit there before using one finger either side of the rubber, and pushing it down his length.

He moans out loud and she grimaces. She doesn't like his voice. She wants to hear her own some more. She wants to hear her own voice becoming animalistic at the feeling as her orgasm approaches. She wants her pussy to drip with excitement as the no good boy before her realises his mistakes. Thomas Zee is going to regret his decision to approach her this way. She'd never be anybodys prey. She's the predator.

"You like it down there boy?"

He nods, his hands just out of reach for him to wank like a naughty little boy before his teacher. She knows he'd do it if she allowed him. She stands and abruptly grips his dark hair before yanking his head back, and forcing him to look at her. "Open your mouth, my eager little slut!" She commands.

Her surprise is hidden as he automatically does as she asks. The order followed quickly and sufficiently. She takes seconds to look at him and admire his manly lips before shoving the gag into his mouth.

The inside of the gag is shaped like a small penis and holds down his tongue to keep him from wagging it. The outside of the gag is perfect. The dildo attached is slightly larger than his own member. Also coloured a bright hot pink. She fastens the leather belt around the back of his head and sits back to take in her artwork.

She's proud of herself and she's hooked on the feeling of embarrassment. Her juices pool in the opening of her pussy and she plays with many ideas inside if her excited cruel mind, before settling with the most simple to begin with.

"And now you can fuck me Tommy boy." She leans herself back against the smooth wooden crate and spreads her legs. His eyes devour her. Her pink pussy shining from her arousal. Her clit, proudly on show, slightly swollen. She brushes one digit into the juices of her cunt. From clit to arse and leans forward before stroking the finger against his nose.

"C'mon then big boy." She falsely moans. "Fuck me with your real dick." She flicks the dildo on his face, as if underlining her wants.

She sees his face redden before he awkwardly shuffles across the small space separating them.

The dildo gag finally touches on the outside of her hole. It's hard for Thomas to get the angle and speed right, just as she knew it would be. She watches him struggle with a smile in her face. "Faster!" She snaps at him, her hand slapping at the back of his head. She watches his body shudder as he tries to gain speed and she knows he's confused.

His mental dizziness excites her. He's fighting with himself. He's ashamed, and scared and ready to fuck a rabbit if she ordered him. Above all,  he's a horny pathetic boy.

She grips the back of his head with two handfuls of hair. Using both hands, she pounds his face up and down against her. Forcing the toy to be thrust in and out of her sopping cunt. His nose to be slapped against her skin as she forces him to fuck her properly. Like a real man would.

Now she's happy. Now she's getting somewhere....

“Nobody was really surprised when it happened, not really, not at the subconscious level where savage things grow.”

– STEPHEN KING, Carrie

Back in the spring of '98, Lydia Chen would always see them everywhere, but most especially when she'd make her way down the hallways of Stevenson High’s English Building that semester. She'd see Marcus and Karen as they seemed fused and pressed together against one of their lockers, usually his. Either they thought no one noticed or cared, but he'd have his hand up her shirt and over one of her still brassiered B cups. Most likely, they were the ones who gave no fucks about what they looked like. He was dressed in his customary uniform of unbelievably baggy jeans and an oversized band t-shirt. That day, it read “TOOL” in big bold letters, and Lydia wondered if the irony of such a statement was lost on Marcus. Karen had on her black flight jacket with the orange lining that she always wore. It was a size or two sizes too large for her, which probably made it easier for her to get groped without too many people noticing.

Lydia made an effort not to stare at them, but they were painfully in the periphery of her vision. She tried to act that they were just faces in the crowd as did they, but they surely knew that it was Lydia passing them by. Of course, their coolness made for the perfect pretense to act like they didn't. It was the same frigid indifference that they held towards everyone.

If any kids decided to be that bold and level an old cliché on them like “Get a room” or something of that nature, then they'd have to deal with the physical repercussions. It wasn't just Marcus they had to worry about either, Karen was known to be a bit of a scrapper herself. Red-hot misanthropy radiated off of them and bluntly cautioned everyone to stay away or at least clear a path if anyone saw them coming.

Lydia tried to hide from them and everyone else with her bleached and then Kool-Aid dyed hair, black wife beater, plaid skirt, fishnets, and combat boots. Lydia's ensemble was all armor though, a protective carapace that kept her safe inside. Karen and Marcus used to be allowed in, but she didn't like to think about it too much; besides, she was almost going to be late for 4th period Honors English with Mr. Savage.

The walls and floors of the school shared the same color scheme with such glamorous institutions as an old folk's home or maybe even a prison. Dull and drab beiges, muted blues, and soul-sucking-grays contrasted harshly against a giant golden rod banner that read "Go, Buccaneers, Go!" in big bubble letters, which Lydia presumed was drafted by equally bubbly cheerleader.

She looked at her watch and decided to get a move on and got into class right by the skin of her teeth. The bell rang and seconds later, Chen's sixteen-year-old frame barely crossed the threshold when Savage called out to her as he scrawled the day’s agenda on the blackboard.

"Ms. Chen, what time does class start?"

"Now," she deadpanned.

"Right, but you should be in your seat by now. Not rolling in like a listless tumbleweed right as the bell rings." He said with a smile, pleased with his own use of figurative language.

Lydia liked Savage a lot, mostly because he assigned good books to read and had a very modernly progressive viewpoint. Also, he was young. Probably barely out of grad school for about two to five years and hadn't had the fight beat out of him like all her other stale and stodgy mentors that she was forced to study under.

She was more than annoyed that he was putting her on the spot like this. She was the one to sit in the back of class and didn't say anything unless called on, and she liked the anonymity of that understood status. None of the other teachers questioned it, but Savage liked to push the envelope.

He'd make the wannabe gangsta kids write essays about the history of sagging when their pants drooped almost past their asses and broke the dress code. The minute someone called someone else a derogatory name, he'd call their parents and ask that they could stay after school to watch movies like Roots and Schindler's List. They would stay and watch the whole thing for the entire 2-3 hours. Afterwards, he'd ask them what it must've been like for African slaves and Jews in the camps to be discriminated against so fiercely then he'd ask these kids to really, truly, and deeply think critically about what language meant and what happens when it is abusive. He was that teacher. One of those often lampooned Dead Poets-style ones, but he got results. He had a reason to be kind of smug and in your face because that's what worked for him in the confines of Stevenson High.

Right then though, Lydia could care less about all of that. She just wanted to get into her seat, which Savage silently pointed to with a smile. Her vintage Care Bears metal lunchbox was plopped down on the hard wooden tabletop with a thunk, which drew looks of derision from all those around her. She tuned them out and opened her makeshift purse, pulling out a pen and a small spiral notebook then closed it quickly, so that no one could sneak a peak at what else was inside it. Savage finished writing on the board, which were flanked by posters that implored onlookers to read.

"Alright, you little monsters, who did the reading over the weekend?"

No one raised their hands. Savage pretended to sob uncontrollably, then flung his open hands that looked up to the ceiling and screamed, "Why God, why?!!?"

It eased the slight tension of the room that often came with students potentially not doing their homework. Hands slowly started to be raised and his faux pathos gave way to his usual cocksure demeanor. Even Lydia raised her hand, while looking down at her notebook where she doodled a drawing of a sunflower with a smiling cartoon skull in the middle of it. She was almost done with it when she heard her name being called.

"Lydia, sorry to be a bother, but would you mind halting your artistic expression for a second and share with the class your overall impression of the Twain essay?" She did as he asked, looked up, and said, "It sucked."

At that, the class tittered and some even gave her what amounted to a golf clap.

"Well, you're one of our great critics in this class. So why don't you expostulate on what you mean by 'sucked,' won't you?" said a nonplused Savage.

"Both of the main characters are liars."

"Oh, how so?"

"The mesmerizer is a conman and the kid pretends to be hypnotized for what reason? Because he just wants people to notice him? That's dumb."

"Why is that dumb then?"

"Because it is dishonest and conceited."

"Do you mean thinking that your life has more value than anyone else's is?"

"They just both seem full of themselves."

"Well let me ask you and the rest of the class as well. Do you feel cheated when you go to the movies or watch a play? A magic show?"

No one really said anything but a lot of heads began to shake.

"No, right? You just accept that it is simply nothing more than an act. A piece of fiction. An illusion and what is a synonym for that?"

"A trick." A voice behind Lydia said.

She turned around to see Jack Kessler, who quickly caught her gaze and looked away. There was an empty seat between them. She looked at Savage and said,

"So?" with a shrug.

"Well, Jack my boy, it's your turn to have your feet put to the fire. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't." Jack said with an uneasy smile.

"Of course, he didn't. He's just like the boy in the story." Lydia thought.

Jack squirmed in his seat and cleared his throat.

"People just wanted to believe in what they were seeing. They just wanted to escape."

"Interesting observation and I'd expand on that by saying that Twain still lived in a time of supreme superstition, meaning that people were scared of everything and anything and yet science was at the very beginnings of a bunch of the technological advancements that we take for granted today. So show business was just about how well you could play on the psychological weirdness of your audience and their need for some hocus-pocus. Like Jack said, people just wanted someone who could make them believe for even an hour. That's why movies became so popular when they were invented." Savage said, surveying the classroom to make sure he hadn't lost anyone before continuing,

"Anyway, Jack, do you want to escape sometimes?"

"Uh yeah, right now I do. I don't like being under the microscope."

"No one forced you to speak up."

"I had something to say though, so I could muster up at least some courage, I guess."

"Where would you go then?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where would you be if you weren't here right now?"

"Promise not to laugh?"

"I promise, but I can't say the same for your classmates though."

Everyone laughed a little bit, even Jack and Lydia, who let out a chuckle under her breath.

"I'd be on the Millennium Falcon."

The room was quiet as if no one had seen Star Wars ever.

"Han Solo's ship?" Savage asked to which someone yelled out, "Nerd!" and another made a trilling Wookie noise.

"Quiet," he continued "why?"

"Adventure, friendship, having a reason to be alive, a cause, a purpose. Sometimes, it just feels like being a teenager is like trying to find your way out of a desert without a map or a compass."

"Well said and on that note, everyone pull out your composition notebooks and get ready to do some free writing for the next 15-20 minutes."

This was met with the requisite moans and groans, but they did what they were supposed to.

Savage continued, "Write your thoughts about the story and what you think it might truly be about. I don't want a summary. What do I want?"

"Commentary." The class mumbled in unison.

***

Lydia wrote in her journal in other classes and had already written about "The Mesmerizer" when she had gotten done reading it the night before.

While everyone else feebly scribbled down their two-dimensional thoughts about their homework, she scrawled a line from one of her favorite Tori Amos songs into the margin of her notebook in all caps, "DIDN'T KNOW OUR LOVE WAS SO SMALL." She etched it so deeply into the page that its imprint would be present on the blank pages that followed for the rest of the semester.

She wrote out some more lines from that song and hoped that how the words resonated with her at that moment would fade like the inverted embossments would as she flipped through the spiral as she filled those pages with homework assignments and what she hoped was poetry.

She stared at the Amos lyric and flashed on Marcus and Karen in the hallway. Why wouldn't they talk to her, and why had they kicked her out of their little club? She didn't get it and didn't get them. They spread lies and gossip mostly about her sexual orientation to anyone that would listen. Since they were her best friends from 8th grade until this past winter break in the middle of 10th, it felt like she had no one to really listen or take her side.

***

Mr. Savage stood up. He had been grading at his desk. Lydia was jolted out of her memory trance as he started to speak. She wasn't really catching anything other than keywords. It sounded something like,

"Open. Book. Page 213. Work. Partner. Comprehension questions. Twain. Discuss."

She blinked and saw everyone partnering up except her. Almost everyone as she felt someone standing behind her with their eyes gently boring into the back of her off-red head of ratty bobbed hair.

Lydia turned to see Kessler standing over her. He wasn't fat but wasn't the athletic type either. He had almost shoulder length rust-colored hair, a Muppet-looking striped shirt, and a pair of corduroy shorts that came down to his shins and hard-shell Adidas on. If he slapped on some bondage pants and a pyramid stud belt then he might be halfway decent, Lydia thought as he towered over her.

"So I guess we're partners by default, huh?" Jack said.

"Yeah, I guess so. So what're we supposed to be doing? I zoned out."

"He wants us to answer these questions," Jack said pointing into his textbook.

"Oh right, comprehension questions. Alright."

She found the page that everyone else was on when Jack said,

"Oh, do you like NIN?"

Lydia cocked her head at him like a slightly annoyed yet inquisitive puppy.

"You know, Nine Inch Nails?" He said motioning to something else she had scribbled into the margin of the textbook.

She looked down to see where it said, "MADE MY OWN PRETTY HATE MACHINE."

"Oh yeah, of course, I do. I mean, look at me? I'd crawl into Trent's pants anytime. Especially if they were the burgundy leather ones he wore in the 'March of the Pigs' video."

They both laughed a little before she continued,

"Actually, that's a line from a Tori Amos song."

"Is she that redhead who sings about rape and stuff?"

"Not all her songs are about rape." She shot back sharply.

"I didn't mean anything by it. Anyway, is that a NIN reference?"

"Yeah, it is an N-I-N reference. Trent did a song with her on one of her records and is friends with her."

"Oh, that's cool."

They sat there not saying anything for about thirty seconds or maybe it was a million years while all the other kids were a blur of either diligence or goofing off. It was apparent from the look on his face that Jack most likely didn't get why she was so perturbed by him just asking a simple question. She was being judgmental, which seemed to her to be maybe a tad hypocritical considering that people were treating her like a pariah. When she had learned that word in class earlier in the semester, she had thought that Pariah Carey would make a great band name, and that comedic tidbit popped into her head at that moment.

Her epiphany though at that instant could've manifested itself as a big, neon green sign that sizzled the words, "Lighten up, Chen" right over her head. This guy obviously liked Nine Inch Nails, which upped his coolness factor to at least a seven, which was pretty good considering most of her other classmates rated in more of the 0-5 range. So Kessler hadn't heard much Tori Amos. He was just trying to find an in, a way to relate to her, and maybe even become her friend. He was just being nice because that's probably what he genuinely was. But nice people were a rare commodity, especially in high school. Was he a wolf in baggy clothing like the rest of the dips at Stevenson? Also, he had openly made a Sci-Fi reference in a high school class. Again, she heard the buzz of the neon and just when she was about to take her own advice, the beautiful silence that had allowed her to reach more of an enlightened clarity was interrupted.

"Are you two getting along and getting the questions done?" said Savage who must've been in earshot of the whole interchange.

Lydia wanted to say, "What do you think?" Instead, she just nodded and smiled. Kessler did the same. With that, their teacher walked over to another table to basically recycle half of the same question with a group of jocks loudly reciting lines from Dumb and Dumber.

Jack read the first question out loud,

"Number one, what does Twain as Tom do to get the mesmerizer to notice him?"

"He volunteers. He offers himself up." Lydia said, without even looking up from her book. She scratched some excess eyeliner away from the edge of her almond eyes. Jack just stared at her. Noticing, she quickly asked if he agreed or not and he simply nodded and smiled.

Lydia read the next one,

"Two, why did Tom/Twain's feelings change after the mesmerizer left town?"

Looking directly at her, Jack said, "Life went back to being boring. Maybe because he just couldn't recapture that same rush..."

Lydia cut him off,

"Have you ever seen the Basketball Diaries?"

"That movie with Leonardo DiCaprio? Isn't Marky Mark in that?"

"Yeah, he is." Lydia said with a laugh before moving on with what she was going to say,

"It's based on a book by a guy named Jim Carroll. It's like his autobiography about being a hooligan and getting addicted to heroin or something. I read it, but I like the movie more. Anyway, he says the first time he shot up was '...like a long heat wave through [his] body. Any ache or pain or sadness or guilty feeling was completely flushed out.' They show DiCaprio running through a field of poppies," Lydia almost quoted the line verbatim.

"Like that scene in Wizard of Oz?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, totally like that field, but yeah... he spends the rest of the movie trying to get back to that place and has to get clean instead because he realizes he'll never be able to."

"That's a cool connection right there. You could totally turn that in as part of an essay probably." "Shut up, I just like that movie a lot."

"Should I rent it?"

"I own it."

Jack said nothing. Things were quiet for a moment and just when either of them thought that another awkward silence might hang in the air, the bell rang and everyone began to pack up. Jack went back to his seat to grab his stuff as Savage yelled above the maelstrom of adolescent rambunctiousness,

"Read the next story, it's by Poe. Have a spooky Monday night, boils and ghouls. Be ready to talk and write about it tomorrow."

Lydia eyed Kessler, looked him up and down. She thought to herself that he wasn't that bad and even though he was grossly nice and maybe just maybe, she could distract herself with him for a little while. Either way, it was better than the alternative— being alone some more.

Jack was out the door by then when she ran up and tapped him on his shoulder. It was obvious that he was more than a little surprised to see Lydia again so soon.

"Hey?" Jack said.

"I wanted to tell you to wait up. My shrink says I have to broaden 'my friend spectrum' or something like that."

"You go to a psychologist?"

"Not anymore. I had a shrink not too long ago. But whatever, hey!"

"What?" Jack said tensing up as if he was expecting her to punch him or something.

"Do you want to come over and...um, watch Basketball Diaries after school?"

He looked genuinely astonished, but he agreed and she began to talk more than he had ever heard her before in his life.

She told him that she lived with her godfather, Ken, who was a "super busy lawyer" and, "like, never home on week nights."

Lydia told him to be by the Robert Louis Stevenson statue out by the front gate and they'd walk from there.